Scorched tdf-2

by Sharon Ashwood

  “That’s not possible!” She realized she sounded annoyed. He made a noise that was almost a laugh. “Just a touch of a spell. I thought witches were open to magic.”

  “I’m not a witch anymore.”

  He gave her a look, grabbed the musket, and slipped into the darkness. Swearing, Ashe ran to catch up. The entrance to the staircase was on the other side of the tall spire of rock, forcing them to circle its base. The colored lights that illuminated the flower beds dwindled, then stopped as soon as they left the footpath. Ashe tripped, nearly going down on one knee before she bumped into Reynard.

  He steadied her, and she could feel the remnants of magic in his touch. She’d broken her own magic with an unwise spell when she was still a teenager, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t feel power.

  She was picking up far more than the few traces clinging to Reynard’s long, strong fingers. Right now she felt power spilling over her like sand in a windstorm, stinging in a thousand tiny bites. Whoever—whatever—had been shooting at them was hurt, and not human.

  She thought again about her daughter, and knew fear.

  Reynard took a step forward. Ashe grabbed his arm. “You had only one shot in your musket. I should go first.”

  He pulled what looked like a very modern Smith & Wesson—it was hard to tell in the dark—from a holster hidden at the small of his back. “I could reload. I also carry a backup. As Mac is so fond of saying, shit happens.”

  The obscenity sounded wrong coming from him. Of course, every assumption she’d made about him so far that night had been off base. Not a good thing when they were supposed to be covering each other’s backs.

  Reynard started up the stairs, showing just how good his night vision was. Ashe brought up the rear. There was an iron railing to her right, but that was her gun hand, so she left it alone. Her skin crawled, not just with power but with vertigo. Normally she didn’t mind heights, but all that changed when she couldn’t see where she was putting her feet. She felt for the steps and counted each one. Good to know how many steps she’d climbed in case she had to reverse course in a hurry. Thinking you were at the bottom of the pitch-dark stairs when you weren’t could be a problem.

  More plants and bushes grew on the rock spire. Leaves brushed her face like slick, green fingers. She fought not to jump, stumble, and finish the night with a broken leg.

  They reached the landing, where the stairs took a sharp turn. Overhead was a wash of stars, thick and bright because the gardens were outside the city. Above the canopy of trees, the moon gave a thin wash of light. Ashe saw Reynard hold up his left hand, then point. His right hand was curled around his weapon. Ashe grasped her own gun with both hands, reassured by its cold, heavy weight.

  They went up the last dozen stairs. At the top was a kidney-shaped platform surrounded by an iron railing. It was like another small garden. The flower bed, maple tree, and bench would have made for a lovely resting place in daylight. At night, it was eerie.

  Reynard turned right and swept his gun downward to point at the fallen shooter. Ashe aimed at the figure sprawled facedown on the ground. He was twisted as if an effort to duck had spun him around.

  Vampire. Now that she was close, Ashe could almost taste his essence. His energy was pouring needles of power over her like the skitter of insect feet on her skin. She glided to the left of the figure, Reynard to the right, until they stood on opposite sides of their quarry.

  What happened next depended entirely on the vamp. Why had he shot at her? She wanted an explanation. She’d be happy to keep him alive—vibrantly undead?—at least long enough to question him. Longer if he played nice. Then again, he’d tried to kill her already. If he attacked, there’d be no messing around.

  The vamp was male, medium height, dressed in jeans. A scatter of weapons and a tripod were strewn around him. She smelled blood, but saw only a shining stain on the back of his jacket. It was too dark for color. He was motionless, but still she kicked his rifle out of reach. It was a sniper’s piece—night scope and all the fancy fixings.

  “Weapon says he means business,” she said softly.

  “It seems your enemies put forward their best efforts,” Reynard replied.

  “I’m so flattered.” Ashe took another quick inventory of the vamp. Short leather boots. The glint of a fancy watch. Dark hair, collar length. “Y’know, at first I wondered why someone would shoot from a place with only one escape route.”

  As she spoke, she shifted the Colt to her left hand and reached into the pocket that ran up the outside of her right thigh. Familiarity, certainty, washed through her. Slaying wasn’t her happy place, but it was one she knew inside and out.

  Ashe pulled out a long, straight, sharp stake. “Then it came to me. Vamps can fly. And then I thought of another thing. I was called out here on an emergency. How did an assassin know where I’d be? Somebody’s been doing some planning, and I’m going to want names.”

  The vampire struck. The speed was breathtaking; he lifted himself from a facedown sprawl to a frontal attack in less than a second—but she’d been expecting that. Ashe felt the thing’s body pound into the stake, using its own momentum to drive the weapon home. All she had to do was brace her feet against all that brute force and lean into it.

  The vamp flailed its arms, trying to change direction and pull away, trying to slash and bite and escape all at once. She’d judged the vamp’s height fairly well, but the stake had entered just below its heart. Ashe felt her feet skid on the stone beneath her, sliding far too close to the iron railing and the sheer drop beyond.

  Reynard yelled, grabbing the vamp from behind. In a flash of moonlight, she could see the vampire’s face— features twisted in pain and anger. Reynard was managing to pin its arms, something no human should have been able to do. That seemed to scare the monster even more than the stake.

  Ashe twisted her weapon, driving upward. The vampire gasped. She stopped a hairsbreadth from skewering him, praying Reynard’s strength would hold. She was taking a risk, pausing like this, but a chance at information was worth it.

  “Why were you shooting at me?” she demanded.

  It bared fangs, giving a rattling hiss.

  “Scary, but I’ve seen better,” she said.

  Reynard did something that made the vampire wince. “Answer.”

  “Abomination!” it snarled, and gave one last lunge at her.

  Last being the operative term. Ashe slammed the stake upward just before his fangs could reach her flesh.

  The vampire was suddenly deadweight. Reynard let the body drop, wood still protruding from its chest.

  “Shit.” Ashe looked down at the vampire. She knew she would feel plenty later—anger, triumph, regret, pity, self-justification—but at the moment she was blank. She’d done what she had to do. Once the adrenaline wore off, the rest could engulf her.

  The vampire had called her an abomination. She had opened her mouth to comment on how strange that was, coming from a bloodsucking monster, but closed her mouth again. It was weird enough that she didn’t want to even think about it. Besides, there were other, more pressing questions—-such as why the vamp had chosen to die rather than talk.

  It could be vengeance. It could be something else. Whatever it was, it was personal. That thought made her queasy. “Are you all right?” Reynard asked. “Yeah,” Ashe said, keeping her voice light, impersonal. “He went down easily enough.”

  Reynard sat down on the bench, head bowed. Ashe looked away. He didn’t look happy, but skewering the enemy wasn’t a cheery kind of thing. But then again, you didn’t get into this kind of work to talk about your feelings.

  Ashe turned to lean on the railing. Below was the garden, bathed in starlight. A much better view than the vampire. The body had already started to shrivel. In about twenty minutes, it would be a pile of dust. It was as if time caught up with vamps, grinding them to nothing. Once he was gone, they would search his possessions for clues.

  Above, the stars glittered like s
equins on a torch singer’s evening gown. Below, the gardens glowed like a fairy kingdom. It seemed distant and surreal, a pretty mirage she could look at but not touch. She was made from a different element—something dark and dangerous.

  At some point along the way, when her parents died, or when her husband died, or maybe when she’d bagged her first monster, she’d let herself slide into the darkness. Now that her daughter was home, she had to snap out of it. Kids needed a bright, shiny world. Eden needed something besides a monster-slaying action figure for a mom. Too bad Ashe didn’t know how to be anything else.

  She would try. Goddess knew she would try. She would try to see the beauty in the world and look away from the shadows.

  She heard Reynard shift on the bench behind her. “You should come see the view,” she said. “No, thank you.” His voice was quiet. The dark made it oddly intimate. “Why not?”

  He was silent for a few heartbeats. “I have to go back to the Castle.”

  “So?” She turned, leaning against the rail to face him.

  He raised his head, but didn’t meet her eyes. “Whatever I see out here will make me restless, and I don’t have a choice about going back. It’s best I see as little as possible.”

  There was so much regret in the words, it bruised her. Regret—that she knew. She could almost taste it like coppery blood on her tongue, sharp and familiar.

  Now, finally, there was something about him that she understood.

  And, Goddess help her, she suddenly wanted to fix it.

  “I urge anyone who is a fan of urban fantasy and paranormal romance to put Sharon Ashwood at the top of their list!” —Night Owl Romance

  Praise for Ravenous

  “A multilayered plot, a fascinating take on the paranormal creatures living among us, plus a sexy vampire, a sassy witch, and a mystery for them to solve ... Ravenous leaves me hungry for more!” —Jessica Andersen, author of Skykeepers

  “Sexy, suspenseful fun. Ashwood really knows how to tell a story.” —New York Times bestselling author Kelley Armstrong

  “Strong world building… Readers will look forward to the sequel.” —Publishers Weekly

  “Intriguing and darkly entertaining—not to mention sexy. Ashwood is definitely making herself right at home with this genre.” —Romantic Times

  “The world is interesting (I look forward to seeing more of it!), the romance gorgeous, the sex sizzling. There’s plenty of action, as well.” —Errant Dreams Reviews

  “This tongue-in-cheek, action-packed urban fantasy hooks the reader from the opening moment... and never slows down.” —Midwest Book Review

  “A fast-paced urban fantasy... nonstop action that will keep the reader turning pages long into the night. Ashwood has created a wonderful fantasy romp that’s tough to put down until the end. I look forward to reading the next installment in this series.” —Romance Junkies

  “The world building is complex and absolutely terrific. But, most of all, it’s the powerful attraction between the spunky witch heroine and her sexy vampire partner as they battle evil that makes this story a real page-turner! With demons, hell hounds, weres, and vampires waiting in the wings, I can’t wait to see what happens next!” —Alexis Morgan

  “I think I have found a new favorite series...I guess I have to wait for the next story, hopefully not for too long!” —The Romance Studio

  “Ravenous is a fantastic read, filled with action, suspense, lush details, sizzling romance, and very memorable characters. Ms. Ashwood has created a very compelling world and left us with enough questions about the fate of certain characters to have us hoping that this is the start of a very promising new series.” —MyShelf.com

  “Ms. Ashwood has created an intriguing world where both good and evil dwell in the shadows and things are rarely what they seem. Ravenous is a well-written and sexy read that makes for a great escape from the norm. I look forward to the next visit with the Dark Forgotten.” —Darque Reviews

  “Ravenous is packed with action, humor, and a drool-worthy vampire. The demons and the hellhounds and the evil house with a killer mind (oh my!) are what set it apart from the fold. A whole new mythology surrounding the supernatural and how humans police them is introduced, and I can’t wait to see where Ashwood takes it. This book earns 5 tombstones for creativity, sex appeal, and one kick-ass house.” —Bitten by Books

  “Sharon Ashwood hooked me from the first page! Ravenous gets off to a roaring start and the fast pace never relents. Ravenous has all the elements of a top-notch urban fantasy tale… It will be hard to surpass this book! I can’t recommend this one highly enough!” —CK2S Kwips and Kritiques

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