Witch's Net

by Crystal-Rain Love

  She'd never left her child with anyone outside of her own family before. But she could trust Jonah to care for her. She might have had her misgivings about his intentions earlier in the—geez, had it only been a day since she'd met him?—but she knew he would not harm her daughter. He'd proven that when he moved Deja out of the line of fire at the church. Granted, he hadn't given her that much consideration, but he definitely was the type of man who would do all in his power to protect a child from harm.

  “Feels clear,” Jake announced, and moved aside so she could fit her key into the lock of her apartment door.

  He entered first, his gaze sweeping the room while his hands gripped his gun before him. “Get only what you need. We need to get back to the church.”

  Malaika nodded and stepped inside, checking the wall clock first. It was going on five in the morning. No wonder she was so tired. “Tell me more about pranic vampires,” she requested as she walked the narrow hallway to her room, Jake right behind her.

  “The term, energy-sucking leeches, pretty much sums it up,” he responded, standing against the wall as she rifled through her closet for clothes. “They're greedy bastards, overwhelmed with the urge to satisfy themselves no matter the cost. They're arrogant, and incredibly narcissistic. I'm guessing Craig tended to take more than he gave?”

  Malaika glanced up from the duffel she was packing, and caught sight of Jake's raised eyebrows. Was he asking her if Craig took more than he gave sexually, or just in general? Did it matter? The answer to both was a resounding Yes.

  “You're not married?”

  “No.” She tossed a few shirts into the duffel. “Are you here to judge me or help protect my ass until you catch the animals killing these people?” Until you catch Craig.

  Jake laughed, the sound deep and throaty. “Sugar, I wouldn't dare judge you when it comes to something like that. I'm probably more of a sinner than … hell, everybody.”

  She looked into his eyes, gauged his sincerity. There was no condemnation there. “Craig never asked me to marry him, and I didn't push.” She tossed the duffel onto the foot of her bed and opened a dresser drawer. “You realize you're kind of being nice to me.”

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  “You weren't nice to me when we first met.”

  “I saw a witch walk into a building with my brother. My instinct was to kill first, ask questions later.”

  She turned from the dresser. “You can't ask questions of the dead.”

  He opened his mouth to speak, looked down at the lace panties in her hand, and turned his head away. “Seta can. And so can you. Speaking of which …” He turned toward her again, careful to keep his gaze on her face—Malaika held back a grin, amused by the big, bad slayer's obvious discomfort of seeing her undergarments—and cocked his head to the side as if studying her. “What did you read off the dead man's body?”

  Malaika shuddered and dumped the panties into her duffel, turning back for her bras and a few pairs of socks. “Seta could have shown me the faces of his children. I saw them anyway.”

  “I'm sorry.”

  She stilled, curious as to what caused his change of heart toward her, but shook it off. She needed to hurry up and get back to her baby girl. “The man was a pig. He married, had a few kids, and then basically despised his wife for gaining weight. He saw some blonde hoochie with inflatable breasts and followed her to the building.” She opened another drawer and pulled out some jeans. “He actually realized he was going to die and his children's faces flashed through his mind. But you know what his very last thought was?”

  “That he hoped he could go out fucking the woman of his dreams?”

  Malaika's gaze snapped up to meet his. Disgust churned in her stomach. “What? Is that a common way men want to die or something?”

  Jake frowned for a moment, studying her again, then slowly grinned. “I can think of worse ways to die than making love to my beautiful wife, but I can't say it's a dream I long for. What you just described was a siren snaring.”

  “Sirens? As in, women who sing and draw pirates into the sea and drown them?”

  “Sirens are female nymphs, a form of succubi. They have the ability to morph their features, projecting themselves as their intended victim's ultimate fantasy. They make it damned hard to refuse them, even if the victim knows they're walking into a death trap.”

  So Craig's fantasy woman was some Hispanic bitch, not her, the mother of his child. Malaika slammed a pair of jeans into the duffel, harder than necessary. The action pulled at her sore muscles and she bit back a curse, not wanting the slayer to see how bad she felt. She hated showing weakness.

  “I take it Craig didn't see you when you had the vision of him getting snared by the siren?”

  Malaika stilled. “How did you know?”

  “Not that hard to figure out.” Jake shrugged his shoulders. “You told Jonah he'd walked out the door and never came back, and tonight he was there at a murder scene where a siren had lured another man to his death. It explains why you're the one having these visions. It all started with his death, didn't it?”

  Malaika nodded, and brushed away an errant tear. “But he's not really dead, is he? He left me and his beautiful daughter for that nasty bitch. How the hell do I tell my daughter that?”

  “You don't.” Jake crossed his arms and rested the back of his head against the wall, his gaze traveling the length of her. “And you don't pay a second thought to him leaving you for the siren. You're a gorgeous woman, Miss Jordan. If I hadn't already found my own dream woman, my brother and I would probably be arm wrestling for you right now.”

  She laughed, caught off guard by the unexpected, and bold, compliment. Yet, there had been nothing sexual in his tone or even his gaze. The same gaze he'd averted when she was handling her underthings. Out of respect for his wife, maybe? Maybe there were some decent men left in the world, after all. “You're doing it again.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Being nice to me. Why the change?”

  He swallowed, his jaw setting. “I heard your conversation with the vamp before I tossed the UV-bomb. I heard the honesty in your voice. You would die before handing over an innocent.”

  “Damn straight.” She released a yawn she didn't have the strength to hold back. “So now I have your seal of approval?”

  “Possibly.”

  Possibly as in No. The big, bad slayer wasn't going to go all buddy-buddy on her overnight. But at least he no longer glared at her with that cold, calculating look in his eyes, the one which suggested he was thinking of the bloodiest way to destroy her. It was progress.

  “You'd better hurry and pack up some clothes for your daughter. You look like you're about to fall asleep standing up.”

  Pack up some clothes for her daughter, the daughter who'd been attacked by a vampire almost every night for the last several weeks. And she'd been right there across the hall, oblivious. “I can't believe I slept all these nights while Deja was…” She allowed her voice to trail off, unable to speak through the sob pressing to be set free.

  “Pranic vampires are shifty little suckers, no pun intended. And this one knew you well enough to know how to mask his presence.”

  Malaika shook her head, still struggling to comprehend it all. “How did Craig become such a thing? I thought vampires just drank people's blood. But stealing their energy? How?”

  “Pranic vampires are actually quite rare. They have to have some trace of psychic ability in them before being turned. And even then, it has to be a pretty psychically powerful vampire who turns them.” Jake scratched his chin. “Jonah told me about your vision. It sounds like the siren is drawing people to abandoned buildings, where this psychic vampire is waiting. The vamp kills the victim, then leaves the body behind for were-hyenas to munch on.”

  “So why didn't this vampire just kill Craig?”

  “Because he sensed Craig's psychic ability.”

  “Why the hell didn't I?” Malaika let out a sigh. “All t
hose years I kept my abilities a secret from him, but he was psychic too? Why didn't he sense his own death approaching?”

  “That's a lot of questions coming from a woman so in need of sleep.” He jerked his head toward the door. “Finish up. I'll take you to the church to get a little rest, and we'll try to answer those questions in the morn… well, afternoon I guess.”

  “Alright.” She noticed the frown on his face as she passed him to get to Deja's room, but didn't inquire what had brought it on. Like he said, she needed rest. She'd get her answers after she had refreshed her mind with a few hours sleep. “Are you positive Craig can't get to us in the church?”

  “The good thing about pranic vampires,” Jake said, following her into Deja's small room, “is that unlike regular blood-sucking vamps, they have to be invited inside private residences.”

  “So because Craig already lived here, he had easy access.”

  “No. Because Deja lived here, and he intruded upon her mind while she slept and asked for an invitation, he was able to come inside.”

  Malaika sucked in a breath, her hand hovering just out of reach of Deja's dresser. “What's to stop the same thing from happening at the church?”

  “Deja is staying there. She does not truly live there. The invitation must be from someone who lives in the residence.”

  “But a church is not a private residence. It’s a public building. He can walk right in.”

  “You'll see.”

  She glanced up from the shirt she was packing into the duffel and caught site of the hardness in his hazel eyes. “You're going to kill him, aren't you?”

  “It's what I do,” he said unapologetically. “I'm assuming that's why you kept it a secret that it was him drawing you to those buildings.”

  Caught, Malaika nodded. “He's the father of my child.”

  “He's a beast.”

  “You think I don't know that now?” Malaika snapped, tossing a few more clothes inside the duffel bag. “He repeatedly came into this house and fed off his own daughter, his precious little—” Her voice caught on a gasp of despair, and Jake was behind her, his hands on her shoulders.

  “You're a good mother. We've all seen that.”

  “You don't understand.” She shrugged his hands off and stepped across the room, in need of space, before turning to face him. “He must die, I know that, but I've failed to protect her from him, and all that's left is to protect her from the knowledge of what he is. How am I supposed to do that?”

  “You don't want her to know her father is a monster.” Understanding dawned in his brownish-green eyes.

  Malaika gave a weak nod.

  “To think she is a monster for coming from such a person.”

  “Exactly.” Fresh tears fell down her cheeks. “I'm her mother, and I'm a, a witch? Her father is a pranic vampire who fed off her energy while she slept. While I slept right across the hall. How can any child deal with that and not go insane?”

  Jake ran a hand through his short, light brown hair and huffed out a breath. “Let her believe her father is just some bastard that ran off with another woman and was never heard from again. I promise I…” He grimaced. “I won't kill the son of a bitch in front of her, not unless a life depends on it. There's no reason she has to know what he became that night the siren snared him.”

  Malaika nodded, forcing a small, empty smile. “Thank you for that. But what about me? What about when she finds out Mommy doesn't happen to just sense things sometimes? What about when she learns Mommy is a witch?”

  “It won't matter as long as Mommy doesn't abuse her power.” There was a dark undercurrent to his tone, a warning.

  Malaika swallowed hard. “You still don't fully trust me.”

  He stared at her, holding her gaze evenly for a tense moment before speaking. Even then, there was no inflection to his tone, no way of truly knowing what he thought. “I know you love your child, and I know you protected mine. But you're still a witch and there have been many who couldn't resist the dark side of power.”

  Malaika blinked, the vision she'd had back at the abandoned building replaying through her mind. “Your child?”

  “The child the vampire sought.” He frowned. “The child whose location you wouldn't give. I'm still puzzled how you know about him.”

  “And I'm puzzled about what it is you're talking about. The baby I saw in my vision was a girl, and you and your wife aren't the parents.”

  Jonah shifted in the chair, finding it difficult to sleep, but knowing it was necessary. A well-rested guardian was better than one so damn tired he couldn't think straight. And he certainly had a lot to digest.

  Deja's father was a vampire. Some sort of freakish, energy-sucking vampire at that. He'd barely managed to fight the bastard off. If Jake hadn't come running when he had…

  He cracked open an eyelid, checking on the little girl with the screwed-up family. She was too cute a little girl to have to deal with the things she'd have to deal with. A vampire daddy and a witch mother. A beautiful witch mother. Hell, he still wanted the damn woman, despite knowing what she was. Despite his suspicion she'd known all along why she was having the visions of the murders. She was following that bastard. Craig. Filthy son of a bitch. What he wouldn't have given to have had a stake in his hand when the bastard attacked. It probably wouldn't have killed him despite the lore so heavily circulated through books and movies, he knew that, but it would have hurt like hell. A grin worked at the corners of his mouth. Next time, bastard. Next time.

  And there would be a next time. The thought sobered him. Could he protect them? He'd barely managed to fight off the vampire the first time. His hands curled into fists just thinking about it.

  “Come on guys, what's taking so long?” Jonah muttered while glancing at the time displayed on his car stereo and yawned. He'd been awake for far too long, and had dealt with too much shit for one day.

  “Jonah?”

  “Yeah, baby?” He turned his head to look at the little girl in the backseat. The little girl with the oh-so-hot but oh-so-wrong mother.

  “What's my mom doing?”

  He sighed, taking a moment to think of a good answer. Telling a young child her mother was checking out a murder scene probably wasn't the way to go. Not unless he wanted to give the cute little girl nightmares. “She's helping my brother find someone.” There, that wasn't a total lie.

  Deja's brow creased, her mouth turned down into a frown. “He's a meanie to my mommy.”

  “He's having a bad day,” Jonah replied, guilt gnawing at him. He should have stood up for Malaika more than he had. She may be a witch, but so was Seta, and Jake didn't treat Seta so harsh. Of course, though he'd never admit it, Jonah suspected Jake was more than a little intimidated by the vampire-witch. The woman was dynamite wrapped in a playboy centerfold's body. You never knew when she'd go off and blow your ass to bits. “Tell you what, if he's not nicer to her, I'll punch him right in the nose for you.”

  Deja smiled, emitting the cutest little chuckle he'd ever heard. “You'd hit your brother?”

  “Jake needs a few punches in the nose every now and then,” he answered.

  “My mommy hit him hard.” She giggled again.

  Jonah smiled, remembering the look on Jake's face. Served the little jerk right. “That she did, and she did a good job, too.”

  All traces of humor left Deja's angelic little face. “Will he hurt her?”

  “Absolutely not,” Jonah said quickly, without a second's need to think. “I would never let him.” He wouldn't, he realized. Even if Malaika turned out to be a dark magic-loving witch from hell. He knew how Jake took care of such matters, and there was no way Jake was doing those things to Malaika. Even if it meant he, himself, would be the one to kill her just to make sure she didn't suffer unnecessarily. He closed his eyes and wished with his entire heart Malaika was one of the good guys.

  “Do you promise you'll keep my mommy safe?”

  “I promise, angel. I'll keep both of you saf
e.”

  That's when his detective's gut alerted him to danger. His eyes snapped open and locked onto Deja. Her gaze passed him, focusing on a point past his shoulder, her mouth parted open, starting to turn upward into a smile. Despite the smile, he knew something was wrong. Something in the air shifted unnaturally, and the fine hairs along the back of his neck stood on end.

  “Daddy!” Deja squealed, and Jonah swallowed hard. Daddy? Why the hell was her missing daddy so close to the place a man had been murdered?

  Jonah reached for his gun the same time he whipped his head around. Before he could finish either task, his car door was yanked open and a hand clamped around his throat.

  He was ripped from the car and slammed against the hood. His attacker was tall, lean, and strong. His hair was a dark brown, similar to his own color, and his eyes… an unnatural shade of blackish brown. As he looked at him, the color in the man's irises actually appeared to swirl. He wasn't a bad looking guy, Jonah had to admit grudgingly, but he was a bit of a pretty boy. The knowledge Malaika had once been intimate with the man pissed him off nearly as much as the fact he'd yet to release his grip.

  “Daddy, stop! Don't hurt him!” Deja's voice cut through the night, snapping Jonah out of his thoughts of jealousy. Dammit, this bastard was Deja's father, and he was supposed to protect her. He knew deep in his gut, the man would snatch Deja if he didn't fight him off.

  “All will be fine, sweetheart,” the man said to Deja, his deep voice softening to a gentle, calming tone. “Stay in the car.” When he whipped his head back to lock gazes with Jonah, his face was mottled in rage. “Why are you watching over my daughter? How dare you think to take what is mine?”

  Jonah couldn't respond, not when his breath was being choked out of him. He raised his arm and brought it down hard on the man's wrist, dislodging his hand. Before his attacker could make another move, he rammed his other fist into the pretty boy's face, knocking him backward, but the man didn't go down. He went up—literally—levitating two feet off the ground.

  “What the fuck?” was all Jonah managed to croak out before he found himself once again thrown over the hood of his car, the man's hand clamped around his throat.