Catching Dragos

by Gail Koger

  Which would be bad. Very bad. If the Dragos clan found out about my unusual talents, they would either kill me or force me to marry one of their hunters. Adding my genetics to their bloodline would give them super hunters. I couldn’t let that happen.

  “Antonio is an hour out.”

  What! She was sending in our clan’s enforcer? “That’s not necessary. I’m more than capable of kicking Fabian’s ass.”

  “Antonio will deal with Fabian. Not you.”

  “But, Grams, I—”

  “Enough! The decision has been made. Go to the circus and await Antonio,” Grams spat, every inch the matriarch of the Vizzini clan.

  “Yes, ma’am.” I hated lying to her, but I wasn’t leaving until I found that medallion.

  The psychic link broke. My grandmother wasn’t your typical Gypsy witch. Her resemblance to Sophia Loren was truly amazing, but her beauty hid one hell of a mean streak. Mess with her, and she would turn you into a toad.

  The Royal Circus housed the Vizzini clan’s mobile hunters squad. If there was a demon infestation, the circus came to town. While the townsfolk were being entertained, our hunters exterminated the monsters. The FBI’s tactical unit had nothing on us.

  Antonio would love going mano a mano with Fabian. The stupid feud between our clans had been going on for at least two hundred years. It was worse than the Hatfields and the McCoys. Since I was a sneaky bitch, I could easily handle Fabian without anyone getting hurt or killed.

  The members of the Dragos clan were deadly fighters and notorious for taking things that didn’t belong to them. If you crossed them, you ended up in an unmarked grave. But even more impressive than their penchant for revenge was their skill at hunting. Their record for killing monsters was unmatched. Even by the Vizzini clan standards.

  My existence was a well-kept secret. After my mother was killed by a demon, my dad cut all ties with the Vizzini clan. He said I was going to have a normal life. Which I did until my psychic powers and magic manifested. My poor dad found himself dealing with an eight-year-old who could suddenly see dead people. I was seriously freaked out, and Dad did the only thing he could. He called Grams. Under my grandmother’s tutelage, I learned to control my abilities, but Dad refused to let her teach me the family business until I turned eighteen.

  On my eighteenth birthday, Dan Harvey shot my father and changed my life forever. To say my grandmother was unhappy with me rejecting my heritage and becoming the Judge would be an understatement.

  I still couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that Fabian was an enforcer. I guess my first clue should have been his skill with a sword. If he found out I was the one who took his car and outed him on national TV, there would be hell to pay.

  My cell phone chimed. Hmmm. I was being summoned by Fabian. He must have posted bail. Had he figured out who I was? If I was going to dance with a hunter, I needed to be prepared. My mask was firmly attached. A little mouthwash, a big bite of gooey chocolate cake, some of my special toys, and I was ready to rumble. I walked into the penthouse living room and studied Fabian carefully.

  He was sprawled on the couch in a deceptively relaxed pose. I admired the way his black T-shirt and jeans clung to his muscular form. A sleepy expression on his face, Fabian smiled seductively.

  Did the idiot really think he could seduce me into spilling my guts? I smiled back politely, exposing my chocolate-covered teeth. “You rang, sir?”

  Fabian’s eyes narrowed, and he patted the couch beside him. “Please sit.”

  This was going to be so much fun. I plopped down beside him and gave Fabian a blast of my dragon’s breath.

  He gagged, and his eyes began to water.

  “Oh, you poor thing. You’re not feeling well.” I hopped up. “I have something that will fix you right up.” Yep, it would put him to sleep for the next twelve hours.

  The demon hunter grabbed my wrist. “Sit down.”

  Damn. The bastard was freaky strong. I couldn’t break free, and I wasn’t exactly your average girl. I sat and exhaled a long breath. “Certainly, sir. Are we planning another party?”

  “Mio Dio. Enough!” Fabian pulled a traveler’s size bottle of mouthwash from his pocket. “Drink it.”

  “Are you saying I have bad breath?” I huffed in outrage.

  Fabian choked. “Your breath is a lethal weapon.”

  Yes, it was. “I find your attitude very offensive.”

  “Drink it, or I’ll pour it down your throat.” The dangerous edge in Fabian’s voice sent a chill skittering down my back.

  I took the bottle from him. “Could I have my arm back?”

  He released me. “Try to run and you’ll find yourself flat on your back and not in a good way.”

  “Gee. Aren’t I little young for you?”

  “Drink,” Fabian commanded testily.

  I opened the bottle, swished the mouthwash around, and spat it out in his glass of fifty-year-old whiskey. “Happy now?” I fought back a grin as the muscles in Fabian’s jaw knotted.

  “Happy is not the word I would use.” Fabian opened the laptop sitting on the coffee table. The video of his poolside escapades was playing. “How did Celebrity News get this?”

  I shrugged. “The paparazzi are sneaky buggers, sir. I’ll get security to check for hidden cameras.”

  His mouth tightened. “That won’t be necessary.”

  Keeping up with my persona of the ever-helpful butler, I insisted, “It’s no trouble at all, sir. I’ll have security up here in five minutes to check for listening devices and cameras.”

  “The penthouse has been scanned for bugs,” Fabian replied, still looking a little green around the gills.

  “By who?”

  “Me.”

  “No offense, but you should let the experts deal with this.” I pulled out my cell phone.

  Fabian took my phone away. “I am an expert.”

  I patted his knee. “You’re a supermodel, honey, who likes old ladies and stripping. Let’s not get a swelled head here. Let me call the experts.” I held my hand out for the phone.

  My psychic senses went on red alert when Fabian’s demeanor changed abruptly. A fierce intelligence flared in his eyes. He seemed to get bigger, his features hardened, and the womanizing doofus transformed into a predator.

  Holy fucking shit! I had unleashed the hunter.

  A steely note in his voice, Fabian demanded, “Who are you, and who do you work for?”

  “Oh, dear. I was afraid this might happen. That nasty fight today has rattled your poor wee brain. The resort has a great doctor, and I’ll—”

  Fabian grabbed my face mask. “Do you think I’m stupid?”

  I let my voice tremble. “No, sir.”

  “Take it off or I will.”

  I gave a horrified little squeak. “You want me to disrobe? I’m reporting you to the management.”

  “Cut the act and take off that damned disguise,” Fabian growled.

  “As you wish.” I triggered my tranquilizer ring and stabbed him in the thigh. “Nighty-night.”

  With a roar of fury, Fabian grabbed my hand, yanked the ring off my finger, and hurled it across the room.

  I jabbed him with my other ring.

  Fabian shoved me down on the couch and clamped his hand around my neck. “Who are you?”

  Dammit. Why wasn’t he unconscious? I tried to pry Fabian’s fingers off my throat. “Millie.”

  “Don’t fucking mess with me. I’ll—” Fabian’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he toppled over.

  I pushed him off me. “About time.”

  Grams screeched in outrage, “What have you done?”

  Crap. She was monitoring me. “I handled the hunter. Tell Antonio he’s not needed.”

  “Is Fabian dead?”

  “Ah. No. Killing humans is not my thing.”

  “You little fool. He’s a Dragos. Kill him now,” Grams snapped.

  This was beyond c
razy. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting just a tad? He doesn’t know who I am.”

  “He has your scent.”

  Now he was a supernatural bloodhound? “I took precautions. He can’t track me.”

  “I pray you’re right, but know this, Fabian will hunt you.” There was a note of genuine worry in Grams’s voice.

  I gave her a mental hug. “And he’ll never find me. Everything will be okay.”

  “Only a fool underestimates a Dragos. Go to the circus. Now!”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Right after I finished searching the penthouse for Ethel Rossi’s medallion.

  Chapter Seven

  The air shimmered around Fabian’s hair dryer. Hmmm. Why would it need magical protection? Now if I could just remember the stupid incantation to get rid of the spell.

  The base of my skull tingled. A second later, Grams advised, “Autem de gradali.”

  “Thanks, Grams.” I should have known she’d hang around.

  “Those stupid incantations might save your life one day,” Grams snipped.

  “Yes, ma’am.” I hated it when Grams invaded my privacy. I know she did it because she loved me and wanted to keep me safe, but I wasn’t eight years old anymore. I placed my hand on the dryer. “Autem de gradali.”

  With a loud pop, the spell vanished, revealing an elder wood hex box covered with protective runes. I opened it and gasped. Tentacles of dark magic crawled over a tarnished gold medallion with a scarily real-looking demon’s head. I quickly shut the box. That explained Fabian’s interest in Ethel. The medallion could be used to open a gateway to hell.

  The doorbell rang. Please, God, don’t let it be more love-struck old ladies. I checked the security monitor. Great; it was Heather De Luca. She was wearing a micromini evening dress that exposed her varicose veins and cellulite-dimpled thighs. Oh, gross. She wasn’t wearing any underwear.

  I stiffened. Her eyes had an eerie red glow to them.

  Grams stated the obvious. “She is possessed.”

  “And when did that happen?”

  “Does it matter? She is here for the medallion.”

  “And to fuck Fabian.” An insatiable need to kill the monster grew within me. “The only thing she’s getting is a one-way ride to hell.”

  “Excellent! You have accepted your destiny,” Grams stated happily.

  Not exactly. This was a one-time deal.

  The demon rang the doorbell again. “Fabian, my love, it’s me, Heather.”

  I ran into the kitchen and grabbed my special box of salt. “Anything else I need, Grams?”

  “Your sword.”

  “I have it right here.” I patted my pocket.

  Grams groaned. “Fabian is a master swordsman. You actually thought you could defeat him?”

  “Yep.”

  “Antonio is the only one with the skills to beat Fabian.”

  “No. He isn’t.” I poured a circle of salt around Fabian’s unconscious form. A demon couldn’t cross blessed salt.

  The doors rattled violently. The demon rumbled, “Open the doors, or I will huff and puff and blow them down.”

  I shouted back, “The three little piggies aren’t home. Come back later.”

  “Do not taunt the demon,” Grams instructed curtly.

  Stepping into the circle of salt, I tucked the hex box under my arm and chanted a protection spell. “Gallice scripta habetur. Nec facile et utilora.”

  Boom! The doors flew open. Heather had morphed into a monstrosity with six-inch fangs and claws. Her evening dress was hiked up around her waist.

  Vomit rose in my throat. Red wormy things crawled over her pussy. Was it a form of demonic trichinosis? “You really need to see a doctor about that.”

  Heather pointed a talon at me. “Give me the hunter, and I will let you live.”

  Grams gasped. “She’s wearing the Eye of Brahma.”

  My gaze flew to the black diamond ring adorning her finger. It pulsed with malignant life. My God, it was the soul taker. It harvested human souls to be used in black magic rituals.

  “Give me the Eye, and I’ll let you live.” I pulled my itty-bitty sword.

  A hideous hissing laugh sounded from the creature. “You expect to slay me with that?”

  “It is a magical sword,” I replied.

  Heather cackled. “I cannot be killed. I will live for an eternity.”

  “Okay, how about I just send you to hell instead? Dicitur pretiosa materia.” Poof! My sword was normal size.

  In a lightning-fast move, I whacked off her ring finger and yanked out the medallion. “Transferam succinte potuero.”

  A swirling black vortex opened under Heather’s feet. She sank her claws into the wall in a desperate attempt to keep from being sucked into hell.

  I pointed my sword at Heather. “Tacitos abeu intereo.” A blinding white light struck the demon, yanking her claws out of the wall.

  Heather’s shrieks joined the wails of the damned as she tumbled down the vortex.

  Ugh. The stench of sulfur was overwhelming. “Ah. How do I close it?”

  “Transferam succinte obturo.”

  I repeated, “Transferam succinte obturo.”

  The gateway to hell closed.

  “Ding dong, the evil hag is gone.” I did a happy dance.

  “Your lack of knowledge about basic spell casting will get you killed,” Grams lectured.

  “When I took this job, I wasn’t expecting to be dealing with demons.”

  “You’re a slayer.”

  “I’m the Judge,” I corrected.

  “It is your destiny, Mariah.”

  Well, destiny could suck wind. “I made Dad a promise that I would stay out of the slaying business. I like what I’m doing, and I’m good at it.”

  “The family needs you.” There was a hint of tears in Grams’s voice.

  My grandmother, the master manipulator. “Nice try, Grams.”

  “Admit it. You enjoyed sending Heather to hell.”

  “Okay, you got me. I did, but it was a one-time deal.”

  “There will be more demons. At least let me train you. I don’t want to bury you too,” Grams pleaded.

  I threw up my hands in defeat. I didn’t want to die. My mother’s death still haunted my dad. I couldn’t subject him to that kind of pain again. If I had been on my own, there was a good chance Heather would have won. “I’ll start slayer training tomorrow. But I’m keeping my day job.”

  “As you wish.” The tears were back.

  Smothering a groan, I looked around for the Eye of Brahma. “Rats. Where’s the ring?”

  “Fabian has it,” Grams answered.

  “What?” I spun around. Sure enough, Fabian had it clutched in his left hand. I put my sword to his throat. “Playing possum, huh? Give me the finger.”

  A feral gleam in his eyes, Fabian flipped me the bird.

  “Har. Har.” I poked his groin with the tip of my sword. “Drop it. Now. Or your playboy days are over.”

  Fabian tossed the rapidly decaying finger at my feet. “Who are you?”

  “I’m the girl who kicked your ass.”

  Grams sighed in exasperation. “Why do you deliberately provoke him?”

  “’Cause it’s fun.” I wrapped the finger in a tissue and carefully placed it in the hex box. I grinned at Fabian’s furious expression. “Don’t worry, honey, I’ll properly dispose of the cursed items.”

  A red wormy thing wiggled along the salt line. I stomped on it. “Oh, and you might want to get yourself tested for STDs. Heather was infested with demonic worms.”

  “I don’t fuck demons.” Fabian snarled, struggling to rise.

  “When things start rotting off, don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

  “I will find you and when I do—”

  “Yeah. Yeah. I know. A bullet between the eyes.”

  Fabian smiled.

  The hair on the back of my neck stood on end.
That was the scariest smile I’d ever seen.

  “No. I’m going to lick your pussy until you’re screaming my name and begging me for more.” Fabian’s voice was low and purposefully seductive as he slowly unzipped his jeans.

  And just like that, my panties were soaked. It had to be some kind of animalistic attraction. “You’re not my type.”

  Fabian purred, “I’m exactly your type, and one night in my bed will prove it.”

  Incredulous, I cocked an eyebrow. “Wow. Is that supposed to be romantic? ’Cause it ain’t doing it for me.”

  There was a hint of frustration in Fabian’s eyes as he eased his jeans down an inch. “You were watching me. Thinking of how I would taste, how I would feel deep inside you. Admit it. You want me.”

  There was something about him that called to me, but a girl had to have some pride. “Right, that’s why I gargled with my special mouthwash. To attract you. God, you’re kinda pathetic.”

  Fabian wiggled his hips, and his anything-but-pathetic erection sprang out. “I’m going to slide my cock into your tight channel and fuck you all night long.”

  My clit throbbed. Dear God, I was in so much trouble. I took a deep breath and fought down my growing arousal. Okay, he had an awesome dick, but I was a professional. I could handle this.

  “I’m sure demons and old ladies want some of that, but I don’t.” With that parting shot, I headed for the door. The hunter wasn’t in any shape to stop me.

  Fabian snapped his fingers. “Damn. You’re the missing Vizzini slayer.”

  I froze. “How could he possibly know that, Grams?

  “Aphrodite, the slut.”

  Crap. The traitorous bitch had shacked up with a Dragos hunter before a demon ate her. I turned to face him. “What do you want?”

  “You.”

  I wanted to smack that obnoxious smirk off Fabian’s face. “Honey, it’s never gonna happen.”

  Implacable resolve stamped on his face, Fabian retorted, “I will have you in my bed by the end of the week.”

  It was Thursday. What an arrogant prick.

  “Fabian is trying to stall you,” Grams warned.

  Damn. She was right. My eyes narrowed on Fabian’s left hand. He had a ring similar to mine. Smart guy had given himself the antidote to my tranquilizer and was getting ready to jump my ass.