Nightstorm (Nightwraith Book 3)

by Gaja J. Kos

  Allowing myself a little smile, I glanced at the remaining two screens on my neat little device. The one on the left made out the specific strands of magic, while the one on the right spilled out their respective magnitudes.

  Much to my relief, the numbers indicated any wards or spells the bastards had set up were currently dormant. It was sloppy as fuck for someone with a criminal record more colorful than my mother’s reign, but I really wasn’t complaining.

  I hopped over the fence then prowled across the graveyard. My shadows remained wrapped snugly around myself to create, if nothing more, a small shield from the offensive blaze of sunlight that spilled across the ornate—and a little creepy—tombstones. At least the statues provided for a moderate amount of cover.

  I made my way across the overgrown paths, occasionally stopping for a more thorough scan before I pushed forward once more. Once I reached the mausoleum, I dropped into a crouch, my back pressed against the cool wall. I took a couple of steadying breaths, then did a double scan of what lurked inside.

  My own power and the device’s measurements were unanimous in their findings.

  Nothing.

  Nothing waited on the other side of the wall.

  Well, wasn’t that just great. It seemed the assholes had really taken this whole underground thing literally. Under any other circumstances, the dim atmosphere of tunnels and caverns would play to my advantage, but with Kauer’s men pumped up on demon juice, it was almost fair to assume their sight was just as good as mine.

  I only hoped they hadn’t inherited the shadows, too. While my gear was precise, it didn’t offer that kind of insight.

  Letting the crankiness that rose within me turn to anger, I eased open the rusty door, then scanned the crypt for any hidden passages. It took a couple of minutes, but sure enough, there was a groove in one of the nightmarish statues set in the far corner. The dust surrounding it was disturbed, and while it was smudged, I could still distinguish a palm print where one of the men must have leaned against the statue in a moment of carelessness.

  I looked at the hole with a skeptical eye, then stuck my finger inside it, and pressed the button concealed in its depths.

  Like in some old Indiana Jones movie, the statue swung aside with an ominous sound, and within moments I found myself staring at a lovely black pit. Honestly, it was all I could do to keep myself from laughing.

  But then I remembered those girls strung up on trees overlooking Jasna Lake, robbed of their lives because someone had a twisted hunger for power.

  The bastards might have a knack for theatrics, but they were also filth who didn’t mess around.

  I could laugh once I had their corpses sprawled at my feet.

  With that in mind, I lowered myself over the edge, noticing the faint imprints of ladder-like steps etched into a cool, sleek wall. The instant my feet found purchase, I scrambled down as fast as I dared, wincing a little when water sloshed around my boots. Luckily, it was only the lingering traces of the storms we’d had a few days ago, not a sewer—at least judging by the lack of vile smell I’d unfortunately spent far too much of my time in since taking up bounty hunting as a career.

  Just as I wanted to move, the now familiar ominous sound cut through the silence once more. I looked up in time to see the statue slide back into place, submerging me in total darkness. While it was a risk, I summoned a dash of demon fire to sparkle at my fingertips and illuminate the walls.

  For a less than pleasant moment, I couldn’t discern anything that might indicate an opening mechanism for the statue above. But during my second sweep, the nearly invisible indentation between the fourth and fifth step snapped into focus.

  Good.

  I had my way out.

  Now all I needed was to end the murderous, demon-sucking assholes, and life just might get a little better.

  The light glow of the clock in the upper left corner of my device told me I’d already spent the better part of twenty minutes sneaking through the never-ending chain of tunnels. I’d reeled my magic back in after the first few turns, keeping only a sheen of it close to my body to protect me from any attacks. To say that relying purely on the electronic sensor made me nervous would be a disgusting understatement.

  It was more than neat for gathering data, but it couldn’t replace the way my magic picked apart every layer of my surroundings and presented it on a silver platter. Even more so, the one thing a gadget could never replicate was instinct.

  There were times when all it took was a split second to decide whether you got to live for another day or hit the highway to Veles’s realm.

  The though alone made me want to cast a potent, wide net, but given the mad rhythm of the past few days, not to mention the lovely encounters where I had to fight for my life—or Caz’s—I wanted to avoid depleting my energy levels further.

  While those men I’d fought at Caz’s weren’t hard to defeat, they weren’t exactly the easiest opponents, either. And here, deep below ground in an unknown cemetery, I was on their turf.

  Having the element of surprise on my side was a faint possibility at best. And even then, I had a suspicion they would recover far quicker than their deceased bros.

  Yeah, I needed my strength.

  Every last ounce of it to burn the stolen demonic essence from their flesh—and them right along with it.

  By the time I passed the thirty-minute mark, I was glad for all the hours of meditation I’d put in over the years to help keep my nerves from flaring up. Corridor after corridor, but no assholes to cut up. Where the fuck were they hiding?

  The place was right, and the energy signature strong enough to indicate a live source. But not nearby.

  I groaned inwardly. If only I had Lana’s particle form, all this would be over much, much faster.

  I turned another corner, then, guided by the graphs and numbers on the scanner, veered into a narrow passageway that came up on my right. Traces of residual magic lingered here, indicating that someone had entered this part of the maze not so long ago. An hour. Maybe two.

  But what truly caught my attention was the fact that they seemed to have stayed for a while. Or their magic did, at least.

  What were you up to?

  Carefully, I curved my way around an uneven bend in the wall, then stopped in my tracks as a spill of matted, blonde hair fell into my line of sight. I sucked in a breath, taking in the dirty outline of a body.

  The girl from the parking lot.

  And she was alive.

  Chapter 18

  I ran over to her weak, crumpled form, my magic doing a brisk inspection for any injuries. Dehydration and a whole lot of fear, but otherwise she was still untouched.

  Unfortunately, she was also unconscious.

  I rolled her onto her back and pressed a hand across her mouth, careful not to cut off her airways, but also making sure to catch any rogue sound before it escaped. My power slipped inside her again, only now it was just a vine—a small, gentle yet potent vine to give her a tiny shock and kick her body back into a state of awareness.

  The girl jerked, her blue-green eyes going wide as she saw me kneeling over her in the flickering light of the demon fire flaming at the fingertips of my free hand.

  “Shh. I’m going to get you out,” I whispered, a little pissed at myself for not even knowing her name.

  They probably had it by now. But I’d been too busy fussing to do a little leg work—or at least ask. Some grand savior I was.

  I winced. “Don’t scream, all right?”

  It was a piss-poor thing to say to someone who’d been kidnapped and thrown underground, but it was all I had to offer.

  The girl didn’t trust me. That much was clear from the skeptical look she was throwing my way—though I figured the embers coming from my skin might have played a small part in her reaction. But she didn’t try to fight me, and, after a few seconds dragged by, blinked slowly in understanding.

  Some of the tension in my shoulders subsided.

  For n
ow, she seemed to accept that I was the lesser evil in the grand scheme of things.

  I waited for a moment, then slowly removed the hand I held clasped over her mouth. Something in my chest loosened when no cry of terror cut through the damp, dusky chamber. It was a start, if nothing more.

  “Do you think you can stand?”

  Again, the blonde nodded, and with my help managed to lift herself up on unsteady, booted feet. I scanned her again, then gave her hand what I hoped translated into a reassuring squeeze.

  While I had saved a few people from their tormentors over the years, I seriously wasn’t qualified for dealing with live victims. I had no doubts Caz would know exactly what to do.

  Pain stabbed at my insides at his name. Quickly, I shoved it away and focused on the present. On getting us out.

  “We need to leave before anyone comes looking,” I whispered. And our trek back isn’t exactly the shortest one.

  I kept that last bit of information to myself. Scaring her more than she already was wouldn’t exactly do us any favors. She was shaky, weak, enough so to make me contemplate tossing her over my shoulder even if it would hinder my ability to react fast if something unpleasant decided to pop up along the way.

  However, once we slipped from the gloomy excuse of a chamber, the girl surprised me.

  Although still visibly shocked, she seemed adamant to pull her own weight. I really, really wanted to hug her for her bravery, but at the same time I knew that even touching her as much as I was right now came close to reaching the bounds of physical contact that was deemed safe. I might not have sensed any lingering injuries, but who knew what the bastards had done or threatened her with in the long hours she’d spent locked up in here. Some wounds couldn’t be seen. Even with the help of magic.

  So I simply guided her into the hallway, my fingers wrapped gently around her arm as I pushed farther and farther into the darkness.

  “What’s your name?” I whispered as shadows flickered around us, my demon fire illuminating the ghastly walls and filthy floor just enough for the girl to see.

  “Mara.” Her voice was a raspy whisper that stirred the shitload of anger already piling up in my gut.

  “Well, Mara, I’m Lena. And as soon as we get you somewhere safe, I promise I’ll come back here and make the bastards pay. Sound good?”

  She nodded rapidly, a sheen of silver flashing across her eyes along with so much gratitude that it felt like my heart would erupt. Gods, I would make them pay. I would make them scream until their throats were raw and they started coughing up blood.

  And then some.

  We fell into a determined silence as we stalked down corridor after corridor with nothing but our low breaths and hushed footsteps sounding in our wake. I checked my cell phone at regular intervals, hoping to see that damned signal bar return and call Caz to come pick Mara up. But we were simply too deep underground for the bloody thing to work.

  Briefly, I entertained the thought of breaking us both down to particles and detouring to the police station through my lair. It would have been the logical thing to do—what I would have done under different circumstances—but a glance at the girl told me that would be one shock too many. Although she’d accepted my demon fire with inspiring strength, experiencing her body flake away wasn’t quite so trivial a matter.

  No, I wouldn’t go there unless it was absolutely necessary.

  Besides, based on my memory and the path marked out on the small GPS device clipped to my belt, we were already nearing the crypt. I killed the display light with a touch of a sturdy button, then eyed that last turn that should take us to the passageway. Every thought in my mind turned into a prayer to get the girl out without incident.

  But as was always the case with our deepest desires—or maybe it was just my rotten luck—reality crushed them as if they were some vile bug in need of exterminating.

  Magic licked at my back, a cold, vicious caress that made my hairs stand on end and my power swirl. I shoved Mara in front of me at the same time I blasted out with a thick, translucent shield, erecting a wall behind us.

  Precisely where the rogue magic was coming from.

  There must have been another entrance, another door somewhere, because I acutely felt the presence of two dozen men where there had been none before. Motherfucker.

  The twisted blend of human and demonic essence singed my nostrils, but I kept us moving, rushing towards that damned ladder. Only a few feet now…

  I pressed Mara against the wall and stuck my finger in the groove, a wave of relief washing over me when I heard the statue above release a groan. The instant light filtered down from the crypt, I shoved the girl up the ladder and roared, “Run!”

  She did.

  And not a second too late.

  I whirled around, my demon fire spreading through the hallway and licking at the dark-robed figures pushing in. A part of me itched to run after Mara—I knew I could still make it out—but right now, she was far safer off on her own. I sensed no magic, no life coming from above. As long as I kept the bastards occupied, she would have enough of a head start to reach the nearest houses and call for help.

  I let out a breath and crooned, “All right, boys. Let’s see just how demonic you can get, eh?”

  They stormed me.

  Despite the demon fire, despite the push of my shield, the assholes closed in. Their faces—what little I could see of them with the hoods and flashes of light and darkness obscuring my vision—were contorted in pain, but their resolution to overpower me was as solid as it got. I had to give it to them—they certainly weren’t quitters.

  And I certainly didn’t want them to focus their attention on anyone but me.

  Thankfully, they seemed to comply.

  None of them tried to slip by. Instead, they all came at me, aiming for the grand prize.

  Much like those at Caz’s place, the hitmen were unable to summon any of the fabulous demonic perks, although they possessed the full benefit of the race’s strength as well as a moderate amount of imperviousness to injury. As we came together in a violent clash of fists and blades, I made a quick job of frying their weapons. Only not all of the knives melted away.

  Demon-made.

  I swore.

  Tevan must have had them on his person when they took him, and the bastards seemed adamant to put them to good use. Luckily, I wasn’t lagging.

  I let loose a few throwing knives, keeping them ensconced in shadows right up until they sank into their targets’ hearts. It really was next to impossible to miss my mark with the cluster of bodies sweating all around me, but unfortunately, that also meant quite a few of their slashes reached well beyond my barrier, nipping at my skin.

  Fucking demon-made steel.

  I whirled around and took down three more in a blaze of fire, then lashed out with a foot at the same time I sank two daggers into those coming at me from the side. With grace, I head-butted the first and slit his throat the next second, then spun around to meet the next attack.

  My breaths were coming out in quick, sharp rasps as I maneuvered through the narrow space. Getting zero respite, my muscles were beginning to burn, but my body felt alive, energy thrumming wildly with the thrill of battle.

  I’d successfully cut their numbers down to a third when a wall of magic slammed into me from behind. A cry ripped itself from my throat.

  Motherfucker. That hurt.

  It hurt enough that my vision went blurry for the millisecond I needed to swallow the pain. And the delay cost me.

  The seething mass of black magic, carrying a touch of demonic strength, flushed into my lungs. I gagged, choking on its heady presence even as I sliced my blade across another throat, then ducked under the one trying to return the favor.

  With my focus divided, more of the oppressive magic managed to slip in. Darkness swept over me, but not before I felt my cheek crash viciously against the cobblestones, slick with blood.

  Not only theirs. But mine, too.

  Chapter 1
9

  Eventually, candlelight replaced the darkness, and all I could think about was how fucking spectacular that a bloody warlock and a bunch of occult wannabes were gazing at me with hunger in their eyes. Hunger that made me think eating demon—and not in a sexual way—became a nauseating possibility.

  I always knew there was a more than good chance I’d get killed on some job or another. It was why I was so good at what I did. Believing in my capabilities but not deluding myself as to how far they reached. But I so did not want to end up as the creeps’ dinner. Not like this.

  And since I had no true particle form of my own like the purebloods or Lana were gifted with, they just might have to resolve to gnawing on my flesh to get their fill. Great, just fucking great.

  Releasing a breath, I focused on doing my job.

  Well, well, well… If I ever got out of this mess with only minimal chewing damages, I’d need to tell Caz his suspect board was lacking a whole lot of butt-ugly faces.

  I only recognized two of the fuckers, and neither of them was the warlock who clearly ran this entire operation. He stirred no sense of familiarity, save for a faint, faint trace of sage and man. I stilled. A trace I’d smelled once before.

  The woods where Sever had died.

  Anger burned low in the pit of my stomach. This was the bastard who’d finished off my mark.

  I’d kill him for that alone if it weren’t already for the long list of crimes he had to pay for.

  Shoving down the wrath, I scanned the gathered crowd one last time to burn their features into my memory, then—doing my best to ignore the twisted hunger permeating the air—shoved ethereal hands deep inside my core. I followed the familiar path to the umbilical cord that would whisk me away to my lair, but as the ghostly fingers wrapped around the tether and tugged on it, not a damned thing happened.