by Lolita Lopez
Jace snorted. “Your people?”
Isla grinned at his teasing tone. “Well, the non-demon half of me is Latina. Daddy’s family boasted a long line of extremely powerful brujas and curanderos.”
“Oh, I know.” Jace turned left onto a dead-end street. “I remember your dad’s healing touch rather well.”
“I always forget you were with Midnight Vice when Daddy was on the squad,” she murmured, fond thoughts of her father dancing through her mind. Not wanting to get emotional, she quickly changed the subject. She gave Jace an impish glance. “Damn, you’re old!”
“Hey!” Jace protested loudly. “I was maybe twenty when I worked with Inigo.”
“Yeah, like, seventeen years ago.”
Jace tapped the brakes hard enough to make her lurch forward in her seat. He fixed her with a feigned glare. “Would you like to walk?”
She shrugged. “I’m young. My hips can handle it.”
Shaking his head, Jace grunted and continued driving. “You’re really insufferable sometimes.”
“I try.” Isla winked at him, enjoying their playful banter. The lightened mood was nice and helped lessen the stress of their surreal situation. Unfortunately, it didn’t last.
“Second house from the end. Yellow trim,” Jace announced.
Isla surveyed the surrounding houses. They were all abandoned, their yards overgrown with brown grass and weeds. Broken doors hung from hinges. Torn window screens flapped in the wind. “Nothing like the bad vibe from vampire lowlifes to run off the neighbors.”
“Apparently,” Jace muttered, pulling up to a sidewalk. He put the Tahoe in park and shut off the engine. His eyes flashed amber. “This place feels wrong to me.”
“I’ll second that.” Isla opened her door. The wind kicked up and buffeted her face. It carried the stink of demons. She glanced at Jace. “You smell that?”
He nodded, his aura bristling. “I’m having a feeling of déjà vu.”
“Oh, yippee!” Isla’s sarcasm brought a tiny smile to Jace’s face. “You can breach the door. I’ll hang back.”
“You’re so kind,” Jace grumbled and headed toward the gate. “Keep your eyes open.”
Isla walked backwards as they proceeded down the cracked sidewalk. She had the irksome sensation of being watched. It didn’t sit well with her. When Jace started up the rickety stairs, she turned around and stayed an arm’s length behind him, her hand raised defensively, energy tingling at her fingertips. The door sat slightly ajar in its frame. Murmuring voices could be heard.
Weapon in hand, Jace cast a quick look over his shoulder before kicking in the door and storming inside. “Hands in the air!”
Jace’s authoritative shout startled Isla as they burst into the rundown house. When he tapped into his archangel powers like that, accessing the righteous voice of God, it made her head swim. The demon in her revolted, snarling and snapping and begging for release.
A trio of young men threw themselves on the floor, hands over their heads. She’d never seen subjects surrender so quickly. When one of the young men looked up, she understood why. His bloodied face displayed a broken nose and busted lip. Black fluid oozed from the wounds. The smallest hint of a fang peeked down from his fat upper lip. His irises were pink.
“Baby vamps,” Isla murmured, recognizing the early signs of transformation.
“Look, man,” the scared guy said, “we don’t know anything about the drugs or any woman named Renata, okay? Your buddies already beat the shit out of us. We don’t know anything. We can’t even remember how we got here.”
Jace lowered his weapon. “What can you remember?”
“I don’t know. It’s all a blur. Some party in Clear Lake, a really hot girl, and then nothing.”
Isla rolled her eyes. “The guys who beat you up—what did they look like? Did you notice anything strange about them?”
“Yeah,” one of the others piped up. “They smelled real bad. Like rotten eggs.”
“Want to give them the CliffsNotes version while I check the house?” Jace asked, his annoyance with the baby vamps obvious. She nodded and Jace left.
Isla motioned for the three young guys to get up and take seats. “Look, there’s no easy way to say this. You’ve been fanged. You’re vampires now. When the sun sets in about an hour, you’re going to get hungry—ravenous actually. You’ll have the urge to kill. If you do, someone like me is going to hunt you down and wipe you out. If you’d like to avoid that sticky end, you’ve got one choice. You head to Sister Marcie’s. She’ll hook you up with some donor blood, walk you through the first few weeks of your transition, and get you processed and licensed.”
Isla paused to let the information sink into their foggy minds. To their credit, they didn’t freak out like most newbies usually did. They seemed almost relieved to know what the hell was going on with them.
“So, should I call Sister Marcie or—?” She pointed to the wooden spike at her left hip.
The response was unanimous. “Sister Marcie!”
“Good choice.” She pulled her phone from pocket. Sister Marcie happily agreed to send over a van ASAP to pick up the newly turned vampires. Isla had just hung up when Jace came back into the living room. “Well?”
“I found a room full of empty bottles of drain cleaner and acetone cans and God knows what else.”
“So this was a meth lab too.”
“Probably.” Jace gestured to the fidgeting couch-load of vampires. “And them?”
“Sister Marcie’s sending some of her people over right now. They’ll be fine so long as they follow her—”
An explosion interrupted Isla, throwing her across the room and into Jace. His arms instinctively curled around her body as he twisted to accept the full brunt of their fall. They bounced on the dingy carpet. After the initial chaos, Isla and Jace clambered to their feet. She shoved the baby vamps out of the way and rushed after Jace. “Stay here!”
“They blew up my fucking Tahoe!” Anger roiled beneath Jace’s features. He pulsed with angelic energy, the waves of fury burning her skin. “Demonic bastards!”
There was no missing the heavy stench of demon. Squealing tires caught her attention. A silver Porsche disappeared around the corner. Real subtle.
As the demonic henchmen fled the scene, Isla pried her phone free and called Sister Marcie. There was no time to lose. “Don’t bother sending the van. You won’t be able to get through. I’m bringing them to you right now.”
Jace looked at her with surprise. “You’re what?”
“Hold tight. I’ll be right back.” Isla marched into the house, grabbed two of the vamps’ shirts in one hand and the third in the other and skipped them from the house to the entryway of Sister Marcie’s downtown vampire shelter. It took a whole hell of a lot of energy to move four bodies all the way across Houston. Sister Marcie waited in the entryway of her shelter and smiled welcomingly to the newest members of her support family. As the guys collapsed and dry heaved, Isla shot an apologetic frown Sister Marcie’s way. “Sorry I can’t stay.”
“I know. I heard it over the scanner.” Sister Marcie monitored police scanners to anticipate need of her unique services. “Go and God be with you.”
“Thanks.”
Isla focused on Jace and teleported back to him. He paced the front yard, shouting into his phone as he watched black smoke boil from the interior of his SUV. She heard sirens in the distance and gestured for Jace to wrap up his call to the Midnight Vice headquarters.
Jace cut short his request for a BOLO on the Porsche. He stared at her extended hand. “Where are we going?”
“To get my car and kick some demon ass.”
Chapter Four
Jace sagged as his feet finally touched solid ground in what appeared to be a parking garage. He hated teleporting. It just wasn’t natural for bodies to move through time and space like that. It was also an irksome reminder of the stark differences between them. While demons and archangels could appear anywhere at
will, only the descendants of demons inherited that trick. It had to do with the laws of temptation.
Isla patted his back and told him to breathe. He shot her an annoyed look. Before he could offer a snappy retort, his eyes landed on the silver ’69 Chevelle SS right behind her. “Whoa!”
“My baby.” A broad grin on her face, Isla fished a key ring from her pocket and unlocked the passenger door. “It was Daddy’s project car. He never got around to fixing it up while he was alive. Took me years to learn enough to do it myself.”
“Why have I never seen this before?” Jace ran his hands over the wide black racing stripes on the hood. “I would have noticed this in the parking lot at work.”
Isla shrugged. “This is my pleasure vehicle. Besides, it’s just easier to skip between work and home. If I wasn’t so damned tired, we’d make chase like that, but I just don’t think I have the energy today.”
At her weary tone, Jace gave her the once-over. She looked a bit deflated and haggard around the eyes. “I don’t want you expending yourself, Isla. Renata’s likely to put up a hellacious fight. You’re going to need your strength.”
“And supplies.” Isla walked around and popped the trunk.
Jace whistled as he took in the stockpile she had hidden there. “And here I was worrying we’d have to hit up headquarters for a resupply.”
Smiling, she snatched a backpack from the trunk and shoved it into his hands. “I’d prefer it if you didn’t open any of the demon-vaporizing powders and potions in there. It’s windy and a face full of that shit really stings.”
Jace nodded as he rifled through the backpack and considered the finer points of fighting demons with a half-demon at his side. He pulled out a handful of bullet clips. “I’ll stick to the modified rounds.”
“Good choice.” Isla slammed the trunk closed. “Vamos.”
Jace slid into the passenger’s seat and exchanged some of his vampire-killing weapons for demon-vanquishing ones. The car roared to life, his seat vibrating beneath him. He heard the snap of Isla’s lap belt and glanced over.
Her eyebrows lifted. “I’d buckle up if I were you.”
Jace didn’t have to be told twice. He dropped the clips in his lap and grappled for his lap belt. He’d barely snapped it in place when Isla pressed the clutch and gas and shot out of the parking space. She sped down the curving levels of the garage, wheels squealing, feet moving back and forth between the pedals with the barest of pauses.
When they reached the exit facing out on a busy downtown street, he expected the vehicle to stop—but it didn’t. Eyes wide, he pumped an imaginary brake. They raced onto the street, the tail end of the Chevelle swinging wide before it snapped straight. Miraculously, they fit into the tiniest space between speeding cars. “Jesus Christ!”
“Calm down,” Isla chided, her hand effortlessly guiding the gear shift as she depressed and released the clutch. “You know I can see things.”
“I don’t care.” Jace gripped his lap belt and eyed the dashboard. He cursed the lack of airbags. “For all we know, the curse has fucked with your radar. I’d like to not find out you’re off by a few seconds when we’re T-boned by a semi.”
Isla rolled her eyes and zipped down the bustling street toward a northbound I-45 on-ramp. He breathed easier at the thought of more space for her jarring maneuvers but his relief was short-lived. She punched the gas, moving through the gears as she tried to outrace the semi barreling toward them in the merging lane. Like a bat out of hell, she swerved onto I-45, cutting a hair’s breadth in front of the semi and sliding across two lanes of traffic to an opening.
“Where the hell did you learn to drive? The James Bond School for Stunt Drivers?”
Isla snorted. “I wish.”
The Chevelle gained speed quickly, bypassing the already-speeding vehicles surrounding it. Isla weaved the car in and out of traffic, making up lost time in their pursuit of the demons who had firebombed his Tahoe. Jace didn’t have to ask where they were heading. The last house on the list wasn’t actually in Houston but on the shores of Lake Woodlands, an extremely wealthy enclave just north of Houston. Unless the Porsche was stopped by one of the Midnight Vice patrol units, it was almost a given the demons would beat them to Renata’s last hideout. And that was a bad thing.
Isla flicked on the stereo. She picked up the iPod stuffed into the console organizer straddling the floorboard hump and plugged an adapter into the cigarette lighter. Seconds later, eighties pop—German eighties pop—filtered through the speakers.
“‘99 Luftballons’?” Jace couldn’t help but laugh. “Weren’t you still in diapers when this came out?”
“Yeah. Not so much.” Isla checked her rearview mirror. “I didn’t make my debut into this world until three or so years after this song hit the big time.” She frowned at him. “But, really? You’re going to laugh at my choice of music? Dude, how many times have I heard you belting out ‘Pour Some Sugar on Me’ in the showers at work?”
Embarrassment gripped his chest. Was he really that loud? Who else had heard him singing? “What are you doing hanging around the guy’s locker room anyway?”
Isla giggled at his defensive tone. “Well, you know me, Jace. I’m all about the sausage fest.”
From anyone else, he would have been appalled, but from Isla it was par for the course. He barked with laughter.
She quirked a mischievous smile. “My quips, they slay.”
“Something like that.” Jace wiped the corners of his eyes. He had to admit the day had been enjoyable despite the absolute absurdity of their circumstances. He was beginning to understand why some officers left SWAT for patrol or detective work. There was obviously something nice about spending one’s nights with the same person, working the same leads and cleaning up the streets. Usually he balked at the idea of leaving the often chaotic but always fulfilling world of SWAT. Entertaining the idea of being assigned a partner like Isla didn’t.
His gaze drifted to the setting sun. Another half hour and it would be dark. Renata would be loose on the town. Even with the dragnet keeping her contained to Houston, there was just too much ground to cover in such a short amount of time.
Jace snuck a furtive glance in Isla’s direction. The relaxed expression she’d worn after their laugh had vanished. Tension radiated throughout her features. Her right knuckles were nearly white from gripping the shifter. Her left hand shook against the steering wheel. She swallowed hard and kept her focus forward on the traffic.
Over the last few hours, he’d learned to recognize the signals. She needed him. Now.
Without a word, he unbuckled his seat belt and slid across the bench seat to the middle spot. He snapped his new belt in place and cupped her neck before pressing a kiss to her temple. “Can you keep driving?”
She gulped. “I think so.”
“We can pull over somewhere.”
Isla quickly caught his gaze. “We don’t have time.”
Jace nodded and kissed her neck, a teasing grin curving his lips. “Try not to kill us.”
“No guarantees,” she murmured.
His hand drifted down her front, outlining the curves of her breasts through her tee shirt. As he slid his hand along her torso, he felt hard horizontal ridges beneath the cotton. “What is this?”
Isla swatted him away. “Never you mind.”
Any other time, he would have continued with his exploration but he had different priorities than uncovering all of her secrets. His fingers deftly unsnapped the buckle on her tactical belt. It fell away, sliding down around her hips on the seat. He flicked through the button at the top of her jeans and lowered the zipper to reveal purple polka dot panties. She shifted her weight as his hand slipped under the waistband of the cotton and gave him the extra room he needed to get the job done.
The musky scent of her arousal bloomed in the car. Jace licked a sensitive spot on her neck and sucked gently against the skin. His fingers moved down over her mound until they dipped between her slippery f
olds. Isla sucked in a short breath as his fingers ghosted over her clit. Her juices slicked her skin and soaked through the cotton of her panties. He could almost taste her salty sweetness and wished there was some way to get his mouth on her again. Later, he thought, and concentrated on rubbing the stiff nub.
Isla bucked against his hand. Her nostrils flared as she breathed deeply, rhythmically. Jace increased the pace of his circular moves and sucked harder on her neck. She groaned and wantonly pumped her hips. He could see her thighs tensing and relaxing. Her foot faltered on the gas pedal and their speed dropped a few miles before she punched it back into high gear. Jace’s gaze skipped from her face to the road ahead, ready to grab the wheel at a moment’s notice.
Her hands grew jittery. She gulped hard. “Oh, fuck, I’m going to…”
“I know, baby,” Jace cooed against her ear. “Let it go.”
A guttural sound emanated from her throat. Eyes wide, body undulating, Isla gripped the steering wheel hard. Her foot stomped the gas and they lurched forward for a few seconds. She drew dangerously close to a truck loaded down with construction supplies before regaining her control and reigning in their speed. Jace kept his hand against her sex, cupping her heat as she panted and swallowed.
When she’d calmed down, Jace slowly removed his hand. He brought his shiny fingers to his lips and licked her sweet cream from his skin. She shuddered at the sight. He rubbed his thumb over her lip as his hand slid around to caress her jaw. He leaned over and kissed her, pulling back far too soon to suit him. For their safety, though, he couldn’t keep her occupied with his mouth. Still, he knew she craved intimacy after their trysts. He could sense she needed to know he wasn’t just providing a service.
So he stayed in the center seat, riding bitch, as he’d crudely heard it referred to in the past, and slid his arm around her shoulder.
Isla shot him an amused smile and patted his leg. “You’re such a sap,” she teased.
“Only for you, baby,” Jace joked. Deep down inside, he knew differently. It wasn’t a joke but the absolute truth. He wanted to say something, anything, to help her understand how he felt, but then their exit came into view. Abruptly, he dropped his sentimental thoughts and embraced his business side. “There. Lake Woodlands Drive.”
