by Rose Haven
He could see the naked pain in his friend’s eyes. “I’d gotten suspicious reports for a while, but it didn’t make sense. Ortho was as loyal as they come. But then I saw it with my own eyes. Ortho was meeting Cresher. I confronted him. I expected him to come up with a plausible explanation, but Ortho only laughed and said that my days were coming to an end.” Damien swallowed hard. “He sounded like a madman.”
Where Damien and his predecessors had sworn to protect humanity against the half-breed demons that wandered the earth, Cresher was determined to enslave them. He hadn’t been difficult to stop in the past, but he’d always escaped death, and for the past year, he’d been oddly silent.
But Ortho? “Not possible,” Preston said. “Ortho lived for this brotherhood. There’s no way he’s been fooling us for all these years.”
“Maybe he got tired of defending a group of people who would rather see us burn,” Damien said hoarsely. “God knows I am.”
Preston fell silent. He had no idea how old Damien was, but he knew that Damien had been a leader for a long time. Preston was next in line for the position, but he didn’t want it. As far as he was concerned, Damien was the Slavante Brotherhood.
“You just need to sleep, my friend. Ortho’s death could not have been easy.” Preston stood as the last of the demonic flame was snuffed out. “The new moon has passed. I’ll see you in a month.”
Damien raised his eyebrows. “You’ll see me at Gordo’s tomorrow night.”
Preston shrugged. “True. But I feel like, at least because of Ortho, we should end the meeting on a traditional note.”
His friend shook his head. “You’ll be a good leader. Far better than I was. Far better than I am. Sleep well, my friend.”
Preston moved silently out the room and gazed at the rising sun. Sleep? Preston wasn’t sleeping tonight. In a few hours, he would sit in front of a group of board members and discuss the future of Wellington Incorporate.
And not a single member of his staff would ever entertain the idea that Preston Wellington was not human.
All eyes were dry as they lowered Clarice Mason into her grave. At the age of fifty-five, Clarice had lived far longer than most demon hunters, and the community members learned at a tender age that demon hunters didn’t live long.
The Mason family had a reputation.
Clarice’s husband, Daniel, had taken down more demons than any other known member. He had the scars to prove it, and Sierra knew her father had never expected to bury her mother. After all, Clarice had given up that life to protect and train her children. But when Garret had died a year ago, Clarice had had jumped back into the fight with vengeance. Garret was expected to supersede his father in victory, and after three years of successful fighting, it looked like he would do well.
But all it takes it one wrong lead. One wrong clue, and Garret had been led to his death.
Now Sierra had buried her brother and her mother. She knew her father was disappointed. Daniel believed that males led the demon hunt, and he’d been unhappy when Clarice had trained Sierra. But Daniel was wheelchair bound, and Sierra was the last living Mason hunter.
Huntress.
At twenty-two, she was well past the age that most hunters went off on their own. But her father had insisted that she attend college, and now Sierra had a degree she had intended to do nothing with.
At least, until now.
After Garret’s death, she’d been painstakingly trying to piece together his final moments. Why had he gone to that warehouse alone? He’d been ripped apart by at least ten demons, and they weren’t known to hunt in packs. Someone had tipped him off, and Garret thought something different. He was practically unarmed.
Sierra knew that Clarice was also trying to figure it out. She’d died the exact same way.
And all the leads she had led to one name.
“Sierra.” She looked up sharply. The ceremony was over, and everyone was tossing their flowers and leaving. She cast a cold eye down at her father.
“Daniel,” she muttered.
He cleared his throat. If he wanted a tender moment with her, he’d waited far too long. She and her father had never had a good relationship, and she expected now that her mother was gone, things would only get worse. She’d been the buffer between them.
“I expect you to go back home and forget this mess,” he said in a low voice.
“I am an adult, and I will do as I please.” She leaned down briefly to give him a kiss on the cheek. “You may not believe in me, but I’m going to find who did this,” she whispered.
“I don’t want to have to bury my daughter too,” he said as he gripped her arm. “You’ll stay out of this.”
“If it were Garret, you’d have him out on the streets looking for vengeance. You’d want the streets to flow with demon blood. I may not be Garret, but I want the same thing.” Sierra wrenched her arm free.
“You’re not wrong,” he called out to her. She turned her back to walk away. “But if I had lost you and her, I’d tell him the same thing. The survival of this family is important to me as well.”
She turned her head. “You should have thought of that before you dragged us all into this. Mom was a schoolteacher. You turned her into a killer. I’m all you’ve got left, and she made me an exact copy.”
She could see the pain in his eyes, but she didn’t stop to console him. For years, she’d wondered how her life would have been had they been normal. None of her friends knew about demons. How wonderful that must be. She could have grown up with boyfriends and girly nights and shopping trips. Instead, she’d grown up with weapons, stakeouts, and violence.
When she first went to college, she’d been excited. Daniel had given her a second chance at life, and she wanted to be as far away from the Mason family tradition as possible.
But then Garret had died, and Sierra realized that this was her life. This was what she was meant to do.
She sat in her car and picked up the business card that lay in her passenger’s seat. It was time to find the truth. She picked up her cell phone and dialed the number on it.
“Wellington Incorporated. How may I direct your call?”
Sierra took a deep breath. “Yes. My name is Sierra Mason. I received a call yesterday about a job interview? I’m quite interested in the position.”
She heard some clicking of keys. “Yes. Ms. Mason, it’s a pleasure to hear back from you. Mr. Wellington is free tomorrow at three. Would that be convenient?”
Sierra gripped the phone. “Yes. That would be fine. Thank you.”
“Excellent. We’ll see you at three.”
The woman hung up, and Sierra stared at the card.
Preston Wellington.
He had something to do with their deaths, and she was about to find out what.
Chapter Two
Sierra smoothed her hand over her suit. Preston was hiring for a new marketing intern, and she knew that his company was competitive. She had the grades to get in, but she hadn’t bothered with any actual experience. There would be a slew of other applicants that would no doubt be far better suited for the position, but she needed this job.
She needed to get close to Preston Wellington.
The receptionist nodded her head. “Sierra Mason? Mr. Wellington will see you now.”
Sierra took a deep breath and gripped her portfolio tightly. It was now or never. For all she knew, he would slaughter her as soon as she walked into the room.
And that was why, within her portfolio, she’d hidden a dagger.
Rule Number One. Never go anywhere without a weapon.
She straightened her shoulders and walked with what she hoped was poise and confidence. The door opened, and her heels clicked on the linoleum. There was no obvious danger, but there was also no Wellington.
The burgundy chair behind the desk swiveled slightly, and she gripped her dagger. There was someone there.
It whirled around, and she gasped.
She knew that most half-demons co
uld pass as human, but she’d never expected him to look so young.
Or so gorgeous.
He had a head of dark curly hair that reached the nape of his neck, and dark intense eyes. There wasn’t a single wrinkle on that face, and a dark shadow of stubble covered his strong chiseled jaw. He had his sleeves rolled up, and she could see the muscles that flexed when he stood.
He towered over her.
Holding out his hand, he gave her a disarming grin. “Sierra Mason?”
Reminding herself that there was a larger purpose at stake, she released the dagger and strode over to the desk to shake his hand.
Warm.
His skin was warm to the touch. She faked a smile. “Mr. Wellington. I was pleased that you called me in for this interview.”
He gestured to the seat and sat only after she did. He was a gentleman as well? Sierra wasn’t fooled by his pretense.
“You came highly recommended by several of your professors. They sent me their recommendation letters even before I’d received your resume. That’s certainly enough to capture my attention.”
Of course they’d had. She’d asked them to send the letters in case she hadn’t gotten back in time from the funeral to submit the resume. They’d been more than happy to comply, and she’d felt bad about using her mother’s death to get her foot in the door.
But it had worked, and this wasn’t about the job. This was about vengeance.
She gave him what she’d hoped was her most surprised look. “I have developed some strong relationships with several of my professors. I was lucky enough to be taught by the best, but I had no idea they thought enough of me to send a letter here. Truthfully, I simply applied for the experience.”
He leaned back in his chair. “You don’t think you’re good enough?”
Sierra smiled coyly. “Good enough, yes. But I know I lack the experience that a company as big as yours would be looking for.”
He held out his hand. “Experience is something overrated. May I?”
She slipped the dagger out under the cover of the desk and handed over the portfolio. He opened it up and flipped through the pieces. His face was stoic, but she thought she detected the slightest bit of interest. She went into a deep depression after Garret had died, and she’d thrown herself into her schoolwork. The result had been surprisingly good.
“You’re clearly a very talented artist as well as writer. Your visuals are eye-catching and the slogans are memorable. Of course, as you know, Wellington Incorporated is not an advertising agency. We’re not in the business of selling a product to a consumer. We’re selling a brand to other agencies.”
Sierra nodded her head. Wellington had their hands in a number of pies, but the part she was most interested in was his consulting business. “If you flip to the back, you’ll see a few models I did a couple of days ago. Those are targeted at failing businesses. For kicks, I took two companies in the area and rebranded them. The different logos and slogans are meant for a company and not a product.”
Wellington held her gaze for a second before flipping to the back of the book. “You did these a couple of days ago?” he asked.
“It occurred to me that my samples are product specific. I knew you’d catch on, so I wanted to give you a sample of my work. This is done, of course, without the knowledge of these companies. I was just playing around on the computer,” she hastened. For a moment, she got lost in the interview. The trust was that she’d done those last night, and she felt a strange need for his approval.
He smirked. “I happen to know the owner of one of these companies, and I have a feeling that if I don’t hire you, he will.”
“You like them?”
“They’re very good.” He tossed the portfolio on the desk. “Of course, you already know that. I’m sure many people have told you that you’re very good. The question, Ms. Mason, is what you’re doing here.”
Her eyes widened in real surprise. Did he know? “I’m here for a job, Mr. Wellington. Your company is well known, and after a few years of working for you, I could go anywhere I pleased.”
“And is that what you want? To go anywhere you please?”
“Knowing that you have a certain freedom should not be taken lightly,” she said softly. “So few people have that.”
He leaned forward. “Do you not have that freedom?”
She smiled. “I’m a college graduate. I’m a slave to my student loans.”
Wellington laughed, and she shivered. His voice wrapped around her seductively, and she struggled to remember her purpose. His charisma was overwhelming. “You do have a point. Tell me, Ms. Mason, are you used to working in a community?”
She raised her eyes sharply. “I’ve worked in groups. I mostly work alone though.”
“In the dead of night?” he asked quietly.
“It’s peaceful. I get more work done then.”
“How well do you take direction?”
“I’m always looking to improve. If someone wiser than me wants to give me advice, I’m more than willing to hear it.”
She saw the crinkle of a smile around his lips. “And how do you decide if someone if someone is wiser than you?”
“Probably depends on what they say.”
He cocked his head and laughed shortly. He handed her back her portfolio and stuck out his hand. “I’m sure you understand that I have a few more applicants that I need to interview. You’ll be hearing from me shortly.”
She shook her hand. “Tell me, Mr. Wellington. You’re the CEO of a huge business. Why are you interviewing the applicants for the marketing field? Shouldn’t the head of the department be fielding these interviews?”
He gripped her hand tightly, and she thought immediately of the dagger she’d tucked under her skirt. “When someone interesting passes through my doors, I make sure I get the first look,” he murmured.
“Am I interesting to you?”
“Very interesting.”
She tried to pull her hand away, and he finally released it. “You’re very young to be walking through my doors, Ms. Mason. Be very sure this is what you want to do before there is no turning back.”
She gritted her teeth. “I may be very young, but I’ve had more experience than you might imagine. Besides, you don’t look so old yourself.”
“I’m far older and more powerful than I look.”
“And I’m far more determined than you could ever imagine.” They’d dropped the pretense now. He knew who she was, or at least he knew that she knew what he was. Still, she held her head high and didn’t look back as she walked out on shaky legs.
The interview hadn’t gone the way she’d expected, and now she had no idea where she’d go from here.
Preston watched her leave. She was a beautiful woman. Tall and leggy, she had the thick blonde curls that most human women dreamed about, and the high cheekbones that made others green with jealousy.
But it wasn’t the dark blue eyes or those perfect lips that had Preston stirring. It was that smart mouth and that dangerous attitude. She’d reached something in him that few women had, and it had him curious.
Still, it didn’t matter whether what his response to her was. He’d had to report her.
“For fuck’s sake, Preston. It’s three in the afternoon,” Damien slurred sleepily.
“I just had the most interesting applicant interview at my office today,” he said as he ignored his leader’s angry tone.
“Male or female?” he grunted.
“Very female.”
“Preston, if you called me because you found a woman you want to fuck, I will kill you.”
“She’s very delicious looking, but that’s not why I called. Her name is Sierra Mason.”
Damien hissed. “As in the Masons?”
He opened the folder on his desk. “Daughter of Daniel and Clarice Mason.”
Preston waited for Damien’s mind to catch up. “Daniel was the grandson of Craw Mason. He’s still active?”
“He’s bee
n wheelchair bound for four years. His only son, Garret, was murdered three years ago, and Clarice Mason died just last week.”
“Any other relatives?”
“Daniel and Sierra are the last living Mason’s left. The name dies out with her death or marriage.”
“It’s not the name that concerns me. Does she know who you are?”
“Without a doubt.”
“Preston,” Damien said warningly. “Why did you accept her application?”
Preston flipped the folder pages and stared at the picture of the handsome young man. “Do you remember Hollis?”
“The kid that wanted to help you a few years ago? Sure. Why?”
“Hollis was Garret Mason. He was killed because of me.”
He could hear Damien cursing on the other line. “That kid’s death is not your fault.”
“And now I know how you feel when I told you that Ortho was not your fault. His mother was looking into Garret’s death when she died as well. And let me tell you, they did not die easily. I’m fairly certain that we’re looking at a nest.”
“Are you mad? It takes a full blooded demon to call a horde to a nest.”
Preston pulled out the photos of the bodies. “I’m just telling you what it looks like. I’ll show you the photos tonight.”
“You will stay away from the Mason girl. I have enough problems with Cresher. I don’t need you bringing a demon hunter into the circle.”
Preston tapped his finger on the picture of the young woman. Even in her photo, he could see her young life, her vitality. It called to him. “The problem, Damien, is that she’s actually quite perfect for the position.”
“So help me,” Damien hissed.
“Go back to sleep, Damien,” Preston murmured. “We’ll talk more tonight.” He absently hung up on his old friend, and stared at her picture.
If she knew that he was responsible for her brother’s death, she’d try to take him down into tiny little pieces.
And maybe it was because he felt that he deserved it, but he told his receptionist to cancel the rest of his interviews.
He wanted to keep Sierra Mason close.
