Night Games

by Crystal Jordan

  Her heart thudded against her ribs every time they entered a room. So familiar, and so alien. Nothing was out of place, and yet it felt violated. As if the very air had become dark and twisted. He’d been here, in her home. If, by some miracle, she survived this, she couldn’t live here anymore.

  If. When had she even had a shred of hope of surviving? When had that happened without her noticing? She shook herself. Focus. This was no time to let her attention wander.

  Her steps careful, she eased down the hallway toward her bedroom. Jack was across from her, working his way along the wall. His brows furrowed, but when he met her gaze, he winked. She almost smiled. Almost.

  Spinning to the opposite side of the doorway, he nodded to her to let her precede him into the room. She ducked her head to do a visual scan, tried her magic, and found the same irritating jangle of evil scraped along her nerves. She looked again, saw nothing, and flipped around the doorjamb, her pistol pointing at anything that might so much as twitch while she inspected the closet, under the bed, behind the big armoire in the corner.

  Nothing.

  The air deflated from her lungs. He wasn’t here. “Clear.”

  “Clear,” Jack confirmed.

  The house is all clear. Peyton’s voice drifted through her mind.

  Slapping her hand hard against the footboard, she cursed in every language she knew. “Not again.”

  She spun for the door, not bothering with quiet now. Her boots rang against the wooden floorboards as she went through the house. The few agents she passed stepped aside to get out of her way. She heard Jack following behind her, but futile rage burst in her veins.

  No. No. He couldn’t slip through her fingers again. Her muscles were so tense she was shaking, and she tightened her grip on her weapon to control the tremor. She couldn’t have come so close to catching him and fail once more. She would never forgive herself for letting Bess down that way. Not again.

  She made it to the living room, where Peyton stood clustered with a few other men and women. Grim sniffed every crevice, working his way through the house as thoroughly as the humans had.

  “Damn it,” she hissed, shoving a hand through her hair. “I can feel the cursed object. He’s nearby, toying with us.”

  “I can sense it, too, but it’s fucking with my werewolf abilities.” Peyton blew a breath out of his nose, the closest she’d ever seen him come to losing his cool. “Fuck me if I can figure out which direction it’s coming from.”

  Jack’s voice rumbled from behind her. “We’re going to have to set up a search of the neighborhood and expand from there. Do this manhunt the Normal way, since everyone’s magic is hosed.”

  “Yeah. Hang on.” The wolf turned back to say something to one of the other agents.

  “Live to fight another day, huh?” Jack tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, a tender smile on his face.

  Her throat closed tight. He loved her. He’d said so. She’d been trying to deny it, suppress it, not think about it since the moment it came out of his mouth, but gods. He loved her. It filled her up with something so bright and beautiful, it was painful. It was too enormous for words, too wonderful. She caught his hand and turned her head to kiss his palm. She didn’t care who was watching. This feeling was too powerful to let anyone else affect it.

  “Jack, I don’t—”

  A deafening howl rent the air, and Jack and she spun toward it at the same time. Her heart froze in her chest. Gods, that horrific noise came from her familiar.

  “Grim!” Jack shouted.

  They both ran, pelting in the direction of the sound. She saw his tail disappearing around the side of her neighbor’s house. “He’s got Isaak’s scent!”

  Arms and legs pumping, she sprinted after him, Jack keeping pace beside her. She heard engines starting up, people yelling and running, and knew the others would circle the block to try to cut the murderer off. Good.

  Grim jumped the fence out of her neighbor’s backyard, and she grabbed one of the planks, planted her foot, and executed a quick flip. She stumbled when she landed, but regained her footing and hauled ass after her familiar. No way was she losing him now. Jack vaulted easily over the fence, managed not to slam into her, and tore off in the same direction as Grim.

  Her heart hammered, her breath rasped in her throat, and her lungs burned. The heavy bulletproof jacket didn’t help. It slammed down on her chest every time she took a step. She ignored the discomfort, gripped her weapon tight, and ran flat out.

  “Hey!” Peyton caught up with them, but he didn’t sprint past them the way she expected. He seemed to be working hard to maintain his speed. The cursed object dicking with his wolf skills, she realized. They were all at a disadvantage.

  There. She saw a flash of his back, dressed in black with reddish hair like his brother. He slammed into an apartment building halfway up the block, Grim hot on his heels. Pouring on more speed, she powered after him.

  “I’ll cover the back.” Peyton split left, skidding around the corner of the building.

  Jack held a radio to his mouth, barking out the address to the other agents, ordering the place surrounded. His boots thudded up the stairs behind her as she shot after Grim’s unholy keening. Sweat slid down her face, and she swiped at her eyes to clear her vision.

  She slipped around a corner, her gun leading the way. Empty hallway. Skittering further along, she tried to control her breathing, her rabbiting heartbeat, tried to hear anything that might clue her in to where they were. Grim’s snarling grew louder to the right, so she ran down that hallway, darting through the maze of halls and staircases. Up, up, left, right.

  She could hear them now, Isaak cursing, the distinct sound of a dog attacking. Peeking around the corner, she saw Grim had the Normal down on the ground, and Isaak was fighting hard to escape. She turned back to say something to Jack, only to realize he wasn’t there. When had she lost him? She’d been so focused on getting to Isaak, she’d left herself without backup. Rookie mistake. Fuck.

  Pulling her radio off her belt, she cued the comm. “Laramie, Peyton, this is Grayson, come in.”

  “Copy,” they both replied. Jack’s voice was breathless and livid. “Where the hell are you?”

  “Fourth floor.”

  “I’m coming up. Wait for me. Do not engage.” His words were sharp, an edge of fear to them.

  She held the radio to her mouth. “Copy tha—Grim!”

  A boom of gunfire, the howl of an animal in pain, and she knew she couldn’t wait. Ice froze the blood in her veins. She checked around the corner again, and her heart stopped. Blood. Grim’s blood. Splattered everywhere.

  Oh, gods. Rage, black and ugly, clouded everything else. “The building is surrounded, Isaak. Drop your weapon and put your hands up!”

  “You know my name.” He sounded more curious than anything else. “Selina.”

  Revulsion crawled over her skin at the way he said her name, almost a caress. Her stomach heaved. “Yeah, I know who you are. I know about all your other murders between New Orleans and now.”

  He chuckled and it echoed in the empty hallway. “You always were my favorite.”

  Ducking out, she squeezed off a shot. And missed. He didn’t. One bullet caught her in the shoulder, where her bulletproof vest didn’t cover, and spun her around. Her arm spasmed and she lost her weapon. The next shot hit her protective talisman and ricocheted, the pendant shattered. The force of the bullet knocked the wind out of her and drove her to her knees. She gagged, trying to breathe, to get air in her lungs. A third bullet hit her thigh, and dark crimson blood spurted out. Femoral artery.

  Her mind catalogued the catastrophic damage, even as she crashed to the floor on her side. Then the agony hit, and she screamed. Iron. He’d used iron bullets. It burned as it dissolved in her veins, spreading through her. Her muscles locked, and she shrieked again. Nothing had ever hurt this way before. It went beyond pain, it boiled her flesh from the inside out. If she could have crawled out of her own body
then, she would have.

  A hand closed over her shoulder, flipping her onto her back. Isaak. He looked like Gregor, but older. The older younger brother. Vampirism had stopped Gregor’s aging, while the ravages of time and disease were on Isaak’s face. If Selina had thought Gregor was enigmatic and deadly, his brother was ... soulless. The darkness of the cursed object had drained him of whatever humanity he had left. His hand clutched it to his chest.

  Grim whimpered, snarled, tried to drag himself with his front paws toward them.

  Isaak ignored the familiar. “Drinking your blood is going to taste so sweet. I’ve grown to love that flavor. Pity I can’t collect it and take it with me for later like I usually do, but I’ll improvise for you, Selina.”

  His free hand slid the metal fangs into his mouth. She tried to scoot out of his reach, but all her body could manage were uncoordinated jerks. He pinned her arm to the ground and pressed the cursed talisman to her. Agony sliced into her, and an inhuman shriek tore from her throat. She could feel it pulling at the magic that was at the very essence of her being, ripping at her, raping her soul. He chuckled, plunged his hand into her hair, and twisted viciously. Arching her throat, he bent to sink his fangs into her flesh, to bleed her dry.

  Slapping at him, she tried to fend him off, but knew it was no use. She’d lost too much blood, had iron searing her insides, and that evil talisman wrenched her magic away. Weakness stole into her limbs, and she knew her life could be counted in minutes, seconds.

  A moment of absolute clarity hit her. She didn’t want to die. Gods, no. Not like this. She wanted to live. It was bitterly ironic that it took her until right now to realize she didn’t accept her fate, that she wanted the years she could have had with Jack.

  That she loved him.

  Isaak’s fangs pierced her flesh, and a gurgling cry wrenched out of her. Her cheek was pressed to the floor, Isaak hunched over her on one side, which gave her the perfect view of her bleeding, dying familiar whimpering as he continued to try to crawl forward and save her. A sob spilled out of her. She could hear Jack calling in the distance, could hear his running footsteps, but it was too late. That was how things had always gone with this case—she figured it out too damn late to save anyone, including herself.

  She heard glass breaking, a window shattering. Shadows danced in the hallway, and something moved that was too fast for her to see. Isaak lifted away from her, and he shouted something she couldn’t quite grasp. Darkness edged at her vision, and her mind spun in sickening loops. She heard screaming, horrible screaming that didn’t come from her. Two men wrestled, one slamming the other against the wall.

  Was it Jack? Peyton?

  She blinked hard, tried to focus. She flinched when Isaak’s body hit the floor near her, his eyes blank and staring. Dead. Her head lolled like a broken doll while she tried to see who had killed him. The feel of evil pressing down on her eased, and she drew in a ragged, clean breath.

  Perched in the window, the cursed object in his hand, was Gregor. His red hair shone like a penny in the hallway light. “You’re just lucky it’s overcast enough today for me to be here. With a little more luck, you might actually survive.”

  A bit of magic sparked back to life within her, and she tried to slow the bleeding in her leg, her arm, her neck. It was futile. Her breath gulped in tiny gasps, and her throat worked while she tried to find the power to speak. “Why?”

  The laugh that spilled from him was bitter and sad at once. “Because, despite what you think of me, I have a code of ethics I follow, and letting him kill other people because of me was wrong. I clean up my own messes.”

  “Appreciate ... it.”

  “Don’t thank me for killing my own brother. Just ... don’t.” His gaze dropped to Isaak’s body, sprawled in a lifeless heap on the floor. He shook his head, turned, and disappeared as abruptly as he’d come.

  “Selina! Where the fuck are you? Selina!” Jack roared her name from a great distance, but she didn’t have the strength left to yell back, to call for help.

  She could just lie there and die, like Merek had predicted.

  It was a bitter pill to swallow.

  Cold stole through her, and she shivered. Shock, she knew. She’d been a nurse in a war. She was a cop. She recognized the signs. She’d lost too much blood, and her body was going into shock. Forcing what little magic she had toward the wounds, she continued to try to staunch them. Her body simply wouldn’t move, no matter how she strained. The iron bullets.

  “Selina!” Jack’s beloved face appeared in front of her. “Ah, God. Jesus, baby. Hold on. Just hold on. Help is coming. You’re going to be fine.” The desperation in his voice was enough to break her heart.

  “Grim?”

  “Peyton’s got him. He’ll take him to the vet.” He moved his shoulder so she could see her familiar. The wolf had stripped off his shirt to wrap it around Grim. He picked up the dog, cradling him like a baby, and rushed down the hall to get to a car.

  “I don’t want to die,” she whispered. She had to say it, had to put it into words. If she could give Jack nothing else, she wanted him to have the truth. The whole truth for once. No hiding, no secrets, no protecting herself.

  “What?” He leaned closer so he could hear her.

  “You were right. I don’t want to die.” She coughed and tasted her own blood. The iron in it burned her tongue. A laugh tripped over a sob. “You know the real difference between Heather and me?”

  “What?” He was so near, she could see the gray striations in his blue eyes. She tried to memorize the contours of his face, to lock in the memory of him. Just in case.

  “I would never willingly leave you. I want to stay with you, do the whole marriage and kids thing. I wish I could. So much. I love you.” And then she couldn’t fight the darkness anymore, and the cold closed over her head in a great wave. She struggled against it, tried to hold on to Jack, to stay with him.

  “I love you, too, Selina. You’re not going to die. Not now. I won’t let you.” His hands moved over her body, frantic, and it hurt when he tied off the wound on her leg, when he pressed down all his weight on the hole in her shoulder.

  She welcomed the pain. It meant she was still alive.

  17

  Two weeks had gone by and they hadn’t gotten anything settled yet. It was getting on Jack’s last damn nerve. It didn’t help that he’d been pulled on to the Karsen case, which just got to be a bigger and bigger media circus by the day. Someone was leaking information to the press, and it was skating dangerously close to requiring a telepath go and adjust some Normals’ memories.

  He pulled into a parking space in front of Sugar Rush, where Selina had insisted that she get the chance to show Peyton what real congolais tasted like. His cousins Holly and Erin had been thrilled to host Selina’s first post-shooting outing, Erin promising the best congolais she’d ever made.

  Peyton and Tess climbed out of the car behind him. As Jack suspected, most of his family had shown up for the event. Thanks to the miracle of Magickal healing, she’d been officially cleared to go back to work the following week, so using the excuse of watching over her recuperation wasn’t going to keep her in his house much longer.

  They needed to get things hammered out. Tonight. He was tired of this going back and forth to fetch stuff from her place bullshit. He wanted her to move in permanently. She hadn’t wanted to be in her house since Isaak left his evil stench behind, but if she changed her mind and wanted to live there, or if she wanted to find something new together, that was fine. Whatever. As long as they settled on some permanency. She’d said she wanted to get married, and he wasn’t waiting around for a year like Merek had. A trip to the local courthouse would suit him just fine.

  “Quite a crowd,” Peyton observed.

  “Yep.” It wasn’t just his family gathered on the patio. No, that was Delta sitting between Selina and his parents. Luca stood nearby, a glass of wine in his hand, blatantly flirting with Jack’s human cousin, Erin. Then
there were Millie Standish and Alex Nemov, as well as Merek and Chloe, newly returned from their honeymoon. And a whole boatload of animals. Selina’s dog, Chloe’s cat, and a bunch of others he’d never seen before. What the hell was this?

  Tess made a sheepish face. “I, uh, may have mentioned to Chloe that we’d be here tonight. I didn’t know she’d invite herself.”

  “And the whole neighborhood, too.” Jack motioned the others ahead of him.

  Peyton moved with the caution of a man unsure of whether he’d be fried alive. He kept a wary eye on Chloe but let his hand settle at Tess’s back, which was as close to a public display of affection as Jack had seen from the two. Luca took in the gesture, and his expression went carefully blank. Erin glanced between Luca and Tess. Her eyebrows arched, and comprehension dawned on her face. Well, good. At least Jack wasn’t going to have to have a chat with her about getting involved with Luca. He’d rather not have his cousin turn a love triangle into a square.

  Jack dismissed the exchange from his mind and stepped up behind Selina, set his hands on her shoulders, and bent to kiss her cheek. “Hey, you.”

  Reaching over her shoulder, she patted his cheek. “Hi.”

  He had that rush of gratitude that he’d felt every time he saw her, alive and whole. It could have gone so much worse. He’d come so close to losing her, to losing everything. A few seconds later and he wouldn’t have been able to stop the bleeding in time. If Gregor hadn’t shown up, Isaak would have finished her off. If any one of a dozen things had gone the other way, she wouldn’t be here now. Thank God. Thank God.

  Grim walked up, healthy and still the biggest attitude on four legs. One kitten rode on his back, another dangled from his collar by one paw while swatting at the German shepherd’s identification tags. A third kitten attacked his tail.

  Jack arched his eyebrows. “Okay. What’s with the petting zoo?”

  “Ophelia wanted to come. Which meant her kittens wanted to come. Which meant her new manpanion came along, too.” Chloe gestured to two adult cats peering down from a windowsill. One was a dainty chocolate-point Siamese. The brute beside her was the biggest orange-striped tomcat Jack had ever seen. He had a few scarred-over bald patches and a flattened ear.