He did grin, then. “There are limited places to buy the kind of ammo I need, and we need this to be off the record. We’re trying to fly under the radar, remember?”
“Yeah. I recall,” she retorted drily. He watched her brows draw together as she thought about it for a second. “You can’t possibly have a separate kind of bullet for each Magickal species. You’d never know what kind of person you’d be shooting at next. What if you were ready for werewolves with silver bullets and got attacked by elves? Silver wouldn’t be nearly as effective.”
“Head of the class, Dr. Standish.” His cock reacted as she idly stroked his skin while thinking. Since he didn’t have time to indulge himself again before he had to get going, he forced himself to lift her off his lap.
“So . . . what do you use?” She settled against the headboard, tucking the sheet around her. “There’s no known chemical, herb, metal, or alloy that effects every Magickal species.”
Grabbing his duffle off the floor, he tossed it on the bed and pulled out clothes, his extra revolver, and his last clip of bullets for his regular weapon. He’d had to drop his other spare in Oregon, but two guns meant he could leave one with Chloe and still remain armed himself. It was enough. “We use bullets that are explosive, armor-piercing rounds that have fragments of every metal, alloy, chemical, etcetera, known to ward off Magickal species.”
“Bronze for witches, silver for werewolves, iron for Fae and elves, and . . . what for vampires?” She waved a hand through the air. “They’re only allergic to daylight—oh, you’re using a sunbeam spell as part of the explosion in the explosive round.”
“Yep.” Ejecting a bullet from the magazine, he handed it to her. For most people, it wouldn’t look any different from a regular bullet, but if Chloe tested the material inside with her magic, she’d sense something entirely different. “There’s not enough to damage a Magickal like a pure round made from the one thing they’re allergic to would, but it’ll slow any Magickal down, regardless of species, and emptying a clip into someone will do the job.”
Her eyes narrowed as she focused on the bullet, turning it this way and that in her hand. She glanced up at him for a brief moment. “I’m not going to ask if you know that from personal experience.”
“Good, don’t ask.” He snagged the round from her hand, slid it back into the clip, and set the clip on the nightstand next to his weapon. He handed Chloe the revolver.
“Crap. You do know.” She checked the safety on the gun as he had shown her, ignoring the incredulous brow he arched in her direction. “The bullet I pulled from Alex was pure silver.”
“Yeah, that shot was just for him.” He’d thought of this too, had come to only one conclusion. “I’m guessing they wanted to incapacitate him so he was easier to manage while they took care of us.” It also meant they hadn’t really cared if they killed the boy, as long as they delivered to Smith one of the two people who had the information he wanted.
She swallowed, balled her fingers in the sheet, and gave him a smile edged in desperation. “Right. So. You have to have very specialized ammunition. What are you going to do?”
He shrugged and gathered his pile of clothes. “An old friend of Selina’s in the area will probably give me whatever he has lying around.”
“So, no one they could connect you to.” She laid the revolver beside her on the bed, drew her knees up, and rested her chin on them. “But stopping in Phoenix wasn’t just a random choice.”
“No, it wasn’t.” He bent to brush a kiss over her cheek, then turned for the bathroom. “But believe me, no one would connect me to this person.”
Laughter tinged her voice. “That good, huh?”
“We met. Once.” He glanced back. “It wasn’t pleasant.”
She took a breath, her face sobering. “How do you know he’ll help you?”
“I don’t.” He was pretty sure. Mostly. The vision he had of events before him was hazy, but that he could see anything told him Alex and Chloe weren’t directly involved with what he was going to do. In any case, if he was wrong, he didn’t want them with him. “If everything goes according to plan, I’ll pick up groceries on the way back. If I’m not back by nightfall—”
“You’ll be back.” Her face set in stubborn lines.
“Chloe.” He made the word a warning, an admonishment.
She averted her face, refusing to look at him. “I know what to do, Merek. I will if I have to, but I won’t have to. You’ll be back.”
Arguing with her wouldn’t help, so he left it at that and got down to business. Chloe had a grocery list ready for him when he got out of the shower, and a solemn nod from Alex was all he got from the wolf before he was out the door with a slice of cold pizza in his hand.
Time to see the most obnoxious Normal the gods had ever cursed the earth with.
11
An hour later, Merek was circling the car around a block on the outskirts of Phoenix. The route he’d taken here had been as circuitous as he could make it, and he took his time checking out the address he was looking for.
The place was modest and unassuming. A tidy little house on a tidy little street. Nothing special or different about it except the very abnormal Normal man who lived inside.
Theodore Holmes.
The last living vampire hunter.
Or, the last one Merek had ever heard of, and only then because Selina had told him. Assuming the old bastard was still among the living, but he thought Selina would have mentioned his dying, if for no other reason than the man had hated Merek’s guts on sight and it amused the hell out of her. That he got on Merek’s last nerve amused her even more.
He parked the car several blocks away and walked back to the house. Stepping onto the porch, he kept his hands loose at his sides and in plain sight. If Holmes still lived here, he already knew Merek was there, and probably had a weapon or five trained on him.
Something wavered on the edge of his senses, an irritating scrape over his nerves. “I know you’re there, Holmes.”
“What the hell do you want?” The voice emerged from an intercom next to the door. It was gruff with age, but didn’t betray a creak of weakness.
“Your help.” Merek huffed out a laugh, glancing up into a video camera mounted to the porch roof. If anyone had told him a month ago he’d be here, he’d have told them to get their precognition retested.
Holmes’s door swung open, his sharp blue eyes sweeping over Merek and the street behind him. As Merek had suspected, there was a compact pistol leveled on his chest. “Did Grayson send you?”
“What do you think?” Merek didn’t so much as twitch, taking a long moment to look Holmes over as thoroughly as he’d been inspected. It was none of Holmes’s concern that adrenaline hummed in Merek’s veins, his heart leaping at seeing the business end of a weapon, a dozen defensive spells swirling into his mind, ready to disarm and dismantle the threat.
“I think you’ve stirred up a hornet’s nest.” Holmes lowered the weapon slightly. “There’s nothing I can do to bail you out of that much trouble.”
“Let’s make this conversation more private.” Merek nodded his head toward the shadowy interior of the house. He wasn’t saying any more than he already had out in the open.
The old man grunted. “Fine.”
Stepping back, Holmes allowed Merek to pass in front of him and shut the door behind them, reengaging whatever security systems were in place. That little pistol remained trained on Merek while they walked through the house to a small kitchen. He sat at a scarred wooden table, scanning the room for the exits should he need to make a quick escape.
Everything in the place was functional, if shabby around the edges. A feminine touch showed in some of the decorations, and Merek wondered if Holmes had ever been married. Then he banished the thought. He didn’t want to know about the man’s personal life, and Holmes would probably shoot him just for wondering.
Merek’s clairvoyance leaped at the hint of a question, and his time with Al
ex and Chloe had loosened his grip on his power, so a vision exploded through his mind. He saw a woman . . . years ago, when the furnishing had been new. A wife. Pretty, with a wry smile. Not a hunter, but she handed a rifle to Holmes and kissed him good-bye, so not ignorant of his profession. Sweat gathered along Merek’s hairline, his hands fisting on the tabletop. His vision dragged him into the near future, two options stabbing themselves into his thoughts. A wiry teenage girl dancing around this kitchen before hugging the old man tight. She had Holmes’s sharp blue eyes and the wife’s wry grin. Something about her face was familiar, as if Merek had seen it before, but he couldn’t put his finger on where. Merek shook his head, and the vision crashed into the second option. Selina’s dead face blew past his eyes, the same scene he’d seen the day he’d met Chloe, but now the view expanded and he saw Holmes’s broken body beside his partner’s, a neat bullet hole between the old man’s eyes.
“What do you want?” The question was just as rude and unwelcoming as the first time it was asked, and it jolted Merek back to the present.
Sucking in a deep breath, he got his usual tight-fisted grip on his precognition, and forced his hands to relax on the tabletop. “The first thing I need is Magickal ammo.”
“What makes you think I’d have any?” Holmes’s shoulder jerked in a shrug as he laid the pistol down, still pointed squarely at Merek. “Illegal for unauthorized Normals to have that stuff—that’s how you get a sweeper team to go through your house, remove your contraband, and mess with your memories.”
One eyebrow arched at that utter bullshit. As if that kind of threat had ever intimidated a vampire hunter. “I need some Magickal ammo for a Glock and a .38 Special.”
“Yeah, yeah, I heard you twice the first time.” Holmes’s chair scraped back when he stood. “It’s down in the basement.”
“I’ll wait here while you get it.” He’d also wait for the sweat to dry and his muscles to stop trembling in reaction to his intense vision.
The other man thumped across the room to the cellar door. “Watch him, Boleyn.”
A German shepherd came into view from down a short hallway, its nails clicking against the linoleum floor. With its odd bicolored eyes—one blue and one brown—the dog looked suspiciously like a slimmer, female version of Selina’s familiar. The thing snapped its jaws once before sitting down to stare at Merek as if he looked better than the canine’s next meal. Just as Selina’s familiar liked to do. Merek would bet Millie Standish’s fortune this was a familiar from the same litter. He’d never heard of a familiar attaching itself to a Normal. Then again, this Normal wasn’t very normal. He shrugged. Now wasn’t the time to be curious about a retired vampire hunter. He had bigger worries, and he didn’t want to invite any more clairvoyant episodes.
He didn’t hear the Normal return, but he sensed that same irritating presence approach so he turned his head to watch Holmes come up the basement steps carrying a couple of boxes of ammunition. He dropped them on the table. “Now, you wanna tell me why you can’t just get your own at work?”
A casual shrug and a mild tone from Merek would likely annoy the Normal, but he didn’t really care. “I’ve taken an extended vacation.”
Holmes grunted and resumed his seat. “Most vacations don’t end up with two people dead—one of them roasted alive.”
“He shot a teenage boy.” A blood-soaked memory that would haunt Merek for the rest of his days. He had far too many of them.
The old man’s eyes honed in on him, pinning Merek in place. “Vampire?”
Now it was his turn to grunt. “Werewolf.”
“Mangy animals,” Holmes grumbled, then shrugged. “But they don’t like vampires any more than I do.”
Merek didn’t even want to get into an argument with the man about his hatred for vampires. Hate was an irrational thing, and he wanted to get out of here without a bullet hole in his own hide. A small smile tilted up the corner of his lips. “I torched one vampire’s wings off, and a lady friend of mine ran another down with an SUV.”
“Good woman.” A rare smile crossed the man’s face, wrinkles deepening around his eyes.
“One of the best.” Merek ran a hand through his hair. “She’s the reason I’m on vacation. And the werewolf boy.”
“Vacation.” The Normal gave a derisive snort.
“I know you keep your ear to the ground in the Magickal community. How bad is it?” Merek leveled a serious gaze on the vampire hunter. He wanted the perspective of someone besides Millie and her bodyguard. Holmes’s take would be about as different as possible, and the human wouldn’t spare Merek any ugly details.
“They want you for questioning about the killings of those people in Oregon. That old Standish witch is keeping things quiet in the Council, stopping an all-out manhunt, but some strange rumblings are going on in the werewolf packs. Don’t know if it’s related or not, but things look to come to a head soon.” Holmes rolled his shoulders. “As for you . . . Most say you’ve gone rogue, and the Witch Coven is covering it up since you’re one of theirs.”
“What do you think?” Merek tapped his fingers against the table, chewing over what Holmes had said.
“Selina’d be after you herself if you’d gone rogue.” He made an impatient gesture with an age-spotted hand. “Sounds a little too much like someone’s looking for you and wants as many eyes doing the looking as possible. They had a reward out for information about your whereabouts, and now you’re wanted for questioning. The Magickal you torched wasn’t some innocent bystander. Got a record as long as my dick.”
There was a mental image Merek would have to take bleach to. He reached out and pulled the boxes of bullets toward him, opening them to check the rounds and test them for viability. They were good. “There were a couple of other operatives there. One was Gregor—”
“Shit.” Holmes sat back in his chair with a low whistle, the first real sign of surprise crossing his face. “You are in some trouble, boy.”
Merek choked on a short laugh. “I’m aware.”
A long moment of silence passed while both men contemplated the new information they had. Holmes’s gaze met Merek’s. “You better bury yourself deep. Stay away from the Magickal world. Go totally Normal.”
“We’re going to.” It was the same conclusion Merek had reached. One he wouldn’t be letting Millie know about when he checked in with her next. No more using her properties, just the cash she’d given them. Nothing related to Magickals in any way.
“Trailing around that werewolf boy is gonna trip you up once a month.” The old man’s face went blank. “They know to look for him, know he’s a weakness. That’ll be a problem.”
Meaning he should cut his losses and ditch Alex. Merek’s hand tightened around the boxes until the metal casings ground together. He eased his grip and unclenched his jaw. “Maybe, but he’s my problem, and no one’s going to touch him.”
“You said he was shot.”
He managed a growl. “My lady friend is a doctor. Kid pulled through just fine.”
“Lucky.”
“Very.” He stood abruptly, more than ready to leave, and offered his hand to the other man. “Thanks for your help.”
Holmes hesitated a beat before grasping his hand and shaking it. His grip was strong enough to belie his age. “Wasn’t for you.”
“I know. I’ll thank Selina when I’m back from my vacation.” Merek dropped the old man’s hand, scooped up the supplies he’d come for, and moved to slip out the backdoor. “I’d appreciate if you let me surprise her about my visit.”
“I’m not saying a damn thing, boy. Get the hell out of my house.” Holmes used a keypad to disengage his security system and jerked open the door. “For your sake, I hope we don’t meet again.”
“From your lips to the gods’ ears.” Merek stepped out and didn’t look back. “I had a vision of your future, Holmes. You have a choice coming up. Stay with a young girl or go to your death with Selina.”
“I’m retired.” Hol
mes’s tone was hoarse.
Merek shrugged, still unwilling to turn around and see the look people got when he mentioned an unpleasant future. “Maybe an old case you were involved in with her cropped up. A dead end of some kind caught a new break.”
Even as the words came from his mouth, he knew they were true.
Holmes sucked in an audible breath. “Who was the girl?” Then he strangled on a tight laugh. “Never mind. There’s only one person it could be. My granddaughter, Riley.”
“That sounds right.” Merek glanced back and sighed at the white-lipped expression on the old man’s face. “The girl means more to you than any case, so do yourself a favor. Choose the living. Let the past die.”
Hadn’t he done the same when he’d gone with Chloe and Alex instead of letting his own history keep him in the familiarity of work and the comfort of old bitterness? Then again, he had no idea if this would end well for any of them, so what was he doing giving advice to anyone?
Chloe sat on the couch with a mug of steaming hot, corrosive, and foul coffee cupped between her palms. The revolver lay loaded on the coffee table in front of her. Twilight had grown longer and longer, and Merek was still out. She tried not to worry. Too much. She still had some time.
Luckily—or perhaps, unluckily—she had plenty to occupy her mind. Merek had admitted he cared. It still warmed her deep inside, but he’d also confessed how caring scared him. Merek was never going to be a man who admitted to any weakness easily. And his revelations about his wife explained so much about the man she’d come to know. Why he felt the need to control every detail, why he was so overprotective, why he was a diehard cynic.
Unfortunately, her years in med school, internships, and residencies meant she could picture the crime scenes he’d described all too clearly. Her heart ached for the young man who’d had to go through that with someone he loved. Who had to live with the weight of responsibility riding his shoulders. Gods, what a nightmare.
She imagined any man, especially a cop, would have felt some guilt over what happened, but Merek’s clairvoyance made his guilt that much more oppressive. She didn’t know how he’d lived through it and made it out sane. He was possibly the strongest person she’d ever known. And one of the kindest, most considerate, and most compassionate.
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