by Tina Folsom
Renewed and strengthened, Zoltan let go of his captive. Kevin was unconscious now.
“Thanks for everything, Kevin.”
The hapless human had given him all he needed. And now Kevin deserved his rest. In a few hours, he’d wake up with a headache the likes of which he’d never known before. He could kill him of course. For a brief moment he considered it. But that could be messy, and he didn’t want to get any blood on Kevin’s clothes.
“It’s your lucky day.”
Moments later, Zoltan emerged wearing Kevin’s white shirt, black slacks, and that ridiculous red bowtie. Not even his mother—if he had one—would recognize him now.
“Showtime.”
Zoltan entered the house via the tradesmen’s entrance to the side. Kevin had propped the gate open, so he could enter after his smoke break. Zoltan now closed it behind him and walked to the door at the end of the walkway and peered inside. The kitchen. Several catering personnel were busy with drinks and food. Time to establish his credentials so he could move freely within the house.
He stepped inside and addressed a woman who was filling flutes with champagne. “Hey, sorry, uh, Bruce sent me.”
She stared at him. “Yeah, why?”
“He said the clients requested six staff, not five, so he sent me to chip in last minute before the homeowners think they’re getting shortchanged.”
She shrugged. “Fine by me. It’s a little crazy here right now anyway.” She turned to one of the others, a young man who was just picking up a platter with canapés. “Hey, Mike, have you seen Kevin? He was supposed to do the cocktails.” She motioned to a tray with various pre-mixed drinks.
The guy shrugged. “Nope.”
“I saw somebody smoking outside,” Zoltan offered. “Maybe that’s him.”
“Figures,” the woman said. “What’s your name?”
“Greg.” The name Harry had already outlived its usefulness.
“I’m Cathy. Can you take the cocktails?”
“Sure. No problem.”
It would give him a good cover to check out not only the house itself, but also the homeowners and the guests. Nobody in these circles ever noticed a servant. By the time Kevin woke up and somebody realized that a stranger had been able to move within the house unimpeded, he’d be long gone. Nobody would be able to give an accurate description of him. And even if they did, it would lead nowhere. Because the human world didn’t have any record of him.
With ease, Zoltan moved through the ranks of the city’s upper crust, and made his way to the person he wanted to look at more closely: Tessa Wallace, the councilwoman. She’d just walked up to a woman who looked vaguely familiar, and hugged her. The woman was a good twenty to twenty-five years older than Tessa.
Zoltan moved closer.
“Amanda, I’m so glad to see you,” Tessa chirped. “How have you been holding up?”
A sad look crossed the other woman’s face. He’d seen that look before. Yes, at a funeral. He loved going to funerals, loved watching humans mourn their loved ones. The pain that saturated the air at a funeral was so heavy, so thick, that he could practically snatch it out of the air and swallow it down, to feed that part of him that gave him his demonic strength. After a funeral he always felt invigorated, replenished. And this woman had suffered: Amanda Yardley, the widow of the former mayor. Even now, pain radiated from her, and though pain was not as powerful as fear, he was drawn to it nevertheless.
“I’m coping,” Amanda said in reply to Tessa’s question. “Every day gets a little easier.”
“We all miss him terribly.”
“Thank you. By the way, I brought the book you lent him. I left it with my jacket.” She pointed toward the front of the house. “Remind me before I leave.”
“I was actually just talking about that today. Gunn is looking for some files, and it’s possible that they were accidentally packed in with John’s personal stuff. He might call you.”
Amanda tossed her a confused look. “There were no files in the box they sent to my house. Just some awards, a few trinkets and personal papers, and his appointment book.” She smiled wistfully. “I hung the awards on the wall of his study.”
A tap on his shoulder made Zoltan turn.
“I’ll take one of those,” the tall man said and pointed to a glass on Zoltan’s tray.
“Of course, sir,” Zoltan answered, managing to keep his cool. He wasn’t easily rattled, but suddenly coming face to face with a Stealth Guardian was nevertheless a bit of a surprise. Not that it was totally unexpected.
Although one thing did come as a surprise: the man, whose distinct aura identified him as a Stealth Guardian, was no stranger to him. In fact, a few months earlier, in an old farmhouse in California, he and two of his demons had fought against two Stealth Guardians—and come away empty handed. This man had been one of them. And one other thing immediately became clear. He was the same man the newspapers and social media channels had identified as the hero from the night before. An online article he’d seen that afternoon had claimed that Hamish MacGregor was Tessa’s boyfriend.
“Thank you,” Hamish said, snatching a glass, before brushing past Zoltan to join Tessa.
So the Stealth Guardians hadn’t lost any time assigning a guardian to the councilwoman—a guardian who’d then promptly saved her life. However, one thing was odd: did the charge know she was being protected? Did she know who her boyfriend was? Had the Stealth Guardians suddenly changed strategy and started working out in the open?
In any case, with Hamish in the picture, right now wasn’t the right time to act. He would have to change his plans. No matter. He was flexible. There were plenty of other routes to get to Tessa and destroy her.
Without drawing any attention to himself, he moved away from his primary target and surveyed the scene. It wasn’t hard to spot who the hosts were: Tessa’s parents, Philip and Diane Wallace. Philip Wallace seemed to be a strong-willed individual, his posture and poise indicating determination, whereas his wife was anything but. Her body language revealed her insecurity, which she tried to hide beneath expensive jewelry and designer clothes.
But Zoltan sensed something else, too. There was a scent about her, faint, but undeniable. An alcoholic, for sure. Drugs probably weren’t too much of a stretch either. Whatever she was using to get through the day, and through this party, it made her an easy target. Ah, how he loved the upper crust with their insecurities and their lack of restraint! It made them just as easy to manipulate as a drug addict on the street corner.
Diane Wallace was his way in.
He just had to get her alone.
17
Hamish walked around the car and helped Tessa out of it. Her cheeks were flushed, and her lavender eyes sparkled like two stars in the night sky.
When he closed the car door behind her, she giggled. “I can’t believe how you made Mrs. Cranston run for cover when you were going on and on about how exciting instruction manuals were.”
He grinned. “Serves her right for peppering you with questions about the incident at the center last night.”
“Thanks for saving me. Both from Mrs. Cranston and from the falling duct.”
Tessa leaned in, and the temptation to pull her against his body rose. But he knew he couldn’t act on it. He’d made a promise to her and to himself. And he was going to keep it. Rasen be damned.
“How many glasses of champagne have you had?” he asked, smirking.
“Are you suggesting that I’m drunk?”
Hamish chuckled. “Not drunk. Just a little tipsy.” And it was kind of endearing to see her so carefree.
“Well, you would be too if you had to make nice with my mother for an entire evening.”
“I thought she was rather—”
A sound coming from behind him made him spin around.
“Shit!”
Two intimidating looking men were charging toward him. Sharp blades glinted in their hands, making their intentions clear in a split second; the
ir green eyes flashing in the dark confirmed it.
Instantly cloaking Tessa with his mind, Hamish ordered her, “Run inside, now!”
He shoved her in the direction of the front door to her apartment building, then bent down and pulled his dagger from his boot, dropping the car keys in the process. One of the demons jumped him, while the other raced toward the front door, guided by Tessa’s screams.
Hamish crashed to the floor, his demonic attacker landing on top of him. Hamish kicked him off, rolled away, and cloaked himself in the next instant. But the demon was good. He’d anticipated the evasive move and swiped Hamish’s arm with his dagger. He cried out, uncloaking himself in the melee, before kicking out at his attacker. The demon tumbled backwards, giving Hamish a chance to get to his feet.
He tossed a quick sideways glance toward the front door. Tessa had reached it now, but she was digging in her handbag, trying to find her keys, panic making her clumsy.
“Fuck!” he cursed and rammed into the demon, catapulting him into the air so he crashed against a car on his way down.
But the asshole wasn’t giving up. He got up, aiming his dagger at Hamish, and threw it with a quick flick of his wrist. Hamish dove away and cloaked himself again. The dagger landed harmlessly on the sidewalk. The demon was pulling another dagger from his belt, when Hamish came at him invisibly, kicked it from his hand, and rammed his own blade into the demon’s side.
The demon cried out, green blood splattering onto the sidewalk like confetti at a carnival. Some of it splashed on Hamish. It stuck to his clothes and remained visible, disclosing his location to the demon.
“Gotcha!” the demon grunted triumphantly and barreled toward him, another dagger in his hand.
Shit! Just how many weapons did this fucker have?
A cry from Tessa made Hamish whirl his head in her direction. Fuck! The other demon had her pinned against the front door, even though she was still cloaked. Still invisible to anybody but Hamish.
Hamish spun around and raced toward her, the first demon right behind him.
“Let go of her!” he screamed.
The demon holding Tessa captive looked over his shoulder. An evil grin spread on his face. “Too late, guardian.”
“Noooooo!” Hamish screamed as he felt strong hands grip him from behind. The demon he’d stabbed pulled him back and tossed him against the wall of the apartment building. His head whipped back, pain radiating through his entire body. But he couldn’t let such a small thing stop him. Not when Tessa was struggling to fight off the demon who was trying to drag her away, while she held on to the door handle for dear life.
“Hold on, Tessa!” he managed to cry out, while he tried to twist his arm so he could fend off his attacker. To no avail. The demon had him pinned.
“Good night, guardian,” the demon grunted.
Hamish felt the blade at his neck and knew there was only one way out. He dematerialized and passed through the wall, materializing in a closet next to the entry hall. Spinning around, he gripped his dagger tightly with his right hand and passed through the wall again, dagger aimed at the demon’s chest, reappearing in front of him, just as the demon was hitting his fist against the wall in frustration.
Before the asshole even realized what was happening, Hamish plunged his dagger into the demon’s heart and sliced upward, killing him with one swipe of his blade. But there was no time to celebrate. He whirled his head toward Tessa. The demon had managed to pry her away from the door and was dragging her, kicking and screaming, away from the building.
Hamish jumped him from behind and tore him off Tessa. The demon had no chance. Hamish’s dagger found its target with furious precision. Full of rage, Hamish drove his blade into the helpless creature, watching with satisfaction as his guts spilled onto the street, painting it green. But even when he knew the demon’s life force was already extinguished, he couldn’t stop. With one last swipe, he severed the demon’s head from its body and watched it roll a few yards away until it was caught by the grid of a drain.
Only then did he turn around to where Tessa had landed on the sidewalk. But she wasn’t there anymore. She was running toward the Mercedes; in fact, had reached it already.
“Tessa! Stop!”
He charged after her.
“Get away from me!” she screamed, frantically looking around as if searching for an escape route, when she suddenly bent down and picked something up.
Shit! His car keys!
She charged around the back of the car and got in. The engine revved just as Hamish reached the passenger side door and gripped the handle. Too late. The doors had locked, and Tessa was racing away.
Bracing his hands on his knees, he cursed. “Fuck!”
Now that Tessa was fleeing in his car, she wasn’t cloaked anymore—she was outside his range, and if those two demons weren’t the only ones trying to get to her tonight, she would be exposed.
Frantic, Hamish pulled his cell phone from his pocket and pressed the number of the compound’s command center.
Logan picked up. “Hey, buddy, what’s up?”
“I need you to remotely disable my car right now, and give me its location.”
“Okay, give me a sec.” He heard Logan typing away on his keyboard.
“And I need a cleanup crew outside Tessa’s apartment. Two dead demons.”
“Whoa! What the fuck happened?”
“Ambush!”
“And your charge? Is she okay?” Logan asked.
“She fled with my car.”
“Smart cookie, trying to escape the demons, huh?”
“She fled from me. After I’d already killed the demons.” Maybe beheading the one who’d attacked her had been a bit too much for her sensitive nature. But when he’d seen the asshole’s hands on her, he’d seen red.
“Why the fuck?”
“Hell if I know.” However, he had his suspicions: what if she’d seen too much? After all he’d had to use his preternatural skills to free himself from the demon’s hold. What if she’d looked in his direction just then? If that was the case, he had a problem on his hands. But first he had to find her. “Have you located the car yet?”
“Hmm. Working on it.” A short pause. “Ah, just got a lock on it. Disabling now. She’s at the corner of Elm and Thirty-seventh.”
“Thanks. And send the cleanup crew right now. Tell them to make sure they don’t leave any body parts behind.”
Logan groaned. “You went all machete on them, didn’t you?”
As if Logan would have acted any differently in the same situation.
“They had it coming!” For touching Tessa. Hamish pocketed the phone and started running. She hadn’t gotten far. He should be able to catch her.
18
The car’s engine suddenly began to sputter. Tessa punched the gas pedal of the Mercedes down harder, but the car slowed.
“No!” she ground out, looking at the gas gauge, but to her astonishment, the tank was nearly full.
“What the…?”
The engine noise ceased, and the steering wheel locked. The car had stalled.
“So much for German engineering!” she cursed. She put her foot on the brake and pressed the starter button. Nothing! Frustrated, she hit her fists against the steering wheel. “Damn it! Start already!” When she hit the starter button again, her eyes fell on the gearstick. No wonder the engine wasn’t starting: she was still in drive. She put the car in park and tried again. All she heard was a click.
“Please, please!” she begged, but the engine didn’t respond. “Shit, shit, shit!”
She couldn’t stay here like a sitting duck. She had to get away. Oh God, what she’d seen back there had terrified her down to the marrow of her bones. She didn’t want to think about it, not now, or it would paralyze her.
She reached for the door handle and yanked at it. It wouldn’t open. “No!” she screamed and yanked again frantically. She slammed both her fists against the door, even rammed it with her shoulder, the
n noticed the button for the locking mechanism. Feeling suddenly foolish, and praying that it worked, she pushed it and tried the door again. She almost fell out of the car when the door opened.
The moment she disentangled her feet from the pedals and was outside, she began to run.
She’d lost her handbag in the fight with her attacker, and therefore had no cell phone to call for help. But she knew there was a police station only four or five blocks from here. She had to make it there. Her life depended on it.
As she ran, the attack replayed in her mind, assaulting her with images that couldn’t possibly be real. Images that had no basis in nature or science. She knew she’d had a few glasses of champagne, and maybe she was even over the legal limit for driving, but she wasn’t drunk, and knew for sure she wasn’t hallucinating.
Two men had attacked them out of the blue, and while Hamish had fought off one of them, the other had chased her. And caught her. Clumsily at first, but then she’d been in his grip and hadn’t been able to escape him. She’d tried to hold on to the door so he couldn’t drag her away, and had been forced to watch in horror as Hamish tried to fight off the other thug.
That’s when she’d seen it: Hamish had suddenly disappeared before her very eyes, only to reappear in a different spot. Like a genie in a bottle. She’d blinked at first, thinking her fear was causing her vision to blur, but there’d been nothing wrong with her eyesight.
Hamish had disappeared several times. And then reappeared. Stunned and paralyzed, her strength had started to wane. When his attacker had suddenly slammed Hamish against the wall of the building and pinned him there, she’d thought it was over. And then Hamish’s body had sunk into the wall, faded right through it and disappeared completely, only to return a second later, stepping back out through the wall, and ramming his knife into his attacker.
She should have been relieved at this point, but when she saw the green blood that spilled from the dead thug, the last ounce of her strength left her, and her attacker had dragged her away from the door. Green blood! It was impossible. But she’d seen it.