Midnight Hunter (The Execution Underground Book 3)

by Kait Ballenger

  That much was true, which was why the possibility of that combined power was terrifying, why it needed to be stopped before it even began. Vera nearly shuddered at the thought.

  Nathanial grinned, a twisted evil smirk. “I’m glad we see eye to eye.” He turned away from her toward the altar. She fought not to breathe a sigh of relief that her interrogation was over.

  Nathanial picked up the altar bowl in one hand, rolling the silver edge through his fingertips. “That scrawny excuse for a hunter captured the one witch in the coven who, despite her faults, was strong enough to watch over me while the spell to raise Johnathan is completed.” He turned toward her then, setting the bowl back on the altar. “You’ll take her place tonight.”

  Tonight? He planned on raising her father tonight? Shane had suggested that Nathanial’s time line would escalate in response to Trista’s kidnapping, but she hadn’t anticipated the bastard would trust her with such an intimate job so quickly. In a sense, it showed his desperation. He was worried Shane was onto him. That he didn’t have much time left.

  He was right.

  “I’ll do anything you want me to.”

  At that, Nathanial grinned wolfishly. He prowled across the room toward her, stopping only inches away. “Anything?” He ran a single finger over her cheek, drawing a line from her jaw to her chin.

  She shivered, but not for the reasons his ego undoubtedly expected. “Anything,” she repeated. It took everything in her not to hurl her entire dinner onto the floor at what Nathanial had insinuated. He wasn’t unattractive by any stretch of the imagination, but the power that attracted his female followers didn’t send her into fits of longing. Instead, it raised the hair on the back of her neck in a way that only the presence of a true predator could.

  “I have something you’ll want to see.” Nathanial gestured to a large box covered by a sheet in the corner of the room. He walked to it and pulled the edge of the sheet.

  If Vera had thought she’d needed her poker face for Nathanial’s unwanted advances, she needed it even more now. Underneath the sheet sat a cherrywood coffin. She recognized the engraving on the side all too well. Her mother had insisted upon it. Bile rose in her throat, but she fought hard not to allow her true horror to show.

  Her father’s rotted bones lay only a few feet away.

  * * *

  “I CAN’T TAKE this any longer,” Shane growled. He got up from his seat and reached for the van door.

  Jace grabbed him by the shoulders and slammed him back down. “If you barge in there now, you’re going to get her killed.”

  David nodded. “You can’t go in half-cocked.”

  Shane looked toward his leader. Damon gave a single abrupt nod. Damn it. Sitting there knowing he could be inside preventing Nathanial’s sleazy advances toward Vera was physically painful. Shane glanced at the stern faces of his fellow hunters huddled together in the back of the artillery van. All five expressions staring back at him screamed the same thing: hold your damn horses, cowboy. Listening to Nathanial harass Vera as if he were the star of an amateur porn film sent Shane’s blood into a boiling-hot rage, but he needed to remain still for Vera’s sake, for the sake of the case.

  But when he got hold of Nathanial...oh, the things he would do to the sick bastard.

  “Vera can handle him. She’s a bartender at a fucking strip club. She swats off guys like him on a regular basis,” Jace said.

  “And that’s supposed to make me feel better?” Shane spat. The last thing he wanted right now was to think about some of the scummier patrons Vera dealt with at her job.

  Jace shook his head. “Fuck, no. It’s not supposed to make you feel better, but at least she knows how to handle herself around scumbags.”

  Shane frowned.

  “He’s nothin’ if not honest.” Ash shrugged.

  David reached over and cranked up the volume on the speaker broadcasting Vera’s voice. “I think you’re about to get your cue, anyway, Doc.”

  Vera had begun chanting the words of the spell Nathanial dictated to her. A small cry ripped from her throat as she willingly cut herself for the spell. If all went as planned, Nathanial would be out cold in just a few moments, a necessary part of his attempt to possess Johnathan Summers’s corpse. With no one to guard him but Vera, Nathanial would be vulnerable, weak. It was the perfect opportunity for Shane to end the warlock once and for all.

  “You know the plan?” Damon asked.

  Shane nodded. “Backward and forward. So don’t come in guns blazing until I give you guys the signal.” He patted the microphone hidden underneath his shirt, then slipped his gun from its holster and allowed the cold metal against his hand to reassure him. This would all be over soon.

  Trent rolled open the van’s side door. Shane jumped out onto the pavement, gun in hand, not bothering to look back at his fellow hunters. He had only one thing on his mind. As his feet crossed the pavement, adrenaline pumped through his bloodstream. It fueled him like a live wire. His pulse pounded in his temple. He rounded the corner into the alley and down to the door. Just as he approached, the door flew open.

  Vera stood on the other side, waiting for him. “He’s out cold,” she said.

  Perfect. Shane slipped inside, pausing in the doorway only inches away from Vera. The heat radiating between their bodies mixed with his already-sky-high adrenaline to form a dangerously erotic cocktail. He opened his mouth to tell her how sorry he was for what Nathanial had said to her, how he would never allow anyone to treat her like that again, but she held up a bleeding hand.

  “I know. Just get in there and destroy that asshole.”

  He grinned. Before she could stop him, he leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. The scent of her filled his nose. It pained him to consider where the end of Nathanial would leave them, but he needed to focus.

  He slipped down the hall and into the main room with his gun cradled tightly in his hands. The sight of Nathanial laid out on the altar like a demented male version of Sleeping Beauty was somehow disturbing, like standing next to a sleeping lion he didn’t want to wake. The sight of the black magic symbols painted in Vera’s blood across Nathanial’s chest sickened him. Though he knew no amount of noise would rouse Nathanial from his spell-induced slumber, he was as careful and quiet as possible as he stepped toward the altar.

  As he continued to move closer, the small hairs on the back of his neck and arms rose. Something was off. Whether it was his instincts reacting as they usually did to a serial killer as nasty as Nathanial or something greater, he wasn’t certain. Regardless, he held firm. He stood over Nathanial’s body, his gun held at the ready.

  The angel and devil on his shoulder fought in an interesting debate. Take Nathanial in alive and allow him to rot in an Execution Underground holding cell for the rest of eternity or end him here and now? The images of Nathanial’s victims flashed into his mind: the disturbed corpses, the bleeding and bludgeoned victims. No, Nathanial didn’t deserve to live.

  He clicked back the hammer and tried not to be disturbed at how much pleasure it would bring him to be the one to end this monster on behalf of all the innocent victims he’d slaughtered.

  Shane’s gun went off just as he felt his body fly backward. He slammed into the far wall. The force of the impact knocked the wind out of him, and he struggled for air. Pain throbbed through the base of his skull. The room swam in front of his eyes. Though his vision hadn’t cleared, the sound of Vera hitting the wall next to him a moment later told him everything he needed to know.

  They’d been played.

  Nathanial was awake.

  He attempted to launch himself back toward Nathanial, but he was unable to move. As the room swirled, Nathanial’s twisted laugh rang in Shane’s ears. Shane blinked several times until finally the room slid into focus. Nathanial was standing near the altar, clutching his shoulde
r, which was bleeding where Shane’s bullet had gone wide and entered his flesh, laughing like the madman he was.

  “You really thought I could be fooled so easily?” Blood oozed from between his fingers as he spoke.

  “I didn’t get where I am now by being easily duped, though I have to admit, your whore was a brilliant actress.”

  Shane snarled like an animal. Vera was no whore.

  Nathanial’s grin spread from ear to ear. “Oh, good, did I hit a nerve?”

  Vera whimpered as Nathanial walked toward her. Shane struggled to free himself with every ounce of strength he possessed, but it was no use. He couldn’t even turn his head under the painful pressure of Nathanial’s magical restraints. In his peripheral vision, he watched Nathanial run a single greasy paw up Vera’s thigh. Anger the likes of which Shane had never known clouded his vision with red. He never should have hesitated to pull the trigger. Nathanial deserved to die.

  “Don’t touch me, you perverted freak,” Vera snapped.

  A twinge of pride rushed through Shane. Her voice didn’t hold an ounce of fear. She was fierce and brave. She’d demonstrated that over and over again tonight alone.

  Ignoring her protest, Nathanial continued to caress the side of her thigh. “How quickly she turns from just a few minutes ago.” He sighed. “What surprises me, hunter, is that you, in all your self-righteous glory, would get into bed, both literally and figuratively, with a pathetic black-magic junkie like her. Tell me, does the thought of screwing a woman whose lifestyle should repulse someone as high and mighty as you get you off?”

  Shane growled. “Those are big words coming from a man so small he needs to bleed out innocent people in order to feel strong.”

  At that, Nathanial stopped caressing Vera’s thigh and turned toward Shane with a look of pure hatred blazing in his eyes. He stepped forward and clutched Shane’s throat in his hand, choking the air from Shane’s lungs.

  “You have no idea how strong I really am,” Nathanial said.

  A loud bang echoed through the air. Shane recognized the sound of his fellow hunters bursting into the building. Nathanial released Shane’s throat, uttering a spell before Shane managed a breath.

  Shane gasped for air. “No!” he yelled, just as Damon rounded the corner, his gun in hand. Damon hit Nathanial’s personal force field with a resounding zap and fell back in a heap at the other hunters’ feet as the rest of his teammates skidded to a halt.

  Nathanial chuckled. “Really? A whole team of hunters? My lucky day. Join the party, boys.”

  In seconds, Nathanial’s force field expanded, and Shane watched in horror as all five of his teammates slammed against the walls of the coven in the same hold that held him and Vera captive. A resounding collective of groans, expletives and curses sounded from the other side of the room as his teammates realized they were as fucked as Shane was.

  Though Shane hadn’t given the signal for them to storm in, he knew the thought process behind his fellow hunters’ decision. They were not the type of men to sit by idly as one of their own was nearly strangled by a sadistic warlock, and if one of them was going down, well...the rest of them would go down swinging, too. Unfortunately, the blunt force of their attack rendered them powerless in the face of a warlock like Nathanial. But if there was one way to take down the narcissistic killer, it was quick wits and critical thinking, something Nathanial was painfully lacking.

  Luckily for their sake, Shane had quick wits by the score.

  “Well—” Nathanial rubbed his bloodied hands together, smearing the crimson liquid from his shoulder over his palms “—a whole team and one pathetic double agent just for me.” He turned his vile gaze on Vera. “And to think it took only one hunter to kill your father.” He shot her a smug grin.

  She remained unfazed and unafraid, which was exactly what Shane was growing to love about her. “Don’t flatter yourself. My father was a murderous asshole who got his rocks off ruining other people’s lives. I wouldn’t be proud of being even more despicable than he was.”

  A smirk twisted Nathanial’s lips. “I already knew how you felt about your father, Vera. Your family’s dirty laundry is very well aired in our little community. As soon as I recognized you, I knew what you were. Your father pinned you for nothing more than a useless black-magic junkie from the very beginning, and it was courtesy of your failures that I became his protégé.”

  Shane nearly cringed. Though he couldn’t turn his head to see Vera’s expression, he knew Nathanial’s words had to sting. Vera’s black-magic habits were both her biggest vice and her biggest shame. She wasn’t proud of her addictions, and she was trying to get better. Nathanial’s words held the potential to destroy the progress she had made by filling her with guilt. Shane couldn’t allow Nathanial’s words to shatter the amazing woman next to him. He needed to get Nathanial’s attention away from Vera.

  Shane forced a laugh. “Which makes you nothing more than a lousy second choice.”

  Nathanial turned toward Shane then. Pure rage flickered behind his eyes. The only thing a narcissist hated more than being ignored was a major blow to the ego.

  “Look at you,” Shane went on. “You can’t even fight us hand to hand like a man. You have to pin us down, hold us in place. At least when Johnathan was killed, he put up a true fight.”

  The feral snarl that escaped Nathanial’s lips was barely human, but Shane continued to egg him on.

  “What’s the issue, Nathanial? Afraid you’ll be bested just like Johnathan was?”

  Nathanial shook his head. “You may be smug now, hunter, but in a few moments, when I force you to watch as I raise Johnathan from the dead, you won’t be so smug, not when I use his powers to destroy you all.”

  Nathanial snapped his fingers, and a moment later a young woman Shane recognized from the gathering stepped into the room. The mousy blonde scurried to Nathanial’s side as if there were nothing more important in life than being at his beck and call.

  Nathanial ran a hand over her hair, petting her as if she were a cat instead of a human being. “Collect her blood and prepare the coffin, Cassandra.”

  Cassandra crossed the room and unlatched the lid of Johnathan’s coffin. She lifted the lid to the sound of Vera’s shrieking. The bones of what had once been Johnathan Summers lay inside the casket, adorned in the suit in which he’d been buried.

  Cassandra proceeded to remove a knife and small bowl from the altar. She turned and walked toward Vera with a sickening smile on her face. Shane fought against Nathanial’s magical restraints, but to no avail. The hiss that ripped from Vera’s throat as Cassandra slid the blade across her hand sent even more rage coursing through him. He was going to kill the bastard.

  As obedient as a dog, Cassandra brought the bowl of blood to Nathanial, bending slightly as she offered it to him as if he were a king.

  Nathanial grinned as he accepted her offering. “You know what to do, Cassandra.” Once again, Nathanial laid himself out on the altar. Together, he and Cassandra used Vera’s blood to paint black-magic symbols over his body as they chanted.

  Shane still couldn’t turn his head toward Vera. He tried to speak, only to find Nathanial had managed to restrain his voice, as well, to ensure no one interrupted the spell. From the corner of his eye, he watched Vera writhe against her restraints.

  Shane knew when Nathanial fell into his trance. Johnathan’s coffin jerked, and then the wood shook and trembled. What could only be described as black light surrounded the coffin in a pulsating flash, so bright that Shane shut his eyes against the glare. When the light dissipated, Shane stared wide-eyed in horror as Johnathan’s bones and desiccated flesh knitted together piece by piece, slowly forming the outline of a half-rotted human being.

  He glanced at Vera again. She continued to struggle against Nathanial’s magical restraints. He wanted to tell her it was no use, tha
t she shouldn’t waste her energy, but he was unable to speak. That was when he noticed the purple light emanating from Vera’s hands.

  It was probably a good thing he couldn’t speak, he realized, or he would have let out a resounding whoop without even thinking. Vera might have been unable to fight against Nathanial, but now that he was passed out cold, Cassandra didn’t stand a chance against a witch with Vera’s magical lineage. A small sound next to him signaled that Vera had managed to free herself.

  Cassandra whipped around at the noise, but it was no use. The look on Vera’s face held nothing but pure hatred as she shot an orb of power straight into Cassandra’s midsection. Cassandra’s limp body hit the far wall with a resounding thud and a trickle of blood ran down her temple.

  Vera released a heavy breath. “That was entirely too easy.” She turned her energy toward releasing Shane.

  After several agonizing moments, his body slipped to the ground. His skin tingled as all his normal faculties returned. Without thinking, he ran to the edge of Johnathan’s still-shaking coffin. In moments his restored body would be possessed by Nathanial.

  “Shane!” Damon roared. Shane’s head snapped toward his fellow hunters as Damon tossed Shane his vampire-hunting sword. Shane caught the sword, holding the hilt with both hands.

  But he froze. He couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t kill Vera’s father.

  “What are you waiting for? Fucking chop his head off!” Jace bellowed.

  A wave of emotion washed over Shane in the ultimate internal debate. He was torn between his duty to protect the innocent from the unstoppable force about to rise before him and his loyalty to Vera. How would she ever forgive him if he killed her father all over again?