“Well, that goes along with what Jonah told me of Malaika's visions.”
Malaika turned to find Jacob's dark stare boring into her once more.
“A beautiful woman no man could deny. Correct?”
Malaika nodded, her stomach queasy as she recalled the vision of Craig leaving her for the Hispanic woman with the weird singing voice.
“We're probably dealing with a damn siren,” he announced, taking a moment to rake one large hand through his short brown hair, leaving it in tousled disarray. “A siren, a pack of were-hyenas, and probably some vampires.”
“None I know,” Seta said shortly.
“Teach your student here how to help us find out which vampires are involved.” He jerked his head toward Malaika. “And what the hell it is they're after.”
“Come here, Malaika.”
“No way.” Malaika grit her teeth together, clamping her mouth shut against the threat of vomit as she looked down at the dead man's body. They could torture her until she screamed, but she wasn't touching that damn body.
“I could show you the faces of this man's children.”
Malaika's breath stilled on a gasp. A punch in the stomach wouldn't have been as hard of a blow. “You wouldn't.”
“I would, and will.”
Malaika glanced over at Jacob, received an empty expression back. The slayer jerked his head in Seta's direction, silently ordering her to do as told.
With a shaky breath, and far shakier legs, she gave in and walked the distance to the body. The smell of blood, rich and coppery, overwhelmed her, as did the fuzzy feeling inside her head as she neared.
“Block out the smell,” Seta said softly as she neared. “Don't let the sense of death mask the undercurrents.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Malaika's question came out a growl. She stopped beside the body and closed her eyes, no desire to see inside the cavities in the man's chest.
“Kneel down. Touch his leg, or anywhere you're comfortable—”
“That's a joke, right? How could anyone be comfortable touching a corpse?”
“Don't think of it that way. The body is just a shell, a casing for one's spirit. Someone stole this man's life, stole his spirit. There is nothing more valuable than that. Touch the casing of that spirit, draw from it the last remnants of his memory, the last pictures taken with his eyes, delve into his thoughts. Find his killer.”
Malaika shook her head, her fingers trembling at the thought of putting them on the man's body. Even if jeans separated her from his decaying flesh, she knew she would still be touching a dead man. “How can I find anything more than you if you're a more powerful witch?”
“You're the one drawn to these murders. You're the one the dead are seeking.”
Malaika's eyes snapped open, locking onto Seta's. “They're drawing me to the scenes?” No, they couldn't be. It was Craig drawing her.
Seta shrugged. “It doesn't matter who is drawing you here, it only matters that you are being drawn. The dead will share their secrets with you. Shall I show you the faces of this man's small children?” she asked after Malaika didn't respond.
“No. Don't do that,” Malaika said on a defeated sigh. “This is bad enough without those images.”
With one last deep inhale—through the mouth, not the nose where the smells would surely upset her stomach—Malaika knelt beside the man's body and slowly placed her trembling hand on his jean-clad thigh.
Melanie's going to kill me. I can't go through with this. Fuck it. I have to. When in my lifetime am I ever going to have the opportunity to get a piece of that?
He looked at the woman before him. Long, silky blonde hair fell between her shoulder blades, dipping low enough to touch her full, round ass. He could see a tribal tattoo on the back of her waist, etched into the flesh exposed between the space where her black studded bra ended and her black leather skirt began. A skirt not even long enough to cover her.
His shaft thickened, painfully hard. Melanie will never know. I'll buy her something nice. Diamonds. Well, cubic zirconium. She'll be clueless.
The woman turned, her lush, plump red lips turning up into a seductive smile. Her icy blue eyes were almost sinister. The look in them—the look of a woman who would eat him flesh, bone and all—shocked him for a moment, but the feeling of unease quickly faded away as his gaze lowered to the double D's spilling out of the black lace barely covering her. She can do whatever she wants to me, even kill me, as long as I die with a mouth full of those.
“Your wish is my command,” she said in that sexy sing-song voice of hers, and licked her lips.
Fear slammed into his stomach, stole his breath. He took in his surroundings. He was in some building, vacant by the look of it, with empty shelves lined along the walls, clutter and debris strewn over the floor. Something was behind him. Something… not quite human. Little Johnny and Norene's faces popped into his mind. They were crying, cuddled close to Melanie… crying over his grave. He glanced back at the woman who'd drawn him to the building. She was perfect, the exact image of what he pretended Melanie looked like when they had their twice-a-month five minutes of sex… and he closed his eyes, holding her image there while liquid fire blazed into his neck, ripping a scream from his body before he thought no more.
Malaika gasped as she felt herself being ripped out of the dead man's mind. Jacob Porter's hand clamped over her mouth and held her close, her back pressed firmly into his chest, and backed her away from the body.
Adrenaline soaked the air. Jacob's heart raced, the quickened tattoo beat against her upper back, matching her own. A quick cursory glance found Seta tucked into a narrow space between a bookshelf and the far wall, her eyes narrow, fists clenched. Something not right had entered the building, its strangeness heightening her senses. The smell of unwashed beast grew strong as the sense of danger closed in.
“Stay here,” Jacob whispered into her ear as he released his hold on her to retrieve a gun from the back of his waistband, the same gun he'd pulled on her earlier. He checked the chamber, revealing bullets which looked to be made of pure silver, slid on a silencer he withdrew from an inner jacket pocket, then bent down and pulled up a pant leg to retrieve a small but deadly silver blade sheathed there.
Malaika pressed her back against the side of the bookshelf he'd placed her next to, and did her best to cover herself in shadow. Across the room, a staircase stretched upward. Something dark and twisted was on the second floor and headed down.
“What is it?”
Jacob took his gaze off the staircase to look at her, but for only a second before posturing himself for battle. He raised the gun with both hands, despite still holding the blade in one, and aimed it for the opening to the second floor. “It's were-hyenas,” he answered in a low voice, with his back to her. “Hungry, filthy were-hyenas.”
Malaika looked back over at the body. For the first time since entering the building, she actually paid attention to the cavity in the man's chest, recalling what she'd seen while standing over it. It had been ripped open, but none of the organs had been chewed. Someone—a vampire?—had killed the man and left his body behind for the were-hyenas. The poor bastard had been left as a feast for them.
Poor bastard, whatever. He walked right into his own death, led by his nasty, greedy dick. Malaika closed her eyes and tried to dispel the images of the man's wife and children from her mind. Those poor people. No, she'd feel no sadness over the man's death, but she would help stop the killings if she could. Not for the ones who'd died, but for the families they were leaving behind.
A board creaked and she opened her eyes, swiveling her head in the direction of the sound to see a man's foot on the top of the stairs. He was followed by more. Men of different sizes and ethnicities crept down the stairs, unaware of Jacob's gun trained on their leader. Some wore jeans and sneakers, others wore suits and dress shoes. All wore the eyes of a starving man as they rested their gazes upon the inviting body on the floor.
By the time the leader, a tall and lanky blond man with a torn muscle shirt, reached the bottom of the stairs, there were nine men behind him. The leader licked his lips and started to smile. Jacob blew his face off before he could finish the task.
The men behind him snarled as his body went down and surged forward. Jacob and Seta pounced from their hiding places and struck. Malaika watched in something akin to awe as they weaved in and out of the group of were-hyenas, avoiding blows and dealing their own. Jacob used his gun and blade. Seta formed fire in her hands and burned her opponents, but they quickly regenerated, their facial features changing from human to animal. Malaika gasped as she saw noses and mouths elongate into muzzles with snapping jaws, and hands morph into claws.
The were-hyenas were fast and strong, but Jacob and Seta held their own. Blood flew as Jacob expertly carved his blade into the beasts' bodies, shooting others while he cut.
Malaika
Malaika stilled, her body frozen cold. Craig?
Malaika
He was there with them. In the building. But where? She closed her eyes and reached out with her senses. She couldn't smell anything past blood and filthy beast, but deep in her heart, she sensed his presence. He was above her, on the second floor. Her eyes flew open. Before her, the fight still raged. Jacob had ordered her to stay put, and she knew it was for her own safety. She could form fireballs, but didn't want to take a chance on battling the were-hyenas. There was no way she could make it to the staircase without the beasts seeing her. Or distracting Jacob and Seta, potentially throwing them off their focus to the point they could be harmed. Or killed.
She glanced behind her, saw a small path she could take between rows of metal bookshelves. Slowly, keeping her eyes on the battle to make sure none of the beasts caught sight of her and broke away to catch her, she backed away. It seemed to take forever, with her heart pounding, threatening to explode, but in a matter of minutes, she was at the other end of the large room, and to her left was another staircase.
Quickly, she ran up the stairs, Craig's essence calling to her. He was there! She'd strangle him once she got her hands around his lying, cheating throat. Then she'd deliver him to Jacob for questioning. Maybe let the slayer slap him around a little bit. It would serve him right.
She emerged into a long, empty hallway, and felt with her senses, discerning his location. There. Three rooms to her left. She walked quickly, knowing Jacob and Seta would find her missing soon. Jacob would be furious she hadn't followed his command. Grinning, she realized she was acting like a grade school child, afraid of the big, bad principal. Hell, big bad principals didn't have anything on the blade-wielding slayer.
She closed her hand around the door knob, pushed, and froze. A dark figure stood before an open window, head down, back toward her. He was encased in pale moonlight, but from that angle she couldn't be sure … “Craig?”
He jumped, escaping the building through the window. “Craig!”
Malaika ran two steps before she was halted. Two strong arms enclosed her, a cold, clammy hand covered her mouth to hold in her scream.
“Where is the child?”
Her heart seized in her chest as the man's question registered. Deja? This man wanted Deja? Deja, who was right outside the building, within his reach? “Wh-what child?” she asked as his hand loosened enough to allow her an answer.
“The child sent to kill us.”
Huh? Malaika stilled, pondering the question. Deja was supposed to kill … What? Vampires? Were-hyenas? She turned her head to see who she was dealing with, but found herself pushed to the hardwood floor.
“Where are they hiding the child?” The man picked her up by her throat, and held her before him. He was tall and thin, with midnight hair and eyes of deep cobalt. He snarled and she saw the tips of two pearly white fangs slip past his thin lips. He actually wasn't a bad looking man, except for the pure evil swimming in the depths of his gaze.
“Who the hell is they?” she managed to ask through the grip he had on her neck.
The man growled and flung her from him. She hit the floor hard and what little breath she held escaped her lungs. Pain reverberated through her body, bringing tears to her eyes.
“Don't toy with me, witch. You will find the child and bring it to me.”
The hell I will. Malaika narrowed her eyes, the thought of turning an innocent child over to such a beast boiled her very blood. She rose to her knees, her entire body aching with the effort, and faced the man, whom she was now pretty sure was a vampire. “Even if I knew what child you were speaking of, I'd never turn it over to you.”
The vampire smiled, a dark and eerie sight. “Would you still protect the child if you knew doing so would earn you a slow, painful death?”
An image flashed into Malaika's mind. It was a dream she'd had when she was younger. Delivering a baby. A beautiful, gorgeous little baby girl. She did not know the parents. One was a tall, golden-skinned man with long, dark hair, and the woman… She was gorgeous, with mocha-colored skin, wavy brown hair, and green eyes that shone with the brilliance of emeralds.
“Where is the child?”
Not born yet, bastard. Malaika let out a breath, realizing that somehow this vampire knew she was to deliver a child… a child he obviously wanted. But how?
He stepped closer. “I will peel your flesh from your bones, if you do not tell me the location of the child.”
Malaika rose to a stand and spread her arms wide. She said a silent prayer that God would protect Deja, her heart already aching at the thought of her growing up without parents, but no way in hell was she leading this creature to an innocent child.
“Then I hope you like dark meat, jackass. I'm not leading you to any baby.”
The vampire froze, his mouth dropped open. Obviously, he wasn't used to being denied. “You smart-mouthed little witch.” He lunged forward.
Something boomed and blinding blue-white light filled the room. Malaika stepped back, covering her eyes as cold wind swept past her. The vampire fled the room. Before she could let out a sigh of relief, she found herself lifted off her feet, captured in a set of muscular arms.
“No!” She beat at her abductor's chest as tears streamed down her face. Realizing she was beating on the equivalent of a steel wall, she closed her eyes and reached deep inside with all her strength. She'd fry the mother—
“Don't, Malaika.”
“Jacob?”
“The name's Jake. I'm getting you out of here, sweetheart.”
She sagged in relief and allowed Jacob to carry her out of the room. Once they emerged past the light, her eyes refocused. He carried her down the stairs and into the room where they'd found the dead man's body. The room now littered with even more corpses. Seta was on her knees beside one of the were-hyenas, reading his deceased body.
Alarm slammed into Malaika's chest the exact moment Jake's body stilled. The slayer set her down and cocked his head, his hand going for something inside his jacket.
A flash of pain swept through Malaika, and she saw Jonah's face mottled with it. Craig stood over him, his hands wrapped around his neck. “Jonah!”
Jake swept a gun out of his inner jacket, a different one than he'd used earlier, and ran out of the building. Malaika ran on his heels, but froze as she hit the alley and saw two dark figures fighting by the front of Jonah's car. One of the figures—Craig—looked up as Jake neared. He glanced her way, let go of Jonah's throat and vanished with a speed that defied nature as a bullet from Jake's gun zipped through the air, missing purchase.
Jake covered the ground between he and his brother and checked Jonah's vitals.
Malaika reached the car, jerked open the back door, and pulled Deja into her arms. “Deja!” She was weak, her eyes heavy-lidded and drowsy. “Deja, baby! Look at Mommy.”
“Mommy?”
“Oh, baby.” Malaika held her daughter close, glancing up to see the Porter brothers looking down at her. Jonah rubbed his throat with a hand, his fingers caressing thick
red marks left there by his attacker. Jake let out an angry huff of breath.
“She alright?” he asked, his voice gruff.
“Yes. I think so.”
“Who the fuck was that, Malaika?”
She glanced down at Deja and let a tear fall free from her eye before kissing the top of her little girl's head. “That was Malaika's daddy,” she admitted on a whisper, seeing no way she could hide the truth any longer. “But he… he…” She shook her head, trying to grasp what she'd seen. Craig had led her to the building, lured her to the room with the vampire… and jumped out of a second-story window to attack Jonah, and what had he done to Deja? There were no marks on her neck, but she was weak, dazed. “What happened to him?”
“He's a fucking vampire.”
EIGHT
“Stay behind me.”
Yes, sir. Malaika crossed her arms, warding off the bitter cold clinging to her body. Not that it did any good when she was chilled from the inside. They'd left the building full of death, and split ways. Jonah had taken Seta and Deja back to the church.
Jake had brought her home, and now they slowly crept up the stairwell to her apartment. She'd never been so afraid to go home in her life.
Craig was a vampire. A pranic vampire. He sucked the energy out of his victims, and had apparently been doing so to Deja while she slept at night. How could she not have known? Deja had mentioned seeing Daddy in her sleep, but she'd thought it was just in dreams. Why hadn't she sensed him? Why had she been stupid enough to get involved with the creep at all? She couldn't think like that. That creep had given her the most beautiful gift in the world. He'd given her a child, a gorgeous, sweet, innocent child. A child she prayed for as she climbed the last few steps to the third floor, doing her best to ignore the pain in her side. That damned vampire had beat her ass good.
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