by Gaja J. Kos
As we waited for everybody to gear up, Ilya introduced me to the team. My occasionally glitching brain fought to store the numerous names along with matching mental snapshots of the faces, but by the time I’d met the entire crew, I accepted that even if I forgot their names, I’d recognize their energy signatures anywhere. That, even more so than scents, was something not just my mind, but my body remembered.
I lingered in the far corner with Ioan and Andrei, two of my fellow demons, and watched Ilya take the stage. Everyone in the room had already been briefed beforehand, but there was a special kind of pleasure in listening to the vampire as he addressed the crowd.
“It’s been a while since I’d been on a trip, and Frankfurt sounds like an excellent city to sample some alcohol-laced blood.” A round of low laughs circled the room, and Ilya’s lips quirked into a crooked smile. “Preferably straight from the vein.”
This round, there was nothing low about the laughter. Even I joined in, the buzz of energy whisking away the dregs of my humanity and turning me into the hybrid hunter who was fucking itching for a fight.
“Aside from Jonas Obst and Benedikt Weser,” Ilya went on, “who we should attempt to take alive, if possible, everyone else is fair game.” His gaze slid to me, and I nodded once more, confirming the instructions Alin had passed on to him. “The lair is well protected, so despite having enough demons to spirit us in, the situation requires a…more explosive approach.”
I stepped forward as Ilya handed me the proverbial reins and tapped the bag still slung over my shoulder. “Every team of two will get a mag-tech charge to detonate. We have to set them fast, then hit the assholes before the dust has a chance to settle.”
“Understood?” Ilya asked the team.
When everyone barked out their affirmative, he hit the lights and projected the rough layout of the lair from the USB I’d handed over to him during our quick tour and introductions.
“Excellent.” He clasped his hands behind his back, turning from gang leader into hot professor as he stood beside the projection and addressed his team. “Teams, pick out your point of attack, and we can get this show on the road.”
As murmurs swept across the room, Ilya walked over to my side. An emotion I couldn’t quite place lingered in his brilliant eyes.
“What?” Self-conscious, I shuffled from foot to foot.
“You remind me of someone.” Ilya shrugged. “That’s all.”
That was far from all, though I suspected those depths had nothing to do with me.
So instead of grilling the vampire, I simply asked, “Someone good, I hope?”
The shift in his scent all but confirmed he’d been speaking about someone he cared about.
Loved, maybe.
“Actually,”—his lips stretched into a broad smile—“she’s the kind of person who just might kick my ass once she learns of the sheer epicness of the stunt we’re about to pull.”
I chuckled, but the mirth quickly waned. I lowered my voice so only Ilya could hear. “If things start to go south, get your men out.”
Ilya dipped his chin in agreement, but we both knew it was a lie.
I swept my gaze across the room.
None of the individuals here would willingly flee. A part of me doubted they’d retreat even under orders. Not that Ilya would give them. I should know. The man was as stubborn as a damn Freundenberger.
The only thing I could do was hope that in saving Isa and the killers’ potential future victims, I wasn’t condemning a whole group of supes to a painful death.
23
The mag-tech shield Ilya and I huddled behind rocked under the force of the explosion.
Several more crashes echoed in rapid succession as juiced-up power slammed into the barriers, and I knew that once my ears stopped ringing, there would be sirens wailing in the distance, initiating the countdown before ICRA flooded the scene. With the sheer amount of magic Lena’s nifty little bombs pumped out, there was no chance in all the bloody realms that our first responders would be of the more mundane variety.
I glanced at Ilya, the determination shaping his face mirroring the drive within me.
No more than a second passed between the explosions and the utter obliteration of the multilayered wards. In the blissful absence of pressure, I grabbed Ilya’s warm hand and broke us both down into particles. Our bodies dissolved with minimal effort.
For a split second, I allowed myself to hesitate, become accustomed to my passenger, then swiftly carried us over the fenced lot snaking around the perimeter and towards the squat, old building Kauer’s men had turned into their base. Even in this disembodied state and with the magic pollution saturating the air, the presence of the shrine grazed against my atoms—an inky, oily sensation that made me wonder just how fucking heavy the now-gone wards must have been to keep such emissions contained.
When we reached the midway point, three men rushed out the back entrance of the blocky structure. No demons, thankfully. Ilya and I raced overhead, leaving the trio for those assigned to the perimeter to take down. We swept in through the open door into a sparsely furnished but large antechamber, then veered sharply to the side as another group barreled straight at us.
The image of flies smeared across the windscreen flashed through my mind even when I knew my particles could withstand a person slamming into them. Chances were they’d scatter and regroup around the obstruction long before anything could actually touch them. But until I got more comfortable with this form, improvised experimenting wasn’t high on my list.
Taking Ilya on this ride was about as far as I was willing to go.
Though keenly aware of his weight making floating harder, I refused to shift between forms just yet. The building was a damn frenzy of activity. Isa must have seen only a damn part of the people involved in this crap, because even with our generous estimation of how many shitbags we’d have to fight, we were way off the mark.
Ilya’s concern simmered between us, but backed off as the more primal nature of our aspects shoved its way to the forefront.
We drifted into the next room.
I eyed a burly-looking group approach two witches standing by a display of grotesque masks mounted on the wall. Both women had a business-like air to them thanks to their executive look, but unlike their polished exterior, the power they radiated was harsh, discordant even. Magic twisted into something it wasn’t intended to be.
Their exchange was over before I could properly eavesdrop. A minor setback, but nothing to agonize over, especially as the burly band of assholes darted into the adjacent room.
With the sum of Ilya’s and my atoms now positioned directly behind the witches, I gave Ilya a metaphysical nudge.
When his affirmative brushed against my awareness, I forced our respective bodies back together. His fangs sank into the witch’s throat before my feet even touched the ground.
The second witch jerked, but I was ready for her. Stringing my demon fire like a rope around her neck, I yanked. The sting of charred flesh hit my nostrils, but no blood marred the air as I pulled the flaming blue rope, taking the witch’s head clear off and cauterizing the wound along the way.
“Impressive,” Ilya commented, the tips of his fangs gleaming crimson.
The witch he’d been holding crashed to the ground with a dull thud, the utterly wrong angle of her neck revealing Ilya had opted only for a sip before finish things off in a much faster manner.
Something I became damn glad for as a guy with biceps larger than my bloody head barged into the room with a whole merry entourage on his heels. Shit, and here I’d been thinking the previous group had held first place in the tough-guy department.
Fighting the urge to unleash my wolf, I slipped into particle form and soared across the space while Ilya faced the steroid-lover head-on.
A thread of warning shot through me once I regained corporeal form behind the group. Unless I wanted to run out of fuel, I’d only be able to pull my vanishing trick a couple of times more. Shit
. Turning the spark of frustration into anger, I blasted two of the fucks with demon fire before throwing myself physically on the third. The vamp thrashed as I fed a stream of blazing blue into his body.
But, adhering to the oh-so-manly unspoken code, he didn’t scream.
A touch of wind on my cheek jostled me. I tilted back right as a fist swung my way—but before those knuckles even came close to connecting with my face, the man flew backwards. Ilya was a storm of speed and power as he tackled the werewolf to the ground.
I poured more fire into the vamp. He’d managed to worm around in my grip thanks to the interruption, and was now facing me with his fangs out and something I wasn’t quite sure was pleasure or pain etched into his features. The fuck?
He bucked, then fucking kneed me.
I grabbed on to him with flaming hands and rode his body like I was the bloody star of a goddamn rodeo. The fire sputtering from me did shit to help since the guy clearly welcomed the heat, so I did the only thing I could.
His panic surged through me in a satisfying wave as our bodies disintegrated.
I shot towards the ceiling, towards the wall with the spiked masked monstrosity mounted on it, then brought our flesh back.
The second we started to materialize, I slammed the fucker onto the mask then hurried to cushion my fall as I dropped like a stone. I landed in a crouch and glanced up, though the dripping blood marring the linoleum was telling enough on its own.
The spikes had sliced clean through.
“Push ahead,” Ilya shouted when I made a move for the nearest of his attackers. “I’ve got this room covered.”
We might have agreed to work in pairs, but there was no arguing the command in his voice.
Or the urgency that beat a heavy rhythm within me, matching the distant cry of sirens.
For what needed to be the final time, I took particle form. I dragged my ass above the ocean of heads that seemed to multiply every time one of ours took someone down and aimed for the shrine. After a dead end that had me swearing, I finally found the right turn in this bloody maze, but a gut-wrenching scream cut me off before I could cross the threshold.
I reeled my atoms around.
Fuck.
A vamp was sucking on Ioan’s neck, the demon’s body immobile under the thick layer of magic the witch standing beside them kept pumping out. I surged forward. Ioan’s flickering, fading energy unlocked reserves within me I didn’t even know I had.
Swifter than before, I slammed my body together and knocked the vamp off my fellow demon while at the same time catching the witch in the face with a concentrated burst of blue fire. Her gut-churning scream would have been the kind to give me nightmares—if she hadn’t deserved every damn shred of agony.
As the first hint of her impending death prickled my senses, I threw a wall of impenetrable blue around me in a circle and knelt beside Ioan. My energy extended a phantom hand to the demon just as I pressed my corporeal one to the side of his ravaged neck. Warm blood flooded my skin.
Shit. There was no way he could heal this in time, not unless…
Ignoring how every pump of his heart sent a new wave of blood spilling onto my hand, I extended that thread of energy farther—guided it until it not only touched Ioan’s, but seeped into it.
“Take it,” I urged.
He shot me a wide-eyed look that temporarily overpowered the daze.
“We’re not compatible, Ioan.”
We weren’t prospective mates. And I hadn’t truly heard stories of demons lending power in such a way. I needed to touch on the subject with someone as soon as we got out of this shithole, but right now, I had to trust my gut.
Ioan taking some of my energy was the only way he’d push through this.
“Do it,” I commanded. “Just accept what I’m giving.”
He did.
Ioan opened up, and my energy flowed into him, a measured amount that wouldn’t leave me too badly weakened but delivered a kick to his system. The gushing blood against my hand slowed, then stopped right as I reeled back my power. Ioan breathed heavily, tears trickling from the corners of his eyes.
He looked at me. “Thank you, Lotte.”
“Can you get yourself to your lair?” I didn’t trust I’d done a good enough job for him to keep on fighting. When the demon nodded, I said, “I’ll update Ilya. Go.”
As he faded into nothing, I dissolved the wall of fire. Someone must have taken care of the vamp I’d knocked off Ioan because all that was left of him was a torn-off head. A roll of scents headed in my direction alerted me to incoming company, so I hauled ass towards the shrine.
The sheer reek of magic seeping from under the black wooden door watered my eyes.
I kicked it open, splinters flying, and launched forward—
A crash sounded behind me.
I spun sharply, teetering on the threshold—
A man clad from head to toe in elegant black stared at me with a malevolent gaze, fury contorting his features into an unappealing display.
Him.
It was him.
Jonas Obst. The fuck who fed on the dead.
And right behind him—
Red-stained fangs gleamed for a split second before our vamp killer sank them into one of Ilya’s men.
Leaving the shrine behind, I rushed into the fight. Sirens wailed ever louder, and a medley of grunts, punches, and snapped necks overpowered the space. In a blur of blond hair and swift moves of his agile body, Ilya ripped the vamp off his guy and tackled the asshole. I advanced on Jonas, but the sudden triumphant gleam in his eyes caused my steps to falter. What—
I spun around right as four of his crew rushed into the shrine.
The first of the artifacts crashed to the ground.
“STOP THEM,” I roared. “PRESERVE THE SHRINE.”
It was the only evidence we had. The only concrete fucking evidence tying Jonas directly to the murders.
But even as every single one of Ilya’s men who wasn’t locked in a fight to the death unleashed themselves on the destroyers, the crackling of a flame coming to life shocked my ears.
“NO,” I shouted.
But it was too late.
The fire, fueled by magic, touched the hardwood floor.
The shrine went up in flames.
24
The fire consumed the shrine with unnatural speed.
Andrei tore into the crone responsible for the destruction, but her magic raged on, devouring every last shred of evidence meant to clear Isa’s name.
A snarl broke from my lips, and I whipped my head around just in time to see Jonas running from the room like the chickenshit prick he was.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” I shouted at the warlock’s back.
Almost by the door, the asshole evaded one of Ilya’s men and shoved another aside with magic that thumped through the space. I delivered a roundhouse kick to a werewolf coming at me from the side, never taking my eyes off Jonas’s disappearing form.
With the shrine destroyed, he and his vamp buddy were all we had left.
I started after the fucker, but got no farther than a step as a mean-looking blade flaming with burnt orange demon fire swung right at my neck. Swearing, I ducked and blasted the demon, catching him straight in the groin, but couldn’t stop my momentum from carrying me forward.
As I rolled across the ground, I spotted Ilya grappling with Benedikt Weser on the floor. Blood poured down Ilya’s cheek from what looked like bite marks, but he was holding his ground, refusing to give the slimy vamp a second to breathe even as he kept coming at him with teeth and steel.
But as I came out of that final roll, something changed.
Weser straddled Ilya and snapped at him.
Ilya blocked the wickedly sharp fangs from sinking into his neck with his arm, but the move left his torso exposed.
I knew what was coming long before Weser thrust his dagger into Ilya’s chest.
I didn’t think. Just reacted.
As the
blade connected with Ilya, sinking through his black T-shirt towards his heart, I hit Weser with enough demon fire to burn a hole straight through to the other side. The vampire screamed and rolled off Ilya, but before Ilya could get to him, Weser turned the blade on himself.
“NO,” I shouted, scurrying to my feet.
Ilya reached for the blade, but the vamp was faster. Muttering something the surrounding fight swallowed, Weser drove the blade into his own chest.
Ilya turned to me, crestfallen.
Fuck.
Sacrifice.
This was a sacrifice to Zirnitra.
Which meant—
I rushed out of the room. Ilya ran after me, but even with his vampiric speed, he was no match for the urgency driving me on. Jonas Obst’s scent guided me through the maze of rooms. I didn’t engage with any of the fucks throwing themselves in front of me, just blasted them away and barreled forward.
Just as Jonas’s scent became thicker, a coordinated attack held Ilya back. I cast a quick look over my shoulder to reassure myself he could handle the crowd.
When Andrei and three more of his crew piled into the room a split second after, I sprinted forward, but as I reached the next threshold, the shift in the air pinned me to the spot.
My fingers sank into the frame, heart hammering against my ribs as I sucked in breath after breath only to confirm what I already feared.
The scent vanished.
Shit. I walked back into the room and filled my lungs. How the fuck could it disappear?
Echoes of fists hitting flesh and power stealing lives lapped at me as I prowled through the space bedecked with floor-to-ceiling bookcases and lounge chairs of the modern variety. The large window to my right offering ample reading light was shut tight. Jonas couldn’t have escaped through it, and I sensed no imprints of a demon who could have spirited him away to explain why the trail stopped cold.
Snarling, I pushed the air from my lungs and breathed deeply through my nose again. The old trail was there, spilling out a ghostly path of Jonas’s movements.
The asshole had entered this room.
