Or human.
At twenty-nine, she was stuck firmly between human and screwed.
Yep. Those two motorcycle demons were gaining on her.
That wasn't an exaggeration or a slur on bikers. She literally had a pair of jotnar demons hot on her tail.
She'd killed her share of demons during the ten years since losing her powers.
But this was the first time she'd been chased by jotnars.
Very likely to be her last.
She had one hope of beating them tonight, but not much faith in her idea working. Her next-door neighbor Donella, who was five years older than Reese, would admonish her negative thinking and offer the old motivational saying to make lemonade when life handed you lemons.
Hey, I'm a positive thinker. When I get handed lemons, I say slice those suckers and pop open the tequila.
It was all about perspective.
As for tonight? No positive way to spin having two demons hell-bent to turn her into their Friday night recharge station.
She'd caught the pair in her neighborhood about to attack an old woman who couldn't see the demonic appearance beneath human-looking exteriors. Just two clean-cut, twenty-something males trying to convince a lonely old woman to share a meal with them.
If Reese hadn't come along, the human authorities would've found her body in an alley or maybe a roll-off garbage container.
Not exactly her entire body. Her organs would be gone and she'd have a terrorized look stuck on her sweet face.
Drawing the threat away from the woman had required Reese to expose her own internal energy, which demons craved like crack.
Now an hour outside of San Diego into the foothills, she could face those two without worrying about humans being involved.
Killing demons had turned into an art form for her after she'd had her powers bound. For her own good, no less.
Bound. Yeah, right. She had a better word. Stolen.
She'd been left with no supernatural fighting abilities, but she still carried massive internal energy. In simple terms, she'd become a homing beacon for all kinds of demonic nasties. Sure, she actively hunted them in her spare time, but she'd never go looking for jotnars, because they hunted in pairs.
They shouldn't even be on this continent.
Demons wanted the energy pulsing inside her, but it wasn't as if she broadcast where she lived. Just the opposite. She kept that pulsing current hidden behind a corset created primarily of silver chains. It wouldn't completely mask the rhythmic bursts, but it dulled the pulse. Demons had to be very close to notice.
She couldn't risk a throwdown with humans around. When the jotnars showed up, she'd pulled off the shield in a bathroom, tossed it into her jeep and walked within a hundred feet of the deadly duo.
Their heads had snapped toward her in tandem. Grandma forgotten.
No camera could capture their true appearance, with black eyes, chalky-white skin, tall ears, shark-like teeth, and a horn curving back over the top of each head. As they'd stared at her, their eyes had boiled red with excitement.
Now, nothing short of a ten-story building dropping out of the sky onto them would stop the chase.
She looked up. No tornadoes in sight.
Ten years of fighting with only human ability had motivated her to be deadly with any weapon at hand. She was, which meant she'd become too confident. So much so, that she'd made the stupid mistake of gaining possessions she didn't want to lose--a dog, a place she considered home and neighbors who treated her like a friend.
She had no business wanting a life with humans. A being like her didn't deserve to share their world. If she couldn't even keep her own neighborhood safe, then she shouldn't be anywhere she put innocent people at risk.
Overconfidence in her skills and a weak moment of loneliness had led to this day.
The game of cat and mouse was now well outside of the city, but she knew this area. She'd hiked here before.
She hoped that advantage would weigh in her favor.
Probably not. Her kickboxing instructor, Wiley, would admonish her to never go into a fight expecting to lose.
She'd think on that, if she didn't hyperventilate first.
Of course, Wiley thought she'd be using all those ninja fighting moves on humans.
Her bare-bones Jeep Wrangler bounced along the rutted road, blowing up a dust cloud behind her. Her headlights stared into a void of black.
Time to look for the place to make her stand.
Local residents and outdoor enthusiasts drove up the Minnewawa Truck Trail to Doghouse Junction during the day so they could hike to the summit and take in a view of Lower Otay Reservoir. She'd seen that beautiful view during one of her reconnaissance trips in preparation for a worst-case scenario.
Like tonight.
She gave her mirror a last check.
Those two must suck at driving motorcycles. They were falling back. Hey, maybe they sucked at fighting, too.
Keep telling yourself that.
At one time, she'd had the kind of raw power that meant a fair match. Back when she'd been whole.
Just a faded memory now.
Her damp hands clamped the wheel. If they got her down, they'd siphon off her energy and leave her to die slowly and painfully. Not a comforting scenario, but she'd known this day would come. She'd gotten too relaxed and started believing she could live out her life among humans.
She'd even made plans for her thirtieth birthday--an occasion human women focused on so heavily.
She'd likely never see a cake with candles, but these two behind her were not harming another person if Reese had anything to say about it.
Oh the irony. She was a regular battery pack for demons, but could she tap that power and save her own butt?
No. Not after an asshat took her powers away a decade back and left her stranded in the human realm. He'd told her she had to earn them back.
That giant ego hadn't shared any tips.
Just said go do it.
She'd done everything she could for the first two years in hopes he was noticing. Since then, she'd given up waiting for him to summon her. Years of waiting and not a peep.
Just another male who had screwed her along the way. The first one ...
She slapped the steering wheel and yelled, "Screw all of you men!"
Including those two imposters behind her ... who were catching up.
Her pushy conscience pointed out that she'd passed ten perfectly suitable battle locations.
"Okay, okay. Maybe I am stalling," she muttered. She hoped her conscience didn't follow her into the afterlife.
Damn thing had gotten her into more trouble than it was worth. Now it seemed determined to hurry her toward that afterlife.
She spotted a place up ahead. Digging for some backbone, she got her speed just right then let off on the accelerator, pulled the hand brake and wrenched the steering wheel, going into the steps for a controlled spin.
Time slowed as her headlights swept around to face the two motorcycles tearing up the road. She heard every loud heartbeat pumping blood and adrenaline through her. For those few seconds when she was living in a moment all her own, she watched the world turn with her.
All too quickly, time sucked backed to high speed.
Damn good spin, if she did say so herself. The stunt pro who'd taught her would have given her a high five.
She pulled out of it, slammed hard on her brakes and killed the engine along with the lights. Yanking on night vision goggles, she grabbed her gear and slipped into the dust cloud still swirling.
The high-pitched sound of sport bikes wound down as the demons pulled up fifty feet away and parked. In the next second, the bikes were quiet and their lights switched off.
They would have overtaken a human by now. Their hesitation meant they had no idea what she could do.
The energy she'd been born with warmed her chest, generating power when anything preternatural got within about thirty feet.
She moved twe
nty steps away from the Jeep and stood next to a pinyon bush that reached her waist. This terrain offered little in the way of tall cover to hide behind, but hiding wasn't part of her offensive plan.
She'd come prepared with an uber-short, Saiga semi-automatic twelve-gauge shotgun and a homicidal attitude for facing demons bent on stealing her essence.
Full disclosure. She was packing double-ought buck shells full of silver shot and a custom-made short sword sporting a blade also inlaid with silver. A silver bullet wouldn't kill a jotnar demon, but that metal was as close to their kryptonite as it got.
On the other hand, cut off a head and it wouldn't grow back.
Movement to her right caught her eye. That would mean the other one stalked her from the left.
"I can make this fast and easy on you," the demon coming in from her right said, his rough voice hitching a ride on a dead wind. All he had to do was slice one of his poisonous claws across any part of her body and she was done.
In less than an hour, she'd be paralyzed and easily accessible.
She said nothing in reply, just stood there as if she hadn't heard him. Without turning to the right, she could see him easing closer to her, then pausing to stare.
Not answering the demon threw him off his game.
Not hitting them with a blast of power would too, until they realized she had no supernatural weapons.
She held the shotgun angled across her body, ready for anything, and cut her eyes to the left. His partner came into view, climbing uphill from a shallow gulley.
The one on her right spit out something in Latin she couldn't decipher, then leaped at her.
Reese dove away from the bush, twisting to fire off a round that ripped into his shoulder. He jerked in mid flight and landed on the ground with his arm flopping.
Her pulse jackhammered. She sucked in a deep breath, rolling up to her knees and turning.
The other demon raced in howling.
She swung the muzzle upward as he dove forward.
Her aim was true this time.
The tight pattern of shot entered through his eye and blew out part of his head, knocking him sideways with the point-blank impact. He still managed to catch her with a claw as he flew by. The razor-sharp nail tore a gash in her upper arm the length of her hand.
Burning pain almost blinded her.
Shit. She wouldn't have long. Her body urged her to lie down and curl in on herself, but that wouldn't stop the pain. Besides, they had to siphon off her energy while she still lived. Not happening.
The second demon she'd blasted got to his feet and walked in a circle, holding his head. He made gargling noises. Was he trying to heal himself?
Unfortunately, it took more than blowing away a serious chunk of gray matter to kill a jotnar.
Blood seeped into her shirt. Hurry. She didn't have much time and one of the bastards was still on the ground.
Had to be playing possum.
She pushed up and stepped slowly around the pinyon bush.
When she got close, the demon rolled away. She fired two rounds that popped chunks from his side and thigh, but that didn't keep him down.
He jumped up and ran into the black night.
Huh.
Why had that one run off? That was not how she'd planned this. Both of them should be coming toward her so she'd know where they were. She needed to reload while she still could. Chills shook her body. Hands trembling, she grabbed a full twelve-round magazine from the carrier on her belt, released the old magazine and shoved the new one in place.
The second demon still stomped around. Jotnars were practically zombies, mindless butchering machines. But even a demon missing part of its head couldn't function fully. She'd planned to kill this one after she'd cut the head off the first one.
Why'd they have to screw up a good plan?
Her vision blurred and the gash in her arm felt on fire. Don't quit now. She blinked and turned, lifting her shotgun. She pulled the trigger to blow out the demon's knee from behind.
He jerked, fell face down then rolled over, screeching and kicking his good leg around.
She walked over and shot each shoulder, disabling his arms, which shuddered as he writhed on the ground. Her skin felt like ice snakes crawled all over her. Sweat ran down her face and pooled at her neck. She reached over her shoulder and withdrew her sword. With one swift move, she came straight down, slicing his head off.
His body stopped moving.
One piece of shit down.
His body began to wither.
She booted his disgusting head twenty yards into the dark.
"Field goal, bitch. You lose." Turning slowly, she sheathed the short sword and waited for the other one. Where was he?
Then she heard it. In the distance, footsteps pounded toward her, fast and hard.
She focused her hearing ... he was coming from her left.
All at once, the sound stopped.
What was he ...
Movement above jerked her gaze up.
Airborne demon incoming, fifteen feet off the ground. He flipped and turned his feet down, intending to land on her.
She lurched backwards to avoid being crushed and ripped off two shots as she fell.
The first round went wide.
Her second one hit right between his legs, striking his jewels. Neutering one of them would make this the field trip of the week.
He landed hard and rolled over howling, clutching his crotch.
"Regenerate that while I cut your head off, you bag of shit," she muttered, getting to her feet again and stumbling forward. The ground moved. Hard to look badass when light headed. Hold on, she told herself.
She saw a double image of the demon writhing on the ground.
He lifted a rock the size of a football and flipped it at her. She wasn't quick enough. The stone missile struck hard, breaking her right forearm.
There went her trigger hand. The shotgun swung loose on its sling.
Sounding like a rabid beast, the bastard twisted around, making guttural sounds that raised the hair on her arms. He came at her on all fours.
She swiped up the shotgun with her left hand, scrambling backwards.
He crawled faster, then stood, lifting his hands and snarling.
She braced for the recoil against a one-handed grip, but the demon hit her with a kick to the abdomen. Shoving the shotgun forward, she unloaded her last seven rounds at his face on her way down.
He stopped at her feet, towering over her.
The top of his head and most of his face had been chewed away. Thank you double-ought buck.
He wobbled, hands flailing blindly, then fell.
Could he have fallen backwards and spared her?
Hell, no.
His body smacked down on her. He raked his claws wildly along the sides of her body.
The pain. Oh, the gods, she hurt.
Screaming didn't slow him down.
The bastard laughed.
Bad mistake. She hated to lose. Thanks to one last burst of adrenaline, she fought her way out from under him and shoved him off. With her last magazine spent, the shotgun was no longer of use. She dropped it to the ground to lighten her load, because she'd need what little strength she had left to kill this demon. Reaching a shaky hand for the hilt, she grabbed her sword and chopped at the arm still trying to gouge her.
Her broken arm erupted in white-hot pain with every movement, but the agony ripping through her body kept her from passing out.
Tears burned her cheeks.
She damaged one of his arms enough to scoot away. The energy churning in her chest built to a crescendo of noise in her ears.
She sucked in a breath and made it to her feet, hunched over, with her broken arm tucked. This last cut had to be good. She was out of second chances. Story of my life.
Swinging with all she had, she chopped across his neck.
He went still.
The energy calmed down. The demons she'd fought normally turned to dust
. Not these. Why not?
She looked in the direction of her Jeep. Too far away. No point in attempting to reach it.
Even if she lived long enough to make it back to her apartment, she wouldn't survive the poison flooding her system. She'd just scare her neighbors and her dog.
Weaving, she took two steps and dropped to her knees, then fell backwards, staring up at the stars now out in view. Blood trickled from her mouth. Every breath rattled and wheezed ... sounded like a crow cawing.
She blinked. No. That wasn't right. She listened.
It was a crow.
Another crow joined the first one. Then another and another.
"Dammit, do not tell me ... the last thing I hear ... will be the sound of crows."
A tear drizzled down her face. Her sweet mutt would mourn her death even if no one else did. Well, her neighbors might miss her, and they'd take care of her dog. The sitter would not abandon him.
They loved Gibbons. She'd named her dog that because his furry beard reminded her of the guy in ZZ Top. More tears spilled down the side of her face. She'd never been a pussy when it came to getting hurt, but ... this time her heart hurt.
Gibbons was the first pet she'd ever had. Would he understand when she didn't come home? That she'd abandoned him to prevent risking a demon from following her home and harming her loyal sidekick?
Her muscles tightened up. Here came the paralysis.
The stars overhead turned into a swirling blur of motion.
Her heartbeat slowed to a thump ... thump ... thump.
A bird landed on her chest.
Big freaking crow. Raven. Whatever.
She hissed, "Get. Off."
It stepped around on her chest. The other birds circled closer and closer until they flew so fast they sent a beam of light down.
Of course, the damn crow would get the spotlight when it was her death.
Something else hit her chest. If it was crow poop she was going to do her best to come back as the biggest flying predator ever known. But she doubted beings like her were sent back to live again.
She'd probably turn into dust and--
The crow walked toward her belly button and dragged something up her shirt until it touched bare skin on her chest.
She forced her head up, but only made it an inch, just enough to see a disk two inches across. Not bird poop.
Her inner energy started buzzing again, but this time it sent tendrils sizzling through her chest to touch the disk. She could feel the minute her energy connected with it.
Dragon King of Treoir Page 2
