Morgane spent the rest of the way downtown wondering who lived in places like that. So high above everyone else.
Nights like these were the worst. Nights with time to kill. Nights where no one remembered she existed. Where the only people who had known her were dead. Abruptly Morgane plunged her hands into her pockets and headed back the way she’d come until she reached Union Station. She should have boarded the train and headed home. She should have, but the shoebox seemed so…damn depressing tonight. Taking the stairs to the lowest level of the station, she found her locker and pulled out her key.
This time of night, the bars would be packed full of people just like her, seeking the same thing. Any escape they could find from loneliness. Opening the locker, she yanked out the clothes she kept there for emergencies.
Such as nights like these.
She made few concessions to weakness. Didn’t have many connections left to this race of people she’d once called hers. Most days, it felt like she didn’t belong to anyone. Or anywhere.
Most days, she had to remind herself she even had a name.
Morgane Elaine Burke.
Unseen killer of demons, which was precisely how she needed things to stay. The Kevlar vest and the knives clanked against the metal bathroom stall as she quickly stripped, trading the bloody clothing for a light sweater, black jeans, and heels. Slipping a short jacket over her shoulders, she stuffed her black AMX card and ID in her back pocket, went to the sink, and splashed water on her face. Finally she freed her hair, watching it cascade over her shoulders.
It was the one thing she hadn’t compromised on, and its glorious length reminded her she was, after all, female. Even if it hardly mattered anymore.
There were only three clubs downtown she trusted. Where the music was loud and the faces constantly changed. She never drank and always tipped generously for the bottled waters they doled out to her through the night.
And she danced. Caught in the throbbing pulse of bodies and driving music, it felt good to disappear for two or three hours, to lose herself in the crowd, in the music. Closing her eyes, she let herself go. Dancing, tuning out the world, tuning out everything except the bass and her heartbeat, at least she felt connected to something on this planet. Except for one stubbornly persistent guy, everyone left her alone. The best part was, the shoebox was a distant memory, at least for a few hours.
By the time she reached the second bar, sweat was dripping down her back, and a thudding sedation began to fill her bones. When the bouncer waved her in, the roar of a Harley rose over the waiting crowd, but the energy pulled her inward, the music beckoning.
By the time she reached the final bar, she’d almost forgotten. Almost forgot the day she’d come here, tugged along by her sister and her mother. Almost forgot running late, getting lost, the streets growing darker. Almost forgot the sounds of talons and teeth as the monsters dragged her family into that alley. Dancing, dancing, dancing, until sweat was beading up on her forehead, running in rivulets down her face, Morgane danced until she was near collapse. Until the memory of her sister and mother’s screaming was drowned out by the music, until exhaustion thudded in her ears, until the salt of her sweat mixed with the salt of her tears and nobody could tell the difference.
Heading back outside, Morgane shouldered through the line waiting to get in. Feeling the wave of cold hit her face, she couldn’t help but wonder at how young the boys looked these days. How inexperienced. Babies, really.
She’d done the dating thing, a lifetime ago. Had the requisite high school sex, followed by a taste of college sex before her world fell apart. The unfulfilling exchange of fluids didn’t do a thing for her. For whatever reason, angels never sang, and the earth never moved. Not once. Almost made her wonder if she might be gay. But nope, that wasn’t it either.
Back when things were simple, and life was one big shiny penny to be had, that was her biggest problem. Now sex ranked so far down on the list, it didn’t even make it onto the first page. Not that she went without or anything. A vivid imagination and her right hand took her further than any man ever had. Every single time.
The walk back to Union Station was short, cold, and well lit. Not many people out, she noted, skirting a knot of teetering partygoers looking for a cab. She rounded another tight, nervous cluster of couples, walking fast in a westerly direction, sticking to the well-lit side of the street. As if people knew, instinctually, to stay to the light, that the darkness brought danger. Picking up the pace, Morgane shouldered into the wind whipping through the gauntlet of buildings and headed back to pick up her weapons.
Three blocks later, she sensed them. Felt the faint, warning prickle climb the back her neck that had nothing to do with wind or cold. The lighted storefront a block up was her only hope. If she could make it. She broke into a run the same moment they leapt down from the buildings onto her. It was hard to say if it was momentum or their claws which made her go down, but as she watched the light disappear while the demons dragged her away into the dark, she realized the only thing that mattered was what she did next.
Demons commonly hunted in pairs, so if she was lucky, there’d only be two.
Two bodies, four sets of claws, two sets of teeth. She played dead as they sniffed her over, nosing at her, breathing her in, tasting her scent before they ate her.
Way to go Burke, coming out here unprepared, unarmed, just so you could feel more human. Well, I hope you’re happy because the second they sink their teeth into you, you’re going to feel pretty damned human.
As soon as they flipped her, she lunged for the closest arm and drove it up into the other one’s chest with all her strength. The second creature shrieked, black blood gushing all over her. She rolled, using the thing’s arm for leverage, feeling the first one scrambling around to reach her, and when its claws found her back, they sank into her. Deep. Her flesh screamed as she cracked the demon’s arm backward, and when it snapped in half, the claws popped out of her flesh. Then it was simply a matter of fighting the pain long enough to break the thing’s other arm.
Weaving, she stood over the black monster, watching it hiss and spew until she stomped the heel of her stiletto through its heart. As the demon went still, she sank to her knees beside its body, chest heaving. Damn, this was not how tonight was supposed to go. Her back gushed blood while she concentrated hard on breathing, calculating the distance back to the station, the effort it would take to catch the train home.
She pushed to her feet, feeling her knees shudder under her weight. If she made it to the train, if she made it home, all she had to do was patch herself up and give herself a solid day or two to purge the toxins from her system.
But first she had to make that train.
Then the next wave of demons descended. An endless wall of black that went up and up and up, as far as she could see. So many of those curving, deadly claws, those long teeth already clicking, the foul stench of them slammed into her, ripped the last of her breath away. More of the monsters than she’d ever seen before in one place. A veritable army of black crushing down upon her. For a split second, she wished there was someone who would miss her.
That pitiful, pathetic hope was the last thing that flashed through her mind as she sank down beside the shriveling things she’d just sent back to hell.
3
As soon as Loki heard the demon’s shriek echo through the streets, he swung the Harley toward the sound as if it were a beacon.
For two days he’d been searching this area, looking for the bastard responsible for cutting in on their action, while the others searched their assigned sections. So far they’d turned up nothing.
But when he caught this asshole, Loki swore, he’d kick his ass. Shutting down the bike, he coasted toward the maw of an alleyway, smelling the tang of blood before anything else. There was a hint of honeyed sweetness to it, a lingering, female scent.
For a second he was entranced, pulling the perfumed essence into his lungs. The blood was fresh, and from t
he heaviness in the air, there was a lot of it.
The horde of creatures descending the walls hesitated as he neared the entrance of the alley, slowly creeping downward like a monstrous nightmare, wave after wave. “What in the holy hell?”
Loki narrowed his eyes. He’d never seen so many in one place at one time. It wasn’t like the bitch to make that sort of mistake, which meant she’d sent them all here for a specific purpose.
His eyes drifted over to a small, dark form lying half in the shadows.
There must have been a thousand Grim clinging to the sides of the buildings above him, their spider-like bodies fading into the gloom of the night. He took a step closer to what looked like a girl crumpled on the ground, twenty feet away. Collectively, the things hissed at him. As if he’d come between them and their prey. Their pulsing hunger pressed down upon him. So many of them, if they decided to attack, they would wipe him from existance. For along moment, they seemed to consider it as they hung there, every eye fixed on him. The girl.
Loki took his time drawing his long thin knives from their sheaths, practically begging them to come for him. But instead, the shadows receded. The darkness lightened. The second the echoes of their claws began to fade, he strode over to the female on the ground and knelt down.
She was human. Dark brown hair covered her face and spilled across her shoulders, and she was so wet with blood she shone. Black blood. Bright, red, mortal blood flowed from the slashes of the back of her shirt. A single glance across the carnage told him what happened.
The demons beside her had been slaughtered. Not with knives, nor with weapons of any kind.
But with…each other.
One had both arms broken, its right appendage bent behind it so far it was practically separated at the shoulder, its claws dripping with black gore and intestines. A gaping crater in its chest. The other sported a huge hole through its middle, the girth perfectly matching the width of the other demons’ claw-like hand. By all appearances, she’d used one of them to kill the other then finished the first one off.
But how? She shouldn’t have even seen them, much less been able to mount a defense.
Yet the evidence in front of his eyes was irrefutable. Two dead demons, one injured human. A badly injured human, covered in their blood. And hers.
He leaned in closer, and the exquisite smell of her blood, of her, stirred something inside him. A longing that unfurled slowly, burning a trail upward through him. The feeling caught him completely off guard.
Slowly drawing out his phone, Loki took another deep inhale. And disbelieving, another. It was exactly the same. The same scent as the other sites they’d found dead, slaughtered demons. The same mortal blood that had been spilled in those other unsolved scenes. Loki didn’t believe much in coincidence. Nor did he believe in Fate, but it seemed both were working for him tonight.
He drew his phone from his pocket, torn between what was wise and what was necessary. Vali and Thor were hunting on the east side tonight, so were too far away to make it in time. Tyr and Freyr were closer, so whether he liked it or not, they were the ones who got the call. “Hey, I gotta problem down here.” His gut tightened, thinking of what Tyr would say. What he’d expect him to do about this.
“I might’ve found who’s been taking out the Grim. And you’re not going to believe this.” He smoothed her hair back from her face and drew in a breath. Gods, she was beautiful. Out of this world beautiful. “Yeah, yeah, I know you’re both fucking busy. Get your asses down here. And bring the car.” He hesitated for a moment before giving them the address. “Right the fuck now, she’s badly hurt.”
“Damn.” He looked her over then rolled her gently over on her stomach to get a better view of the wounds. They were deep, a series of six deep punctures followed by long, jarring gashes. “Damn,” he swore again. “If we don’t get this poison out of you soon, you’re not going to make it.”
The girl moaned when he laid a hand on her as she tried to move. “Listen to me, you need to keep still so the toxins won’t spread. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll get you out of this place.” Loki kept a steadying hand against her as he settled back on his heels and looked her over. Dressed for the clubs, by the looks of it, heels and a light jacket. Checking her pockets, he found no weapons, nothing but a credit card and an ID. Morgane Burke. So she’d been clubbing and gotten ambushed. Yet…all those other scenes had a distinctly different feel. As if the Grim had been hunted down and slaughtered. As if it had been payback. He eyed the claw marks in the dead demon’s chest again, the two carcasses, the slip of a brunette lying at his feet.
She moaned again, shifted beneath his hand. This scene felt different. And yet, the sheer savagery it took, the brutality to break the creature’s arm, to drive it through the other one’s chest… Debating, Loki took in her face again. She was too young. Too innocent. Too damn human to do this, to kill two Grim. Even less of a chance she was the one killing these monsters for years. Loki snorted at himself, at his own stupidity.
It was possible the girl was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.
He was about to thumb up Tyr’s number and tell him to forget it, when she began to shiver, the shredded sweater moved beneath his hand, revealing her back. Revealing…
His gut hollowed out. His breathing turned broken and sharp, as he moved the edges of her sweater an inch, then another. Completely disbelieving what his eyes were seeing. Scars. Lots and lots of scars.
Behind him, he heard the crunch of tires and two sets of heavy boots hit the ground. Without turning, he gave Tyr a quick rundown, trying to weigh his choices here. Trying to weigh her options.
“Young mortal female, caught off guard, dragged in here by two Grim. But this one fought back. Broke this Grim’s arms before gutting the other one. Somehow. They clawed her in the back before they died, her wounds are pretty deep, but she’s still alive. Barely.” When Tyr raised his dark brow at the revelation that this human had fought back, Loki had no option but to show him what he’d discovered.
Loki carefully moved what remained of her sweater so Tyr could see the marks. The God of War stilled, then raised the other eyebrow. “Holy shit. You’re telling me she fought? She actually managed to kill two of the bastards? You know what that means.”
“I know exactly what this means.” Holding Tyr’s stare, Loki knew this moment could go either way for the girl. And it was up to him to ensure she lived through it.
“Were they fighting over food or what?” Strolling over, Freyr bent closer for a better view, a swath of long, blond hair swinging across his handsome face. Whistled when he saw the gashes. Swore when he finally glimpsed what covered the rest of her back. “Fucking hell, Loki.” He stood back up, his gaze swinging between Loki and Tyr. “Fucking hell? Are those what I think they are?”
“They appear to be. You asked me to bring you the immortal responsible for hunting in our territory? Well, here she is.” Loki’s voice was quiet but resolute. “You ordered me to find the rogue hunter, and it looks like I have. But you want answers? Well, she’s in no shape to give them to you right now.”
Tyr swept his brutal gaze over the girl. Debating her fate, if Loki knew him at all. “There are other ways of doing this.”
Loki nodded reluctantly. Tyr could order Loki to look inside her mind. Which he might be obligated to do, since Tyr was the God of War. Technically, he was in charge out here on the streets. Except it just didn’t seem right while the girl lay unconscious and face down on the pavement. “There are,” he agreed, warning, “but they’re not likely to produce the answers you need. You let me do this my way, I swear, I’ll get you everything you want.”
Speaking of which, he needed to get her off the ground. Leaning over, Loki scooped her up into his arms. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” Tyr growled. “We could leave her here, draw more of them out,” Tyr pointed out.
Loki glared at him. “She’s bleeding and has enough venom in her system, she’ll be dead withi
n the hour. We’re taking her back with us. Mir’s going to heal her, and then you’ll have your answers. You want to say different, I’ll set her down and you and me can go at it.” Tyr lifted his lip in a half-snarl, but thank fuck that was the end of it. He tried to be careful but needed to roll her toward him, and she arched in pain the moment his arms contacted the wounds. Pressing his mouth to her ear, he promised, “You’re okay, it’ll be okay. I‘m taking you someplace safe.”
He swore she whispered back, “No such place…” Before she passed out.
Loki held her for the entire five-block ride to the Tower. Her blood soaked his shirt through to his chest, the scent of her saturating the air inside the car. Her eyelids flickered in pain with every bump, at each turn, until Tyr finally swung the SUV into the garage off Monroe. From the fevered flush in her cheeks to her white, pallid lips, he knew the toxins were already eating away at her nervous system. By the time they arrived, the shivering was so bad, he leapt out of the car and into the freight elevator, the fastest way to the top.
Freyr and Tyr stayed behind, Tyr muttering about lost opportunities and everything has a use, while Loki kept his eyes locked on the girl’s face as the elevator ground upward. Praying Mimir, their triage doctor, would still be awake tonight and, more importantly, willing to help a human.
None of them cared a great deal for the species as a whole, but for this one? Loki shifted her in his arms, reveling in her scent, feeling something inside him shiver in response. He swallowed, a low tremor in his gut snaking upward as he became acutely aware of every inch of her pressed against him.
If she were to live, he’d need Mir’s help.
Once Loki hit the switch on the wall in the infirmary, the room flickered to life, and he laid her on a table, hating the way her face twisted in pain. “What in the hell did you drag into my infirmary?” Mimir ambled in, his lazy swagger belying the viciousness underneath. “Tell me you didn’t bring a human in here for me to treat. Odin’s going to shit.”
The Banished Gods Box Set: Books 1-3 Page 2
