Chapter Three
One minute, the melody entranced Trevor, and he plucked at the strings like an extension of his soul. Part inspiration, part muscle memory.
The next, darkness descended upon the stadium. His fingers still plucked the strings, but those electric chords all silenced in the wake of the power loss. Kieran’s voice trailed off at the chorus with the mic cut, and even though Renn banged the drums out of frustration, the sound wasn’t booming through the arena.
“What gives?” Renn shouted over to them right as the screams began.
Cram thousands of people into an arena and shut the lights out on them? Instant recipe for pandemonium. He knew better than to believe this was an accident. Trevor’s hand went to the switchblade he always carried at his waistband. The lights of smartphones created a glow through the arena, like dozens of fireflies bouncing around as everyone in the crowd tried to figure out what had happened. The flashing lights betrayed the quick, deliberate movement of human-sized shadows slinking through the crowd.
They weren’t touching the humans.
Warning bells clanged in his head. These intruders had arrived for the fae instead, which meant the hunters had upped their game.
“Head backstage,” Kieran called, his rubber soles smacking against the stage as he took off in that direction. Liz waited there to watch the show, and their lead singer’s protective instincts were the stuff of smothering legend. If they remained onstage, they’d become prime targets for the hunter crusade. Trevor extricated himself from his guitar, placing her on the stage with reverent care before he bolted after Kieran. For most, blurs of shadows and gray filled the stadium, the occasional illumination coming from the thousands of cellphones on flashlight function.
Trevor had a long and sordid past of seeing in the dark. After all, weeks would stretch by trapped in the cage with no hope of release. The grays, the murky shadows would become so clear that the light turned into a blinding, terrible thing. His throat tightened from the old memories. He focused on the darkened smudge of a doorway, on the clatter of nearby feet coming from his bandmates, not the rumble of screams, shouts, and moving feet from the arena below. His boots squealed on the polished stage as he ran.
Trevor cast a glance back before plunging through the doorway. Dozens of hunters wove through the audience, their bare blades catching the neon glow of phones. Any fae who lingered in the crowds would have the nails on their coffins hammered in before they caught the death descending. Not like he could pause and help—some of those fae might be hunting him. Drops of sweat prickled on his forehead, several slipping down his neck.
He hurtled through the door to plunge down the corridor, already a shade quieter. A flashlight sliced an errant beam through the center, courtesy of their band manager.
“Hurry, guys,” she called, a strained urgency in her voice. Many folks would be prone to hysterics in the middle of a sudden blackout and hunter attack, but not Liz O’Brien. The woman was made of pistols and pixie spit.
Trevor’s heart thumped at an erratic beat.
The screams reverberated from the arena, loud enough the walls quaked. It didn’t take long before the frantic element of the screams took on the sharpness of true terror. The fae culling had begun.
Trevor sucked in a sharp breath as his heavy footfalls reverberated up his shins. The corridor stretched out far, but he could already distinguish the limned lines of the door at the end where the starlight shone through. They needed to get out, and fast.
He flicked his switchblade out, the click echoing in the vacuum of a hallway. Renn raced ahead of him, the thump of his heavy stompers louder than the others. Jett brought up the rear, their siren prepared to unleash his voice on any humans who got in their way. Not like their abilities worked against the hunters’ immunity to all things fae.
The door flung open before Liz ever reached it.
Once he spotted the slinky silhouette in heels, he knew who waited for them.
“Come with me if you want to live,” called the walking, talking pop culture machine. Danica stood in the doorway, brass knuckles on each hand. The shadows sharpened everything fae about her, from the points of her ears to those wild eyes.
Liz skidded to a halt so fast Kieran smacked against her. “What are you doing here?” Liz’s voice sharpened with the same caution that tugged at his insides the moment he’d run into Danica again.
They didn’t have time for distrust. A horde of hunters infiltrated their show, and if they wanted to escape without a platinum dagger through the chest, they needed to act fast. Trevor pushed past Kieran and then Liz, squeezing to where Danica stood. If he could place faith in anything, it was her will to survive.
“Where are they coming in from?” he asked. He didn’t question why she’d shown up—after all, he was in her sights, and she was the most persistent woman he’d ever met.
Danica tilted her head to the unloading lot behind the venue. “We’re going to have to scram and give this space some distance until the morning. They’re pouring through multiple entrances, and they’ve already claimed at least a dozen of our kind.”
Which meant before the end of the night there’d be members of the Seelie Court here to scrub minds and spin stories. He needed to be gone by then. As renegades who refused to commit to their court, their band wasn’t well-liked by fae authorities. Trevor shifted from one foot to the other, anxious to move, move, move.
“Let’s get going.” Kieran took charge, striding across the back lot toward the alleyways that emptied out onto other parts of the strip. Trevor’s fingers itched at leaving his Fender behind, but his guitar wasn’t worth risking his life or freedom for. His boots clapped onto the blacktop when the back of his neck prickled.
Someone watched them.
“Watch out,” Trevor called, wielding his switchblade. He whirled to the right.
The shifting shadows peeking past the side of the building were the only tip off he got. First one hunter emerged, and then the next, their platinum and copper blades gleaming under the moonlight. The screams pounded through the building, filtering through the open door. The hunters charged, but Trevor wasn’t an idling car like the poor bastards caught in the blackout inside—he was soaring across the asphalt at top speed. The pandemic the hunters caused was reckless, the kind that would end in accidental casualties.
He dodged out of the way of the first blade, and Danica slipped in beside him, her brass knuckles clanging against metal. Renn charged the other hunter, ready to slam his horns into the guy. The hunter swerved to the side, his boots clapping on the asphalt. Liz’s pistol made a timely appearance, announcing its presence with a click.
When the nearest hunter’s blade swung again, Trevor slammed his own knife against the edge. The metal screeched as it clashed. They both jumped back and circled each other, Trevor’s grip steady on his switchblade. Before the hunter could swing again, Jett leapt from the side with his boot dagger in hand. The tip sank into the guy’s jacket, snagging him where he stood.
“Don’t think you can slink out so easily,” the nearest hunter spat. He stepped back a pace to watch them warily. He still wielded his knife, and his gaze scanned across them as if he waited for the right moment to strike. Like Blade wannabes or goth club rejects, the hunters wore leather trench coats, stompers, and all black attire.
Kieran stepped to Trevor’s side. “You’re missing a precious point.” He gestured to the knife. “We’ve got the two of you outnumbered.”
“Why attack here?” Liz asked, an edge to her voice. He’d caught the search history on the computer back at the RV for more history on the hunters, any information she could get. After all, she grew up isolated from her own, a fact which, given the war between the hunters and the fae, they were all grateful for. “The humans aren’t getting slaughtered in droves,” she insisted, a slight shake to the pistol in emphasis even as she kept it pointed to his skull. “Not like you’re doing to the fae inside.”
The hunter spat on
the ground. “There are so many filthy fae infiltrating our realm that a sneak attack is the only way to claim an advantage.”
“Who’s organizing the hunters?” Trevor asked. No way could their society be capable of this sort of attack without a leader.
“If you haven’t heard Darren Andrew’s name yet, you will soon,” the other hunter intoned, even though he kept glancing to the muzzle of Liz’s pistol. Their own hunter watched with a cool gaze, and Trevor had fought by Liz’s side enough to know she wouldn’t hesitate. “We’re not going to stop until your kind is back in the Otherworld where you belong.”
Even though Jett’s knife remained steady, he glanced at the nails of his other hand. “The lavender beaches are pleasant and all, but the holier than thou attitudes are a buzzkill. I’d give it a C minus. As to where our kind belong, that’s a subject for some quality philosophical debate.”
The hunter bared his teeth in irritation. Their siren had that effect on folks.
A door slam from the side of the building echoed in the air, and the first of the sirens began wailing through the streets. They needed to scram. Now. Trevor met Kieran’s eyes and tilted his head toward the hunters. Danica’s gaze pressed into him, but he ignored it.
He shouldn’t have.
Before he could make his move, she swung out, her brass knuckles cracking into the hunter beside them. His eyes rolled, and he swayed on his feet for a second before dropping to the ground. The thump echoed through the clearing. The other hunter surged forward, raising his knife to slice. Trevor waited until he got close, and then dipped to avoid the blade. He pivoted around, and his elbow snapped out.
The hunter swung his forearm around to block.
Unfortunately for him, Kieran already moved in to attack. Their band leader’s fist blurred as his knuckles slammed into the guy’s jaw with a wet thump. The other hunter swayed before crouching to the ground and clutching his jaw.
“Time to go, boys,” Liz called out, taking the lead as she started running toward the alleyway. Trevor leapt after her first, his veins buzzing, buzzing, buzzing with that ever-present paranoia of getting caught. The cops didn’t offer him the safety blanket they did for most folks—they had the power to lock him up again, one he didn’t take lightly.
Danica surged beside him, moving in heels with a grace and speed that defied physics. “You did promise the crowd the most depraved show on earth. I’m sure mass hysteria and murder means promise delivered, right?”
Liz shook her head. “Yeah, try telling that to the venue’s coordinator. We’ll be banned from the venue from now until forever.”
Overfull dumpsters lined the alley ahead, and crinkled Mickey D’s wrappers and crushed Starbucks cups marked the territory. The stain-covered concrete stretched out between two restaurants, leading to the busy street ahead. More than a couple of people scanned the skies at the sound of the sirens in case they’d spot something.
His throat tightened. Instead of the huge wave of sexual energy Discord’s Desire had begun to consume, they now ran themselves ragged through the streets of Vegas. Mighty kind of those hunters.
He couldn’t forget how he’d run and run and run through San Francisco the night Alberich put the official bounty over his head. His feet had gotten so sore they bled, and his muscles turned limp and boneless. His breaths had been choking gasps, and his insides ripped wide open until he couldn’t avoid the rotting husk of hate and fear he patched the fractures in his heart with.
Kieran clapped a hand on his shoulder, snapping him to focus. “Stick with us, brother.” The incubus’s golden eyes gleamed with understanding. He didn’t deserve a best friend like Kieran, but since the man was a stubborn, persistent ass, Trevor did his best to protect their lead singer—most of the time from his own impulses.
Along the Strip, human escapees from the hunter invasion emerged in throngs, most in some sort of disarray or hysterics. Even with the hunters on the loose, many would be focused on escape at this point, because there was no way they could explain themselves to the cops.
Renn’s eyes gleamed when he scanned over a pair of girls sobbing on the corner, crouched on the edge of the sidewalk. “Looks like they could use some comforting.”
“Have some class,” Jett retorted, the siren’s careful brow arched in unerring judgment. “Though I know that’s asking a lot.”
“But I’m hungry,” Renn whined, running a hand through his wild tangle of hair as they stalked down the street as fast as they could without drawing attention.
“Eat a fucking burger then,” Kieran shot back, heaving a sigh.
Trevor restrained his grin, the normal back and forth of their crew grounding him. By some miracle, Danica remained silent. Her inquisitive eyes soaked in everything, her gaze flitting from their crew to the crowds stepping into the streets. He shoved his hands into his pockets. They continued down the sprawl of the Strip, heading in the direction of the Stratosphere, a beacon as the tallest point in the city.
“Care to explain what you’re doing here?” Liz called back, not bothering to glance. No one questioned who she was talking to, because the rest of the band harbored the same question.
Trevor’s heart skipped. He wasn’t sure how his bandmates would react—that is, if she even told them the truth. However, since she’d shown up at the Venetian and dangled her offer, he’d been able to think about little else.
True freedom from Tymarch Alberich.
He almost couldn’t process the thought. Yet his heart leapt at the idea of freeing himself from the invisible chains that still wrapped around his wrists, his throat.
“That’s some quality hostility, Obiwan,” Danica announced, her voice sharp with bravado Trevor had been able to see past from the moment they met. “Better bottle that shit up to hurl at your enemies.”
“What can I say? Betrayal brings out the best in me,” Liz sniped back. The two had gotten on so well when they first met for a reason—he’d never met a pair of more feelings-averse women in his life. They were almost as bad as Jett. Trevor shot Danica a glance, one she deliberately ignored.
“Hey now, what was that?” Kieran asked, pointing between the two of them. “The shared looks?”
Renn almost toddled into the street when a couple of sorority girls stumbled by in their matching letters shirts, but Jett yanked him by the collar to keep him in line.
Trevor heaved a sigh. Time to paint this picture himself, rather than let Danica splatter color all over the canvas. “Our favorite leannan sidhe happened to find me at the Venetian when I went late night wandering. She made an offer I’m considering. Before you all shout in horror at me about bad decisions, remember one thing. Danica never lied. She might’ve possessed shitty moral fiber as a friend, but I reckon in business partners the more important thing is being able to take them at their word.”
Danica’s eyes bored into him, her expression unreadable. For a moment, he thought he caught a flicker of hurt in her eyes, but just as fast, a bright smile spread to her lips. “I’ll take that description on my tombstone, please and thank you. If you lot want to commence the personal stoning in a more private place, why don’t we find a diner while I spill the deets.” Her gaze flickered his way. “My contact gave me the location.”
The means to crush his owner, the man who kept the sword of Damocles dangling over him, lay within reach.
What terrified Trevor the most was the depths he’d descend to if it meant claiming revenge.
Chapter Four
The last time Danica sat with the crew of Discord’s Desire at a diner, the situation had been a lot chummier. Now, she’d become chum in the water for some pretty cranky sharks. She’d started a tally of the number of glares delivered her way and lost count after the first hundred. The one person who wasn’t doling death stares her way happened to be the same gorgeous banshee she’d roped into this in the first place.
She tapped a pen against the lacquer tabletop, soaking in the scents of bacon, the sizzle of grease, and the
piping hot coffee that wafted up to greet her. The second the lights flickered out, she and Marisa had aimed for the first exit they could find. Marisa took off for the streets, eager to disappear, while Danica made the fool decision to flag down Discord’s Desire and get them to safety. Not like her actions made a dent in their opinions.
“Look, Ky, I’m getting my goddamned burger,” Renn said, jabbing his finger at the menu. His gaze lingered on moving targets—any guys or girls who sauntered in looking hungry for something the satyr was proficient in giving.
“Good for you,” Kieran shot back, everyone operating a little tenser than normal. Danica wasn’t sure if her presence or the fact the hunters crashed their show had them more riled up. She hoped for the latter.
“So, I’m assuming if Trevor’s involved, this is concerning Tymarch Alberich?” Liz announced from the other side of the table.
Danica shot her a look. “Discretion, sweetheart, have you heard of it?” she drawled. Danica checked her peripheral for the thousandth time since they sat down. With Alberich’s men after not only her but Trevor, who knew who might overhear. The drunk girls riding the tilt-a-hurl in their seats weren’t an issue, but from her vantage point, she couldn’t spot the back corner of the diner and the blind spot was making her skin itch like she had hives.
Liz heaved out an annoyed sigh, the hunter’s attitude making Danica’s chest tighten. She missed being on the same side of a problem, and she missed her short-lived friendship with Liz that had flowed like the coffee in this diner.
“Danica’s found a way to take him down,” Trevor murmured, coming to the rescue. “We just need to retrieve an incriminating item.”
Liz arched a brow. “So, if we find this item, it’ll take care of our pest problem?” She elongated the words as she placed her menu on the table. The hunter might be short, but not on sass.
“Exterminator’s guarantee.” Danica gave a thumbs up. “They want this pest extinguished as badly as we do.”
Hypnotizing Beat Page 3
