Sunglasses at Night

by Jessica Lynch

  Adam’s lips curved.

  This just got even more interesting.

  He would’ve thrown his might and his machete into this fight because he owed Evangeline and her shifter mate. But to have the chance to get his revenge at last?

  He relished it.

  Adam willed Rafe to look at him. To notice him. To see his face and know that death—final death—was coming for him at last.

  Nope.

  As Adam watched, Rafe cast a glance over everyone on Adam’s side. He peered at Tabby, Travis, and Virginia. Sneered at Wolfe. Scoffed at Adam for barely a heartbeat, and finally settled his gaze on Colt.

  A murderous expression twisted his model-like features when Rafe saw him.

  No surprise. Not really. Adam might have an agenda in regards to Rafe Silverson, but Rafe held Colt and Shea responsible for Julian Koenig’s assassination. No wonder he’d focus on the wolf shifter more than any of others there.

  Adam tightened his fists, the points of his Nightwalker claws digging into the flesh of his palm. Rafe would no doubt go for Colt as soon as he could. Adam would have to make sure to get to Rafe first.

  If he could.

  Though he itched to rush the Nightwalker flanking the witch, he could sense more than see a barrier that separated both sides. It was a ward, most definitely Paraproof. The witch wasn’t taking any chances. With such a welcome, she was shielding herself and her troops from Wolfe’s defense.

  He could tell, too. Maddox Wolfe stopped in his pacing, and while Adam never would’ve guessed that Wolfe could control himself from throwing his linebacker-sized body at the ward, he was shocked to see Wolfe hold his ground.

  “You shouldn’t have come.” His voice had gone unnaturally deep, a threat and a promise rolled into the harsh rasp as he pointed at the witch. “You avoided my wrath last year. There’s no limitation to what the law says I can do to you. By coming here, you’ve signed your death warrant.”

  “You hurt my feelings, Mad,” Priscilla pouted. “You tried to kill me once and I still love you. Do you know how lucky you are?”

  “I’m Alpha of the Eastern Pack. I have the best mate ever and, yeah, secret’s out, I guess. We’re having a pup. I know exactly how fucking lucky I am, and it’s no thanks to you, Cilla.”

  “No. You only think that whore is carrying your pup. Once I finish what I started, you’ll finally see that you’re meant to be mine.”

  Wolfe growled in obvious warning. Colt joined in, his snarl amplifying his brother’s fury.

  The witch’s eyes flared, the lovely lavender shade lightening to a color closer to a shocking white. Against her caramel-colored skin and her dark, dark hair, it was enough to send a shiver down Adam’s spine.

  “You stay out of this, Colt. You survived my spell once. Don’t be so arrogant to presume you will again.”

  “Thanks for reminding me.” Colt flexed his hands, showing off the shifter claws that grew from his normally blunted fingertips. “It’ll be a pleasure helping Mad get rid of you once and for all.”

  Priscilla snorted, unconcerned. “I told you. Stay out of this. Now, where’s the human? Where’s the woman who dared to try and replace me?”

  “Nowhere you’ll find her,” taunted Wolfe.

  “Give her to me and I’ll spare the rest of you for Maddox’s sake. Refuse me and you leave me no choice.”

  “Do your worst, you heartless harpy,” snapped Colt, his temper getting the better of him. Adam was sure he had a worse insult for Priscilla, but since his mate was a witch, he dialed it back some. The murderous look twisting his handsome features? It said everything he was thinking and more. “You’ll never get to Evangeline.”

  “Is that so?”

  “I lost her once.” Wolfe stepped closer to the witch, his big body an unspoken threat. He hadn’t shifted—not yet—but the rough edge of his voice made it obvious who was really in control. “I will never let you take her away from me again, Cilla. I promise you that.”

  “Huh. Then it seems I came all this way for nothing. And to think I could’ve just let my new friends take care of this for me.” Her sigh was long, drawn out, and overly dramatic. In a rush of air, warmth rolled over their side. Adam knew in an instant that she’d lowered the wards. “Kill them all,” she ordered the Nightwalkers, “except for the Alpha. He’s mine.”

  Rafe Silverson licked his lips, silver gaze locked on Colt. The whole time he’d been standing at Priscilla’s side, Rafe never once took his attention off of him.

  “And I’ll take the Beta,” he announced.

  Ah, hell no.

  It was bad enough that Rafe didn’t seem to recognize him. For months, Adam thought of little more than getting his revenge on the Nightwalker who did this to him. Turning into a nighttime vigilante, exterminating bloodthirsty Nightwalkers in the name of the Claws Clause… that helped. Meeting Tabby Winslow and getting swept up in her world, that had been an even bigger blessing.

  He still needed to kill Rafe. He needed his revenge.

  Of course, considering Colt assassinated Rafe’s king, it seemed the Nightwalker felt the same way about the shifter.

  No.

  The second the wards were down, Adam flew right at Rafe.

  If he was disappointed that Adam engaged him instead of Colt, he didn’t show it. Instead, circling Adam as if trying to figure out where to strike first, he bared his fangs.

  Adam leaped toward him, throwing punches as fast as possible just because he’d been dreaming of this for so long. It made him sloppy, though, and while the first two punches landed because the Nightwalker obviously hadn’t expected Adam to fight like a human—closed fists, hammered punches, his claws folded in, and his fangs clenched together—he easily dodged the next.

  Rafe jumped back, a taunting smile tugging on his lips. He didn’t seem affected at all by the hits. “Really? Fighting your own kind? What kind of Nightwalker are you?”

  It was thanks to Rafe that he was a Nightwalker at all. “Fuck you,” he grunted.

  Rafe tutted. He actually tutted. “You’re fighting the wrong side.”

  “I’m not fighting any side. I’m fighting you.”

  That time, Adam landed a punch that shot Rafe’s head over his shoulder.

  Rafe shook it off before lunging, fangs first; seemed like he was done playing around. Adam avoided the hit, lashing out with his claws, a sense of satisfaction flooding through him when he caught the scent of rancid blood on the air.

  Nightwalker blood.

  Around him, he knew that the others were using the Claws Clause to follow Tabby’s lead and slay the vampires. There was no point trying to involve the police. Between Maddox Wolfe’s claim against the witch, and the laws that said being a man-eater Para was an automatic death sentence, nobody else was actually fighting. They were exterminating.

  Adam knew he should be doing the same thing. And it wasn’t the cop in him that had him holding off on the kill. No. It was the utter need to make Rafe feel even an ounce of pain before he finished him off… that’s why he was slashing and punching, feinting and kicking out with his boot instead of grabbing for the dagger at his hip or the machete strapped to his back.

  He couldn’t figure why Rafe wasn’t going for the kill, either. He gave as good as he got, ramping up the ferocity of his hits once Adam ripped him open, and it was only when Adam dodged another lunge that he realized his one advantage.

  Adam wanted Rafe dead. But the Nightwalker? Unless one of Rafe’s lucky strikes had knocked the last of Adam’s sense out of his thick skull, he was almost sure that his nemesis was holding back. Kinda like he was hesitant to eliminate one of his own kind.

  Adam was going to totally use that to his advantage.

  Priscilla winked out of sight. He only noticed because her disappearance was marked with a flash that blinded him for a heartbeat, followed by an ear-splitting roar coming from Wolfe.

  It was a distraction. Adam took advantage of that, too, cracking Rafe so hard with his next pun
ch that he felt it when his eye socket and his cheek shattered on impact. His hand throbbed—he threw so much force into it, he wouldn’t be surprised if he broke his own hand at the same time—and when Rafe tried to retreat, Adam let him.

  And that’s when Priscilla came back.

  She reappeared in another burst of light, so bright it lit up the evening gloom; so bright, he actually winced behind his sunglasses. An electrical surge rolled over them all, making Adam’s arm hair stand on edge, his teeth ache, and causing two of the nearest street lamps to surge then pop.

  Darkness fell again. Thanks to his paranormal night vision, Adam could see clearly. He caught sight of Tabby holding her own against one Nightwalker, a headless corpse already behind her. Another two bodies lay strewn in the street, bloody stumps from where a wolf’s claws sliced it right off.

  Minding her mate, Shea stayed back; Colt acted like a shield for her, taking out any Nightwalker that even flashed a fang in her direction.

  Despite claiming Maddox Wolfe, Priscilla made no move toward him. She stood more than twenty feet away from the fighting. Wolfe was facing off against two Nightwalkers, Colt finishing up with another. Tabby was breathing heavily, a content smile on her face as she killed her second vamp. An oversized jaguar was limping around, favoring one paw, blood along its side and its muzzle. It hovered between the blonde witch and a twitching Nightwalker that lay sprawled out on the asphalt.

  Like Shea, Virginia had stayed out of the fight. Travis—who must be the jaguar—guarded her the same way that Colt protected Shea. Knowing that Eva was safe in Colt’s Bumptown, Maddox tore through as many Nightwalkers as he could once he realized Priscilla was gone. As soon as she was back? He threw back his head and let free an unholy howl that caused even Adam’s knees to lock before loping toward her.

  Rafe took the opportunity to jump back into the fight. He got in a lucky swipe, his claws tearing Adam’s side when he took his attention off the other Nightwalker for a split second too long. He countered by throwing an elbow at Rafe’s throat while reaching for his dagger.

  Rafe choked on the strike when the power of Adam’s elbow nearly collapsed his windpipe. Gagging on it, he fell back, hissing through open fangs as the injury started to heal itself.

  Adam’s hand closed on the dagger’s hilt. There wasn’t time to trigger the magic of the blade. He didn’t care, either. He just wanted to make sure Rafe saw Julian’s dagger before he finished the fight for once and for all.

  He never got the chance.

  Wolfe was gunning for Priscilla. To his right, Virginia had pulled something out of her pocket. Wearing a determined expression, the newcomer followed the same path Wolfe took, cutting right to Priscilla.

  And that’s when the witch waved her hand and everything seemed to just… stop.

  Magic crackled in the air. A popping sound followed, and the scent of something acrid and burning. Whatever Virginia held in her hand went up in smoke, overly bright flames filling the other witch’s palm.

  She shouted, slapping her hand against the side of her jeans, putting the flames out.

  The damage was done anyway.

  “Thank you, witchling,” purred Priscilla, a coy smile tugging on her lips. “Why waste more of my diamonds when you so kindly provided them for me?”

  Through gritted teeth, Virginia managed to say, “The spell won’t last. One way or another, I’ll collect the bounty on you. I vow it.”

  “Hmm. Aren’t you cute? Capture me?” Priscilla waved her hand again, a shooing gesture. Virginia lifted off the ground, soaring through the air, landing with a grunt on a lawn two houses down. “I don’t think so.”

  The jaguar roared. It was the weirdest sound, like a saw going in one direction, but there was enough of a threat in it to have Adam’s fangs jutting past his bottom lip.

  Or maybe that was knowing Rafe was less than a foot away from him and he was powerless to take his revenge.

  “I’d say it’s been fun but, honestly, except for seeing my mate again”—she offered Wolfe a four-finger wave so that everyone knew who she meant—“I could’ve just stayed home.”

  An amber sheen rolled over Wolfe’s golden eyes. White fur tipped with grey exploded along his brawny arms. “I’m not your mate, Cilla. And you shouldn’t have come. The second I’m free again, your head is mine.”

  Not an idle threat, considering the normally suburban cul de sac was littered with severed heads and scattered corpses.

  Priscilla pursed her lips. “Is that so? We’ll see about that.”

  She lifted her hands, holding them about a foot apart. A spark fizzled, a spot of white light in the darkness, before it began to grow. By the time it was the size of a golf ball, the white turned purple.

  Purple, thought Adam. Magic.

  Ah, shit.

  The glowing orb of pulsing power forming between Priscilla’s curved hands kept expanding. The golf ball became a baseball, then a softball, now a beach ball. Standing apart from the melee surrounding her, she glided easily through the fight without a care in the world. Wind whipped around her, her long, coal-black hair streaming behind her. It was fucking eerie. The wind didn’t touch anyone but the witch who, as she continued to float an inch or two above the ground, was almost painted a soft lilac shade as the orb’s glow shined over her.

  Her attention on manipulating the magic between her hands, the spell that kept everyone frozen in place failed.

  As a one, the remaining four Nightwalkers—including Rafe—all fell back, crouching behind the witch. Without an enemy to fight, Colt retreated, covering Shea. The rest of them closed in, watching Priscilla as her purple gaze landed on each one of them in turn.

  Adam sucked in a breath; unlike the others, he was hardly able to move. Was it an effect of her spell? His arms were sluggish, his eyes heavy behind his shades. He tried to lift one of his boots and found that he couldn’t.

  Glancing around him, he discovered that no one else was moving. She’d frozen them again, though—for the first time—it seemed to cost her a little effort. Her hands were shaking, faint lines forming behind her perfect glamour.

  Even so, Priscilla had them right where she wanted them.

  But why?

  “Eenie meenie miney… you.”

  18

  Three shifters. Two witches. One Nightwalker.

  And Tabby.

  Did Priscilla know that Tabby was a slayer? Or did she look at the human and decide she was the weakest one there?

  Whatever the reason, when the vicious witch pushed the orb of magic away from her, letting loose a stream of vivid purple power, she aimed straight for Tabby.

  Frozen in place as he was, there was not a damn thing Adam could do to stop her.

  Like with Virginia, the magic sent Tabby soaring through the air. However, before she made contact with the asphalt, it turned her into a… a boomerang. Her body snapped, her arms flailing as she was thrown back, landing at the feet of a dark-haired, silver-eyed Nightwalker.

  “Bon appétit,” cooed Priscilla.

  The Nightwalker fell on Tabby.

  “No!”

  Adam shook off the witch’s magic as easily as if it were cobwebs slithering over his skin before bolting toward her. Two Nightwalkers, neither of them Rafe, moved to intercept him. The time for toying with the corpses out of a need to avenge himself was over and done with. Desperate to get to Tabby before the Nightwalker could drain her—or worse—he reacted.

  He leaned into his sprint, one hand slipping under his shirt, reaching behind him for the handle of the machete he kept hidden strapped to his back. He yanked it free, cutting himself in his haste. He ignored the shock of pain. With his free hand, he jabbed his palm in the male Nightwalker’s chest, sending him flying. The female? Her head thudded as he cleaved it right off her shoulders.

  An eerie laugh echoed all around him. He pushed it out of his head, focusing solely on the Nightwalker huddled over Tabby.

  He didn’t dare swing the bloodied blade wh
ile the bastard was that close to her. Hoping his fangs weren’t embedded in her throat, he grabbed the Nightwalker by the back of his neck, purposely piercing him with his claws, and yanked.

  Good news: he wasn’t chewing on Tabby’s neck when Adam pulled him away from her. Bad news: he’d definitely already started to feed on her. Twin points of deep red stood out on the pale column on her throat.

  Her eyes were closed.

  She better still be breathing.

  It was the only thought in Adam’s head as he held onto the struggling vamp. Blood dripped down his chin—Tabby’s blood.

  When it came to killer Paras, Adam Wright was judge, jury, and executioner. The Nightwalker would’ve drained Tabby if no one stopped him. He deserved more than a quick death at Adam’s hands. He deserved to suffer, but there was no time for that. Not while Tabby lay still on the road.

  As soon as he finished off the Nightwalker, he threw the corpse away, tossed the machete after it to free his hands, then swooped Tabby up.

  She didn’t even twitch.

  He cradled her. With her eyes closed, forehead furrowed in undeniable pain, she seemed so much smaller; it was her confidence and her good nature that made her seem bigger than she actually was. He lifted her easily, holding her against his chest, tamping down the angry hiss that had him wanting to tear down the entire fucking world for making him realize just how tiny and vulnerable his slayer was.

  His fury was a buzzing in his skull. He spun in a circle, instincts demanding he look for any other threat to Tabby. Rafe was gone. It was the first thing he noticed, followed by relief that Priscilla had disappeared again, too.

  As did Virginia.

  The Wolfe brothers remained. Shea, wrapped up in Colt’s arms. And a very naked Travis who had shifted back from his jaguar shape, a thunderous expression on his face as he stared down the empty road.

  Allies. Friends. In the back of his primal mind, even the monster that Adam was now recognized that these people were not his enemies.