by Tes Hilaire
Mike’s hand flexed, itching to obey. He started to reach down…
Arms encircled him, yanking him back. “Bad idea, Mike.”
Mike didn’t think, simply reacted, his head snapping back to strike his attacker. The man swore, his grip loosening, but not releasing. Mike spun to break the hold, a growl erupting in his throat, the smell of ash and coppery blood licking at his control. There was danger here. All he had to do was let the beast free, then he wouldn’t have to think. Then he wouldn’t have to fight this damn pressure in his head.
“Easy, Mike.” Alex stood, his nose dripping red blood, his hands held out in a placating gesture. “That thing is radiating poison and you don’t have the shields. Better to let one of us deal with it.”
One of them. As if he could trust one of them. Behind him, a foot scuffed on the pavement. He spun back around to see Logan lifting the knife from the pavement, his brow furrowed as he studied the black metal.
“How come you can touch it, huh? Maybe because you’re one of them?” Mike snarled.
Logan’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing on Mike. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“You never did tell me what happened that night. All you said was the note was an invitation to hell. Is that where you’re from? Did you let Jessica die so you could damn her soul?”
“Mike!” The woman snapped his name. “You know that’s not true.” A hand gripped his forearm. Long slim fingers, yet inhumanly strong.
He jerked his arm away, his hands squeezing his skull as he backed away. Couldn’t have her touching him right now. The beast wanted to lash out at something. Anything, if it would make the pressure stop. But she was his partner. Correction, had been his partner.
Mike roared. “And you! If it wasn’t for you shacking up with this bastard, none of this would have happened. We would have solved the case and you wouldn’t have died and then—”
Jessica’s head snapped back, her eyes narrowing as she spoke over him. “Oh, I’m so sorry my dying inconvenienced—”
Logan shouldered her behind him, getting all up in Mike’s space, practically spitting in his face. “—fucking bastard, don’t talk to my mate that way.”
“Goddamn it, Logan, can’t you shield that thing?” Alex yelled from behind Mike’s shoulder, only his voice sounded harsh, like he was speaking through gritted teeth.
Logan blinked, stepped back and looked at his arm. An arm that had risen over his head. Mike’s gaze followed, the beast growling as he saw Logan’s hand clenched around the black blade which was poised for the strike.
Logan yelled, his hand falling. Mike braced, ready to snap the last link that held his beast…
“Logan! You need to shield it!” Alex. The damn warrior always interfering…
And then all of a sudden the pressure in his skull quit. Snuffed out. He was left alone in his own head again. He blinked, looking at the chestnut-haired warrior before him.
Logan backed up, the hand with the blade in it limp by his side.
Jessica took a tentative step after him. “Logan? You okay?”
“Fine. I’m fine.” He raised his gaze to Mike, his steely blue eyes darker than normal, a stormy grey. Something in their depths flickered. Shame? “You?”
“Fine.” Though he wasn’t. Not really. Mike rolled his neck, taking in long deep breaths. He was shaking so bad it was a wonder he could stand. His skin, no longer tingling, but tight and raw feeling, as if he’d burned it. Or perhaps about shed it? Holy Christ. He’d almost lost it.
“Ah fuck.” This, from Warren. Mike turned, using the warrior as a distraction. The man sat on the pavement, his head clenched between his hands. “What…the hell…is that thing?”
“Evil. Pure evil,” Alex said, his voice steady, though his face was decidedly pale.
“What do we do with it now?” Jessica asked.
Logan’s jaw ticked, his gaze lifting toward the dark sky. When he looked back at Alex his eyes were back to their normal grey, his voice steady as he spoke. “I’m going to bring it to Haven. There are more safeguards that I can employ to contain it there.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to destroy it?” Alex asked.
“I’m honestly not sure how. And we need to study it to see if they can figure out how to help Matthias.”
“You think… anyone…can study…that…without being…infected?” Warren’s statement was broken with pauses and punctuated by hissed breath.
And wasn’t that a sobering thought. And a very real one. Yes Mike, without shields, had been most affected, but looking at the plethora of pale faces and weary looks it was just as obvious he wasn’t the only one here who’d been seduced by the blade’s seductive call.
Alex sighed, looking down at the merker’s body. “Go on. We have our blades and can take care of this mess.”
“But Warren—” Jessica started.
Warren waved his hand. “I’m fine… Just a bit of a residual…headache.”
“Okay. But be careful and come right back as soon as you’re done.”
“Will do,” Warren tried for a smile, though it looked more like a grimace.
Jessica and Logan left, breaking into a ground-eating run that quickly took them out of sight. Warren sighed, started to drag himself up.
“Why don’t you just rest there for a minute,” Alex said, laying a hand on his shoulder. “I can take care of this.”
“Sounds like…even better plan.” Warren flopped back down, the heels of his hands squeezing his temples.
Mike was at a loss as to what to do, so he just stood there and watched as Alex made his way to the remains of the merker. He wasn’t sure how he was going to take care of that. It was a damn body after all, but when Alex, who’d started chanting again, bent down, jamming his blade into the gaping cavity and the corpse began to burn from the inside out, Mike stumbled back, landing on his own ass beside Warren.
“Pretty cool, huh?” Warren asked, cracking an eye to look up at Mike.
“How the hell?”
“Not hell, Heaven’s light. It’s like…Clorox…to all baddy guys; 99.9% effective.”
“And the other 0.1% of the time?”
Warren shrugged. “Don’t know…I’ll let you know if we ever get a chance to try it on one of the big three.”
“The big three?”
“The betrayer, the vampire king, and Lucifer himself.”
He’d said the last without having to pause at all, which Mike took to mean the warrior was recovering. Still, time and rest was the best medicine for almost all ailments, though this was beginning to take an exorbitant amount.
Mike began to squirm. As impressive as it was, this cleanup was taking forever. He stood, rolling his shoulders. Damn if his head still didn’t ache. And his neck was tingling again. Or rather, it had never stopped tingling.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, it’s just taking a long time.”
Warren twisted his head, looking over at Alex. “He’s almost done.”
And sure enough he was. Another minute at most and the warrior staggered up, wiping the sweat dripping down his forehead with the back of his hand. Beneath him the pavement was charred clear of all evidence. Not even a drop of blood or a handful of ash.
“That’s impressive.”
Alex grunted, slowly, and a little stiffly, making his way over to them. “Remind me next time to have Logan or Jessica do this before they abandon us.”
“You’re the glutton who offered,” Warren reminded, holding his hand up.
Mike blinked, then reached out and clasped the warrior’s hand, dragging the man to his feet. “Shit, you�
��re heavy.”
“All muscle.” He flexed his bicep for show.
“Yeah, yeah. Show off later,” Alex said, his blade hissing into its sheath. “Logan and Jessica would have taken the car and we have a bit of a hike to the nearest subway.”
“Could catch a cab,” Warren suggested.
“You think one would stop with how we look?”
“Touché.”
The three of them started back down the path. Mike leading this time as the other two warriors seemed more than a little worse for wear, their steps dragging, and the silence heavy as they focused on breathing and walking.
They hadn’t even made it out of the paths above the lake when the tingle that had been riding the back of Mike’s neck went full hives over his entire body. A moment later, they all heard it: the sound of running feet.
They exchanged looks, but they all knew it was too late to hide. Heck they hadn’t even scooted to the side of the path when two men came barreling around the corner. Only those weren’t men. At least not the one, because that creature had eyes that were entirely black and claws protruding from the tips of its long fingers. And the scent it carried on it? Beyond the sulfur and brimstone? Fragile, afraid…feminine. This thing had touched his woman.
And that was the last straw. The beast within him roared, snapping the last link of the chain that held it in check.
***
“Easy there, big guy.”
Mike dug his nails into the grass, his lungs burning as he sucked in vital life-giving oxygen. Blackness swirled around the edges of his vision. He closed his eyes, swallowed, met with the horrid taste of blood and raw flesh.
“Oh shit. Not again.” He rolled over onto his back, grabbed his head, fingers digging into his scalp as he tried to make sense of the memories slamming into him. Two men, no, not men, one had definitely been one of those merker things?
Someone whistled from above. “I take it back. Alexander,” he called, “get this guy a contract and have him sign on the dotted line.”
“And what would I be signing up for?” he asked breathlessly, concentrating on Warren’s solid presence at his side. He hadn’t killed him. Or Alex. Thank Christ. Though he’d killed something.
“The life of luxury, my furry friend. Or at least as many baddy guys as you can rend limb from limb for the rest of your unnatural life.”
“Oh fun. Why don’t you get me a pen?” Groaning, he cracked his eyes open, looking at the small clearing they’d ended up in. “Oh crap.”
Horror tightened down on his lungs as he took in the dismembered bodies. Too many limbs. There was more death here than the two that had set his beast free.
“Christ. Please tell me those were all merkers.”
“All of them? No.” Warren kicked a nearby arm toward the center of the destruction. The sick thump of the flesh on the ground making Mike’s stomach churn once more. “Only the first two. But the other four are not something you need to go all mea culpa over, either.”
Mike looked a little wildly over at Alex who was being a bit more methodical in his cleanup measures. Out of the two warriors he seemed the most trustworthy when it came to not trying to gloss things over.
“Chameleon, hound, master, and an imp. All minor demons,” Alex assured.
“I killed them all?”
“You don’t remember?”
He swallowed, shaking his head. Last thing he remembered was the two merker rounding the corner. Something set him off. Something besides the pure black eyes and freaky claws. A scent?
“You did,” Warren said. “Rather greedy of you, too, not leaving even one for me and Alex here.”
“I didn’t attack you,” he said it as a statement, but even he could hear the plea in his tone.
“Not even a scratch,” Warren assured. “Whatever kill meter you have in that beast of yours must be set to evildoers only.”
He blew out a shaky breath, tension sliding from his shoulders and leaving him grateful for the solid ground already under his back. He would have fallen if he’d been standing. He closed his eyes, trying to remember what else happened. All he got was flashes of horror.
Yeah, don’t need to think on that. What was it Warren had called him when he’d woken from the haze? His furry friend? He lifted his gaze, meeting Warren’s eyes. “What…what am I?”
Warren crouched down by him. “I have never seen anything like you, my friend. It kind of looked like a wolf superimposed upon you.”
His heart stuttered, then pounded. Something large and insistent rose in his throat. A laugh. “A wolf? Like a fucking werewolf or something?”
“I’m not sure about that. If I had to guess?” He glanced over his shoulder at Alexander.
It was the other warrior who answered. “Berserker. You’re a berserker, Mike.”
Chapter Nine
Katrina sat on the floor of the shower, cold water drenching her as she tried to choke back sobs. Failure. She was a failure. She couldn’t do this on her own. Every time she thought she’d caught a break something went wrong.
If it hadn’t been for whatever had distracted those merker tonight, she would be on Ganelon’s table right now.
Panic tried to squeeze her ribs down. She forced herself to breathe through it. It hadn’t happened. She got away. Handcuffs might hold her, but zip ties couldn’t. The merker had underestimated her, probably because they saw her as more human than not.
But will they track me down? Will they come here?
She stuffed her hand in her mouth, trying to plug the cry of dismay that wanted to rise. She couldn’t let that happen. These people had been nothing but kind to her.
That cabby hadn’t stopped because of her hips, but because he’d been a sweet older gentleman who’d seen a woman in trouble. He’d brought her here, to this women’s shelter. It seemed his daughter, Angelina—who’d finally braved up and left that no-good-for-nothing bastard—was one of the founders. Angelina had her family to help her, but she knew many women didn’t so she’d gotten together with some similarly minded people and decided to create a place where women like her could go.
They’d fed her, given her clothes. They’d offered support without bombarding her with questions. They’d been kind.
And she was going to bring evil into their midst. Now that Ganelon’s merkers had found her, they would find a way to track her down.
She shivered at the memory: The claw that scratch across her throat; the hot sulfur breath of the merker that was more demon than not.
“Ganelon’s been looking for you. He’ll be pleased to be reunited with his little runaway. Makes one wonder, are you really that good?” His other hand found the edge her t-shirt.
The path his hand had followed had burned like hot coals, her entire being rejecting his touch. She’d lived through worse, but somehow she knew, just knew she wouldn’t survive with her sanity if she let him take her now. She’d panicked, thrashing and bucking in his iron grip.
He’d laughed, smashing her up against the building, his hands roving as he promised she’d still be in one piece for Ganelon’s table, but first he was going to collect his finder’s fee.
And then she’d been saved. Not by any direct interference from anyone, but at that moment his buddy, who’d appeared content to just watch, had grunted. Grumbling about a call for help.
Her admirer had growled, but after a little back and forth volley with his buddy, and mentions of Ganelon’s table if the knife was lost, Mr. Hands had decided to zip tie her up and stuff her in the nearest Dumpster to marinate until his return.
Only she’d gotten away. Though not because she was strong or capable or had some sort of special ability that actually mattered, but because of a broken piece of glass.
A door squeaked, a voice rising above the hiss of the water. “Kate?”
Katrina sucked in a breath, quickly standing. The movement was too fast and the shower spun around her. If it hadn’t been so small, the wall right there, she would have fallen. With
a steadying hand still planted on the wall she reached for the soap. Only, when she brought it to her chest she also realized that she was still dressed.
Well crap.
“Is that you, Kate?”
“Yeah, um, I’ll be out in a few.” She turned, saw the shower curtain wasn’t all the way closed, yanked it shut. But then she looked down, saw the twirl of pink liquid.
“Kate! You’re bleeding.” The shower curtain was jerked open.
Katrina spun to the back of the stall, trying to cover the wound by pulling up her T-shirt.
“Oh, Kate.” Fingers probed the back of her head. Katrina winced, for a moment confused as to how she’d gotten that wound. But then the memory of her head smacking against the building rose.
Oh yeah. That was before he’d promised to rape her.
She shuddered.
“Did he do this?”
She shook her head.
“Kate…” The disappointment was heavy in Angelina’s voice. Katrina had lied to more humans than she’d ever spoken the truth to, but somehow in the face of that disappointment she found she actually cared this time.
“One of his goons. He was sent to bring me back, but wanted to teach me a lesson first.”
“What else?” Angelina asked, her voice all business now.
Katrina closed her eyes, turning. She heard as much as felt Angelina suck in her breath, the slam of the woman’s empathy hitting her hard across her succubus senses. Katrina tried damn hard not to pull any energy from that sympathy, but even so the hit of emotion made her body shudder.
Damn it. Even when I try, I’m still a fucking monster.
Angelina’s fingers probed the edge of the cut, trying to press it together. Katrina winced, but met the woman’s gaze.
Angelina shook her head, her chin-length braids emphasizing the strong jawline. “This might need stitching, darling.”
“I don’t have… I can’t go…”
“No insurance needed. No paperwork either. We have a woman that works pro-bono on the minor stuff.” She held out a hand. “Come on, girl. We’ll get you some new clothes and I’ll give Shae a call.”