The Slayer

by Brenda Huber

  He didn’t jolt. Didn’t even snap “ow,” like a normal person would. Instead, his stare locked on her. And stayed there.

  “Thanks so much for the pizza, Murphy. It smells delicious. I can’t wait to dig in.” She was babbling now as she began loading plates up for herself and Xander, but she couldn’t seem to help it. The way Xander was staring at her, as if he’d like nothing better than to turn her over his knee—or simply incinerate her with one of his plasma balls—was starting to get to her.

  “Well, then, I’d best be leavin’ ye to it.” Dusting his hands on the hips of his apron, he nodded to Xander. “Nice to be meetin’ ye, Xander from Helena.”

  Xander grunted.

  “Really?” Kyanna whispered furiously as soon as Murphy was out of earshot. “Could you at least pretend to make an effort? Murphy happens to be a good friend.”

  “Give me the scrolls and my lack of effort will no longer be your problem,” he countered.

  Grinding her teeth, she dropped her attention to the plate in front of her. Somehow, she managed to get two pieces down. But the normally decadent pizza tasted like greasy cardboard in her mouth. Xander, however, didn’t seem to be experiencing any difficulties with his appetite. He’d already consumed four of the six breadsticks, just polished off slice number five, and was reaching for number six. Where was he putting it all?

  She stared, mesmerized, as he licked sauce from his thumb.

  Finally satisfied, Xander pushed his empty plate away. Exasperated, Kyanna motioned to the waitress for the check and a small to-go box. She paid the bill and ushered Xander from the restaurant. As she stowed the leftover pizza in the trunk of the car, she made the mistake of mentioning the ice cream parlor. He had to be full to bursting, but the mere mention of the confection had him craning his neck to scan the street. And yet he didn’t utter a sound. God, she was such a sucker. That, or a glutton for punishment.

  Fifteen minutes later, armed with a triple-scoop cone, Xander followed her to the end of a vacant dock just off the park. Kyanna sat on the bench, scooted over a bit as Xander joined her. She dipped her spoon into her sundae. Warm, sweet fudge melted across her palate, contrasting perfectly with the cold, vanilla, soft-serve ice cream, and she marveled at how normal this felt.

  Sitting with Xander by the lake eating ice cream.

  Who’d’a thunk it?

  Night had begun to close in all around them, but for once it didn’t bother her. She didn’t let herself dwell too long on that unsettling fact. Moonlight flickered and danced upon the glittering surface of the lake, stirred by the whispering breeze. Waves lapped gently at the shoreline behind them, lulling the senses. Every now and then, a stronger push of wind would shush through the trees a few yards down the shore. But then silence would fall again. No one walked along the beach to disturb the soothing quiet.

  For the first time since he’d exploded into her life, Kyanna could actually see the tension melt from Xander’s shoulders. Even the silence between them seemed mellow. Comfortable. She finished her sundae, tossed the cup in a nearby receptacle, and then settled back to wait for Xander to finish his cone. As she waited, her eyelids grew heavy.

  She woke with a start some time later, nestled in the warm cocoon of Xander’s arms. Her head tucked into the crook of his shoulder, her arm draped across his belly. His chest rose and fell in a smooth rhythm. Xander’s strong, steady heartbeat throbbed against her ear. Dear heavens, she was all but sprawled across him. Mortified, she pushed up into a sitting position and shoved the hair from her face.

  Oh God. Please don’t let me have drooled on him.

  Xander’s arms fell away from her slowly, as if reluctant to give up their treasure. She blinked up at him, completely at a loss for words. Struggling to school her drowsy thought, Kyanna started when Xander lifted a hand and traced a finger over a lock of hair at her temple. He eased the wayward tendrils behind her ear, but continued to trace the line of her jaw, eventually hooking his curled finger beneath her chin.

  Silent, his stare holding her captive, he slowly tilted his head. His warm breath came first, brushing over her lips, teasing her with the scent of strawberry ice cream. And then came the heat. The press of his lips. Smooth and firm. He nipped her lower lip between his. Suckled. Laved his tongue over the inside of her lip. So excruciatingly slow. And then, at last, the long, languid glide of his tongue slipping past her teeth, stroking against hers. Exploring. It was as if he was trying to learn the taste and textures of her mouth, and he had all the time in the universe to do so. She gave herself up to the kiss, to him, and her body melted into his.

  His hand drifted down to settle on her hip as his other arm came around her once more, cradling her, drawing her closer as he continued the easy rhythm he’d set in motion. A steady, irresistible seduction of her senses.

  She didn’t know how long they sat there like that, mouths perfectly mated. It could have been minutes, or an eternity. All she knew was that when he finally drew away, she would have happily sacrificed an appendage, any appendage to continue on kissing him till the sun rose in the east and set once more in the west. Could have, would have kissed him until the Earth stopped spinning.

  Because when he kissed her, he was no longer a demon fighting a brutal war. And she was no longer a desperate woman scrambling to protect herself and her family’s secrets.

  They were just a man and a woman kissing in the moonlight.

  Kyanna blinked at him, sucking in a sharp breath. Snapping back to her senses, she blurted, “We should go back now.”

  But go back to what? Back to her store, her apartment? Or back to the way things were before they’d shared that soul-shaping kissed?

  She was adrift. Lost in a sea of confusion.

  Xander was no help. He rose, stiff and silent, and followed her along the dock, up the sandy shore, and into the car. The drive to Treasure Box was long and tense. Kyanna guided the Taurus down the darkened ally, parked behind her store, and turned the engine off. Xander glanced warily around as they climbed from her battered vehicle. He paused, studying the adjoining building with an odd intensity. Kyanna called his name. Frowning, he joined her at the trunk and loaded himself down with her shopping bags, leaving her only one small sack and the pizza box. He hurried her across the alley.

  Quickly dropping the enchantments on the back door, she crossed the threshold, waited until Xander had done the same, and then she whispered the incantations in a rush, experiencing an even greater unease than normal. Something was different now. Was she still dazed over his kiss? Had the dynamics between them altered somehow?

  Or was she picking up on some outside factor? Tuning in to the unease radiating from Xander?

  He carried her purchases up the apartment steps in silence and deposited them on the table in the kitchen, sat down and watched as she began putting things away. Unable to bear the silence a moment longer, she stopped, a bag of dried pasta in her hand, and stared at him. “You kissed me. Again.”

  He didn’t respond. Didn’t blink. But a muscle in his jaw leaped. And the tiny lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled.

  So he was just as confused as she was, and he was angry about it. Well, that was just great.

  “So, what now? We’re not supposed to talk about it? Not supposed to discuss it at all?”

  He looked to the package in her hand, then glanced away. He stared at the wine wrack on the top of her fridge. She set the package aside, laid her palms flat on the table, leaned forward and pinned him with an indignant stare.

  “Fine. You want to pretend it didn’t happen. Go for it. But the least you could have done was acknowledge the people I introduced you to today. I know those people. And while they may not mean anything to you, they mean something to me.”

  His gaze cut back to her, and this time it was hot. Anger swirled in the turbulent gray depths. His pupils dilated. Throwing her hands up, she sho
ok her head. “And now you’re mad. No, now you’re furious. I don’t get you. For the love of God, say something. Anything!”

  “What did you hope to accomplish?” He pushed back from the table, rose to prowl the kitchen.

  “I wanted to help you put faces to the lives you save every day. Put names with them. Let you see that you are doing something good, every time you save a soul.” Lowering her voice, she approached him, but he drew back. Stiff. Unyielding. “Why are you so afraid to let anybody in, afraid to get to know anyone?”

  The look he shot her should have scorched her to her toes. Incinerated her to ash. Probably would have, if she’d cared. But right now, she was just too reckless, too focused on ferreting out his secret.

  Saying nothing, he pivoted and began stomping toward the door.

  “Xander!”

  He came to an abrupt halt, and spun about, scowling. His fists were clenched at his sides. Ridged tension gripped his body. She’d never seen him express any kind of emotion to this extent. Honestly, it was a little bit frightening.

  “Where will they all be fifty years from now, Kyanna? A hundred years?”

  She blinked, taken aback by the bleak fury in his voice.

  “Dust,” he finally blurted. “Maybe, if somebody gets really lucky, they’ll end up a well preserved corpse in some museum. The Egyptians did a damned fine job with that art form.” He grew more hoarse by the moment. Xander stomped back across the room, stopping a few short feet from her. It could just as well have been miles for the chasm she felt opening up between them. “They’ll all be dead. You’ll be dead. And where will I be? Still alive. Cursed with a bunch of damned memories I don’t want. Probably still fighting for something that’s never going to damned well happen.”

  On those fateful words, he whirled about and stormed from the apartment. The door slammed behind him, making her start. His boots pounded down the stairs. A few moments later, the office door downstairs slammed, and she jumped once more. Kyanna slowly lowered herself onto one of the chairs at the table.

  She’d been so sure of herself. So confident. Convinced that she could make him a better person, if only she could show him the world he saved. Force him to interact with the souls he protected and conquer his fear of emotional attachment. His fear of emotion, period.

  How arrogant could I have been?

  His lack of attachment hadn’t been that he just didn’t care. Hadn’t been that he didn’t know any better. His emotional distance was a defense mechanism. A way for him to cope with millennia upon millennia of death.

  Millennia upon millennia of surviving.

  God, she was a sorry fool.

  Crossing her arms on the table, she dropped her head to her forearms. Kyanna tried desperately to block the raw anguish in his eyes as he’d spoke of fighting for something that he obviously believed would never happen. She knew in her heart of hearts that he’d been talking about his redemption. That he truly believed he’d never receive forgiveness. Perhaps he thought himself unworthy of it.

  And yet, every day he got up and went out and fought to save humankind, asking for nothing in return from the humans he saved.

  What have I done?

  Xander jolted awake. Blinked at the darkness around him. The haunting memory of Kyanna asleep in his arms followed him up from the depths of slumber. A dream. He’d been dreaming about their kiss on the dock.

  The floor beneath him shook again, violently. He braced himself on his hands and knees, and shook his head to clear his thoughts. A framed document fell from the wall and shattered nearby. A hunk of plaster soon followed. Something loud and heavy crashed overhead. Plaster dust began to fill the air.

  No, that wasn’t dust. At least, not all of it. Whiffs of smoke began to burn his eyes, clog his lungs, making breathing a chore. Xander grabbed his jeans and jerked them on, not bothering to button them. Another violent tremor knocked him off his feet. Crawling out into the hallway, he threw an arm up to shield his face from the sparks dancing across the floor. A live wire had ripped loose from some electrical box, showering the area in sparks that were quickly igniting cardboard boxes in the storage area.

  The floor stopped shaking, and one goal solidified in his mind. Kyanna. He didn’t know what the hell was going on. Didn’t know why they were having a damned earthquake in Minnesota. But he had to get to Kyanna. Had to get her to safety.

  When he was halfway up the stairs, the ground began to shake once more. A loosened brick crashed to the step behind him. Another hit him on the shoulder. Unfazed, he charged on. Bursting through the door, he scoured the apartment for signs of her. He squinted through the thickening smoke.

  “Kyanna,” he roared, racing toward her bedroom. “Ky—”

  Without warning, he slammed into an invisible wall, was thrown back on his ass. His breath exploded from his lungs in a startled rush.

  Damn it! Not another one.

  This was the last damned time she’d be putting enchantments and ward stones between them.

  The building stopped shaking, and he crawled forward, deciding it might be better for him to remain lower to the floor—beneath the rapidly growing cloud of smoke.

  “Kyanna!”

  Why isn’t she answering?

  Her bedroom door was cracked open. Through it, he could see her lying on the floor, her face turned away from the door. Unmoving. A large chunk of plaster rested half on her shoulder, half on the floor. Smaller chunks of plaster littered the floor all around her. Plaster dust covered her hair and back.

  His heart skipped a beat, lodging in his throat. No, she wasn’t dead. Couldn’t be dead. He’d know it if she were. Wouldn’t he? He could still feel that odd hum in his veins. Uncertainty, fear as he’d never before experienced, rushed up to choke him.

  “Kyanna!” he bellowed. His throat was raw. From yelling? From speaking too much earlier? From the smoke? It didn’t matter. He’d bellow until his vocal cords bled, if only she’d answer.

  Had her hand moved? Praying, acrid tears streaming from his burning eyes, he scrabbled forward. And was met with resistance once more. She hadn’t used the enchantments, thank heaven. He’d never be able to get through those. But she had used ward stones. Powerful ones.

  The building began to shake once more. Harder this time. Something in the living room crashed. The microwave fell from the counter in the kitchen. Plates and glasses danced from the cupboards to shatter on the counters, shards rained down on the floor. Massive chunks of ceiling were beginning to fall in every room. Walls were cracking. He had to get to her. Now.

  Sweat poured down his spine. Gritting his teeth, he reached one hand into the barrier, forcing himself to stretch for the biggest stone. Shaking from the sheer agony, he bore down on the pain, strained to channel the darkness within him. Darkness that was, even now, dampened by the enchantments surrounding the building. Skin began to bubble on his fingertips. His nails blackened. And then flesh began peeling from bone. And still he reached, roaring now. His whole body shook from the pain. Sweat beaded on his skin. So close. His claws had somehow come out. They scratched across the surface of the stone, barely edging it a fraction of a centimeter.

  Just. A. Little. More.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Giving a gut-deep roar, Xander thrust his hand farther into the barrier. Muscle, tendon, nerves disintegrated. With one last great push, harnessing the evil inside him for added strength, he batted the stone aside, breaking the connection. Chest heaving, he crawled inside the bedroom, straight to her side. His injured hand hung limp near his waist. Useless. Pain ripped through his body, worse than from any other injury he’d ever sustained.

  “Kyanna?” His voice was little more than a strained whisper now. He shoved the heavy chunk of ceiling from her and gently turned her over. Xander smoothed the hair from her face with his good hand. “Sweetheart, wake up.”

  Her eyelids flu
ttered, and he swore his heart did the same. She roused briefly, blinked, but her pupils were huge, unfocused. And then she lost consciousness once more.

  Swearing, he cupped her cheek. “Kyanna, no! You must not go back to sleep. You have to lower the enchantments. Listen to—”

  A massive length of crown molding came crashing down near the door. Instinctively, Xander covered her with his body. Pain erupted anew in his hand. Glancing down, he grimaced. His hand had begun to regenerate. He was about to be in for a boatload of agony.

  “Kyanna, wake up.” Desperate, he shook her. Her head lolled to the side, but she did little more than groan. “Kyanna, where are the scrolls? We have to get them and get out of here.”

  Sweat broke out on his forehead, beaded his upper lip as he scanned the room. Enormous cracks snaked up the walls, exposing electrical wiring, raw studs, and brick. A window shattered and he dove to cover her again, curling his arm protectively around her head as flying shards sliced at his back.

  To hell with this. To hell with the scrolls. Her frail body wouldn’t withstand the collapse of this building. Even now, noxious smoke was filling the apartment. He scooped her up just as the floor leveled once more. He pushed to his feet and bolted through the doorway and into the living room.

  “Xander?” Her voice cracked, sounded nearly as bad as his own.

  “Shh, it’s okay.” He pressed a harried kiss to her bruised brow. He noticed a quickly widening gap in the wall near the window. “I’ve got you.”

  A flaming beam of wood crashed to the floor halfway between them and the door. Cursing, he reared back, twisting to shield her as flames leaped high.

  “The book,” she gasped, coughed. “Have to. Get the book.”

  Xander peered down at her, frowning. “The scrolls?”

  “Have to get. The book.” She began struggling in earnest. “And the stone. Can’t. Leave them.”

  The desperate drive to get her out of there battled with his sense of duty. “Where are they?”

  “Second. Bedroom.”