Lance strode over and picked up his sister, hoisting her unconscious body up over his shoulder in an effortless fireman’s lift. Hunter shook his head. “You guys are related? Unbelievable.” Lexi was tiny in comparison to her brother. But then, most people would be, next to this big lug.
He followed Melissa and Lance, carrying Lexi, up to the roof. The sky was bathed in pink and orange, with indigo and purple creeping in, and already the night shadows stretched across the streets. Hunter helped Melissa place the ladder over the facade edging to bridge the gap between Melissa’s building and the next. He frowned at the ladder, then glanced over the edge. It was a long way down to the alley.
“You walk across this a lot?” he asked, eyeing the distance between the buildings. It looked like a whisker away from suicide.
Melissa nodded. “Uh-huh. I generally do Halloween, and Hal over there does Christmas.”
“Why don’t you just use the door?” Hunter asked as Lance stepped up on the ridge of the facade.
“Where’s the fun in that? Besides, I’d have to walk all the way down, then all the way up, and Hal would have to do the reverse. This is much easier.”
Hunter shook his head as Lance carefully stepped across the divide. The witch was a daredevil, or just a touch crazy. He held the ladder to make Lance’s trek across as stable and secure as possible, and then helped Melissa drag the ladder back, stowing it against the roof’s capping. Lance jogged across the roof to the door that led to the interior of the neighbor’s building.
“Oh, wai—” Melissa held up a hand, but Lance either didn’t hear, or chose to ignore her. He tried the handle, then stepped back and kicked it open. Hunter’s eyebrows rose. It had taken the guy just one blast with his foot to break open a security door. It was just as well they were on the same side. He eyed Melissa. Sort of.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and strolled to the front of the building and looked down. The street below was in dark shadows, the sun sliding behind Irondell’s northern skyscrapers. The numbers below had increased. Hunter frowned.
So many werewolves—wait. Now there were vampires, too, their pale complexions visible in the encroaching darkness. Hunter’s frown deepened. But—but vampires and werewolves didn’t work together. They hated each other. A lycan’s bite was lethal to a vampire. He shook his head at the weirdness of the sight. He estimated there were a good twenty people gathering in the street. A small group turned a corner, striding down toward the bookstore. More.
“Uh, Melissa, we should go in.” He didn’t like the looks of this, not at all.
“Why, what’s up?” Melissa asked, crossing over to him. He watched as a couple of vampires bent their knees, looking up at the roof.
“Inside. Now,” he stated, grabbing her hand and pulling her back toward the door that led to the upper level of her building. He heard the soft thud of feet on the roof behind them, and dragged her faster.
Chapter 13
“Oh, my God,” Melissa gasped behind him, as she saw the three vampires land on the roof, and then suddenly she overtook him, dragging him into the building. She slammed the door closed behind them, muttering a protection spell as she slid the lock home. Thuds and cracks echoed on the other side of the door, and Melissa flinched as the door shook.
“How long will that hold?” Hunter asked. She turned to him. He wasn’t even panting, not like she was.
“A little while,” she said, and turned to clamber down the stairs toward her apartment. “Those spells are durable against a shadow breed.” She shook her head. “They were vampires. I don’t understand. Since when are the vamps and mutts in cahoots? They hate each other.”
“Well, let’s see,” Hunter said as he trotted down the stairs behind her. “How likely is it that you would piss off both the lycans and the vamps so much, at the same time, that they would band together against you?”
Melissa drew to a stop outside her apartment door, and bit her lip. Uh-oh. “Well, um...”
Hunter shot her a resigned look. “What did you do?”
“I may have substituted silver for steel cutlery at the Reform ball this year.” Silver was toxic for both vampires and shifters, and touching silver was about the same as caressing acid for them. Silver cutlery wasn’t enough to kill the shadow breeds, by any means, but it had made everyone who came into contact with it damned uncomfortable. Her mother had been furious, and had banned her from the winter solstice celebrations as punishment.
It had been totally worth it.
Hunter gaped. “Silver? At the Reform ball?” He closed his mouth and gave her an assessing look. “You can be so devious,” he murmured, and she blushed at the amused appreciation she saw in his eyes.
She ducked her head. “So you see, it might not be some twisted plan of your father’s,” she admitted. The cutlery switch wasn’t intended as a fatal attack on the shadow breeds, but it had provided enough of a disruption that some of the more secret conversations couldn’t be conducted, with everyone eyeing anything that looked remotely metallic with suspicion.
She pulled the keys out of her jeans pocket and slid one into the lock.
Hunter braced his hand against the wall beside the door, and her awareness narrowed down to the bunched biceps so close to her head. “You know, you really are a—”
The loud crashing from one floor below startled them both, and Melissa clutched her chest as Hunter took a few steps down the lower stairwell and peered around the corner.
“It’s okay, that door is warded, too.”
Hunter looked back at her, his expression grim. “Something tells me that’s not going to stop them this time.”
She frowned and removed her keys, jogging down the steps to check it out. Her wards were impenetrable. She’d used a lot of magic, and she’d even had her brother, Dave, assist her in creating a blood lock.
“No fangs, remem—” Her throat closed over when she saw the peephole forced off its runner, and a muscular arm slid through to wave around. Yells and jeers could be heard from out in the street.
“Human,” Hunter stated. Melissa paled, and she took a step back. Hunter reached for her, his warm hand grasping her arm.
“If we go back up there, we’ll be trapped between a human mob and the vampires on the roof.”
“I haven’t pissed off any humans,” Melissa whispered. She frowned. “At least, I don’t think so.” She glanced up the stairwell. She could still hear the muted thuds from the door on the roof. The vampires were still trying their best to get past the door. She swallowed.
“There’s a fire escape in the alley,” she said, and her stomach coiled. If there were humans on the ground, there could be humans making their way up to the roof. Hunter was right. They would be trapped.
She whirled and ran down the stairs two at a time. “The store,” she muttered. “We can call for help.”
She flinched when she heard something launch at the door that led from the corridor into the street. They were going to break it down.
“Hurry,” Hunter urged as she fumbled with the lock.
“I’m trying,” she rasped. Hunter slid his hand over hers, steadying it, and together they slid the key into the lock. The door at the street buckled under the force of whatever was hitting it.
Melissa twisted the key and turned the knob, and Hunter pulled the door open as the front door at the end of the hall burst open. Hunter shoved Melissa in front of him and followed closely, dragging the door shut and flipping the internal locks as footsteps ran down the hall toward them.
Melissa backed away from the door, shaking.
“Where’s the phone?” Hunter asked, and she pointed to the front of the shop.
“Behind the counter.”
They ran up the aisle, and when Hunter halted suddenly, Melissa plowed into his back.
“W
hat—”
Hunter pushed her behind him, and started to retreat. “Tell me there is another way out,” he said, his voice calm but grim.
Melissa peered over his shoulder, and her eyes widened. A group of men stood at the front door, hands pressed up against the glass as they peered into the store. Neither werewolf nor vampire, they were definitely human.
“Loading dock,” gasped Melissa, tugging on Hunter’s arm. She started to run to the back of the store, but halted when she heard the thumping from the rear.
“No,” she whined, “seriously?”
There was a yell from the front of the store, and then the sound of fists thumping against glass.
“Melissa,” Hunter’s low voice prodded at her. He pointed to the doorway that led down. She grimaced. She didn’t want to go down. There was a way out, but they’d possibly be facing something far worse.
Glass shattered at the front of the store, and the intrusion forced her decision. She muttered quickly, gesturing with her hands and the door clicked as the locks disengaged.
“Come on,” she muttered, grabbing his hand. Maybe they could hide down in the basement until help came.
“Wait,” Hunter said, his voice rough, and he turned to face the men now climbing through her broken shopfront, scattering and trampling over the display books. Hunter lifted his hands, palms up, and Melissa grabbed his shirt so forcefully it ripped.
“No!” she cried at him. “They’re compelled, Hunter. It’s not their fault.”
Hunter glared at her briefly, then sighed harshly. “Fine. I’m going to apologize now, though.”
“Apologize for what?” She asked warily, then huffed as he pushed her into the stairwell.
“Just remember, I’m doing this for you,” he muttered, then raised his arms, hurling the fireballs at the shelves of books.
She gasped in horror as fire tore through her bookstore, and the men screamed, retreating from the flames. Hunter slammed the door shut, cutting off her view of the firestorm. “Lock it,” he said fiercely as he stepped past her.
Her eyes burning with unshed tears, she murmured her barrier spell, then shook off Hunter’s hand as he grasped her arm. He shot her an exasperated look, then stepped aside, gesturing for her to precede him.
“After you.”
She could hear the crackle of flames beyond the door, already feel the heat. He’d effectively cut them off. There was only one way, and it was down. She stomped down the stairs and flung open the door that led to her apothecary.
* * *
Hunter watched as she spelled the door, heard the locks engage with a viciousness that made him flinch.
“You can’t be pissed at me,” he exclaimed as she turned to face him. Her lips were tight, her cheeks flushed, and her green eyes glared at him with fury.
So, maybe she could be pissed at him. Hunter shot her a look of surprised innocence. “What?”
Her eyebrows rose in disbelief. “What?” she repeated softly.
Hunter’s eyes narrowed. He’d learned that Melissa was a passionate, vibrant and lively woman, but when she went all quiet, it was like the silence found in the eye of a tornado, with destruction sure to follow.
“You set fire to my store,” she said, and took a step toward him.
He didn’t budge. He thought about budging, but then realized it would make him look weak—and any hint of vulnerability with this one was like a mouse pausing within reach of a cat’s claw. Dangerous.
“Because you wouldn’t let me set fire to them,” he protested.
She slapped her forehead with her palm. “You can’t set everything on fire,” she exclaimed.
“Not everything,” he argued. “Those men upstairs are fine. They’re not dead. Most of them aren’t even singed.”
She blinked, her mouth open as she tried to find her words—unsuccessfully.
“Hey, you have to admit, that was close,” he said, gesturing to the door. “They would have had us if I hadn’t done that.”
“You set fire to my store,” she exclaimed.
“And you can thank me, anytime,” he hinted. What the hell was her problem? She was alive, wasn’t she?
She made some garbled noise in frustration, closed her eyes and did an intriguing little stomp-dance with her hands fisted by her sides.
“Why are you so angry?” he asked, confounded. “We were surrounded by guys who apparently want you dead, and they would have had their wish granted if I hadn’t put them on pause with that fire barricade.” He shrugged. “Be angry all you want, but just know the reason you can be angry is because I saved your life. Again.” He emphasized the last word as her fingers curled, just to make it clear she owed him, and to keep her painful talons out of his brain—or delusions of snakes or spiders or whatever other nightmare she could conjure up.
“Maybe we could have reasoned with them,” she said through gritted teeth. “But we’ll never know because, yet again, you torched my shop.” She yelled the last words at him.
Hunter folded his arms. “There was no talking them down, and we both know it. That was a homicidal mob with one intention. To kill you.” He’d seen their eyes. He’d seen the murderous glint, the compulsion. They intended to do Melissa harm. “You can hate me all you like, Red, but you can’t deny that I’m efficient. You might not like my methods, but I’ll get the job done, and today that job was saving your life.” Damn ungrateful witch.
Melissa rubbed at her temples, as though trying to soothe a migraine. Or else she was trying to summon more magic to smite him with.
“That fire won’t hold them for long,” he warned her, just in case it was the latter. “It’s burning hot and fierce at the moment, but—”
An explosion above them interrupted him, and they both ducked instinctively. Dust filtered through partition boards in the ceiling.
Hunter eyed the door warily.
“What was that?” Melissa whispered. “A gas tank, maybe?” Her hand rose to her mouth. “Oh, my God. All those men...”
Hunter shook his head. “I don’t think so.” It had been over too quick—a short, violent burst. He knew fire, and that was not a gas explosion. He crossed over to the door and placed his hand on the surface. It was cool. He hadn’t expected it to be hot to the touch, but he’d expected some warmth from above. He put his nose to the crack between door and frame. He could smell smoke, but the acrid scent was only mild. He twisted to place his ear against the crack instead, listening intently. He could hear talking upstairs, then the sound of wood sliding across the floor. A male voice, one he recognized, had him backing away.
“Get your sneaky little door open, quick,” he ordered Melissa, his muscles tensing.
She didn’t hesitate, but turned and did some sort of graceful hand gesture, her lips moving soundlessly. The door that was neatly hidden in the painted mural swung open.
He grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward the dark space.
“What’s going on?” Melissa asked as she trotted alongside him. For once, she wasn’t pulling back, wasn’t trying to fight him. He guided her gently down the steep stairs, grabbing the torch and handing it to her as he turned to grab the door.
“I think I just heard—”
Another explosion rent the air, and the door on the far side of the empty apothecary blew in. The force of the explosion hurled Hunter and Melissa into the darkness, and slammed the mural door shut.
* * *
Melissa hissed as she rolled over. Every damn bone in her body ached. Her muscles felt like jelly, and she covered her mouth, trying not to puke.
For a moment, all she focused on was the pain, the discomfort. Her elbows were grazed, her wrist and hip throbbed where she’d fallen heavily at the bottom of the stairs and sharp pain seared through her ankle each time she tried to move it.
Hunter lay across her thighs, and he groaned as he stirred.
He levered himself off her, rolling across her legs in a move that had her biting her lip to stop from screaming. She used her good foot to shove him off her before he did any more damage.
“Ow,” he moaned as her foot found his shoulder.
She swore as she tried to roll to her feet. Her ankle gave way when she tried to put her weight on it. She flung her hands up, unbalanced in the darkness, and caught herself against the brick wall. She hopped in a small circle, so that she could lean her back against the surface.
It was pitch-black inside the corridor. Heaven only knew where the torch had landed.
She was totally in the dark. She listened as thumps and thuds and male voices filtered down to them. A lot of male voices. Then she heard the sound of metal scraping, clanging and crashing. They were pulling the shelving apart.
They were wrecking her apothecary. Tears welled in her eyes as she listened to the destruction above. She pursed her lips so tight and held herself so rigidly that she didn’t even breathe until she had to suck some air in. Her bookstore was gone, and so too was her clandestine little clinic. She dragged in her breath, a whispered sob in the darkness.
Damn it. She’d worked so hard on that damned space. She’d scrimped and saved, she’d worked on the reconstruction herself, after work and on the weekend, painting, hammering...she, Lance and her brother had worked tirelessly. It was a clichéd statement, but she really had shed blood, sweat and tears in that work.
All for nothing. She flinched as something big and heavy was thrown against the door above their heads.
Her fists clenched, and she could hear Hunter shifting in the darkness.
That bookstore had been her livelihood. There were so many dreams and hopes wrapped up in that business. She had started it, but then Theo had joined her, and together they’d made plans, grand plans, special plans.
And in the space of one evening, her income, her vocation—her future—everything had been reduced to ashes.
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