Blood Trinity

by Sherrilyn Kenyon; Dianna Love

  She hoped Parcheesi, but since she couldn’t play …

  The demon flipped her back and forth like he was shaking a toy. Then her body started floating toward him.

  Oh, come on. …

  She tried to use her telekinesis to drop a chunk of the ceiling on his head.

  For once nothing happened.

  She called to Tzader telepathically.

  No response.

  He had her powers blocked … This was bad. Very bad. The scent of burned rubber filled her nostrils. Could there not be one single demon who didn’t stink?

  The demon’s power was filling the warehouse, closing in on her.

  Not looking good for the home team.

  Her only hope was to distract him. “Oh, I see. You just don’t know who your master is. He won’t tell you, huh? Sucks to be you. And I hope you just made up the part about looking for an Alterant. Because I’m not one.”

  Her body stopped floating toward him.

  “Yes, you are.”

  “Nope. You got the wrong person. I’m just a witch. What’s your master going to say when you show up with a witch instead of an Alterant?”

  She’d stumped him to the point of being mute. Go back to the important detail of who was hunting her. “No one important is looking for an Alterant or word would be all over the city.” She tried to shrug, but she couldn’t move her shoulders. “You’re good at what you do. You should find a master you deserve, one with a higher rank on the food chain.”

  The demon had a puzzled look, as though trying to decide if telling her would win this game. “He’s powerful.”

  “So you say. But I’m betting he’s so insignificant I’ve never even heard of your master.”

  She might have pushed him too far with that. The pressure around her chest tightened until she could hardly breathe. Even if he didn’t mean to eat her he could crush her.

  Flames licked at the corner of the Birrn’s mouth, and his eyes flared solid red. “My master is powerful,” he said so low that she almost couldn’t hear him. “He is called—”

  Bright light erupted behind the demon on a loud blast.

  A bolt of power shot a hole through his middle, barely missing Evalle’s feet. The invisible binding that had held her body captive fell away and she could feel the demon’s power withdrawing.

  She hit the ground and stumbled backward, but kept her footing. The demon remained upright for the ten seconds it took his body to suck into itself and disintegrate into a pile of smoldering black chips that reminded her of manure … right down to the stench.

  She cursed at the bad timing. She’d been a slip of a second from finding out who was directing the demon, and now she had nothing to give VIPER.

  All her evidence gone into one steaming pile of demon sludge.

  And she wanted blood for it.

  As the smoke cleared, Evalle looked up to find a brute of a man standing where the door had been before she went through it. He held a black-and-silver weapon that looked like an oversize six-shooter with a cylinder big enough to hold six hand grenades.

  He started toward her with purpose, weapon aimed straight at her chest.

  Crap. It was Dr. Doom, and she was now the patient.

  THREE

  “Who are you?” Evalle widened her stance, ready to fight and bash in his head, since he’d destroyed her Birrn and ruined her chances for an easy alibi.

  But the two most important questions bubbling through her worries were: What was that weapon he’d used to take down the demon and was he going to use it on her?

  She didn’t have time for more company. Daylight would break in less than an hour, and while she had a suit in her bike that would protect her in an emergency, it wasn’t comfortable to be in anything black that covered her from head to toe during Georgia’s dog days of summer, when the temperature usually hit ninety-four degrees by 8:00 a.m.

  The man walked forward with an arrogant stride. The closer he came, the more she could see of his Mack truck body, wide and bulked up beneath a black outfit that resembled an ACU—Army Combat Uniform—with Kevlar plates. His sleeves were rolled up over bulging biceps. Obviously he wasn’t afraid of demonic acid spit.

  He wore a night-vision monocular, which allowed him to see her just as easily as she saw him in this cavernous building with no light. All in all, he was a handsome man in a lunatic, over-the-top, I play way too much Call of Duty and Resident Evil kind of way.

  “You okay?” His lips barely moved, then returned to a tense line. The short black hair fit his abrupt personality.

  Didn’t sound like he was a threat, but he definitely looked like one.

  And he hadn’t lowered his weapon.

  “Fine. You are?”

  “Isak.” He gestured with the tip of his weapon toward her sunglasses. “You blind?”

  She got that a lot because of her tendency to keep them on even at night. Her sunglasses had been custom-made by a friend of Tzader’s, who’d used a lens that would allow her eyes to be seen in low light but shield their freakish color. Let’s hear it for special variable tinted lenses—if she could only get something like that for her skin with SPF 5000. “No. I see fine in low light, right down to your Batman belt buckle.”

  His eyebrows moved slightly at the dig, as if questioning how sensitive anyone’s eyes could be in this pitch-black warehouse. But obviously she’d seen enough to out his strange taste in belts. “What’re you doing here?” he asked.

  Like she was going to tell him that … “What are you doing here?”

  “Hunting demons.”

  Dang, that was brutally honest. Most people who hunted demons didn’t blurt that out to strangers for fear of an all-expenses-paid visit to the local psycho ward.

  Was this guy an unfamiliar VIPER agent? Agents, she didn’t mind, unless they got in her way.

  Or killed a Birrn she needed to capture.

  But if he was an agent, she didn’t sense power coming off him.

  No. Definitely human.

  Weird and gorgeous, but human.

  “Who do you work for?” she asked.

  “Myself.”

  Her stomach clenched. He could be a merc, anybody … especially with that superblaster. Just what her already-screwed-up night needed.

  Isak kept visually sweeping the area around them, then paused to look her over again. He finally shifted his weapon to hold it across his chest. “What’d that demon want with you?”

  Yeah, this was an odd conversation to have with an unknown civilian.

  “Dinner and a movie. How’d you know he was here?”

  “Smelled ’im a mile away.”

  Too bad the twins hadn’t.

  She searched again with her powers but still felt no unusual field of energy from this guy. Nothing to mark him as anything other than a human with a demon-killing fetish.

  And where had he gotten that wicked weapon?

  She glanced over at the pile of stinking demon dung. She couldn’t use her powers to clear that out of here with Isak present. Nor could she call VIPER for a cleanup team until she had a plan that would keep her head off their chopping block.

  And there was no way in hell she was touching that with her hands. She’d managed to walk away fairly clean from the Cresyl, but this would be harder to clean off her skin than skunk odor. Not that she had any interest in getting frisky with a man, but stink like that would ensure her peace and solitude for months on end.

  More important—VIPER would smell Birrn demon on her.

  “Did you have to kill him?” she asked.

  He arched a brow suspiciously. “What? You friends or something?”

  She returned her gaze to his face, then looked up to eyes so impervious to emotion a shiver of warning ran up her spine. Isak didn’t seem surprised she knew about demons.

  What was his story?

  And what had the demons done to him? The average human didn’t track and kill demons.

  What could she possibly say that wouldn
’t end up with her dead or exposing VIPER … which still might mean her dead? This guy walked, talked and shot like a vigilante. She knew the type. If you didn’t uphold their hatred, you needed killing, too.

  She gave him an insincere smile. “I was kind of hoping to ask him a few questions. Thanks for killing that opportunity. Literally.” Interfering moron.

  “A demon?” His one uncovered eye widened, then creased with a suggestion of humor that didn’t fit the serious GI Joe face. “You wanted to interrogate something with the IQ of lettuce, that sees humans as a major food source? Good call. Are you drunk or mental? Or are you one of those freaks who thinks nonhumans just need love and understanding while they munch our brain matter?”

  Her internal defense alarms went into high gear at the way he said “nonhumans.” As if the word alone was repulsive. What would Isak do if he knew she wasn’t exactly an everyday citizen? “So you just arbitrarily kill any nonhuman even if they’re not harming someone?”

  He curled his lip. “Kill ’em all and let their various gods sort them out. In case you haven’t noticed, hon, it’s open season on us. Either you kill the demon or the demon eats you. Way I see it, you should be thanking me. I just kept you from being digested.”

  She let out a curt breath of aggravation. “I can take care of myself, Terminator, and as for thanks … yeah. You just screwed up something I needed to find out. So thanks a lot.”

  His amusement vanished. “Ah, God. Don’t tell me you’re with that paranormal tree-hugging group that’s trying to convince everyone malevolent poltergeists and demons are just misunderstood friends who need hugs.”

  Of all people, that wasn’t her. But he didn’t need to know her stance on demon slaying.

  Her organization wasn’t any of Rambo’s business. “Want to tell me what group you’re with?”

  He shook his head slowly from side to side.

  “Then I’d say we’re done here. I’ve lost enough ability to smell for one night.” She debated calling Tzader, who must still be in his meeting, otherwise he’d have called her. She had to get this mess cleaned up.

  When she made a move to step past Isak, he closed his fingers around her arm.

  She froze in anger at that touch and glared at his huge paw of a hand as old memories surged. She wasn’t a terrified helpless teen, and no man would ever lay hands on her again without her explicit invitation. “You got three seconds to remove that or your new name’s going to be Lefty.”

  He held his hand up in surrender. “You got a ride nearby?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll follow and—”

  “No. I’ve had enough favors for one night, and now I have to clean this crap up before anyone finds it.”

  “My people’ll deal with it.”

  “Really?” She deserved one lucky break tonight. But honestly … did he really know a group who would come in here, clean up smelly demon goo and not report or arrest her? “Do you work with law enforcement?” Working for the morgue, she’d met a lot of the local LEOs—law enforcement officers—but never Rambo. He tended to stand out.

  Isak smirked. “Not even.”

  Believe it or not, that was good news in her world. VIPER employed a long list of different people that included a large number of Beladors, many of whom worked with local police, the FBI and other agencies. But if his people didn’t work with any of hers …

  She might stand a chance after all.

  Even though she had no idea who this guy was, she’d bet Tzader would know or could find out.

  Continuing toward the smoldering hole the Birrn had left in the warehouse, she reached the loading dock, where the hot air was muggy but fresh. She jumped down to the parking lot and started walking.

  Heavy boot steps followed right behind her. “Look, I don’t think you realize what you’re up against. Hotlanta is steaming tonight because someone has unleashed major mojo on the city. And they’re not here to play with us, little girl. They’re here to feast on entrails.”

  Little girl? Mr. Macho had no idea who he was dealing with, and right now, he was lucky he wasn’t limping. “I’ll take my chances.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “It definitely isn’t Little Girl. Honey. Or Babe, Baby Cakes. Now run along, little boy. Us girls need to be alone.” Because she couldn’t clean up the demon crap with him standing watch over her.

  Unless she used her hands.

  Nah. I’d rather VIPER burns me. ’Cause that’s just g-r-o-s-s.

  Evalle had barely reached the middle of the parking lot when sirens rang out, coming closer.

  Ah, crap … police were headed this way and would most likely enter the same way she had.

  Please don’t let there be some stray kid with a cell phone. That’s all she’d need tonight. Her face on the local news, fighting a demon. Her luck, it’d be picked up by the AP and on YouTube and she’d be more famous in twenty-four hours than Paris Hilton on a bender.

  Look on the bright side. It might make Sen choke on his fury so hard that he’d stroke and die before he could cage her.

  C’mon, think, Evalle, think. She needed every minute she had left until daylight to figure out who’d sent the Birrn. Why it’d had Celtic branding and what the demon’s master wanted with an Alterant.

  Her …

  Oh, and come up with an explanation for the slashed body in the morgue that didn’t involve her being accused of eating the woman’s heart.

  Some nights it didn’t pay to leave the house …

  With the blue light specials flashing outside the gate, her most immediate problem was the lack of time to deal with the flaming pile of demon churras on the floor. Could she sell the cops on the idea that she was a disgruntled employee trying to plant prairie pastries on her old boss’s desk?

  Not with my luck tonight.

  What were the chances she could trust Isak’s people to clean up this mess?

  She turned around as Isak jumped down from the loading dock and jogged in her direction. She gestured toward the cops. “Nice present. Thank you so much for the arrest record, Mr. Shoot-to-kill. Appreciate it. Know any good bail companies?” ’Cause with his hair trigger, he should be getting a volume discount from someone.

  He stopped in front of her, his weapon slung across his back. “I don’t need no stinking bail company. I’ve got something better.”

  This she couldn’t wait to hear. “A rocket launcher and a tank?”

  “No. Exit strategy. You coming?”

  She didn’t think so. “Thanks, but I’ll find my own way out.”

  “By now the cops are crawling the building like ants on a cake and you are about to become the ice cream cherry.”

  He was right and she hated him for it. “All right, First Blood. Lead me to freedom.”

  Police racket clamored near the front gate.

  Isak paused at the wall on the side of the building, where she could now see a thin aircraft cable running vertically from the top. Sneaky little booger … how clever. A metal clasp with a heavy D ring dangled at shoulder height. From inside his shirt he pulled a short length of thicker cable that was probably hooked to a harness and clipped the karabiner on the end to the clasp.

  But if he thought she was going up the side of that wall, he was crazy.

  Ten or fifteen feet off the ground, no problem.

  Any higher …

  Big problem.

  Evalle didn’t do heights. Ever.

  The sound of the huge electric gate at the street opening was followed by the sounds of the cops coming closer. Flashlight beams danced ahead of them.

  Stealth was not the forte of Atlanta’s finest. Lucky for her.

  She looked around, quickly assessing a potential alternative route. “Tell you what, Isak. I’m—”

  An arm hooked around her waist and yanked her backward against a body so hard, it was like slamming into the brick wall. Panic at being touched got shoved aside by a greater fear when her feet came off the ground and
they shot up the wire at a speed that left her sick.

  No, no, no!

  She hissed in outrage. “Put me down!”

  “Hon, at this height, you definitely don’t want me to do that.”

  Stupid her, she looked down before she could stop herself. The world below was shrinking at a rapid pace. Her stomach threatened to show her a replay of the slaw dog she’d eaten for dinner. Snapping her eyes closed, she clenched her teeth and fought down her panic.

  He wasn’t going to drop her. He wasn’t.

  Still, the fear was there, and it was debilitating as her past slammed into her with a reality she despised. Her shoulders trembled. She forced her muscles to lock tight.

  Never, ever show a weakness. Not to anyone.

  Too late for that.

  She ground her teeth at the conflicting voice in her head that she hated. Stay calm, Evalle, you can do it. You’ve survived a lot worse than this.

  Why, why wasn’t flight one of my powers?

  But as they neared the top, she realized she wasn’t going to fall … and Isak wasn’t trying to grope her.

  He wasn’t attacking her. This wasn’t her past and she wasn’t a defenseless child anymore.

  Both of his arms hugged her against his chest. An act of protection, not violation.

  She smelled his human scent, warm and a little sweaty from his exertions. Raw, natural male. He pulled her closer, as if he’d keep her safe from anything.

  No one had ever held her this way.

  Like she was precious to them.

  Didn’t matter. End of the day, she couldn’t stand the sensation of hands confining her. Of someone pressing her against his body.

  Let me go, let me go, let me go …

  He whispered against her ear, trying to calm her. “We’re almost there. I’ll release you in a sec.”

  You’re not a helpless teenager. He’s not the bastard. Why couldn’t she banish those memories? Why did they sting most when she could least afford them?

  You ruined my past, you worthless dog. You will not destroy my future …

  She bit the inside of her mouth to keep from screaming and giving away their location to the police.

  The vertical movement slowed.

  She was trembling, couldn’t open her eyes and look. Coward.