On the Hunt

  The camazotz shrieked and raked at her with teeth and claws, but the moment she had the skull clutched tightly in her hand, strange heat detonated inside her and the shimmering gold energy was suddenly inside her. It poured into her, filled her up, made her feel faster and stronger, like a trained fighter rather than her usual small, scrappy self.

  Pivoting beneath the creature's next attack, she ducked, got the knife up, and carved a long furrow in its wing membrane. When the camazotz jerked back, screaming in pain, she spun and bolted for the tunnel.

  Thud. Two more of the creatures dropped straight into her path, their intact wings spread wide.

  Their eyes burned like coals and their mouths split in three-pronged shrieks. Fear slashed through the golden glow of magic as she spun, skidded on ichor, and went down. She rolled and scrambled up, but more wings boomed, more demons hurtled down from up above, darkening the chamber as they blocked out the light.

  Heart hammering, she ducked a claw swipe and rammed the butt end of the shotgun into a gaping three-cornered mouth. Then, breath sobbing in her lungs, she chucked the empty gun, pulled her autopistol—her last real weapon—and started blasting away, trying to drive the creatures back.

  But the pistol lacked the knockdown power of the shotgun. The creatures kept coming, then fell back, parting to let their giant leader through. His burning-coalleyes were locked on her, on the skull. The stench enfolded her, bringing panic.

  Heart hammering, she backed up, slammed into the wall, and couldn't go any farther.

  Oh, shit. Oh, shit-shit-shit. Terror poured through her. She was done. She was dead. She was—

  "Natalie, down!" The shout paralyzed her for a second, but then her body took over and she threw herself on the slimy floor as a hail of gunfire cut through the space where she had been.

  Black liquid sprayed and the big camazotz reeled back, mouth splitting in a shriek of pain that soared above her hearing, then was drowned out as dozens of other weapons opened fire in a deafening salvo.

  She scrambled partway up, watching in gape-jawed shock as the past came alive and Mayan men and women wearing bright ceremonial tunics and headdresses, their faces daubed with war paint, poured into the chamber. But rather than stone clubs and wooden spears, they were armed with grenade launchers, shotguns, and knives. Moving with almost military precision, they formed two lines. The warriors in the front line mowed down the camazotz and advanced, while the second line went to work with their knives, cutting the bat-demons and banishing them to oily smoke.

  And in the center of it all was JT. Wearing his hunting clothes, bandoliers, and a snarl of feral rage, he fought the huge camazotz knife against claw, trying to get past the stone yokes that protected its throat and genitals.

  Her heart surged. He had come back for her. He was fighting for her, going to war for her. But he had lost his guns, and none of the other warriors had a clean shot.

  And as she watched in horror, she saw his footing start to slip.

  JT! Jamming the skull into her pocket, she bolted for the combatants. She wouldn't let him down.

  "Natalie, no!" he shouted. "Stay back!"

  She ignored him and went in high with her knife, aiming for the tied sinew that held the collar in place. She slashed through it and then, as the creature shrieked and spun, she went for the ties on the hip yoke. And missed.

  "Natalie!" His voice was anguished, the demon's rage palpable as it lunged for her.

  A blur caught it from the side as JT rammed into the much larger creature, somehow managing to drive it aside and take it down. Roaring, he plunged his knife into its exposed throat, ripping through skin, tendon, and vessels with one convulsive slash.

  The camazotz leader arched and writhed, flailing with its now-ragged wings as JT cut through the hip ties and hacked the thing's dick off with a grisly sawing motion.

  For a second nothing happened. Then the camazotz disappeared.

  The belch of foul, oily smoke dissipated quickly, leaving JT and Natalie together in a small oasis of calm, while around them the villagers mopped up the last of the creatures.

  His eyes fixed on her, dark with emotion. His mouth silently shaped her name.

  Relief hammered through her, alongside a hard, hot flush of victory. "JT!" She flung herself at him, wrapped herself around him, and burrowed in tightly when his arms came up to band around her. "You came back for me," she said against his neck, then pulled away to look into his eyes. "I guess you are into me, after all."

  "I love you." He said it without pretense or preamble. It was stark. It was the truth.

  She hadn't been braced for it, hadn't been expecting it, and the shock left her gaping.

  His expression clouded. "I know I'm a bad bet. I'm barely civilized on a good day, and I'm more used to keeping secrets than telling the truth. But I'll work on it, I swear. You said once that you were falling for me. If you'll give me another chance, I'll —"

  She cut him off with a kiss. It started soft, as a way to shut him up, but quickly gained heat and depth, becoming a grinding grapple of relief and the mad, powerful joy that thrilled through her like liquid gold as she pulled away. "I'm not falling for you anymore. I already fell." She met his eyes, saw the truth there, the solidity that anchored her restlessness. "I love you, too."

  His face blanked and then flushed; his eyes glowed with love. "Natalie, I—"

  "Chan camazotz! " Rez shouted.

  They jolted apart and spun, dropping into defensive crouches, knives at the ready.

  But there was no way to defend against what they saw. Not with knives. Maybe not even with jade-tips.

  A huge shadow darkened the glittering swirl of the hell mouth. A harsh rattle gathered, stringing the air tight as the swirls thickened and took on form and substance, going from shadow to a deep, fiery orange that froze Natalie to her marrow.

  Her stomach dropped. She didn't know what was about to come through, but every instinct she had ever possessed, ever relied on, said that if it got through, they were all dead. "Christ."

  "We can leave," JT said tightly. "We can blow the tunnel from topside. That might keep it trapped." But he didn't move, except to load his shotguns, eyes fixed on the hell mouth. Because they both knew that whatever was trying to come through, it wasn't a camazotz. And it wasn't going to stay trapped for long.

  "I think—" She broke off on a low gasp when a sharp pain stung her upper thigh. She slapped for the spot, afraid she'd been tagged by a claw swipe. But her fingertips encountered a hard lump instead of blood. The skull.

  She dug in her pocket, hissing when the stone burned her fingertips, then whispering, "Holy shit," when she pulled it out.

  The crystal skull was glowing gold, its hollow eye sockets gleaming red, not the fire of the camazotz, but a deep bloodred crimson that made her heart sing.

  JT let out a low, reverent oath. "Magic," he said softly. "You're a magic user. A skull wielder."

  But she shook her head. "I don't think so. I think . . . I think I'm just its transportation." She couldn't feel the warm golden glow anymore. All the power was once again collected within the skull itself.

  "Chan camazotz," Rez said again, his voice low and urgent.

  "I know." JT lifted his shotgun as the fiery orange swirl bowed inward, the barrier stretching membrane-thin and showing hints of a smoky creature with six-clawed hands and a wide slash of a tooth-filled mouth.

  Sacrifice hurts. The words whispered deep inside Natalie, though she wasn't sure if they were a memory or something else.

  She opened her hand and looked down at the crystal skull, the gleaming stone that was now streaked with blood and ichor.

  It was gorgeous. It was powerful. It had belonged to the bloodline her family had served. More, it had called to her, perhaps from the very beginning. And the stories said the magi would wield the skulls in the end-time war.

  Yet the magi were gone. And JT had said a terrible sacrifice was needed to open a hell mouth.

  Her gut sa
id another would seal it for good.

  "Stay or go?" he asked, voice tight.

  He was offering to let her make the final call. More, he had led the others into battle, sacrificing what he believed in to save her.

  Could she do anything less?

  Raising the skull, she balanced it on her palm and stared into its bloodred sockets. For a moment, she felt a stir of warmth, saw a spark of gold. Felt a farewell. Almost a benediction.

  Then, as the bulging barrier shuddered and started to give way, she flung the skull into the split.

  Red-gold light flashed supernova-bright as the skull disappeared into the hell mouth. And then the world went crazy.

  Chapter Seven

  The hell mouth solidified in an instant and then shattered , sending oily brown shrapnel spewing through the chamber. JT grabbed Natalie and spun them, putting himself between her and the needle-sharp spray, which peppered his back and arms, burning him.

  There was a roar and a flash. Then nothing. Even the pain faded; the shrapnel spray had left no mark, no blood.

  And they were alone. Safe. The place where the hell mouth had been was nothing more than a plain section of cave wall, a powerless blank.

  JT shifted his grip on Natalie as the chamber echoed with a sudden, unexpected silence. Her arms came around him, and for a moment they just held each other.

  Then Rez let out a whoop. The cry was picked up by the others, their cheers echoing off the surrounding stone and heading up to the sky. It was less a victory cry than a battle shout, a clamor of defiance against the demons.

  But one held longer than the others, rising up in a wordless howl of grief. still holding on to Natalie, JT turned to see a young man, little more than a teen, kneeling by the hanging corpses.

  He had lost his headdress, and his war paint was streaked, turning the slashing stripes to black tears.

  "Oh." Natalie breathed the word, tipping her head against his to lean on him, taking comfort. Giving it.

  "Hell," JT rasped.

  The others fell silent, and then several closed on the grief-stricken boy, while the rest dispersed to check on the too-still bodies scattered around the chamber. Rez pulled the teen to his feet and led him away, keeping an arm wrapped around the young man's shoulders, talking to him in a low voice. A villager crouched down beside one of the bodies, shook his head, and rose, hands coming away painted red with blood.

  "Damn it," JT grated. He did a head count, didn't like the number he came up with. But the air was clear, the' zotz gone, the hell mouth sealed.

  "I'm sorry," she said softly. "If I hadn't . . ." She trailed off, shaking her head. "No. This was what had to happen. I just wish they didn't need to be involved. I wish . . ." She glanced over at him, her eyes going wary. "I wish we had real backup, real knowledge, and a plan for the next couple of years."

  He understood what she was asking. A week ago, even a day ago, he would have pretended he didn't, doing his best to avoid the fight. Defense, not offense.

  Now he turned to face her squarely, meeting her eyes when he said, "The old training compound was located in New Mexico, in a box canyon near the Chacoan ruins. They had— we had a saying:

  'What has happened before will happen again . ' If any of the Nightkeepers and winikin survived, they will have rebuilt on the old site."

  She went very still. "Are you sure you're ready to go back?"

  He leaned in, touched his lips to hers. "I'm not going back. I'm finally moving forward." He didn't know what the future held, knew only that they would face it together . . . and that he couldn't hide anymore.

  Her lips curved beneath his; the kiss deepened. And as the sunlight splashed through the opening far overhead, warmth hummed through him, and golden light sparked at the edges of his vision.

  "Magic," she whispered.

  "Not magic," he corrected. "Love." But maybe in the end they were two sides of the same power. And maybe—hopefully—that power would be enough to see them through the next two years . . . and beyond.

  RED ANGEL

  DEIDRE KNIGHT

  Chapter One

  It was a special kind of tacky that greeted you on the postholiday shelves of the Sandfly, Georgia, Piggly Wiggly. Not exactly primo wrapping paper selection, particularly not for a hostess gift for one of the richest and oldest families in Savannah. Somehow, Sunny figured, their swanky bottle of Dom Perignon wouldn't look quite right presented in a tinfoil poinsettia sack.

  She cast a wary glance at her best friend, Kate Rabineau. "You should've bought a gift bag downtown, Katydid. The selection would've been much better than here at the Pig."

  "Let's just grab something that the bottle will fit in." Kate glanced impatiently at her watch. "We're late as it is."

  "Oh, and whose fault would that be?" Sunny reached for a bag covered in lime green elves and frowned.

  "Sunny Renfroe, don't you get started on me," Kate said. "You know I had to look just right today."

  They were having brunch with the Angel family—Mason, Jamie, and Shay were fifth-generation demon hunters, and although lately two of those siblings had become friends to both Sunny and Kate, Jamie Angel was a bit of a holdout. He didn't much respect Kate's kind; something to do with her being a vampire and his being a hunter and all that. In other words: Jamie was among the uninformed, the kind who naturally sought Kate's blood and life. It had taken a good deal of persuasion by his siblings for him to call off the hunt on the Rabineau family.

  But in the end, the fact that Kate was now engaged to Mason Angel's best buddy, Dillon Fox, had won that battle. Since then, Dillon had permanently joined Jamie's paramilitary group of demon hunters, and Jamie had respected the vampiric cease-fire. But it didn't mean Jamie liked Kate any better, and for some reason, his sister, Shay, was determined to change that fact.

  Hence, they'd arrived here, at the Piggly Wiggly down the street from the Angels' plantation, surveying nearly week-old wrapping paper and cards.

  Sunny planted her hands on both hips. "All that's left are marked-down Christmas leftovers." She retrieved a poinsettia-adorned bag, the kind made specifically for champagne and wine gifts.

  "This thing's tackier than my mama's light-up lawn reindeer."

  Kate snorted impatiently. "I'm not the one who wants to impress Jamie Angel."

  "Which is why you took an extra thirty minutes fixin' your hair?"

  "This is your cockeyed plan, not mine," Kate disagreed.

  "And Shay's. Don't forget, this get-together was her idea, too."

  Kate retrieved the bag covered in neon lime elves. "Let's make her laugh . . . and snub Jamie at the same time. We can tell him this was closest thing we could find to the Grinch."

  Sunny wasn't so sure; maybe it was her Southern manners, but she wanted something pretty.

  "Give me another second," she told her friend. "I'm gonna look down in the wine section."

  Kate glanced at her watch again. "Dillon's waiting for us out in the car. I don't like leaving him so long."

  Sunny smiled at her friend. "Honey, Dillon's fine! He hunts demons and you never fret for a minute. Why should you worry if he's sitting out in the parking lot?"

  Kate glanced away, saying nothing, but Sunny understood. Dillon had been blinded by a mortar round while serving with his unit in Iraq, and although his guide dog, Lulu, was with him nearly everywhere, and he was fully independent and part of the Shades, Kate's love for him ran deep.

  So every now and then she became a bit too protective—usually when Dillon wasn't around to catch her doing so.

  Kate released a tight breath. "Okay, sure, and I'll keep looking in this aisle."

  Sunny strolled toward the shelves filled with wine and beer. Bingo—at the very end of the row, she saw an absolutely lovely bag with sequins and tassels. She was about to grab it when a horrific stench reached her nostrils. The hair on her nape prickled, her body tensed, and her otherworldly senses kicked into high gear.

  With one sideways glance, she saw th
e demon over near the checkout lines. His blazing red eyes were laser-locked on Kate, who stood obliviously looking at gift cards. Even if Kate had turned, she never would've seen the rapacious creature. She wasn't a hunter, didn't have the sight—and she wasn't what Sunny was, either.

  Kate Rabineau was, however, a magnet for creatures of darkness who craved her blood because of the supernatural strength it would give them. Demons like this one regularly stalked Kate—and Sunny, because of her unique destiny, routinely destroyed them. Day in, day out, Sunny safeguarded her dear friend, all without Kate's knowledge that Sunny wasn't human, not even close.

  Summoning her power, Sunny created a shield illusion. Everyone in the store would see an image of Sunny, just another African-American woman shopping in the aisle of the Piggly Wiggly, when in fact she was already moving faster than any human eye could track. She had surging handfuls of power in both palms, and threw that destructive energy toward the vicious demon.

  He glanced up, red eyes growing wide in surprise.

  "Eat this!" she cried in a voice that only the demon or other angels might hear.

  Long fangs were exposed as the demon roared in terror, but the sound and his paltry life were instantly snuffed out by her assault. The blazing glory engulfed him instantaneously, and he dissolved before her eyes. Only the echo of his hoarse cries remained, and even that extinguished a moment later.

  Sunny stood there, gasping for breath, and couldn't help smiling when she realized she was standing by the express checkout lane. That was exactly what she'd served that sinful creature: an immediate departure from the world. No more torturing of humans, no more stalking of vampires for their rare blood. She had the urge to don a cashier's apron. "Next!" she'd love to cry, and get some more vile beings dispatched. As it was, though, she had a brunch to attend. Which pretty much summed up her life here on earth; it was like being a supernatural double agent, where you pretended to be normal while kicking ass on the sly.