The culprit of Hot Wind lay behind me with head resting on large paws. His eyes never blinked, and his flames blazed high. Not a sauna, and most certainly not the pits of Hell. The alley. Misfortune had butted a slobbering fireplace against my side. Between Miss Prim and the hellhound, I could turn Thermostat off and make Checking Account ecstatic.
“Finally decided to show, huh?”
No apology reflected in yellow eyes. Instead, Hellhound pushed up to his haunches and whined. My eyes closed, and my ears pretended deafness to all paranormal beings. Except it was dang hard being deaf when the beast sitting next to your head had a howl as loud as a freight train whistle. Flames were shooting high over me when my eyes reopened. I decided a scorched look wasn’t in fashion this season.
“Move it, before you set me on fire.” My hand shoved back a non-fiery patch of Hellhound’s head. “I’m still alive, no thanks to you. Let’s keep it that way.”
His head plopped back down onto massive paws, and a forlorn whine rumbled from his chest. I bit back a sigh at the doggy dramatics and started a post getting-my-booty-kicked limb check. Arms? Check. Legs? Check. Something sharp poking my back? Ouch. Check. My head spun as I pushed up from the debris and felt sticky from whatever garbage slime had covered me. Yeah, back to needing that shower thing…
The alley was trashed. The dumpsters, empty. Segments of time was missing. Sounds of cars and people drifted from the street, but I had no idea how long it had been between Red-eyed Ghost kicking my butt and Hellhound’s snot drawing me back to the land of conscious. My gaze darted over where Red-Eyed Ghost had last stood. The area was deserted, but I stiffened at the memory of his leer.
It’d been a few years since he had invaded my dreams, and my heart pounded at the thought of his actual return. Full-fledged panic attack should not have been on my horizon. The ghost’s reappearance should have left me feeing ecstatic. Eleven years had been spent watching for him, determined to locate the missing pendant. Yet not only did I lay shaken, I questioned his very existence. All solid memories were of New Target. New Target was the ghost who’d entered the alley, and I’d only seen New Target walk out.
Shadows encased the surrounding buildings, leaving me feeling vulnerable. Powerlessness had torched my feeble muscles as I had stood before New Target holding an index finger that hadn’t contained a lick of mojo, and I was toast if he materialized for round two. Damn, this Praedator stuff was hard. I inspected the trash-strewn alley. A simmering rage surfaced. If we ever bumped into each other again, his ass was mine. This was personal. But first, I needed to figure out the trick of sending a ghost to Hell. I frowned at the beast tagging behind. He stared back with mouth sealed. No help from that one.
Sunlight beaconed from the narrow entrance to the ally. Broken glass crunched underneath my sneakers as I made my escape, and I skidded on torn newspaper while fighting my way through the alley’s war zone. Flames remained hot on my heels as I zeroed in on my targets: street, apartment, hot bath. In that order.
I felt eyes on me as I approached the entrance. Not the actual eyes, but their gaze. A man stood to my right, tucked into a cove of brick walls and boxes. His expression left a warm tingle on my skin. How could a simple stare feel so dang hot? I had paused mid-stride upon spotting him but then forced my feet on as if I hadn’t seen him. No telling how long he’d been watching me, but a nice living-in-a-large-city perk was not being classified as rude while shoving past strangers while maintaining vacant expressions of recognition.
“Rough day?” His voice was deep, soothing. I could have added sexy, but I didn’t.
My face remained forward, although my ears burned from his stare. Fifteen more steps until I achieved goal number one. Goal number three of relaxing my aching muscles in lavender smelling bliss couldn’t be met fast enough. Taking those items into consideration simply left no time to be side-tracked by a man wanting answers for a supernatural showdown his mind simply couldn’t comprehend, even if my peripheral declared him hot—and not in the fiery kind of way. Feet were informed to keep walking, and Peripheral to stop glancing.
“You look like you could use a drink,” the man continued. What part of being ignored couldn’t he grasp? “I’m a whiskey kind of guy.”
I was a wine kind of girl unless I was around Aunt Kate. Then I was a vodka, gin, tequila, and almost anything else I could get my grubby hands on kind of girl. Aunt Kate was a bad influence.
Mr. Smoldering Hot was positioned near the alley’s entrance, and I had no option but to walk directly past. His vibe screamed the location thing was intentional so there was zero effort on his part to move. Not a problem. Eyes didn’t even spare him a peek as I passed. They refused to notice details such as young and blond. Nope, they never saw his smile, one so wicked my stomach rolled somersaults.
Strong efforts of friendliness were felt from his direction. Actually, the alluring vibes of enticement attacked my senses, but I was sticking with friendly. The heated sensation mocked the cool aloofness I went for, but I wasn’t biting. No one ever knew what kind of freak was standing in a city’s dark alley. A smart woman kept walking. Friendly women were found strangled in the dumpster.
“Nice hound. I’m sure he keeps you warm.”
Feet skidded to a stop. And it wasn’t the… Ah, crap. Pretend they don’t exist slight freeze as before. Nope, this was a… What the hell? Brain’s no longer functioning kind of freeze. Invisible hands guiding my legs couldn’t have made them move.
Mr. Smoldering Hot clung to the shadows as I faced him. He oozed of charm that somehow came off as intriguing instead of an arrogant douche.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“Tristan Lefevre.” He swept a hand across his chest, continuing into a short bow. “And you are?”
“Not impressed.” Okay, his chest was impressive. Just a little.
“Was it the bow?”
“A bit much.”
His shoulder propped against a wall while his stance relaxed, but I sensed tension in him that kept my nerves on edge.
“I’ll keep that in mind. Most women find it charming.”
“I’m not most women.”
“No, mademoiselle, you’re not.”
I crossed my arms and eyed the opening to the street. A mere ten steps away “I’m leaving.”
“Where’s your pendant?”
My gaze shot up. “What?”
“You’re an odd one.” He stepped out of the shadows, providing me a clear view. He was gorgeous, with high cheekbones and a jawline sharp enough to leave Fingers aching to trace… Then there was something else. Something I’d seen a few times before—a darkness. It hovered underneath the skin as if the surface was translucent, allowing a view of blackness that didn’t seem human. Which was strange because other than those features, he appeared perfectly normal. I’d pinpoint him no older than his mid-twenties, but a gleam in light colored eyes screamed older as he asked, “You are a Praedator, are you not?”
I stared. Yeah, he so wasn’t human, but if not human… “What the hell are you?”
“That question’s a bit intimate and I don’t even know your name.”
“Kiara.”
“Kiara? Kiara no last name?”
“Blake,” I sighed. “Kiara Blake.”
“Well, Ms. Blake. As I said, you’re an odd one. You’re missing your pendant and can’t even send a ghost to Hell. You also have that ticking time bomb attached to your heels. I’d say you’re having a rough day.”
“Wait—what?” My brain’s attempt to process his words all at once resulted in a jumbled mess. “What’s so important about the pendant?”
His eyebrows scrunched. Damn, he even made eyebrows sexy. “How is it you know so little?”
“A Praedator died and I lucked out as her successor. The job didn’t come with an instruction manual.”
“That particular pendant enhances your natural strengths. Cambions are naturally strong, but the charm makes them stronger.” He sniffed the air.
“But you’re not a cambion.”
I took a step back. Who the hell was this guy? So far, all other supernatural beings seemed to have me pegged as one.
“No.” His next step forward wasn’t so much sexy as it was lethal, and I felt legitimate fear. “I smell the demon in you, but it’s different. What are you?”
I took another step back, wondering how long we’d have this dance. Tristan hesitated as I looked him square on. “You first.”
Another grin formed perfect lips. But then those lips revealed teeth, and the pearly whites sported two pointy fangs.
My mouth became dry, so I was ninety-nine percent certain it was gaping open. I forced my jaw shut in order to swallow. “Vampires aren’t real.”
Like ghosts aren’t real? Hadley’s words, from when I’d first questioned demons, came back to me. Damn. Vampires were real.
“Be assured, I won’t harm you, mademoiselle. Demon blood has a very acidic taste.”
Still, I took another step back and forced my mouth to work. “Well, that’s good to know.”
“Now you, Miss Blake. If not a cambion, what are you?”
“I don’t know.”
His jaw set. “We had an agreement. I tell you, and you tell me.”
“Honest.” My pulse pounded in my neck, alerting me that Heart preferred to beat. Because despite all recent claims that my blood was too gross for his sucking pleasures, I took yet another step back. Vampires were monsters, and instinct dictated that monsters couldn’t be trusted, even the sexy ones. But this time, Tristan didn’t follow.
“Interesting,” he said. “I’ve never seen anything but a cambion fill a Praedator role.”
“It’s a mistake, and my friend’s getting me out of it.”
“Getting you out? Of the contract? How?”
“She’s a lawyer.” Well, almost a lawyer.
Tristan laughed. “Those contracts are ironclad. You might want to consider Plan B.”
“What’s Plan B?”
“Learn how to send a spirit to Hell.”
Yeah, well as much as those skills would have been appreciated several minutes before, I still put my faith into Hadley. Ironclad contracts would be no match for her. She’d get me out. I focused on Tristan. “Unless you’re teaching me, it ain’t happening. My friend will get me out of the contract.”
I turned and tightened my hands into fists. The street was in view. My palms were sweaty. Only five steps to freedom had been taken when—
“How long’s that hellhound been following you?”
I stopped and twisted around to check on Hellhound, still at my feet. “A couple of days, why?”
“I can teach you.”
That got my attention. “You know how to send a ghost to Hell?”
He shrugged. “I can’t do it, but you can. I can teach you.”
Interest snagged and overrode fear. It probably took out what little common sense I had as well. I crossed my arms and gave Tristan a hard stare. “That didn’t answer my question. You know how to send a ghost to Hell?”
“Yes. Where’s your sword?”
Crap. That would have to be part of this. I’d been hoping Red Coat wore hers as a fashion accessory. I shook my head, badass looking or not, I wasn’t touching that sword. I’d somehow gouge out my eye within the hour if I tried. “I don’t know how to use a sword.”
“Look—” His next step forward was small and filled with hesitation. The light was brighter where I stood, “—a ghost has powerful energy, but a cambion already has strength and powers the pendant will intensify. What powers do you have?”
“Powers? Does observation count?” Although that particular gift kept going on hiatus, it wasn’t something Mr. May-or-May Not Eat Me Vampire needed to know.
Tristan sighed. Strangely, I didn’t think my answer met with his satisfaction. The puckered lines on his brow didn’t appear to be that of admiration. He studied me for a moment, and then asked, “Speed?”
I was the only student in my high school gym class to score an F for the track portion. “No.”
“Telekinesis?”
“That would be cool. When do these powers develop?”
“And no strength.”
“Hey!”
“I watched your ass get kicked by a newspaper.”
Okay, he had a point. Change of topic. “So it’s true?”
“What’s true?”
“Vampires can’t go into sunlight?”
“Let’s just say we prefer the evening hours.” The gleam in his eye was full predator, and it made me nervous.
“So what happens if you venture into sunlight?” I asked. “Does the sun set you on fire? Burn you to ash?”
“Plan to drag me out for a test, mademoiselle?”
Now that he mentioned it…
“You’ll need to work on your strength first—or rather, lack of.”
His charm was back to full force, and I found myself staring at his smile. Damn, he was gorgeous. No, not gorgeous. Dangerous.
“You haven’t asked me about my looks,” he said.
“Looks?” My gaze shot from his mouth back up to his eyes, now bright with mirth.
“In the books, vampires are always ugly creatures.”
“But not in movies,” I said. “So I guess real life’s based on the books, not Robert Pattinson?”
His grin turned devilish. He could grace the cover of GQ, and the man knew it. But I sensed there was something more to it than that. Orchid mantises from college biology flashed in my mind. An insect that mimicked a beautiful flower to catch its prey. And humans were very much a vampire’s prey.
And I was human. Well, almost.
Preservation woke from its hibernation to override hormones. The thought of working with this monster to defeat ghosts no longer seemed like a stellar idea. How—why—would he know how to send ghosts to Hell? It wasn’t his job. I edged back, taking comfort in the light of day. “I’ve changed my mind and don’t require your help.”
“Oh, you need help.”
That blasted smile had turned pure seductive, and my insides became mush. I had to wonder if my demon blood really was acidic, or if perhaps he was a crazed vampire with weird tastes that preferred foul-tasting blood. Who knew? But I wasn’t waiting around to discover if it was only my pants he wanted off me. “Yeah, well, I guess I’ll figure it out. If I need to, that is. My friend will get me out of this mess so it won’t be my problem much longer.”
“If that’s your wish.” Tristan leaned back against the brick wall with the same devil-may-care stance he’d started off with. “But a word of advice, keep an eye on that beast tagging at your heels.”
“What do you have against my hellhound?”
His eyebrows quirked. “Your hellhound?”
I looked down at Hellhound. He panted up at me with a mouth shaped into a wide grin. I realized he was growing on me, and I’d always wanted a dog. Perhaps one not quite that large.
“Lady.” Tristan straightened, and the charming smile vanished. “That hellhound is no friend of yours. He’s on assignment.”
“What kind of assignment?”
“He’s got one job to do, and that’s to take a soul to Hell. If you don’t capture your mark within the allotted time the hound has been given, the next soul the beast will drag back to Hell is yours.”
Chapter Ten
Health-Tech Systems was located in a plain looking box of a building, which I thought to be rather compatible with the glimpse of Logan Bradley’s bland life I’d previously observed. Hellhound sat at my heels. His tail thumped happily against the sidewalk, and it seemed the more I did to locate Logan, the happier he got. So instead of following Katie Larson and her Shih Tzu, Peeps, around the park documenting whatever butterfly caught their interest for Maude’s next write-up, I spent the morning being a five-foot-five-inch obstacle on a moving sidewalk. Moving as in, people all around me were going places. I wasn’t. Luckily, it was after the get-to-work crowd, and before the lun
chtime crowd, so the number of irritated faces who shoved past me were only in the double digits.
I chewed on my bottom lip and worked on phase two of my half-assed plan. The current strategy consisted of showing up to Logan’s work and… and that’s as far as the idea had gotten. Unfortunately, Devine Inspiration did not occur once I arrived to said destination. Apparently, it was asking too much for a little bit of help. My step-by-step instruction guide on where to locate the target—or mark, as the vampire had put it—and how to send him to Hell—minus the use of a sword, of course—was still missing from my doormat. But as it stood, I had no idea why Health-Tech Systems was so important, or even if it was. And that’s what kept me standing outside, staring at a box-shaped building. What was my reason for going in?
Shifting on sore legs, I chewed at my lip some more. Even if no shame existed for stalling, a small fear nagged me that at midnight I’d still be rooted to the same spot. Logic dictated I go inside since the company’s name was mentioned in Sebastian’s letter, but if Logan was in there, my non-existent plans didn’t include what to do once I found him. New Target proved I didn’t know crap about sending a ghost to Hell, but the Hell-thing wasn’t my priority with finding Logan. I still wanted answers for what the symbol on his cheek meant, and how I could locate Red-Eyed ghost. New Target had been stubborn, but I had hopes Logan would be insightful. And, fortunately for me, looking for Logan was making Hellhound downright gleeful. Keeping a beast with hell as part of its name happy was always a perk. Now Hadley needed to get her butt in gear and help me out of that dang contract. Then everything would be peachy.
My phone chimed a new text message.
NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Huh. That text may or may not have been in response to the fifteen text messages I’d sent Hadley during the past hour. Judging by the number of exclamation points, Hadley may or may not have gotten a bit testy from receiving those messages. But since finding out how to cancel my contract with the devil should be priority Numero Uno on her to-do list, I had to be certain she was, in fact, responding to the right question. Perhaps she’d failed the first exam of the year, and those were cries of despair as she dropped from her number one class ranking?
Reaping Havoc: Kiara Blake Book 1 Page 10