Green-Eyed Demon (Sabina Kane #3)

by Jaye Wells

  That was her first mistake.

  We circled each other slowly in an aisle formed between clumps of tombs. From the other side of the cluster of buildings, I heard grunts and the sounds of fists on bone. Every now and then, the fighting would be punctuated by a burst of magical energy.

  The bitch’s fangs flashed. “I’m trying to decide if I’m going to impale your lover with my blade or if I’ll rip out his throat. If you’re nice, I’ll let you watch.”

  That was her second mistake.

  A red haze descended over my vision. My hands itched to destroy her mouth for even daring to speak those words. My fists led the way, going after her face, her torso, anything to punish her. Her foot whacked into my ribs with a painful punch to my kidneys. She followed with a chop to my throat that had me gasping for air. For her trouble, she earned a backhand. She spat a mouthful of red-tinged spit to the ground.

  Apparently, the taste of her own blood flipped a switch somewhere under all that chain mail. Because the next thing I knew, she came after me in a blur of fists and kicks.

  I was too busy defending against the blows to inflict much retaliatory damage. I’m not a small woman, but she had to have three inches and a good twenty pounds of muscle on me. Her assault pushed me back until we were back in the main avenue of the cemetery.

  Another magical blast slammed through the air not far from where we fought. This one larger than the rest. Giguhl shouted something at Adam, followed by a high masculine scream. “Porcia!”

  The blows stopped suddenly. The female had ignored the magic, but the Count’s cry got her attention. Interesting.

  She slammed past me to give aid to her comrade. Stunned by the sudden lack of pain, it took me a second to give chase. By the time I reached her, she was already climbing up a wall, trying to reach the Count.

  I grabbed her by the chain mail and ripped her off the side. Above us, the Count was trading zaps with Adam while trying to ward off the blows of a severely pissed-off demon. Erron and Ziggy fended off three other vamps on the tombs across the way.

  Porcia’s elbow crashed into my nose. Bone crunched, followed by a warm gush of blood. I scrambled to catch her, but the haze of pain and the throbbing pain in my eyes blurred my vision. By the time I recovered enough to try again, she’d already made it to the rooftop. For a big girl, she certainly was agile.

  This time, she didn’t hesitate to draw her sword. Adam’s back was to her as he raised a stake over the Count’s chest. Giguhl held the vamp’s arms from behind. Neither saw her coming.

  “Adam!” I screamed.

  He jerked around just in time to see the blade. He leapt to the side. Porcia flicked her wrist at the last second and the steel sliced across the mage’s ribs. Adam fell hard with a pained grunt. The movement made his coat fall open, revealing a rapidly spreading red stain.

  My blood went glacial. In a single leap I managed to make the roof before Porcia could deliver a deathblow. The sword hovered above her head, ready to descend. My hands clamped around her hands just as she flexed her muscles to bring it down.

  “Giguhl,” I grunted, struggling against Porcia’s straining muscles. “Help Adam!”

  I kicked with the toes of my boots against the back of Porcia’s legs, trying desperately to break her grip on the sword. A blur of green in my peripheral vision told me Giguhl had gone to check on Adam.

  My arms shook with the effort of pulling against Porcia’s impressive strength. Instead of waiting to see who weakened first, I decided to go old-school.

  I struck like a snake, aiming for her jugular. The move forced me to weaken my grip on the sword. But luckily, Giguhl was already pulling Adam out of harm’s way.

  The minute the sharp points broke skin, Porcia’s body jerked and she screamed with rage. I clamped down harder, getting as much skin as blood. Metal clattered on stone.

  My hands gripped the insides of her elbows, holding her close. Then I jerked my head back, taking a chunk of her neck with me.

  She dropped to her knees. Her hand flew uselessly to the wound at her neck. Only time and blood could fix that extensive damage. Unlucky for her, she had neither at her disposal.

  I spat the taste of her from my mouth and grabbed the broadsword. Gripping the leather hilt in my hand, I raised the weapon. I still had the gun tucked into my waistband. But some special moments just call for the satisfying slice of a blade.

  Despite the bulkiness of the sword, I managed to bring it up easily. No hesitation or doubts stilled my hand. I brought in down hard and true. Porcia’s head rolled from her shoulders.

  Before it hit the roof, both it and her body burst into flames. I dropped the sword and swung around, pulling the gun as I went. Erron and Ziggy fought the Count. Their feet were on solid ground, but I had the advantage of a bird’s-eye view.

  “Erron, duck!”

  The recreant didn’t hesitate or question. He simply dropped to the ground. The Count looked up a split second after the gun’s bark ripped through the night. The whites of his eyes widened and stood in stark contrast to the mottled purple of his battered face.

  This bullet he caught right between the eyes.

  As the inevitable sparks flared where he used to stand, I wiped a trembling hand across my forehead.

  Giguhl called out. “Sabina, you need to get down here!”

  I jerked back into motion. As I leapt from the building, my heart pounded.

  Adam lay atop a concrete pad set into the ground. Giguhl knelt next to him, staring intently at the mage’s chest. I slowed, my stomach sinking at the sight of Adam’s too-white complexion and the beads of sweat gathered on his forehead.

  I ran over and skidded to my knees in front of him. I felt Erron and Ziggy fall in behind me. “Tell me.”

  Adam swallowed. “It’s just a flesh wound.”

  “Bullshit,” I said, my concern making me default to clipped speech. I slapped Giguhl’s hands away to see for myself.

  So much blood. I gently lifted the edge of his shirt to get a better look at the actual wound. An angry red slash—maybe six or eight inches long—cut across his lower ribs to the muscled ridges of his abdomen. Not as bad as I’d expected, but bad enough that I wanted to kill that bitch all over again.

  “Can you heal yourself?” Giguhl asked. His claws were covered in Adam’s blood. My stomach clenched at the sight.

  Adam swallowed and shook his head. “Too weak from all the spells.”

  I rounded on Erron. “You have to do it.”

  The musician’s eyes widened. “Me?”

  I leapt up to get in his face. “You’ll help us fight, but you won’t help him heal?”

  Erron’s face was placid, without a line of stress or guilt. “Can’t.”

  I turned to Ziggy. “You, then!”

  The quiet mage shook his head and held up his hands as he backed away.

  “Sabina,” Adam gasped behind me. I looked over my shoulder. “They can’t help.”

  “Why the fuck not?” Giguhl demanded.

  “When someone goes recreant, the Council strips them of their healing powers,” Adam said in a low tone, like he was sharing a shameful secret. “It was his punishment for declaring himself outside their laws.”

  My mouth fell open. When he’d told me they were outcasts, I assumed he meant they just had a difference of opinion with the Council. Not that they were shunned and stripped of certain powers. But as much as I felt bad about the seeming unfairness of that situation, my priority was getting Adam healed.

  “Anyway, he’ll be fine. It’s just a scratch,” Erron said.

  “You know what? If you’re not going to help, you can just leave,” I snapped.

  “Sabina,” Adam said. “They just helped us.”

  “Right, and now they probably just want to get back to your orgy or whatever. Don’t worry about us.”

  Erron’s eyes darkened. “Yes, we do so hate to miss out on the orgy. We apologize for intruding on your street party.”

  Guil
t pricked behind my eyes. But I didn’t have time to apologize. Adam was still bleeding. “Bye now.” Dismissing the recreants from my mind, I turned to the demon. “Giguhl, go get the car,” I barked.

  The air popped as Erron and Ziggy left. Adam watched me with a wary expression. “Red? You need to chill.”

  “Just tell me what to do.” It humbled me to not know what to do to help him. But since I came from a race that self-healed without trying, my knowledge of basic first aid was sorely lacking.

  “Take off your shirt.”

  I paused. “Why?” Suspicion slowed my delivery.

  He rolled his eyes. “You need to apply pressure to slow the bleeding.”

  Without further comment, I ripped off my jacket and tore off my tank. The way the mancy’s eyes flared at the sight of me clad only in a bra told me he was far enough from death’s door.

  “Now what?”

  “Press it to the wound. Hard.”

  “But won’t that hurt?” He shot me an impatient glare.

  I placed the wadded shirt against the cut, pressing as instructed. The fabric went from white to red almost instantly as blood soaked in.

  He hissed through clenched teeth. “More.”

  Ignoring the voice inside shouting that hurting him more was the last thing I wanted, I did as instructed. Gods love him, he tried to hide his pain.

  He swallowed hard. “Talk to me.”

  “About what?”

  He shrugged, and the look on his face told me he immediately regretted the move.

  “Okay, um, have I mentioned that if you ever scare me like this again I’m going to kill you?”

  “We really need to work on your bedside manner.” He paused. “But ditto.”

  I drew back. “Me? I’m not the one bleeding.”

  “Sabina, since we’ve known each other you’ve been staked twice—”

  I cut in. “That first time was your fault. Or did you conveniently forget sending Giguhl to my apartment to shoot me with a crossbow?”

  He winced, this time from a guilty conscience instead of the wound. “But I’ve had to see you in pain, too.”

  I held up a hand. “Okay, fine. I get into a lot of fights. Big deal. You don’t have to worry about me. My body is a healing machine.”

  “I wasn’t just talking about physical wounds, Sabina.” His hand came up to rub my cheek. “Your preternatural abilities don’t extend to less visible injury.”

  Suddenly a conversation meant to distract him from his pain had turned into a chat about my emotional wounds. Time to change the subject. “How about we discuss that after we get your very visible chest wound healed.”

  He tipped my chin so I was forced to look in his eyes. “Have I mentioned I’m a huge fan of that bra?”

  The corner of my lip twitched. “This old thing?”

  The scream of metal crashing into metal ripped a hole in the silence. Keeping one hand pressed to Adam’s chest, I grabbed my gun as I swiveled on my heels. Two headlights sped toward us. I squinted and made out the shape of Giguhl’s horns behind the windshield.

  “Looks like the cavalry arrived,” I said.

  “Please tell me you’re driving back to the shop. I’d hate to survive a sword attack only to die in a fiery car crash.”

  Giguhl slammed on the brakes. The Gremlin fishtailed and sprayed dirt and pebbles at us. I ducked over Adam to protect him from the spray. When I looked up again, Giguhl was jumping out of the car and running around the crunched fender of the Gremlin toward us.

  “G, I appreciate you getting the car, but did you really have to crash through the gates?”

  The demon skidded to a halt in front of me with his claws on his hips. “Well, excuse me, Miss Perfect. For your information, I’ve never driven a car before.”

  My mouth fell open. When I’d ordered him to drive, he’d had no choice but to comply. In my stress of seeing to Adam, I’d totally forgotten Giguhl had never driven a car. “Well, in that case, I’m impressed all you hit was a gate.”

  Giguhl’s eyes shifted left. “Actually, we probably need to get moving.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s better that you don’t know in case the police come calling.”

  Deciding I definitely didn’t want to know, I began issuing orders to ensure everyone could fit comfortably in the crowded car. Once Giguhl and Adam were settled—Giguhl back in cat form in the back and Adam riding shotgun—I ran back around to the driver’s side.

  Just before I ducked in, a warm breeze whooshed through the avenue. A flash of something in the distance caught my eye. Almost like a lightning bug. I hesitated, hoping to catch a better look at whatever I’d seen.

  But the cemetery was still again and silent as a… well, you know. The low hum I’d noticed when we’d come in still thrummed in my head, but otherwise, nothing.

  “Sabina?” Adam’s voice sounded strained from pain.

  I shook off the bizarre feeling and lowered myself into the seat. “Sorry, thought I saw something. But it must have just been my imagination.”

  “Ooh,” Giguhl said, “Maybe it was a ghost.”

  I laughed. “Don’t be silly. Ghosts don’t exist.”

  But just before I slammed the door, I could have sworn I heard the sound of laughter on the breeze.

  15

  A masculine yell echoed down the hallway, followed by a brusque, feminine, “Quit being such a baby.” I rushed to the door to see what the voodooienne was doing to Adam.

  The mage was laid out on Zen’s worktable like a sacrifice. My eyes quickly located the source of his ire: a squirt bottle she used to flush out the wound.

  “Should I bother to ask how it’s going?” I asked, stepping up to the table.

  Adam’s jaw clenched as Zen sprayed more water. She didn’t answer my question. Instead, she called, “Brooks, I’m still waiting for that yarrow!”

  A faint response came from behind the closed door of the closet Zen had turned into a mini-apothecary. He emerged a couple of seconds later juggling a few glass jars and vials. “You’re almost out.” He held out a brown bottle to Zen, who popped the cork and looked inside.

  “Should be enough.” She tipped the vial, and a yellowish-green powder dusted the wound.

  “What’s that do?” I asked.

  Her impatient gaze swiveled to mine. She shook the brown vial. “Ground yarrow. It acts as a styptic to clot the blood.”

  Selecting another bottle, she held it up. “Clove powder to numb pain and prevent infection.” She popped off the top and liberally sprinkled the brown powder on top of the yarrow.

  Adam hissed and tried to jerk away.

  “Almost done,” Zen said. Brooks handed her a stack of gauze. To me she said, “Make yourself useful and tear off two strips of bandage tape.”

  Happy to have something to do with my hands, I did as instructed. I handed Zen the first strip about the same time Giguhl sauntered in. Thankfully, he’d put on clothes—a pair of red sweatpants and a black T-shirt advertising Zen’s store.

  “How’s the patient?”

  “Ornery as hell,” Zen said, smoothing the last piece of tape. “But he’ll live.”

  “Are we done yet?” Adam asked. He made to sit up, but the woman pushed him back down with a firm hand.

  “Oh, no you don’t. I still have to stitch you up.”

  Adam grimaced. “Is that really necessary?”

  Zen nodded at Brooks, who brought over a spool of thread and a long needle. My stomach flip-flopped in sympathy for Adam. “Either you let me stitch you up or it’s at least a week of bed rest,” she warned.

  Adam’s expression spoke volumes about his opinion of the second option. “Fine.”

  “I thought so.” She smiled. “Now just lay back. This won’t hurt a bit.”

  Giguhl coughed “Bullshit” into his claw.

  Zen’s head snapped up. “Don’t make me kick your green ass out of here.”

  The demon’s head ducked. “Sorry.”

&n
bsp; Zen put on a pair of bifocals so she could thread the needle. “While I’m working, y’all can fill me in on what happened.”

  I glanced at Adam. If talking would bother him, the discussion could wait. His eyes strayed to the needle for a moment before he finally nodded. Obviously he’d appreciate the distraction.

  “We were ambushed,” I began. “One second the street was empty, and the next thing we knew…”

  I told her the whole story, from the midget orgy to the Count’s threats against Adam to Erron’s hasty departure. As I talked, Adam gasped from the needle’s sting. His male pride wouldn’t appreciate pitying glances or pauses, so I kept going. The story wrapped up about the same time Zen completed her task.

  “Why did they target Adam?” she asked, snipping off the loose thread.

  Leave it to Zen to focus on the part that made me most uncomfortable to talk about. “Lavinia believes Adam and I are romantically involved—”

  “Because you are,” Zen interrupted. Giguhl chuckled across the room. Brooks covered his mouth with his hand.

  I avoided Adam’s suddenly intent gaze to stare down the voodoo priestess. “Can we please focus?” Zen bit her lip to hide her smile. I continued. “It’s my fault. Back in California she and I had this big fight and I told her I was carrying Adam’s baby. I’d been trying to piss her off so she’d make a mistake, but I guess the mistake was mine.”

  “Wait,” Giguhl said. “You never told me that.”

  I slashed a hand through the air. “By now she knows it was a lie, but she also knows Adam and I are still… partners.”

  Brooks cleared his throat. Zen shot Giguhl an amused look. The demon mouthed, “I told you so.”

  Ignoring all of them, I glanced at Adam. He winked at me, which made me more uncomfortable than the others’ reactions. “Anyway, that’s why she ordered him killed. She figured she’d go after someone I cared about to force my cooperation.” My face began to flame about halfway through that sentence.

  “That’s been bugging me,” Adam said. I looked up. “All along we’ve assumed Lavinia and the Caste wanted you dead. So why play these games?”

  I shrugged. “She probably has some elaborate plan to torture me before she decapitates me.”