by Misty Evans
Humans…their ability to create something from nothing always enthralled me. Rad was only half-human, but that half was one-hundred-percent creative, ingenious rock god. He lived for his music the way I lived to wreak vengeance. I’d have traded all my supernatural abilities for one ounce of that creative human gene.
Because he was my blood slave, I felt what he felt, especially when we were within a few feet of each other. Right then, he was high on life. High on the chords coming from his guitar and the words coming from his mouth. His back was to me as I stood in the doorway, the muscles in his shoulders and his biceps working as he strummed. His dark hair had grown a few inches in the past month and was curling slightly around his ears and down his neck. For a split second, I forgot about Maria and the apocalypse and my job. All there was was Rad and his perfect back. I wanted to kiss my way down the vertebrae, run my hands through his hair. I wanted to hear him sing to me as he stroked his fingers over my body the way he did his guitar.
The last note of the song drifted away. I’d been so lost in my fantasy, I hadn’t noticed he’d quit singing. “What do you think?” he asked without even turning around.
I cleared my throat. “It’s got a good beat. Easy to dance to.”
The old American Bandstand cliché wasn’t lost on him. He’d lived as long as I had. “Dick Clark. I met him once, long time ago. He was a good guy.”
He rose, unhooked the guitar from the amp and made his way over to me. A wicked grin lit his face. “You’re home early.”
I walked into his arms without saying anything, burying my face in his neck. He could read my emotions, limited as they were, and didn’t ask what was wrong. His strong arms encircled me, and he stroked my hair, my back. His lips pressed a kiss against the top of my head. “Rough night?”
I was used to rough, and whining about the obstacles facing me wouldn’t solve any of them. With a Herculean effort, I stepped out of his embrace. “Parker paid me a visit.”
He dropped his arms, a crease forming on his forehead under his bangs. “Did she attack you?”
A little voice inside my head told me not to share the fact that she’d offered a trade. If Rad knew I was considering her proposal, he’d find a way to lock me up. Not that I’d allow that to happen, but I had enough fires to put out at the moment without expending energy fighting him. “I think it’s time you moved into the Institute.”
“What?” He took a step back. “Wait…you think I’m scared of Parker?”
I planted my feet, preparing for the fight to come. “Of course you’re not scared of Parker, but she was pretty explicit about what The Church plans to do if they catch you. From the way she talked, you’ve surpassed me on their wanted list.”
His eyes burned with indignation. He crossed his arms over his well-sculpted chest. “And you want me to hide and let you fight my battles.”
Here we go. “I want you to stay alive. You’ll be safest at the Institute until this blows over.” Or until the apocalypse kills us all. “Security by obscurity. Stay out of sight, under the radar. You know the drill. Once things quiet down and Parker finds a new boy toy, you can go on with your life.”
His face turned impassive. I held his gaze and kept my whirling emotions under control. He uncrossed his arms, stepped close once more. The scent of salty ocean air invaded my nose. “You’re not telling me the whole story.”
Damn. He knew me too well, even if I was shielding my emotions. Time for an evasion tactic. “Have you been downstairs tonight?”
A slight narrowing of his eyes told me he knew I was changing the subject. “I know Salmad and JR are predicting the end of the world.”
“You’re not worried?”
He chuckled, low and deep. The sound made me long to touch his naked chest. “Why would I be worried when I know you’re here?”
My heart pinched. I started to speak, had to swallow a sudden tightness in my throat. “I can’t stop Armageddon, Rad.”
Unless I somehow stole my father’s journal from Vatican City and it did, indeed, contain the antidote.
Rad gave a nonchalant shrug. “Then we’ll go out together.”
So cavalier. No one wonder I was in love with him. “Boy, that makes me feel so much better.”
He rubbed my upper arms and gave me a smile. “We’re a team, K. I’m not hiding out at the Institute and I’m not letting you face pestilence or any other damn plague alone. I’ll handle Parker. You have bigger things to worry about.”
“Parker threatened to harm you. That is not insignificant to me. Since the day I lost my family to Maria and the Noctifectors, nothing pisses me off more than when someone threatens me or mine. You’re the one she wants and it’s now my goal in life to make sure she never, ever, lays a hand on you.”
My voice got quieter as I said the words, my scarce supply of emotions effectively shutting down as the vengeance demon in me came to the forefront. She was controlled and calculating. A cold-hearted bitch who felt nothing and lived only to do her job serving justice and disposing of anyone who got in her way.
Emotionless powerhouse. That’s me.
Rad’s beautiful golden eyes widened as my demon peeked out. Usually, only my enemies got that little show, but at that moment, slipping into vengeance mode was necessary. I needed a clear head to make the hard decisions ahead of me. “I have to get back to work. Regardless of Parker, you should pack your things and some of mine too. If the end of the world is coming, we’ll be safer at the Institute. I’ll let the vitiums know they need to be prepared to move at a moment’s notice.”
My logic seemed to pacify him. “What about Aphrodite and Neve? Want me to round them up?”
I felt that odd pinch in my chest again. Radison Beaumont…breaking through my walls by being a nice guy. Again. “Yes. Thank you.”
“Done.” Paying no attention to my standoffish attitude, he drew me into an embrace and kissed me. His lips were firm and hot, teasing mine open with a practiced, reassuring touch.
A shiver went down my spine. I couldn’t help but give in. Like I said, he could break through any barrier I put up. With a kiss, an embrace—hell, with a simple look of those golden eyes. I don’t know how he does it, but I turn into a mushy, worthless demon every time.
He stroked a piece of hair from my face, rested his forehead against mine. “Parker is good—top of the Chicago Order of demon slayers—but she’s no problem for me. I can handle her.”
Rad probably knew her better than anyone. “I know you can.”
A breeze suddenly blew strands of hair around my face. The salty ocean scent intensified. Rad drew back his face a few inches, his gaze locking on mine as his Chaos demon showed up front and center. “If she as much as sneezes on you, I’ll end her.”
“She sneezes on me, and I’ll detach her sinuses and feed them to Satan’s hell hounds.”
He smiled and winked. “That’s the Kali spirit.”
My phone buzzed inside my cape. Caller ID said it was Moreno. Pecking Rad on the lips in goodbye, I left him and his beautiful body and went back to work.
Chapter Six
Millennium Park—Chicago’s wave at Y2K—stretched north as I lounged on a bench in the Lurie garden. Four a.m. and the band shell sat quiet, the sounds of traffic along the lakefront a soft, intermittent drone in the distance.
The sticky-sweet scent of Fae hung in the winter air, cloying and thick in my nose. Other smells, mostly human, were nearly drowned out by the odor. Minty gum wrappers, wet dog fur, newspaper print, car exhaust, molding leaves…the normal smells of the city.
Roiling dark clouds overhead were fat with rain instead of snow. Towering buildings on the west and north sides looked down on me with dozens of tiny lighted windows. Humans resisting the call of sleep. What were they doing in their high-rise condos and offices?
As I sat scanning the night, I thought about the humans in those buildings. To be so passionate, so emotional, so screwed up and so mortal fascinated me. The fact they were oblivio
us to the supernatural world and the contingent of demons, vampires, shifters and an assortment of other evils who all wanted to use them for one reason or another scared me.
I couldn’t save them all. Couldn’t protect everyone.
Stalks of brown prairie grass and Allium globes held their stems high in the garden, their plumes and flowers long dead. The stalks reminded me of humans as well; their birth, life and death all happening in such a short time, leaving their hollowed out remains behind. How fragile their lives were, and yet, how tough they tried to be. I admired that about them. Their ability to ignore their mortality.
To my left, Cloud Gate—otherwise known as the Bean, due to its shape—had been roped off. My acute hearing picked up the faint slapping noise of the yellow crime scene tape as it blew in the wind. The female human had been killed under the sculpture, her neck ripped to shreds. The third female since Christmas to die that way in this part of town and Chicago’s finest had squat for leads. I doubted the FBI had anything solid either. I’d taken care of Lamir, but this killer mimicking his MO was still running loose…running being the key term. From the looks of the wounds on the photo Moreno had sent to my phone, it was most likely a shifter. A large dog shifter.
I never took things at face value. Hence, my lying in wait for the killer to return to the scene of the crime or for my nose to pick up evidence. The sweet stench gave me pause and also confirmed my suspicions. There were many types of Fae demons. This one was a succubus.
Succubi live to drain emotions from others. Their favorite meal is human, and they can feed off the same one for months, sometimes years, before eventually killing them.
But ripping out a human’s neck? Not the typical succubus MO. Vampire? Check. Werewolf? Double check. Demon? Possibly, but atypical for succubi.
In my three hundred years on Earth, I only knew one succubus who enjoyed physically hurting humans in such a brutal manner. I also knew she was dead.
At least I hoped she was still dead.
Shifting on the bench, I scanned the area. The crime scene told me little, and besides what my highly sensitive nose was telling me, all I had to go off was Moreno’s photo and a sketchy autopsy report. Was it too much to hope the perpetrator would return to the scene and make my job easier?
Even better, if it was Maria, could she appear and give me a reason to blow off the tight anger simmering under my skin?
A new scent drifted over the dead landscape. Strawberry daiquiri lip balm and the smooth floral notes of Chloe perfume. Underneath those lay a whiff of fresh blood and old leather.
Vampire.
This particular vamp had given me a tube of watermelon lip balm for Christmas and stole my favorite perfume. Not to mention she regularly raided my closets for clothes and was currently on a vintage leather kick.
Beneath my cape, a tingling started in my blood. All vampires set off warning bells in my system now, but I was intimately linked to the Chicago pool.
“Hail, oh Queen of mine.” Maddy’s teenage snark cut through the night and echoed over the open space. Her boots clomped on the sidewalk as she walked arm in arm with a young man in a hoodie. The smell of werecat tickled my nose. “Thought you might be here.”
Her companion lifted his eyes from under his hood. His teeth flashed white in the shadows as he smiled. “I came to help.”
Arman. If the perpetrator was a shifter, there was no supernatural better equipped to help me hunt him or her down.
“Glad you’re both here. Any word on the shifter grapevine, Arman, about our mystery killer?”
He shook his head. Maddy shook hers as well. “Nothing on the vamp grapevine either. You sure it’s a supe?”
I crossed my legs at the ankles, settled farther down on the bench. The lack of chatter by either shifters or vamps confirmed my theory. “The MO is Lamir’s, but we took care of him, so this is a copycat killing. But our perp wants to throw off both the human investigators and the Bridge Council by making it appear that Lamir did the job.”
Arman lifted his nose and sniffed the air. “I smell succubus.”
“Exactly.”
“And…” Arman blinked and his eyes widened. His gaze swung around and locked with mine.
“What is it?”
His hands were stuffed deep in the pockets of his hoodie. Breaking eye contact, he balled them into fists and stretched the garment out, let it fall. Stretched again. “Nothing. It’s just…”
The nose went back up and he stepped out of Maddy’s embrace, walking toward the Bean. Maddy followed. “Just what?”
He didn’t say anything else, ignoring the footpaths and crossing through the dead plants and grasses as he headed for the crime scene. Keeping a wary eye out, I trailed several yards behind.
At the scene of the crime, Arman ducked under the tape, kneeled and swiped his fingers across the ground. Raising the ends to his nose, he swore under his breath and swung around to find me.
Earlier, a group of kids hanging around the Bean had dared each other to tear down the tape and reenact the crime. Gruesome, but humans had a natural curiosity and morbid fascination with violent death. Demons and most supernaturals reveled in it. My own teenage years in Maria’s court had been filled with it.
Now the area was as dead as the victim. Ironically, Arman, who’d killed his fair share of humans during the time he couldn’t control his werecat side, was far more serious than his human counterparts, and seemingly more shocked at what had transpired there. “I don’t believe it.”
Maddy shot me a questioning look. I shrugged. “Believe what, Arman? What do you smell?”
His voice was barely a whisper. “Wolf.”
Granted, the wet dog scent here was stronger, but plenty of people walked their dogs around the area. I was disappointed my nose hadn’t picked up the difference.
So had the succubus come along after the killing? Maybe watched it happen?
In my mind’s eye, I could imagine Maria watching, even egging on the werewolf. Feeding her hunger and flooding the area with her strong dark magic.
But why did it look like Lamir’s work?
A tight sigh left my lips. Maria could make it look like anything she wanted.
Arman’s face tightened further. It was a wolf, but not just any werewolf.
A thought dawned…one I didn’t like any more than the fear on my young blood slave’s face. “Merde. Please tell me it’s not who I think it is.”
Maddy frowned. Arman stood and started stepping backwards, placing each foot with care, as if retreating from a landmine. “It can’t be. Ranulf would never kill an innocent female.”
Chicago’s pack leader wouldn’t have been my first pick for this either. “I have to look into the possibility, Arman. You know that.”
His eyes blazed with defensiveness. “He preaches peace with the humans. He’s the Bridge Council’s biggest and most outspoken supporter. Ranulf wouldn’t jeopardize our community here in Chicago and he would never kill a human.”
Never is a long time. And a supernatural’s propensity for killing humans is high.
Now that I’d become queen of the Undead, the vampire nation was the Bridge Council’s most important ally. Could it be that Ranulf was pissed about this new arrangement? Maria would do anything to get back at me. Had he and Maria struck a deal to do just that?
Motioning for Arman and Maddy to follow, I tucked my hands inside my cape pockets and checked for my snub-nose gun and the silver bullets it used. Check and check. “Come on. Let’s go talk to your werewolf king.”
Chapter Seven
Arman grabbed my arm and spun me around. He was more of a threat to himself than to me, but that didn’t stop my hackles from rising. The mix of vamp and demon bloods inside my veins roared to life.
Maddy felt it, too, and her blood answered mine. Arman was my blood slave and wouldn’t hurt me, which Maddy knew, but I was her queen. The blood bond we shared would force her to protect me at all costs. She stepped between us. “Back off, b
ro.”
“Sorry.” Arman released me, held up both hands, but his eyes pleaded with mine. “If you walk into Ranulf’s den and accuse him of murder, it could start a new war between the shifters and the Bridge Council. Let me talk to him first. Find out why his scent is here. There may be a good reason.”
There was no good reason I could think of. “If he’s guilty, he’ll run the minute you tell him we found his scent here.”
“He won’t run. He’s innocent.”
A new odor wafted past my nose. Maddy’s head whipped around as she caught a whiff of it as well.
Arman followed our gazes to the east, his nose twitching. “Noctifector.”
Maddy and I automatically fell into a back-to-back warrior pose, protecting each other’s six while circling so we could both scan the area. Sensing danger, Volante hummed to life where she was wrapped around my right forearm. I let her handle slide into my palm. “Not just a Noct. Parker Burkett.”
Arman looked confused. “Rad’s fiancée?”
“Ex-fiancée,” Maddy corrected. “And he never loved her or anything. He’s totally into Kali.”
Totally. Right. The male screwing up my emotions on a daily basis was totally into his music. Since Parker’s father happened to be Rad’s producer…well, things had gotten messy around Christmas and Rad was still dealing with the fallout of firing him and breaking up with Parker. Parker had been suspiciously absent, but I’d been too busy with a houseful of unexpected visitors to care.
Until now.
“Two visits in one night,” I called to her. “In case I wasn’t clear before, we’re not BFFs.”
She floated out of the shadows, dressed in Noctifector black and wearing more leather than Maddy. Her hooded monk-type robe billowed out behind her as she strutted down the walkway toward us. “I was tired of waiting for your call.”
While Parker walked alone, I sensed the presence of other Nocts spread out in the other three directions. Nothing like a little good versus evil in the heart of Chicago.
