by Sandy James
Amazons didn’t look. Amazons didn’t have time to look. Amazons weren’t allowed to look—at least not for anyone who would be more permanent than a one-night stand.
That’s the problem. I just need to find a nice piece of ass.
Damn, she wanted a cigarette. She’d given up the habit, tired of her mouth tasting like she’d licked an ashtray. The nicotine gum and patches might stop the physical cravings, but her hands still needed something to do.
“Megan? You still there?”
“Yeah, I’m here. I’ll catch you at DuPage in an hour.”
* * *
She got there ninety minutes later.
As she pulled up alongside the Piper, Johann waited on the tarmac, compulsively checking his watch and looking pissed. Megan savored his expression and squelched the small flare of guilt. This time it really hadn’t been her fault. Stupid construction backed up traffic, and she was amazed she was only thirty minutes late.
Chicago sucks.
“About time.” Johann threw his duffel bags into the trunk she’d popped open—his slam of the lid obviously meant to make a point.
He slid into the passenger’s seat. At least he’d figured out early in their relationship that Megan always drove. She’d made it plain from day one, just as she had with Jimmy Duncan, her former police partner.
The first day they’d been paired, she’d watched Jimmy’s Y chromosome try to take charge. He’d grabbed the keys, walked to the driver’s side of the squad car and plopped his ass in the driver’s seat—as if there was no question whatsoever which cop would drive. She’d refused to get in the black-and-white until he’d groaned, crawled out and come around to where she stood by the trunk. Then she’d laid down the ground rules. Her ground rules.
Why did every man in the world think only people with excessive testosterone could handle a car? Women were undoubtedly much better drivers.
She’d set him straight, taken the keys and established herself as alpha in the partnership from that moment on. Most of the time, Jimmy would listen to her.
But not when it really mattered.
A stab of regret sliced through her.
Not asking if Johann wanted the convertible top raised, Megan took advantage of the last of the early autumn warmth. She hated the coming of winter, especially if she would still be stuck in Chicago. Perhaps it was the Fire in her, but the cold had never been appealing. Snow was depressing, especially when your essence was warmth.
“Make my day, Sentinel, and tell me we can get out of the Windy City before the snow flies.”
“Actually, not yet,” Johann replied. “We’ve got a problem. There’s a girl missing.”
“A problem? Think it’s a demon who took the girl? As in needs-an-Amazon-to-kick-his-ass demon? Do I get to kill it?”
She was mostly teasing, but Fire had to keep up appearances. While she might enjoy a good battle, death wasn’t something she embraced. Hers or anyone else’s. Some demons were so human, she found it difficult to kill them. She had to remind herself those demons had murdered people, and it wasn’t as if the cops were going to be of much help.
Being an Amazon meant her own life expectancy was up in the air. If things didn’t get too crazy, she could conceivably live to be a couple hundred years old—the gift of longevity coming from the four goddesses who created the Amazons. But with the danger the women warriors constantly found thrown in their paths, it wasn’t likely any of them would enjoy more than a few decades. The adrenaline rush of a fight was exquisite, but Megan didn’t seek out threats just for the thrill.
She might be impetuous, but she wasn’t stupid.
“God, you’re bloodthirsty,” Johann said.
Megan laughed and gave him a sideways glance to be sure he wasn’t serious. A smile twitched on his lips. For some odd reason, that pleased her. He was, after all, her Sentinel and responsible for guiding her through the constant threats to humanity hidden in plain sight. The Sentinel’s job was to help find evil—the Amazon’s job was to kill it.
The sound of someone settling on the squeaky leather seat made her glance at the rearview mirror. She almost drove off the road when a face appeared. “Jesus Christ!”
“No, but very close,” Freya said with a chuckle.
Johann’s right fist pounded over his heart—a Sentinel’s typical salute to any of the patron goddesses. “Goddess,” he said. “It’s good to see you.”
“Freya! I haven’t seen you in so long!” Megan tried to keep an eye on the increasing traffic but wanted to see her goddess. She hadn’t realized how little attention she was paying until Johann grabbed the wheel and growled.
“Far too long, my child.”
The fabric of Freya’s gown billowed in the breeze. The sea-foam green silk complemented her long, white-blond hair. The winds whipped her curls into flying tendrils that the goddess tried to smooth back into place. She wasn’t successful. A snap of her fingers put the top back up.
“Much better.” Freya patted her hair.
“Have you decided what you’d like us to do about locating the girl?” Johann asked.
A frown crossed her lips. “Aye, but we need to speak of other matters as well. Megan, can you find a place for us to talk?” She squirmed. “I find these chariots too confining.”
“Sure thing, Freya.” Megan guided the car toward the exit. “I know just the place.”
* * *
What a trio they made.
Megan glanced at Freya, wondering what the other bar patrons thought of her out-of-date clothing. Johann had dressed in black denim jeans, a white polo shirt and loafers. Megan had on her typical tight black T-shirt, camos and combat boots. It was a wonder everyone wasn’t staring at them.
So much for covert.
Freya sipped her ale and smiled. “A fine brew. Almost worthy of a goddess.” Her eyes twinkled as she set the mug down on the wooden bar. “Almost. And how is my Fire?”
Megan took a drink of her soda before putting it aside. “Bored. I hate this city, and after I took out that stupid Philippine guy…”
She knit her brows, trying to remember the demon’s name. He’d been an easy fix when she’d cornered him in the Schaumberg mall. One thrust of her sword and the child-eating nuisance exploded into nothing but dust. For once, no cleanup required.
What was his name?
“He was a hantu demon named Penyardin,” Johann said.
After he took a bite of his deep-fried mozzarella sticks, he had to grab a napkin to wipe away the juice dripping from the appetizer. Fanning his open mouth with his hand, he sucked in air. “Hot—too hot.”
“Teaches you not to play with things too warm for you.” Megan threw him a smirk.
Johann chewed for a moment, swallowed his food and then narrowed his eyes. “Nothing’s too warm for me.”
With a crook of her perfectly manicured finger, Freya brought the bartender back to them. The man practically drooled over the beautiful goddess. Freya twirled a long lock of her blond hair around a finger and flirted with the poor besotted guy. He nodded at her and hurried to the kitchen.
Freya glanced back at Megan. “Why do you frown at me so?”
“He’s a little…young for you, isn’t he?” Megan tried not to sound too impertinent.
The goddess clearly had her appetites, but the bartender couldn’t be any older than twenty-five. He didn’t deserve to be chewed up and spit out by a deity who was just out for a few sexual kicks.
“Aye. Just the way I like them.”
Freya’s gaze followed the guy when he returned to the bar, carrying a basket full of cheese crackers shaped like fish. He grinned at the goddess before he went to wait on other customers.
Freya sighed. “I forget I am here for business, not pleasure. Did you tell her about Ashley, Sentinel
?”
“Not yet. You popped in before I had a chance.”
“Ashley?” Megan asked. “Who’s Ashley?”
“Ashley Douglass,” Freya replied. “She is the daughter of one of my former priestesses. The girl has disappeared.”
“Can’t you find her?” Megan asked.
Oh, shit. I’m in for it now…
The Amazons’ patron goddesses, especially her goddess, hated those kinds of questions.
They never liked being scolded for the arbitrary choices they made when helping the women warriors in solving the problems the magical world continually inflicted on humanity.
“Nay.” Freya shot her a stern frown. “I choose not to. My priestess was loyal, but she abandoned my service to start a family. I come only out of benevolence for her past worship. ’Tis up to my Fire to find the daughter. I trust you are up to the task, Megan.”
“Ashley went to a concert the night she disappeared,” Johann jumped in before dipping another mozzarella stick into marinara sauce.
“You’ll burn your tongue again,” Megan scolded.
Visions of delightful things he could do with those lips and that tongue hit her from every angle.
What in the hell’s wrong with me?
He took a bite and grinned as he chewed and swallowed. “I told you I can handle heat. Hell, I love heat.”
She’d gone without male attention for far too long when everything Johann said was coming out sounding like a double entendre. A hot flush spread across her cheeks.
That does it.
She was going to take the bartender home herself if she couldn’t get her mind off Johann Herrmann and direct it back on the missing girl. “Who was the last person to see her?”
“Don’t know.” He used the last cheese stick to scoop out what little marinara sauce remained in the small plastic cup. “That’s why I’m here. Her mother lives in Westmont. I’m going with you to investigate.”
Her pride took a hard blow. Didn’t she always do her job? “I don’t need your help. I think I can handle one missing girl.”
Freya gave her one of those fake grins that said she disagreed. “We cannot risk having you do something so public again. What if you lose control and shape-shift? What if you start to throw fire? Your Sentinel is here to guide you in how to keep a lower profile.”
“It’s not my fault that asshole hantu decided to throw down at Sears.”
She’d been following Penyardin from a distance, simply keeping an eye on him until she could take him out somewhere private. Her Amazon instincts told her that he was the one causing havoc in the suburbs. What other demon would be out snacking on children? Penyardin picked the wrong spot to turn on her, and Megan wasn’t about to let him get away to claim another young victim just because he’d challenged her in a public place.
Johann threw her a scolding Sentinel glare. “You took your sword on the hunt. A woman with bright red hair carrying around an enormous jeweled sword? Not like anyone would notice that. And you stabbed Penyardin right in front of a dozen witnesses. You never kill a demon in public, Megan. You know better.”
“Yeah, but—”
“You left a major mess for us to clean up. Everyone’s cell phone has a camera now. We had to pull some major strings to keep those pictures out of circulation. Do you know how many memories we had to wipe clean? You can’t keep going off half-cocked. I’d never do something like that.”
Megan arched an eyebrow. “So you’re not half cocked?”
God, there wasn’t anything she enjoyed as much as pushing his buttons.
He set his lips into a grim line, but she wondered if Johann knew he didn’t come across as menacing. Hell, Artair should have pulled him aside to teach him how to properly intimidate an Amazon. Artair’s glares made Megan’s knees knock. Not that she’d ever let him know. All Johann’s frowns did were give her a delicious little thrill in the pit of her stomach.
“You were wrong, Megan,” he scolded. “You shouldn’t have taken him out where people could see.”
“I heard you the first dozen times you bitched about it.” Folding her arms over her breasts, she sighed. She wasn’t going to win this one, whether she was in the right or not. “Fine. I’ll just let scum like him get away next time. He could’ve eaten another toddler. But, hey, who am I to stop him?” She waited a beat or two to try to bring her temper back in line. The stall didn’t help. “Oh, wait. I’m an Amazon. That’s who. You really think I should’ve let that slime bag go?”
Johann pushed his empty plate away. “I understand how you feel, but—”
“No, Joeman, you don’t.” She couldn’t stop the way her voice rose as her feelings spun out of control. “You’re not in the trenches. You have the luxury of—”
“I am in the trenches.” Now he was shouting too. “What the hell do you think I was doing in New York?”
She shrugged even though she really was curious. She wasn’t about to let him know she had a strange fascination with him. That would be handing him a weapon to use against her.
“I was sent there to clean out a nasty nest of revenants,” he said. “Rebecca’s still out of commission. Sarita’s in Texas. Gina’s in California. We’ve got no one in the east to handle flares.”
The scolding grated on her nerves. “Geeze, I’m sorry. Okay? I forgot.”
Rebecca—the Earth Amazon—had delivered a son a few months before. She was now a mother, something an Amazon was never supposed to be. But Earth’s patroness, the Celtic goddess Rhiannon, had rewarded Rebecca with a child to thank her for ending the last major evil humans faced.
Helen, the last generation’s Earth had turned rogue, thinking herself a goddess. She’d ultimately escaped, but there had been no sign of her since Rebecca had stopped Helen’s power grab. Although Rebecca herself had been elevated to a goddess, she surrendered that power after only one action—giving her sisters fertility that was normally denied Amazon warriors. Rhiannon had given one of the next potential Earths, a beautiful girl named Bonnie, to Rebecca to raise as her own. Then Rebecca had conceived a son by Artair, her fertility another gift from Rhiannon.
Megan brushed away a flash of jealousy. Rebecca was her Amazon sister, and Megan loved her. She shouldn’t envy what Rebecca had.
But she did. Rebecca had broken all the rules. She’d fallen in love with her Sentinel and married him.
Megan’s fascination with her Sentinel would probably get her nothing but punished.
It was time to find a handsome stranger and get laid.
Yeah, right.
Megan had never been one for free love, even when the goddesses took away all obstacles. Thanks to them, she couldn’t catch diseases. She couldn’t get pregnant unless it was by her soul mate—a cute little twist Rebecca had put on the Amazons’ restored fertility. Megan just couldn’t give herself to someone she didn’t love.
Despite what people thought, thanks to her overly sensuous nature, she’d only had a handful of lovers. She wasn’t about to start sleeping around now simply because she could. Megan kept up the flirting for appearances sake. She was, after all, Fire and was supposed to be volatile.
Johann was still talking, and she hadn’t heard a single word. “Sorry, Joeman. Didn’t catch what you just said.”
His gaze was hot enough to raise blisters. “This wasn’t your first problem.”
“Oh, puhleeze.” She rolled her eyes. “If you’re talking about those revenants I beheaded in Gary—”
“No, I wasn’t. But that’s just another episode. You shouldn’t let people see you take out revenants.”
“Who’d notice zombies in Gary? They’d look like the locals,” she said with a smirk. “Then you’re thinking about that lame demon in Indianapolis. I didn’t mean to have him run through the fairgrounds.”
�
�I wasn’t talking about that, either. But you really didn’t need to chase a dragon demon through the Indiana State Fair. Those kids saw you slay it.”
“They thought it was part of a show,” she insisted. Grabbing her soda then taking a sip, she hoped the inquisition was ending. She was damn tired of being criticized for doing her job. Especially when she did it so well.
“You just don’t get it, do you?” The frustration came through clear in his tone. “Are you ever gonna take this seriously?”
“You think I don’t take this seriously?”
He was evidently as good at pushing her buttons as she was at pushing his. It took all her concentration to keep sparks from flying from her hair.
“Rein it in, Megan.”
Damn it.
He’d noticed the hazy remnants of her anger. She kept her hands flat on the bar, trying to squelch the frustrated heat growing in her fingers.
Fire. I am Fire. I can control my powers.
“I take this seriously,” Megan insisted. “I hunt down every damned demon, every damned nest of revenants you send me after. I may not shoot them with blessed arrows like Rebecca, but I’m handy with a knife. And I’m a master with a sword. I’ve yet to fail in an assignment. Not a single one.” Her hands felt blazing hot.
I can control my powers.
Freya patted her shoulder. “We are not questioning your abilities, Megan.”
“Just your judgment,” Johann added.
“Just my judgment? Why you conceited little—”
A small ball of fire shot from Megan’s index finger, igniting a napkin on the bar. “Shit.”
She grabbed the smoldering paper, dropped it to the floor and stomped the flames out with the toe of her boot.
“You can’t smoke in here,” the bartender called out. “It’s against the law.”
Thank God he went back to tending bar so Megan didn’t have to give him a piece of her irritated and nicotine-deprived mind.
