by Amy Braun
“Because he’s a vile, sick, twisted son of a bitch who has no problem raping, torturing, and killing. Who doesn’t hate those sort of people?”
“I can tell it’s more than that,” I pressed, taking another step. “You mentioned Emma. Your sister. Whatever problem you have with him is personal.”
Warrick didn’t look at me.
“Listen, Warrick, I’m a sister too. I know what it’s like to see your family hurt and scared. I can understand whatever pain you were going through.”
This time he did look at me, his forest green eyes filled with so much fury I was actually nervous, even though his anger wasn’t directed at me.
“No you can’t,” he told me in an icy voice. “Because Dro is still alive.”
That stopped me from saying anything else. He was right. That was something I couldn’t imagine. I stood there in silence as Warrick leaned back against the railing and ran the pad of his thumb along the name tattooed on his wrist. It seemed like forever before he spoke again.
“I was helping the Marshals out,” he said quietly. “There were some drug traffickers running around west Texas causing problems and I heard rumors of a Possessor involved with them. I was part of the team that went in for the arrest. I exorcised the Possessor, but the man he’d been using died. I didn’t know he’d been a man Drake Talbot was trying to collect a bounty for.”
Warrick pressed harder on the tattoo. “He was pissed. Really pissed. I found out later that I’d cost him about half a million dollars, but back then I didn’t know who he was. He tracked me down and made it his mission to ruin my life. It wasn’t long before he found out I had an older sister.”
“Jesus,” I said under my breath.
“Drake took her when she was leaving my house one night. He called me the next day and said I had three days to come up with double the money I’d cost him or he would kill her. I did everything I could. I emptied my savings, sold my house and my car, got money from my parents, even the Marshals I worked with gave me some money. In three days, I had enough. Drake called back and told me where the drop was going to be. I went there and left the money like he told me to. I waited, but Drake never showed. He called again and said I would find my sister at the house I just sold. So I went back.”
Warrick let go of his wrist and gripped the railing. He looked so furious that I thought he might actually bend the metal.
“Emma was there, lying on the front porch of my old house. Her clothes were gone. It took me a full minute to recognize her past all the bruises. She’d been dead for days.”
I was very glad Warrick wasn’t looking at me. I couldn’t begin to comprehend the pain of losing a sister. The idea of Dro being hurt never sat well with me, but I had managed to keep her alive. Warrick hadn’t been able to save his sister, who had been killed just out of spite.
“Drake was gone after that,” he continued. “He’d taken the money and vanished, probably laughing the whole fucking time. After that, I swore I would hunt him down. I would make him suffer for torturing and murdering my sister. I followed every lead I got, I had some close calls, but the bastard always seemed to be one step ahead.”
“Then you heard he was after us,” I caught on.
Warrick nodded. “Max told me on the way to find you. I was hoping to catch him at the border, but he was gone by the time we got there. I’ve been chasing him for almost three years, and I’m not any closer to catching him.”
I’d never heard someone’s voice so full of pain before. The first thing that crossed my mind was comforting him. A touch on his shoulder, my hand on his, holding him and letting him know someone cared. Drake had made Warrick suffer in the worst possible way I could think of. It was hard for me to see his eyes, but I could picture the raw, unhidden sorrow in them, like someone had reached into his chest and ripped out his heart. My possession probably didn’t feel half as bad as the heartache Warrick felt right now.
I took another step toward him. “He’ll turn up again,” I said. “The Blood Thorns hired him to get me, and I know they’re offering him a fortune for it. If Drake’s as money-crazed as you say he is, he won’t stop until he has me.”
Warrick turned his head to meet my eyes. The pain was still there, but there was also gratitude, respect, and utter relief. He didn’t seem like he the kind of guy who was open with other people, let alone a wanted criminal he just met, but talking to me appeared to relax him. His eyes softened, and I had to hold my breath to keep myself focused.
“You’re not offering yourself as bait, I take it,” he said with a dry smile.
I smirked. “Not a chance. I have a reputation to keep.”
He grinned, but it didn’t hold for very long. I felt sorry for him. I shouldn’t have, for a million and one reasons, but I did. Who knew how long he’d been mourning his sister? Getting so close to catching her killer, then watching him slip away like sand in his fist?
“I’ll help you catch him if I can, Warrick,” I said suddenly. Memories flashed again. “I want him to suffer for what he did to Manny and Max.”
Warrick’s playfulness left him, his green eyes shockingly cold. “Just don’t get in my way when it comes down to him and me.”
The amount of anger in his voice kept me from arguing. I wanted to kill Drake, to make him bleed the way Manny and Max had bled, but there was no wavering in Warrick’s face. I didn’t think he’d actually hurt me if I got in his way, but if it came to getting revenge on his sister, I could be proven wrong.
In the end, it didn’t really matter who pulled the trigger. Just as long as Drake Talbot died.
“Deal,” I agreed. I touched his hand without thinking. “And I’m sorry about what happened to your sister. I really am.”
He nodded sorrowfully, turning his hand so it clasped mine. “Thanks.”
I was suddenly aware of how close we’d gotten to each other. He was only a few inches away from me, and when the wind picked up, I could catch the smell of musky pine coming from him. His hand was callused from years of fighting, but his touch was warm and gentle. He had the exact build and confident aura that I looked for in a man.
It had been years since I’d been with someone. Dro had Max, and I was glad for that, but seeing them together made me uncomfortably aware of how lonely I was. My last relationship had ended with betrayal and rage on both sides, and I hadn’t been able to trust another man since. But something about Warrick made me want to try, as if he could be different from the men I had known.
He took another step closer, still holding my hand. Our chests were almost touching, so I stayed completely still, not sure what would happen if I moved.
“Sorry I was a jackass before. You’re a better woman than I thought, Constance.”
I stifled a laugh. “Glad I meet your approval.”
Warrick chuckled, eyes sparkling under the dim lights of the motel. All of a sudden, I forgot where I was. I forgot all my problems and my paranoia. Right then, it was just Warrick and me. I must have looked like an idiot, staring into his eyes and letting them speed my heartbeat. A warm, fluttery feeling filled my stomach, and all I wanted to do was kiss him.
It had to be physical attraction. It had to be. I wondered if there was something I could do to make him do it, just as I wondered why he wasn’t pulling away from me. He couldn’t seem to move his eyes from me, either.
Warrick opened his mouth, like he was about to say something I was aching to hear. He suddenly backed away, looking serious. I wondered why, and then I smelled it.
Sulfur.
Our hands parted and I took out the hatchet on my belt. Warrick took a handgun from inside his jacket and holding down it in front of him.
“Demons,” he hissed. “Go inside, Constance.”
I gave him an impatient look. “Just because I’m not a demon slayer, doesn’t mean I can’t fight. I’ve killed my share of them, Warrick. I can take care of myself.”
Warrick was about to argue when the air cracked apart on the landing beh
ind me, the flaming red portal opening to reveal the burning Hell beyond. I whipped my head over to Warrick.
“Go! Get Dro! I’ll be fine!”
He hesitated for one more second, but turned and ran for the room my sister was sleeping in. The demons were here for her. She needed to be protected. I was blindly trusting Warrick to do that. I had to focus on keeping them away from both him and my sister. I turned and looked at the monster stepping through the portal.
It was the biggest demon I had ever seen. Two feet taller than me and easily double my weight with pale, bumpy skin covered long white scars. Oily black hair hung in strings down to its shoulders. Its black pants were torn and frayed. The demon had a blocky face and milky white eyes that made it seem almost blind. Behind its lips were jagged teeth, but this demon would use its claws to try and kill me. Which made sense, because its claws were about a foot long and made of solid bone that protruded from the end of its fingers.
Okay, let’s call this one a Shredder, I thought when my memory couldn’t place it from Manny’s texts.
I didn’t have many weapons on me. I had my hatchet and a silver knife in each of my boots, and that was it. The rest of my knives were in the motel room. I wish I could say I had done more with less, but in those situations I hadn’t been fighting on a thin walkway facing a demon that could literally skin me alive.
Not that I had much time to complain when it roared and charged me.
I threw myself against the door and slid along it, letting the Shredder storm past me. It skidded to a stop and whipped its elbow around. I had to duck to avoid being smacked off the landing. I stepped back as it whirled for me, swiping and slashing with way more speed than its bulk should have allowed. I had a firm grip on my hatchet, but there was no chance I could get a strike in. The landing was pitifully narrow, and every time I thought I had a chance to attack, the Shredder would lunge forward to try skewering me.
Any time now, angels. Some guardians they were turning out to be.
The Shredder suddenly kicked out, and even though I stepped back, its clawed foot collided with my shin. That barest kick had the same impact as a sledgehammer. I let out a cry of surprise and pain as its claws traced down my leg, cutting open skin but not crippling me. I stumbled into the wall as it punched forward with its clawed fist. I ducked just in time, the claws slamming through the door right where my head had been. I swiped the hatchet along the Shredder’s exposed stomach, cutting as deep as I could.
If the Shredder felt any pain, it didn’t show it. Out of the corner of my eye I saw it reach for me with its other hand. I flattened myself to the door, but the claws still ripped through my jacket along my stomach. They scraped through the fabric and scratched the surface of my skin. Another inch, and my guts would have been tumbling out onto the floor.
I slashed with my hatchet, the demon grabbing my wrist and crushing it in its hand. I swallowed my cry of pain as my bones began to crumble. I crossed my free hand over my captured one and grabbed the hatchet, reversing its grip and slamming it into the demon’s face.
Black blood gushed out of the wound just under its eye. The Shredder roared and let me go. My hand swelled and throbbed with pain, likely half broken now, but I didn’t stop. I raised my hatchet and slammed it into the Shredder’s face over and over, watching its claws so I wouldn’t be gutted. I was causing it damage but not killing it, and the thing was getting pissed. It thrust upward with its claws and I stepped back. I twisted my head and squeezed my eyes shut, feeling the rough bone scrape along my face, but not rip into my skin. Then the demon kicked me in the chest with the force of a wrecking ball.
The kick sent me flying, breaking down the door and having me crash against it on the floor of the motel room joined to ours. Sharp pain filled my torso, and something in my chest felt cracked. I coughed and forced myself to breathe, looking up when I heard the demon stomping through the broken doorframe to stand over me. It raised a clawed hand and shoved it down at my face. I rolled away as fast and as far as I could, the bony claws digging through the door and tugging on some loose strands of my hair. I stopped just as its other claws drove into the motel floor in front of me, inches from my face.
The demon scraped its claws toward either side of my head, trying to shove both its claws into my temples. I pushed myself between its legs and slid away from it, twisting until I was in a crouch at the Shredder’s back.
Which would have been perfect, if the demon hadn’t decided to turn and kick me in the head.
A metal baseball to the skull would have hurt less. I honestly thought some part of my head was caved in. I saw stars and stumbled onto the floor again, pain making my head spin. I hadn’t been on the ground for two seconds before the demon wrapped its claws around my throat and picked me up, holding me a foot off the ground. I could smell sulfur, blood, and greasy body odor. There was no way I was going to get free from the demon’s crushing grip. Black spots dotted my vision as I hacked at its arm with my hatchet while reaching for the knife in my boot.
The demon slammed its head into mine and I nearly blacked out, the knife almost slipping from my fingers. I kept a firm grip as it pulled back its free hand, getting ready to drive its claws into my stomach. I guess breaking my neck wasn’t as fun.
My sight was partially blurred, but I drunkenly raised the knife in my hand and threw it at the demon. It was a crappy throw, but it hit the demon in the shoulder. It roared and let go of me. I collapsed onto the ground, which spun beneath me. I shook my head, trying to throw out the pain in my head and struggling to get to my feet.
The Shredder was faster. It raised its claws, and I knew I wasn’t going to be able to stop it this time–
A blast of gold light struck the Shredder in the back, knocking it off balance and making it turn angrily.
Sephiel and Rorikel stood in the doorway, gold heavenfire gleaming in their hands. Their faces were hard. They were ready for a fight.
I crab-walked backward then pushed to my feet. The sudden motion almost made me pass out again, but I bent my knees and let my vision refocus. My left eye was swelling closed, cutting off more of my sight. My leg was on fire from where the demon had sliced me, but I could still stand, which meant I could fight.
“About fucking time!” I shouted.
They ignored me. Typical angelic behavior.
“Obtain the Nephilim,” Rorikel ordered. “We shall dispatch the demon.”
For once, I didn’t argue with him. Warrick wasn’t back with Dro yet, and Max wasn’t in the room while the Shredder had been tossing me around. Something wasn’t right. I took the knife out of my other boot and turned for the adjoining room. My head swirled for a moment until I blinked to clear the haze from it. Running on adrenaline and anger, I kicked the door open, and saw the reason Warrick was taking so damn long.
The room stank of sulfur and demon blood. A Red demon was crumpling into a heap of ash on the floor, probably killed by Warrick. But the demon had never been the problem.
Drake Talbot was.
Manny’s killer was fighting Warrick with more power and strength than I remembered.
I should have known it was going to be a losing fight. Warrick wasn’t a lightweight, but Drake had at least thirty pounds on him. He also looked well rested and didn’t seem to have any injuries. Warrick was covered in so much blood I couldn’t tell what was from the dead demon or from him.
Max was slumped on the floor near the bathroom door. I couldn’t tell if he was breathing. Dro was bleeding from a long scratch along the side of her face and a wounded shoulder, another pile of demon ash next to her.
Familiar rage boiled in me. Didn’t matter if it had been the demons that hurt my sister and that she and Warrick had killed them. I was blaming Drake for this.
Warrick punched at Drake, but the bounty hunter grabbed his fist and jabbed Warrick in the face and kidneys. He took a step back and kept Warrick’s arm outstretched, then jerked him forward and clotheslined him. Warrick landed hard on the coff
ee table, his pain-filled shout mixing with sound of breaking wood. He rolled on the splinters of the table, but was unable to get to his feet before Drake started kicking him in the ribs.
“Can’t let anything go, can you, Johnny boy?” Drake sneered.
“Neither can I,” I said.
Drake looked up at the exact moment I hurled my knife at him.
He turned at the last second, so my knife landed in his shoulder instead of his chest like I’d hoped. That was okay. I had a perfectly good hatchet that was dying to be used some more.
Drake yanked the blade out with an angry grunt, grimacing at the blood on my blade before throwing it onto the floor. He stomped toward me, and soon it was my hatchet versus his newly drawn Bowie knife. It didn’t take him long to slash at my neck with the blade, but this time I knew what to expect from him. I was able to dodge and duck out of the way, keeping my distance and watching his free hand.
He tried to stab me in the chest, but I twisted and kicked the inside of his knee. I slashed back with my hatchet and while he leaned away, the blade still sliced across his face and nose. I turned on my heel and drove my foot into his head.
Damn, that felt good.
Drake snapped his head up and jumped back before I could kick him again. His face was a bloody mask of hate and rage, but also a maniacal glee. It was disgusted. Only freaks and sadists enjoy bleeding and pain.
“Don’t be shy, bitch,” he taunted, rising to his height. “You’re a good little fight.”
“Fuck you,” I growled. “This ends now, Drake. Warrick won’t let you live, and I’m not going anywhere with you.”
Drake laughed at me. “You’re not very smart are you, chica? I might love giving Warrick the runaround, but what makes you think I’m back for you?”
Harsh realization hit me. I whirled, and saw that I’d been fucking set up.
There was a reason that Dro hadn’t been running over to help me. Two Red demons had slipped through the broken bathroom window and were dragging her toward it. One of them had placed its clawed hand over her mouth so she couldn’t scream. If I’d known, I would have said ‘fuck Drake’ and gone to save my sister.
