by Cat Adams
I managed to get my gun pulled and safety off quickly enough to step out of the way of the man charging blindly toward me. He might not be able to see now, but he’d glimpsed me before the light show and was attacking based on that knowledge. Not a stupid move in close quarters like these. There wasn’t a lot of room between me and the railing and he was bigger than me.
Still, I had the advantage. I could see. Rather than waste a bullet I might need later, I stepped aside, ducking beneath his outstretched arms. Coming up behind him, I leveled my hardest punch at his right kidney. His knees folded. He probably screamed, but I couldn’t hear it. My ears were still ringing from the boomer.
Hitting the safety, I pistol-whipped him, and he went down. As I shoved him under the railing into the welcoming ocean, I realized that I’d seen him before. At La Cocina. He’d been with George Miller.
What the hell?
It didn’t matter. Well, it did, intellectually. But it didn’t in reality. Because the second man had positioned himself, legs spread and braced between the railing and the cabin wall. Blindly but methodically, he was firing off shots, holding his weapon at waist level. Shoot, adjust an inch to the left, shoot again. Smart. Because if I was blinded, too, he’d get me eventually, based on the limited space. I dropped to my stomach, braced my elbows, and flipped off the safety. Then, just as methodically, I shot him. The bullet took him between the eyes. Gruesome but effective. I was on my knees, getting ready to rise, when a man came around the front of the cabin, apparently checking to see what had happened.
I fired at him, but I was in an awkward position and he was damned quick. I missed. Swearing, he ducked back behind the cabin wall. I had to scramble to get out of his line of fire. The bullet missed me but embedded itself in the wall, sending fiberglass chips and wood splinters into my naked flesh. Damn it. Ow. I was backing up when I saw the shadows shift on the wall beside me. Instinct made me whirl and I fired into the chest of a monster.
It was tall and oddly shaped, with a long, eyeless head. Its russet body was scaled, naked, and hugely male. Its body was oddly shaped, with knees that bent the wrong direction. Half a dozen curved bone horns surrounded its head where the brow line should be and wicked brass-colored claws sprang from the ends of its hands and feet.
An imp. A lesser demon. A demon.
Oh, shit, oh, shit, oh, shit.
It turned toward me, its mouth opening to show wicked fangs that dripped venom. A long black tongue flicked out in a gesture reminiscent of a snake scenting the air.
I scrambled backward, tripping over my empty holster in my haste to make sure I was out of the reach of that thing. I fell on my ass, hard, dropping my gun, which skittered across the deck to fall into the ocean. The impact made me bite the inside of my cheek. Blood filled my mouth and I spit it out. The creature turned, tongue flicking faster at the smell of fresh blood. It and me, quite a pair.
I reached down to the deck and began rummaging through the pile of clothing, digging for the one thing that might help me against the monster I was facing. I managed to get my right hand wrapped around the plastic handle and was about to pull the little squirt gun free when I heard movement behind me. Heard it—which meant my hearing was coming back.
“Well, if it isn’t Ms. Graves.” Miller’s silken voice was condescending as hell. Of course, considering the advantage he had over me, he had reason to be. “I did warn you not to cross me.”
The demon leaned forward, reaching toward me with its claws. “Halt!” Miller’s command was sharp and the creature jerked back as if it were at the end of a leash. Throwing back its head, it screamed, a harsh, hateful sound with all the musicality of nails on a blackboard or static feedback.
“It’s a little extreme, isn’t it, dealing with the devil just to get back at your ex-partner?”
He shrugged, albeit mostly with one shoulder. The other wasn’t working so well. “In for a penny, in for a pound. I’m damned in either case. And the only way I can put off my eternal unrest for even a little longer is by killing Creede. So, where is he?”
“Haven’t got a clue.” Absolute truth. He could be anywhere. He was probably on the boat. But I sure as hell hadn’t seen him. For all I knew, he was already dead.
“Don’t make me do something you’re going to regret, Ms. Graves.”
The imp strained against its invisible tether and he let it come just a fraction closer. I could smell its breath and a tiny drop of spittle splattered against my leg, burning it like acid.
I screamed. The pain was incredible. Just that one drop had burned through my flesh nearly to the bone.
“Where is he?” Miller’s voice was right behind and above me now. I turned my head, craning my neck upward, and was rewarded with a close-up view of his suit trousers: lightweight wool, gray, with a light pinstripe. But past him I saw something that heartened me. The other bad guy stood silent, empty hands at his sides, Bubba’s .38 tucked firmly under his chin. Creede stood behind Miller, gun at the ready.
“I’m right here.”
Miller actually jumped a little. With his loss of concentration, the imp lunged forward, but not at me—at him. I pulled the One Shot, rolling out of the way of a clawed foot, shooting holy water into the demon’s open mouth.
I was too late. The creature’s clawed arm swung forward, punching completely through Miller just below his breastbone. He screamed, though his lungs had to have been damaged, his left hand clawing weakly at the pocket of his jacket.
The demon was screaming, too. Each, painful, earsplitting shriek was accompanied by a belch of flame as the holy water burned it from the inside out. Throwing Miller aside with a vicious swing of its arm, it turned. Without eyes, I wouldn’t have thought it could find me. But it knew precisely where I was and that I was the one who’d injured it.
It stalked forward, claws extended, following me as I backed away. I was in trouble. The man who had summoned it was dead or dying. There were no priests here to banish it and my little shot of holy water had injured the monster just enough to really piss it off. If that wasn’t enough, even if by some miracle Ren popped in and saved my butt, it could follow me. Anywhere, anytime, with just a taste of my blood, or a hair from my head.
Exactly the way it had been used to trail Creede.
I was on the far side of the boat now, and even using vampire speed I was barely keeping ahead of those swinging claws. Every time it missed, the imp became more enraged. And while its bellows no longer belched flame, they did send ichor spraying. It burned through whatever it touched, be it fiberglass, metal, wood, or skin.
I was on the farthest side of the boat, my path blocked by rubble and fallen bodies. I could dive into the water, but then everybody else on board would be toast. There was no way I was strong enough to beat it hand-to-hand, and I didn’t dare risk closing with it enough to try out my fangs. It stalked toward me and I had nowhere to go.
The gulls wheeled and dived overhead, drawn by the scent of blood on the wind. They squawked and squalled above me. I screamed up at them, “If you want to do something useful, attack that damned demon!” I pointed at the imp and, I shit you not, they actually did it. The imp screamed as a hundred talons grabbed at it. Birds were thrown to the side, hopefully not wounded beyond repair. But they were actually beating the demon back.
Holy shit.
Creede’s voice shouted something incomprehensible and a whirlwind formed around him. Magic flared so hard it made my skin hurt. There was something amazing about seeing Creede on the deck of the boat, arms outstretched, eyes glowing with fire, wind whipping at his clothes, looking for all the world like a pirate mage from a history book. All he needed was a red cape and sword to complete the image.
He advanced, words spewing from his mouth in a jumble of incomprehensible syllables. Though I didn’t understand the sounds, the demon did. It froze in its tracks, howling in frustrated fury as the birds continued to tear at it. Again Creede called out and this time I felt a wave of magic accompany t
he words. The beast shuddered and seemed to waver, as if it were a heat shimmer or a mirage. A third call and with it the crack of ceramic breaking. The air pressure changed as our dimension opened just enough. The birds scattered frantically and I grabbed onto a railing as my feet rose into the air as a sudden vacuum tore at me. Though it fought and clawed with every ounce of its being, the imp was sucked back into hell.
I collapsed onto the deck, my heart pounding so loud that I couldn’t hear anything else.
16
I was going to have to buy Bubba new sheets for this bed. Oh, hell, who was I kidding? I was going to have to buy him a new boat.
Mona’s Rival was still afloat—just. But the deck and cabin were riddled with bullet holes and demon claw marks. And one of the magical explosions had taken out a wall.
Of course, this fight had really been because of Creede. But Bubba would blame me.
Speaking of the attack, who were we supposed to report it to? Did Serenity count as a country? They did have their own law enforcement. But were they internationally recognized? If the siren government couldn’t, or wouldn’t, handle the whole thing aboveboard, Bubba couldn’t claim on his insurance. And Miller and the others would simply disappear, which wasn’t really fair to their families, if they had them.
As I was thinking all of this, I lay on the sheets in intense pain. I’d been too busy to notice what was happening, what with avoiding the imp and all, but the battle had taken place in full daylight. I had been nearly butt naked and hadn’t sunscreened anything other than my face. Between the fight with Adriana and the one with the demon, I had second-degree burns over most of my body. Third-degree burns where the acid had splattered. I had all kinds of nasty little injuries and there was that remaining embedded piece of baby food jar that needed to be dug out. So to try to distract myself from the pain, which wasn’t being eased all that much by the wimpy little aspirin tablets that were all Bubba had on board, I was trying to think of anything and everything else. One thing was certain. If I was going to keep running into the demonic, I was going to need to take precautions.
A light tap on the door distracted me. I pulled the lightweight cotton sheet over me for modesty’s sake. A little late for it, all things considered. But hey, we were just going to pretend I hadn’t flashed Creede, Dahlmar, and the entire siren navy as they’d come to the rescue. Apparently, I’d leapt right out of my bra when I went over the demon. Creede swears he didn’t notice.
Not even when he was handing me a towel to cover myself with.
“Come in.”
I rolled over to see who it was and immediately wished that I hadn’t. The burns were healing. But it was slow going. I’d had the last two shakes, to take the edge off of my hunger and make sure the humans didn’t look tasty, but my body apparently needed more. Less food, slower healing. But there wasn’t anything else on the boat I could digest unless I decided to go fully vampire. So until they finished hauling the boat into the harbor and found something I could drink, I was pretty much screwed.
“How are you doing?” Queen Lopaka stuck her head through the doorway. She wasn’t wearing anything ceremonial, just a pair of faded jeans and a white cotton button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. She wore boat shoes, probably a good thing considering the splinters and worse that littered the deck.
“Been better,” I admitted. I probably still looked like one of the lower rungs of hell. When I’d gone into the bathroom to take the aspirin I’d scared myself. Second-degree burns on the face were not pretty. I was just glad I hadn’t burned my eyeballs. I didn’t even want to think how much that would have hurt. “Be sure to thank Ren for me. I appreciate her calling in the cavalry.”
Lopaka smiled and I swear it lit up the room. Straight white teeth and dimples to die for. “Yes, well, better late than never. You apparently did well enough all on your own. Although at some cost.” She sighed and lowered herself onto the edge of the bed. “You must be in pain. And my condolences on the loss of—”
I dipped my head and sighed. “Ivan. He was King Dahlmar’s bodyguard.” The king was beside himself, though he wasn’t showing it much. There’s a point at which a bodyguard becomes a member of the family.
“And he died in the line of duty.” She sighed again. “How do you want to handle this?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “It’s a complete clusterfu—” I stopped in mid-syllable, horrified at myself. You don’t use language like that in front of a queen, no matter how appropriate or how casual the situation.
She laughed, hard enough to shake the bed. Wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, she said, “Yes, it is.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “All right. If you don’t mind, I’ll have my people handle the questioning of the remaining pirate. I’m also going to have them investigate King Dahlmar’s allegations of political tampering in Rusland. We have very stringent laws forbidding political machinations of that type. If indeed that is what’s happening.”
“You don’t think it is?”
She gave me a long look. “It’s a landlocked country.”
I put two and two together. Sirens need oceans. Need them. But just because they couldn’t live in Rusland, that didn’t mean they wouldn’t want to control the power and the gas. I started to open my mouth to say as much, but I didn’t have to. She’d been listening to my thoughts. Which I hated. I tried to stifle that thought before it got me in trouble.
“We have hospital facilities on the island. Your injuries can be tended there.”
I shook my head no. Hospitals had bleeding people. The smell of blood could make me very dangerous—particularly when I was hungry and injured. “I appreciate the offer, but I can’t.” I didn’t explain further, but I didn’t have to. Either she was still eavesdropping on my thoughts or she was bright enough to figure it out on her own. She reached the right conclusion and quickly.
She gave me a horrified look. “It really is that much of a problem? I saw you looking at Adriana’s neck and you left so swiftly, but—”
“Oh, it’s a problem. So far, I’ve been able to deal with it. It’s better, easier, if I have some broth or baby food with meat. Or something with protein that’s run through the blender. But no hospital. That would just be a bad idea right now.”
“I understand.” She gave me a speculative look. “I can arrange for the food. And if you’ll let me, I can help with the pain and let you rest until it’s ready.”
“That would be lovely.”
She reached forward, touching me on the forehead. I heard her voice inside my head. Sleep.
I slept.
I woke to the smell of food: beef broth, French onion soup, and other, more exotic things that I couldn’t name but that smelled of tropical fruits and banana. Opening my eyes, I discovered it was night. I rolled over . . . and it didn’t hurt. For just a moment I reveled in the fact that I didn’t hurt. The absence of pain was absolutely glorious.
The boat wasn’t moving. Well, it was rocking gently, but not like it was out on the ocean. We’d apparently made harbor. Which explained why somebody’d felt secure enough to leave several open food containers on the nightstand next to my bed.
Vampires have terrific night vision. I didn’t even need to turn on the light. I sat up in bed and begin tearing into the food. I was ravenous and most of it tasted wonderful. I skipped the fruit drink, though. I loathe bananas. I was just finishing the last drop of soup when I noticed a slip of folded note paper that had been tucked under one of the bowls.
I unfolded it, to find a note.
We need to talk, but Queen L. said not to wake you.
We’re staying in her guesthouse. See you there.
Creede
I was glad they’d let me sleep. Now that I’d healed up and eaten, I was much safer to be around. But I wanted to clean up before I went out in public. The shower in the head on the boat was tiny but in working order. I dug up some toiletries and made myself presentable. Thankfully, some kind soul had brought my th
ings down from the deck. It would’ve been nice to have some fresh clothes, but unless I wanted to swipe something from Bubba, I’d have to make do. Since the lavalava didn’t have any blood- or food stains, that was what I put on, covering it once more with my jacket to protect my still red and somewhat tender skin.
I sighed as I laid the empty holster on top of the bed. No point in putting it on. The gun was gone. That sucked. One of my knives was gone. That was even worse. But I was alive. Bubba, Creede, and Dahlmar were all injured, but they had made it, too. I was sorry about Ivan. But considering what we were up against, it was practically miraculous we’d only had one casualty.
I glanced at the clock built into the wall. One A.M. Most likely everybody else was in bed by now, but maybe not. Besides, having rested and fed, I was wide awake. So I picked my way through the disaster area where the mess used to be and made my way to the stairs and up top.
It was a beautiful night. Not too hot, with just enough of a breeze to flap the sails on the boats that had them and rustle the leaves of the palm trees on the shore. Water lapped gently against the hull of the boat, and the clear white moonlight made it easy to see but also made the shadows seem that much darker.
As I stepped from the cabin doorway, I saw one of those shadows move ever so slightly. Someone was trying very hard to remain unseen.
I pulled my knife and charged, using vampire strength and speed. Before my opponent knew what was coming, I was on her and she was down, pinned to the deck with the edge of my knife at her throat.
I felt magic building and I pressed down on the knife so that the tip dimpled her skin without drawing blood. “Don’t even think about it.” I hissed and bared my teeth to make the . . . point perfectly clear.
