Hunted

by Rebecca Zanetti

  “Yes.” Moira fought the urge to squirm. Unease tickled her nape, and the vampire stiffening to attention next to her didn’t help.

  Trevan steepled his fingers under his chin, his onyx ring flashing in the dim light. “I do wonder about such faulty equipment. In this day and age.”

  Moira frowned. Surely he wasn’t suggesting the members in Ireland left him out on purpose.

  Conn cleared his throat. “I find your presence here interesting, Demidov”—although congenial, a thread of warning edged his tone—“considering you failed to mention your location to the Nine during the conference call yesterday.”

  Trevan’s smile didn’t reach his dark eyes. “They didn’t ask, now did they?”

  Moira stilled. Conn was right. Trevan hadn’t mentioned his location during the meeting. More important was why the council members hadn’t zeroed in on his status. Or had they?

  Simone plucked an invisible thread off a jeweled pillow. “I thought it prudent to keep my life private, Conn.”

  Moira’s shoulders relaxed. Good explanation. “I understand.”

  No way would her aunt Viv appreciate her daughter dating Trevan. The guy was five hundred years old, a scholar, not a warrior. He was a genius, but a researcher kept in the back room. One who’d produce excellent results, but lacked social skills—a bit of a wimp.

  “Thought you might.” Simone smirked, eyeing Conn like a cat with cream. “The world has been privy to your business for far too long.”

  Wasn’t that the freaking truth? Moira plastered on her most sincere smile. While she had no doubt Simone could take care of herself, women in love made mistakes. Even Simone. “This is convenient. We can escort you both to Ireland so the Nine can consolidate and plan.”

  “I’ve read your reports with curiosity these last years.” Trevan’s gaze swept her with interest. “The Seventh as an enforcer. You’ve grown up quite nicely, little Moira.”

  Conn showed his teeth. “I have no problem beating the crap out of you, Demidov.” Anticipation lit his eyes. “In fact, perhaps I’ve just discovered our solution. We fight, you lose, and I drop your ass in Ireland before heading home.”

  Moira hid a smile. What Conn lacked in finesse, he more than made up for in honest threat. A fact Trevan had understood well before goading the vampire.

  Interest tipped Trevan’s lips. “I would enjoy the fight, Prince.” He reached an elegant hand out to cover Simone’s, who all but preened in response. “Of course you must promise the king won’t retaliate when I burn the skin from your bones with a mere thought.” Condescension dripped from each word.

  Tempting. Moira fought the thought of allowing the men to actually fight, to let Conn to use his new ability with magic to teach the smug witch a lesson. She cleared her throat. “I hardly think this situation needs to descend to a place of violence, gentlemen.” Unless she decided to smack their heads together, of course.

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Simone tapped the three-inch heel of her boot on the tile. “I love a good battle between strong men.”

  The woman was about to get a good battle between two strong women. Moira drew in air, forcing tension from her body. “We have enough battles going on right now. Our allies should probably keep from turning each other bloody.” When in the hell had she become the voice of reason? The mere thought sent irritation shafting down her spine. She was the one with the bad temper. The whole mate business was taking too much work.

  Trevan narrowed his gaze. “You think we’re still allies with the Realm, Moira? From my perspective, withdrawal seems imminent.”

  “That would be a bad move.” Conn leaned back, tossing a casual arm around Moira. “If you withdraw, the demons will show up immediately at your door.”

  “As allies,” Simone purred.

  Conn chuckled, toying with Moira’s curls across her shoulders. “If you truly believe such nonsense, you need serious help. The demons would do anything to harness your power to combine with their mind warfare. Without your consent.”

  So true. The demons held a serious edge with mind invasion and fought dirty.

  Moira tugged a curl free. “Conn’s right. They wouldn’t work with us; they’d exploit us in a second.”

  The demons had remained neutralized for the last four hundred years because of the treaty with the Realm. The moment the agreement disintegrated, the witches would enter a new era of danger. While her people had the ability to control brain waves, or what rolled from the body in order to slightly alter perception, the demons attacked the actual minds of enemies—putting in devastating images and misfiring the neurons.

  Simone crossed long legs under her tight skirt. “Your basic assumption is incorrect. We’re more powerful than the demons.” Her eyes glittered a sharp light. “We’d use them.”

  Conn shifted his substantial weight. “You think you’re powerful enough to fight the Realm and the demons, Simone ?”

  “Yes.” Conviction sharpened her gaze.

  Moira flashed back to another family picnic where they’d competed in an archery contest. Simone’s focus had been absolute. She’d won, even over Daire and Kell.

  Trevan leaned forward, his hand still on Simone’s. “Of course, we haven’t withdrawn from the Realm. So this discussion is premature. Maybe we should centralize our location and go to Ireland, considering the threats we’re dealing with.”

  Conn nodded. “Good thinking. Speaking of threats, you wouldn’t know anything about this odd abyss yanking witches out of their lives, now do you?”

  “Of course not,” Trevan said. “I assure you, if there’s magic involved, we’ll solve the problem.”

  Conn’s smile lacked civility. “Until the mystery is solved, watch out for swirling holes trying to eat you, Demidov. I’d hate for you to disappear.”

  “Right back at you, Prince.”

  The doorbell rang. Simone frowned. “So much for enjoying my solitude. If a human is selling something, I’m turning him into an ass.” With a swish of her skirt, she stood and nearly stomped across the tile.

  Conn slowly turned his head toward the door, a frown deepening between his eyes.

  The hair on the back of Moira’s neck rose.

  Simone opened the door. A gasp escaped her. She stumbled back, the color deserting her face.

  In a rush of power, Conn leaped over the back of the couch, planting himself between Simone and ... a demon?

  Even in the waning light, the nearly white blond of his hair shone. As tall as Conn, nearly as broad, the demon kept his hands in his pockets, his stance relaxed. Gray eyes peered past Conn. “Simone. Good to see you again.” Rough and gravelly, his voice was a sign of the distressed vocal cords of a full-breed demon.

  Moira jumped to her feet. Conn held up a hand to stop her. “Stay there.”

  She didn’t see any weapons. But a demon didn’t need weapons. She opened her senses. Nothing. Whoever he was, he wasn’t trying to mess with their heads. At least not right at that moment.

  Simone straightened to her nearly six feet of height. Fire flashed bright and explosive in her eyes. “What the hell do you want?”

  The demon’s smile held a hard edge. “It’s nice to see you too, Zaychik moy.”

  Moira gaped at her cousin. My bunny? The Russian endearment spoke of a history. “Who’s your friend?”

  He smiled perfect white teeth. “Nikolaj Veis. Nick, if you wish.”

  “How modern of you,” Simone muttered. “I believe I asked you a question.”

  “I wanted to talk,” Nick said, frowning at Conn. “Though I hadn’t realized you’d acquired a ... vampire.”

  “Yeah, we’re at war now, aren’t we?” Conn’s fangs dropped low.

  “Indeed we are.” Anticipation lit the demon’s face. “About time, too. Peace was getting so boring.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.” Conn stepped into the demon’s space. The air crackled with a tension-filled energy.

  Simone cleared her throat. “What did you want to discu
ss ?”

  Nick sighed. “I’m not talking in front of a vampire.”

  Trevan rose gracefully to his feet, sidling to Simone to grasp her arm. “We are not meeting with a demon alone. This is full council business.”

  Simone scowled. “We’re on the council, Trevan. At least hear what he has to say.”

  Moira shook her head. “Simone, this is a bad idea. We’re not leaving you alone with a demon.” As an enforcer, her vow dictated she remain in place. There was no way Conn would excuse himself, either.

  Simone focused on Nick. “You’ll give your word not to attack? That you’re here just to talk?”

  “Of course.” Nick gave a slight bow. “You have my word.”

  “He’ll honor his word.” Simone glanced at Moira, her face still pale. “Your mate needs to leave.”

  Oh, they were so going to have a talk and soon. Moira shook her head.

  Simone’s phone pealed from her pocket. She answered it and listened for a moment. “Are you serious? When in the world—” Then she put a hand to her forehead. “Ah, Trevan is here. Yes.” She shook her head. “Mother, we’ll talk about that later.”

  Nostrils flaring, Simone hung up to glare at the demon. “You spoke with my mother.” Anger rolled her vowels into an Irish brogue.

  Nick smiled. “It was wonderful to speak with good ole Viv. I think she’s mellowed through the years.”

  Trevan frowned, glancing from Simone to Nick and then back.

  “She wants to call a meeting with you.” Simone hissed, grabbing a remote and pointing it toward Brenna’s painting. A screen dropped from the ceiling. The chambers of the Coven Nine took shape.

  Viv stood from the center of the dais. “Good. There you are. I’d like to call this special meeting of the Coven Nine to order. We must deal with the problem in Russia.” Her voice came through the screen loud and clear.

  She squinted. “Oh. Yes. I’d forgotten Moira would be there. Well, change of plans. Moira, Conn, would you please excuse us?”

  Surprise and unease battled for dominance inside Moira. Change of plans? She eyed her mother, whose expression had smoothed to diplomatic lines. “As an enforcer, surely you don’t want me to leave two members of our council with a demon.”

  Viv cleared her throat. “Yes, well. The council has known Nikolaj Veis for a significant amount of time. We are confident in his assurance of safety today.”

  “But you’re going to talk about Russia ...” There was no way a demon knew of the mines the witches had destroyed so many years ago. Or of the mineral buried in the land that could annihilate a witch.

  The harsh lines in Viv’s face guaranteed someone had discovered the mines and found a way to the mineral, even after the witches had demolished the region, basically burying the mines.

  Who was this guy everyone seemed to know so well?

  Trevan cleared his throat. “Maybe the enforcer should stay. I mean, the Seventh.”

  Simone cut him a glare. “We’ll be fine.” Taking a deep breath, she nodded at Moira. “Trust me. We’re in no danger.” She lifted her head, eyes focusing on the ceiling. Her features wrinkled in puzzlement. “Oh no. That’s unfortunate.” She turned to face Moira fully. “Do you feel that?”

  Sharp nails pricked under Moira’s skin. Damn it all to hell. “Yes.” Somewhere near, a witch had just screwed up. Air turned to sandpaper along her arms, scraping and demanding. She eyed Conn. “We need to go.” Even if the council hadn’t ordered that very thing, she needed to go—though she would’ve left Conn to guard Simone.

  Simone rubbed her arms. “Do you need backup, Moira?”

  Moira started in surprise. While Simone wasn’t an enforcer, she’d probably gained some skills during her long life. The offer though, was unexpected. “No. I appreciate the thought, but Conn should suffice.”

  Her mate growled, his focus still on the demon.

  Moira rolled her eyes. Maybe suffice was a bit of an understatement.

  Her boots echoing on the thick tiles, Moira walked toward Conn and grabbed his arm. That close to the demon, a tingle set up along the center of her brain. Just a mild zap. But enough to show serious power—a force being ruthlessly contained.

  Nick stepped back.

  Moira lifted an eyebrow, tugging Conn out of the penthouse.

  The demon strode inside and shut the door.

  Conn rubbed his chin. “I don’t like this.” A scowl turned down his mouth. “Why the hell is the skin on my arms screaming?”

  They were in sync.

  Moira pulled him down the walkway. “We have a problem.”

  “Another one?”

  Chapter 12

  An unnatural silence settled over the Port of New York, devoid of wind or churn of sea. Cargo containers rusted in regimented order. Moira rested her hand against chinked steel. “We’re close.”

  Conn cracked his neck. “I left you in silence the entire drive here so you could meditate. Now you tell me what’s going on.”

  She needed Kell or Daire for backup, that’s what was going on. This was her first solo mission as an enforcer, and if the magic sparking through the air provided any indication, she might be out of her league.

  “I appreciate the time to meditate.” She needed more time. “Basically, there’s someone here abusing magic.” A whole potful of it.

  Conn frowned. “That explains the inactivity on the docks. Why does my skin burn?”

  “Because my powers are yours.” She shoved back curls from her face. “When someone manipulates subatomic particles to a dramatic degree, the atmosphere changes enough that those of us with the correct genes can feel it like a magnet’s pull.”

  “How do you know they’re abusing magic?”

  She shrugged. “Sometimes they’re not. But to this degree, on the docks of New York, without any prior warning? They don’t want us to know something.”

  “My backup is at least an hour away. How soon did Daire say he could get here?”

  Moira drew in a deep breath. “Fifteen minutes. We can wait.”

  Conn nodded, then lifted his head like a lion catching a scent. He gave a low growl—then a snarl. “We’re dealing with more than witches.”

  An irritant pricked the back of her neck—awareness of a sort. “Kurjans.” A witch was working with the Kurjans? So much for waiting for Daire.

  “Yes. I sense at least three.” Conn leaned closer. “You up to another fight?”

  He truly had no idea. “Yes.”

  Conn reached for his gun at the back of his waist. “Why is a witch messing around on the docks, Moira?”

  Unease kept her still. “Ah, I don’t know.”

  Irritation swirled through his dark eyes. “Let’s look at this rationally, shall we?”

  “I’d rather not.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Something mined in Russia has the enforcers scrambling. And a witch is abusing magic at the Port of New York. Now, I’m no Kane Kayrs, but I have to wonder ... is this witch awaiting a cargo container with something from Russia, maybe shipped from Northern Europe?”

  The vamp had a brain. “Quite possibly.”

  “What’s in it?”

  “I’m not sure.” The lie rolled off her tongue. “We harvest many minerals to use with the elements and practice witchcraft.”

  “Bullshit.” Conn glanced behind him. “The Kurjans are moving in fast.”

  “Do you think they sense you, too?”

  “Probably.” He glanced up the twenty-five feet of stacked cargo containers. “They’re heading for the dock. Is that where your witch is working?”

  “Yes.” Working seemed an apt description. “There’s a blanket shield over this part of the port.” Moira raised her palms to the sky. “Let’s put a dent in it, shall we? Get the witch focused on protecting the shield for now.” She rearranged oxygen molecules to electricity, shooting up toward the shield.

  A pop sounded, and the pounding of the sea became clear. Lightning flashed. Rain began to batter their hea
ds. The witch at the dock held enough power to keep a storm away from the area.

  Moira needed help.

  Conn placed both hands on the lowest container. “Jump on my back and we’ll climb to the top to surprise the Kurjans.”

  Moira leaped onto his back, tucking her head into his neck and her legs around his hips. Air rushed through her hair. A whisper of thought later, she stood on the top of the three containers. “Vampire speed is so cool.”

  “They’re coming from the north.” Gone was her mate. A warrior, all business, all purpose stood in his place. Hard lines cut into the sharp angles of his face, his eyes a dangerous emerald. He grabbed her hand, stalking gracefully across the container to the far edge. “There’s your witch.”

  Salt from the sea coated Moira’s face. She peered over the edge to see a woman with long red hair standing next to a twenty-something man with a goatee. Both were witches, but the woman had the power. They waited at the edge of an open berth next to a rumbling semitruck.

  Moira squinted her eyes at the dark ocean. Far in the distance a light flickered. “There’s the ship.”

  The witch below swirled her head around, obviously looking for the threat.

  Moira smiled. “She knows we’re here.” Smashing a hole in the shield had been a decent calling card.

  Conn stiffened, then pointed to three shadows moving rapidly. “The Kurjans are closing in on the witch.” He rubbed his chin. “Either they’re too focused to sense a vampire, or they’re assuming we’re with the witch. Maybe we should wait a minute and see what happens.”

  The witch below was going to pay. But Moira couldn’t allow the Kurjans to take her.

  Just then, the witch pivoted, her gaze slamming up. Flashing an angry smile, she formed a green plasma ball.

  “Get down,” Moira hissed, yanking Conn flat. The ball impacted the side of the top container. Sparks rained into the air and metal scraped against metal as it skidded across the lower container. Halting, the massive load teetered precariously on the edge. Gravity was about to win.

  “Damn it.” Conn grabbed her, throwing them backwards into the air to flip several times before landing on his feet, yards from the witch. Solid ground. The massive container behind them smashed into the ground with a loud boom! He shoved Moira behind him just as the redheaded witch threw another plasma ball.