by Cynthia Eden
“He won’t kill my chosen mate!” Jun didn’t ease her hold, but she didn’t go in for another attack, either.
“Yeah, well, he won’t insult mi—” Whoa. What was that? No way she’d been about to say mine. “He won’t insult the guy that’s had my back this whole time. I know Simon’s linked to Grim. I know the spell won’t hold forever.” Her shoulders squared. “It’s a chance I’m willing to take.”
Tore whistled, or well, kinda gurgled.
“Simon…”
His hand fell away from Tore’s neck, but the stake remained pressed right over the other vampire’s heart. “I’d die to protect her.”
“You’ll probably have to do just that.” Tore’s gaze dropped to the stake. “Lesson for you, little vampiress. When you get to be as old as I am—as old as Grim—killing us is hard.” His fingers rose, curled around the stake.
“It’ll take more than a stake through the heart to keep Grim down.”
She’d heard a rumor like that years before. Talk of another Born who’d been staked and nearly decapitated, but the guy had gone to ground and risen again. “So what’s your killing tip?”
“Burn him. Burn him until there’s nothing left.”
Easier said than done.
155
Simon swore and stepped back, yanking the stake with him. “Why don’t you just tell us where to find the asshole?”
“Go back for your charred witch. She knows.”
The vamps began to retreat into the shadows.
“And where are you going?” Dee demanded.
“I just wanted to see you and to figure out if you were up to the task before you.” A somewhat sad shake of his head. “You’re not.”
Now he was going to insult her? “I could’ve had you dead on this ground in the first minute.”
“And I could have taken your heart in the first thirty seconds.” A taunt. One that had her hands clenching. “Don’t hesitate on your kills. Stop thinking like a human.”
Impossible. Inside, she still was human.
Deep inside, and she always would be.
Surface. Maybe Zane had been right about that. Maybe rage had been blinding her for too long.
“When you face Grim, strike fast and strike first. Because you won’t get a second shot.” He turned away.
So did Jun. Protecting his back. Good girl. She could admire that.
“Oh…” He stopped, looked back. “Tell the Ignitor they’re dead.”
Then he was gone.
But the knot in Dee’s gut had just gotten bigger.
Spells were powerful things. A few words, charms, a wisp of magic, and the world could change.
Dee and Simon rushed back to Delaney’s. Simon half-expected to find the street swarming with fire trucks and neck-craning bystanders, eager for a glimpse of tragedy or heroism.
But Catalina’s spell held, and though smoke curled lightly from the shattered windows, no humans were near the bar. If a human came by and glanced at Delaney’s, they’d see no damage. No wreckage. Not while the spell was in place.
But Simon saw it all.
Catalina stood in front of the broken doors, her shoulders slumped, her clothes stained with soot.
The demon wasn’t near her. He’d positioned himself next to a parked truck. A beat-up, older, gray pickup. When he caught sight of them, his head jerked. “You get the bastard?”
“He’s dead.” Not by his hand. Tore. Who would have thought that vamp would come calling? Simon had known he was looking at the Viking, 156
even before Tore had opened his mouth and started talking about Grim.
The guy’s reputation definitely proceeded him.
He jerked his thumb toward the truck. Even with the tinted windows, he could see the slumped figure of the woman. “She still out?”
“Yeah, Dee hits hard.”
Dee grunted at that. “When someone is trying to fry me, I do.” She stalked toward the bar. “Catalina?”
The witch didn’t turn.
Dee touched her shoulder. She flinched. “Catalina, I-I need your help.”
Finally, the woman turned. Her face had bleached of color, and her lips quivered when she asked, “Do I get to kill her?”
From the corner of his eye, Simon saw the sudden stiffness of Zane’s body. “Cat…”
“She would have killed me.”
“No.” Dee’s hand fell away. “She was looking for me. This wasn’t a hunt, Cat. She wasn’t here to bind or destroy you.”
A hunt. Simon’s brows rose. Witch hunts were supposed to be nightmares from the past. Burning and screaming and hell.
From the past.
Then why did they keep happening so often in the present?
“Doesn’t matter why.” Catalina’s chin lifted. “She would have burned us all.”
Simon remembered the tears he’d seen streaking down the woman’s cheeks. And she was right. The fire could have destroyed the building in one fast fury. But, lucky for them, they’d all had time to leave before the fire burned their flesh away.
With an Ignitor, they could have been destroyed in seconds. An Ignitor always had perfect control over the fire.
The woman had hesitated with her flames. Why? Slowly, he said, “I think there’s more going on here than we know.” Tell the Ignitor they’re dead. His gut knotted. Couldn’t be good. “Let her talk. Let’s find out what she knows.”
“I want her dead.” Fury and fear talking from Cat.
He knew ’em both when he heard ’em.
“Stand down, Cat. Stand. Down.” A demand from Zane. One that came just as—
The Ignitor blew out the back window of the truck. She hurled herself through the flames, crashed into the cement. Stumbled, but managed to get to her feet.
157
Zane took her down. Hard. “And don’t even think of burning me because, baby, I control the—”
“They’re dead,” Simon said, the words ripping from him. Probably the wrong time. Should have used some tact, but the witch was looking twitchy and with her magic—no way could they take chances. They needed someone left alive to question, and he didn’t want to lose another link to Grim.
“Simon!” Dee’s soft and shocked voice.
The Ignitor stopped thrashing beneath the demon. “Wh-what did you say?”
“They’re dead.” Who was he talking about? Didn’t know. Had to be someone close to her. “A vamp told us.”
A sob broke from her. Not one of those soft sniffles that some women could do, but a hard, chest-shaking eruption of agony. Pain.
Her face reddened and the tears leaked from her eyes. She tried to curl into herself, but Zane held her fast. “What the hell?”
Then Dee was there. Staring down at the other woman with recognition. Understanding. One who’d been there, and seen the darkness.
“Her family. It’s…Christ. They’re gone.” She swallowed. “I-I cried like that, too. Zane, l-let her go.”
He stared down at the woman, the struggle on his face.
“She won’t hurt us,” Dee said.
The woman’s breath gasped out. She shuddered and cried as if the world were ending.
For her, maybe it was.
Simon’s hands clenched. What if the vampire was wrong? Lying wouldn’t be something new for his kind.
For any kind.
How many times had he lied? Tricked? To further his own plans—too many times to count. “We haven’t seen the bodies,” Simon said. The words slipped out, an effort to comfort. That agony—no, he couldn’t see it.
Couldn’t hear it. Because when he looked at her, he saw Dee’s hell too easily.
And remembered his own.
No, Mom! Mom! Dad! So much blood.
Her watery eyes turned to him. Hope, faint, flickering, shined through the pain.
He locked his jaw and Simon gritted, “A Born vampire named Tore wanted us to deliver a message to you. He’s the one who said they were dead. We have no proof and—”
<
br /> 158
“Wh-what about Greg?”
Greg? “The vampire who brought you here to kill us?”
Zane’s hands were tight around her wrists. Too tight. When the demon suddenly freed her, Simon saw the red imprints on her flesh. Zane swore when he caught sight of the marks.
“Y-yes, h-he’s the one—” She pushed herself up.
“Greg’s dead.” Dee put her hands on her hips. “Very dead.”
Hope again, brighter this time. “Then there might be a-a chance. I-if we can get to the house before anyone else ch-checks in, I can get them out
—”
They’re dead.
Simon shook his head. False hope, that’s all he’d given her. Freaking false—
“The vampires drained the man first. The one with streaks of silver in his hair.” Catalina’s voice. Calm and cool. Simon’s gaze found her huddled on the ground, leaning over a thick shard of broken glass.
Her eyes were fixed on that glass. No, on what she could see in the glass.
Scrying. A witch’s talent.
The human’s heartbeat raced in his ears. Pounding, fast, too fast.
Dangerous that.
“They held the woman, made her watch. Then it was her turn.”
Catalina picked up the glass and blood dripped from her fingertips when the sharp edges cut her. “Death waits in that house near the water. Only death.”
The Ignitor didn’t cry out again. The tears came silently, long, pouring streams, and Dee snarled.
Her fangs were out, her claws glinting, and when she rounded on the witch, her eyes were perfect midnight black. “See him.” Grim.
The blood drops splattered onto the ground. The scent drew him and power pulsed in the air.
Simon crossed to the witch.
Catalina’s eyes had been glassy with her magic. A dazed blink seemed to bring her back to them. “I-I didn’t mean—I haven’t even cast my circle
—”
No time. The bodies were piling up. The evil closing in.
No more attacks.
Our turn.
Simon swiped his claws over his forearm. He lifted his hand and let the blood drop onto the darkened glass. “See him through me.”
A glow lit her eyes, then she stared down at the glass once more. He 159
couldn’t see a damn thing. Soot. Ash. The red smear of his blood. Darkness.
But Catalina stared and stared, and the silence thickened around them.
“Where.” A demand from Dee. He should have known her patience would break first.
“Texas.” Soft, tired. “Waiting, in a place called Heuco, near the Mexican border.”
Hueco. Hollow.
Excitement burned through him. “Cut the link.” She couldn’t look too long. With Grim, there was no telling who he’d forced onto his side. An Ignitor was just the start. He could have a witch or even a warlock. Probably a warlock. When choosing his weapons, Grim would go right for someone who’d stepped onto the dark side of magic. A warlock would be able to sense Catalina’s power if she stayed tuned in too long.
The glass shattered in her hands. “Can’t find me now,” she whispered.
“But I found you.”
Hot damn. They’d done it. His gaze met Dee’s. Her lips began to curl, just a bit.
He hurried to her. Kissed her hard and deep. Tasted her.
The end was coming.
Not for them, oh, no. For them, it would be a beginning. They’d have forever.
But for Grim, hell waited.
Simon would get his freedom. Dee would have her revenge, then they’d have each other.
Pretty fucking perfect.
“Is the trap set?” Grim asked, his eyes on the woman who danced before him. Human. He liked the human dancers best. This one—her eyes smiled, flirted. Her heart raced and all that sweet blood pumped with every sway of her body.
“Greg didn’t report in.”
At that, Grim pulled his stare away from the woman. Music beat, a sensual rhythm, and he knew the woman kept on slithering. “How long has he been missing?” He didn’t worry about guarding his words with the dancer. No need with her.
“An hour.” Malik, a vampire who’d been with him since the guy’s first Taken breath five hundred years before, met Grim’s gaze directly.
An hour was plenty of time to die. Grim rubbed his hand over his chin. “The parents are dead?” His Ignitor was such a useful tool. Weak package, but an incredible power inside.
160
“Their bodies should be found tomorrow.”
A quick tip to the cops, yes, that would do just fine. “And my brother?” Like he didn’t know the asshole was around. The instant Tore had crossed the ocean, he’d felt the fool. He’d taken steps to prepare for him.
Tore wouldn’t have an advantage in this hunt.
“No word yet.”
There wouldn’t be. “He won’t come for me.” Tore had learned his lesson the last time when Grim had left the dead children for him to find.
His brother had always had a soft spot for the kiddies.
When you knew someone so well, it was easy to work their weak spots. He knew just how to make Tore suffer.
His brother had begged him for death over twelve hundred years ago.
When he’d seen what Grim had become. When he’d found the bodies and known that he’d be the next to feel Grim’s fangs on his throat.
There’d been no controlling the bloodlust. No stopping the vicious thirst. But he hadn’t wanted to stop it. He’d just wanted to kill.
He’d granted his little brother’s wish. Too bad Tore hadn’t stayed down.
“He’ll be our next project,” Grim said, giving a nod. “It’s time we freed him from his torment.” A gift.
The music ended. He glanced over at the woman. Heaving chest.
Glistening lips.
He’d screw her first.
Then kill her.
“It’s a pity. I always loved my brother.”
Malik didn’t speak. Didn’t call him a liar. Or a fool.
And Grim was both. After all, he’d let Tore survive for this long. He should have taken his head long ago.
But when his brother had woken—just like me.
Sentiment. Attachment. So yes, he had a soft spot for the man he’d known as his brother. Tore had tried to save him once, right before his father’s bitch of a new wife had betrayed them all.
Tore had come to him, worked to free him from the chains, but there hadn’t been enough time.
Too many warriors around them. Too much rage.
Blood eagle.
He squeezed his eyes shut but the memory of agony seared his flesh.
His hands reached behind him automatically, touching his back.
No wings.
But he’d never forget, never. The snap of his ribs, the jerk backward 161
—
Death had not come fast enough as his blood spilled onto the ground.
The silence hit him then. Thick and complete. His arms still behind him, he looked up at the dancer. Dark skin. Long, supple limbs. Her eyes were on him. Studying. Watching.
Watching like all those others. Watching and laughing as he fell to the ground.
No one had helped him then. No one.
“We’ll kill the Born bitch.” Grim’s voice came out hoarse. He’d screamed that long ago night. Screamed until they took his breath and ripped his lungs out.
Blood eagle. No myth of Viking torture. Real. Real.
He would not die again. The vampiress coming would know the agony. Not him. Not again.
She’d die. He stepped forward. The dancer lifted her chin and asked,
“Kill me…or change me?”
Humans were always wanting to live forever. He reached for her and didn’t answer.
Because he’d never wanted to be a liar.
Or a killer.
Such a pity he was both.
162
Chapter 1
3
That day Simon dreamed of agony. Of a snow-covered battlefield that turned from white to red beneath him. Simon twisted on the bed, jerking and shuddering, but he couldn’t make his eyes open. Couldn’t escape.
Hands caught his body. Held too tight. Two men. One on each side.
Long braids surrounded their faces. Thick helmets sat on top of their heads and some kind of cape or cloak billowed behind them.
A scream burst from him as fiery pain pierced his back. Simon choked, struggling for breath. He heard a snap, as if a bone were breaking.
Again—
What the hell?
Pain, so much pain. Death would come. Death had to come. I will die with honor, I will not—
“Wake up, vampire.”
His eyes flew open at the soft voice and he sprang up, breath heaving.
His hands flew to his back. He expected to find the flesh torn open, his ribs ripped out and broken, to look like—
“You dream of him.” Catalina eyed him and shook her head. “His link to you is growing once again.”
Fuck, no. Simon ran a trembling hand over his face.
She glanced toward the door. A cheap motel room door. They were on the Louisiana/Texas border. She’d come with him and Dee. Come with the demon and the Ignitor—the woman who could only sit and cry.
“If you don’t kill him soon, he’ll start to control you again.” No censure there. Catalina just seemed to be stating a fact.
Okay, she was stating a fact.
Simon climbed from the bed. When had the witch come in? “Where’s Dee?” He reached for his shirt. Good thing he still had his jeans on or Catalina would’ve gotten a show.
“With Zane. She wants him to take the human away.” Catalina blew out a hard breath. “He wants to stay by Dee’s side.”
He yanked the shirt over his head. “Do you know what’s going to happen?” He’d first gone to Catalina weeks before. He’d known she was close to the hunters at Night Watch. He’d told her about Grim and asked if she understood what would be coming.
“I’ve been waiting for you.” Her first response. “You’re the one 163
who’s come for Dee.”
Her shoulders rolled and she glanced back at him. “I know if I go with you, I die.”