On her way out the store, her attention was captured by a rack of men’s clothing. A slow, wicked smile curved her lips as she yanked one of the shirts from the hanger, then for good measure moved to collect a pair of faded jeans from the sale bin before heading out of the door.
With her foul mood abruptly lightened, Jaelyn tucked the clothes in a bag. Then, leaving the store, she made one more stop before heading out of town.
Ariyal had never understood the claim that someone was “fit to be tied.”
Not unless it included a beautiful female, a length of satin rope, and a soft bed.
Forty-five minutes after Jaelyn had disappeared he was learning the painful meaning of being “fit to be tied.”
Pacing through the meadow, he absently gathered handfuls of blackberries that were just ripening as well a few of the more tender leaves that he dipped in fresh honey. Like most Sylvermyst, he was a vegetarian who preferred his meal directly from nature, although his brute strength came from the blood of his enemies.
But satisfying his physical hunger did nothing to ease his frustration.
It was insane.
After centuries of being enslaved by a vicious bitch, the last thing he should want was to be at the mercy of another female. Especially one who couldn’t seem to decide if she wanted to lick him to paradise or rip out his throat.
Psycho women should be on his list of things to kill not on his list of those to get in his bed with all possible speed.
So why wasn’t he getting on with his business? He knew better than anyone that as long as the child remained with Tearloch there was the danger that the Dark Lord would be returned. The clock was ticking, and he couldn’t afford to waste a second.
Instead, he was pacing the meadow and imagining a dozen different scenarios, all of which included Jaelyn injured or captured or ...
A frigid chill swept through the air, sending a flood of sharp relief through his body, closely followed by a ready male response to the potent womanly scent that filled his senses.
Precisely the two reactions he didn’t want, dammit.
He turned to watch as she stepped into the meadow, his heart squeezing at the mere sight of her.
Gods, but she was beautiful.
She’d showered while she was gone. Her silken hair was still damp and it glowed as glossy as a raven’s wing in the moonlight despite being wrenched into a tight braid. She’d also changed, although the stretchy bits of black cloth did nothing to lower his blood pressure. To top it off she’d matched the sexy ensemble with a brand-spanking-new sawed-off shotgun, which she’d strapped to her slender waist with a belt lined with cartridges.
Holy ... shit.
Beautiful didn’t come close to capturing the sight of her drenched in moonlight.
She halted next to Levet, who was perched in the low branches of a tree, and with one smooth motion she tossed a sack into his stubby arms.
“Food?” The miniature beast sighed in pleasure. “Ah, you are an angel.”
Ariyal snorted. “You just consumed an entire deer.”
“There is always room for cake.”
He was distracted from the smirking gargoyle as Jaelyn turned to toss him a second sack.
“What’s this?”
“Clean clothes.”
He lifted his brows, sensing her hidden anticipation. He was almost afraid to check and see what she’d brought for him. Then his enjoyment at her unexpected playfulness was destroyed as he noticed the faint color that stained her cheeks.
She’d obviously fed. And the mere thought of her fangs buried in some stranger’s throat was enough to send a raw burst of fury through him.
“Did you enjoy your dinner?”
She stiffened, futilely attempting to scurry behind the icy dignity that he detested. Thankfully his ability to annoy her overcame her brutal training and she moved forward to punch him in the center of the chest.
He would take a broken rib to her clamping down her emotions any day of the week.
“Oh for God’s sake,” she hissed. “I went to the nearest hospital and raided their blood supply. Can we move on to something more interesting than my dietary habits?”
He grasped her wrist, using her blow to tug her off balance.
“Come with me,” he urged as she tumbled against his chest, his arms automatically wrapping around her slender body.
“Where?”
“There’s a stream hidden by the trees.” His gaze dipped toward her full lips, his feral satisfaction at the knowledge she hadn’t taken another man’s vein pounding through his blood. “You can wash my back.”
The scent of her desire spiked the air before she was roughly shoving him away.
“I just showered.”
He smiled, breathing deeply of her enticing arousal. “What’s your point?”
With a deliberate motion she allowed her fingers to caress the hilt of her shotgun.
“You can wash your own damn back.”
Ariyal reached to brush his thumb along her lower lip. “So cruel.”
“Be happy I haven’t stuck a dagger in it yet,” she muttered, turning to stomp away.
Resisting the suicidal urge to toss her over his shoulder and haul her to the privacy of the woods, Ariyal contented himself with the absolute certainty that she wanted him as he headed to the stream. The Addonexus might have done their best to mold her into ruthless executioner without thought or feeling, but they hadn’t succeeded.
At least not completely.
Below the ice was a passionate female just aching to break free of her restraints.
And he was just the man to help her discover her suppressed needs.
Entering the woods that lined the edge of the meadow, Ariyal briefly halted as he caught the unmistakable stench of cur.
It wasn’t unusual for dogs to be sniffing around such prime hunting grounds, but he kept his senses on full alert as he stripped off his clothes and waded into the hip-deep water of the creek.
Once clean, he slid on the jeans he found in the bag that Jaelyn had tossed at him, tucking a dagger into the waistband at his lower back and strapping another to his ankle. Then after braiding back his wet hair, he reached back into the bag to pull out the shirt.
A brief glance was all that was necessary for him to comprehend Jaelyn’s earlier amusement. Good ... gods. The silk Hawaiian shirt painted with gaudy yellow and red flowers was an affront to fashion.
Clutching the offensive garment in one hand, and his sword and scabbard in the other, he marched out of the woods and across the meadow, finding Jaelyn and Levet resting beneath the large oak tree.
“I suppose you think this is funny?” he demanded, dangling the shirt in front of her nose.
Beside her the annoying gargoyle doubled over as his laughter echoed across the countryside.
“
Oui
. I think it is
très
amusing.”
Ariyal glared at the pest in warning. “I thought I caught the scent of cur near the creek. Why don’t you go investigate?”
“Why me?”
“Because if you stay there’s a good chance I’m going to skewer you to the nearest tree.”
“Are you always so surly?” Levet asked. Then, as he met Ariyal’s dark glare, he gave a frustrated flutter of his wings and headed across the meadow. “I thought fey were supposed to be shiny, happy people?” he called over his shoulder.
Jaelyn rose to her feet. “He’s right,” she accused. “You are surly.”
He was.
And it didn’t have a damned thing to do with butt-ugly shirts, he acknowledged as his gaze ran a hungry path down her body.
“I’m frustrated.”
She put her hands on her hips at his blunt explanation. She was obviously as frustrated as he was. But was she willing to admit the truth? Oh no, she rolled her eyes with a faux female annoyance.
“Men.”
“Women,” he mocked in return, waving the shirt like a flag. “And you chose this deliberately.”
She shrugged. “It’s clean, isn’t it?”
“It’s hideous.”
“Fine. Next time I won’t bother.”
He stepped close, shivering at the delicious feel of cool power washing over the bare skin of his upper body.
“Which begs the question why you bothered this time,” he pointed out. “Can’t get me out of your mind even when we’re apart, eh, poppet?”
“I wanted to annoy you.”
“Sure you did.”
She growled deep in her throat.
“In case you haven’t noticed, time is a-wasting,” she snapped. “Aren’t you supposed to be hunting your friend and his freaky wizard?”
Ariyal grimaced, tossing aside the shirt and strapping the sword over his bare skin. She was right. They had more pressing problems than the state of his wardrobe.
He had managed to follow Tearloch’s portal to this spot, but once he’d landed in the meadow he’d realized that his connection to his tribesman was muted, making it impossible to pinpoint his exact location.
“I can sense he’s near, but there’s some sort of spell of protection surrounding him.”
Predictably the vampire glared at him with a seething impatience, making it clear she held him entirely to blame for being stuck in the middle of nowhere with no immediate enemies to suck dry.
“So you intend to sit here and wait for him to stroll past?”
He clenched his teeth. Aggravating female.
“I’m waiting for midnight.”
“Why?
“That’s when the spirits are easiest to raise.”
“What do you need with spirits?”
“The wizard that Tearloch called from the grave possesses an abnormal amount of magic.” He grimaced, more deeply disturbed by Rafael’s power than he wanted to admit. “I have no intention of walking into a trap when I can use spirits to track him down and tell us of any dangers.”
She shuddered in distaste. “Does it have to be spooks?”
He arched a brow. Was it possible the fearless Hunter was unnerved by a harmless ghost?
Of course, Rafael had proved they weren’t all harmless, a voice whispered in the back of his mind.
“Don’t worry. They dislike vampires.” He smiled at her sour expression. “If you leave them alone, they’ll leave you alone.”
“Isn’t there another way?”
He shook his head. “It will be the most efficient—” A sharp shriek pierced the air, and smoothly pulling his sword free, he turned toward the sound. “Bloody hell.”
Jaelyn was flowing to his side, her gaze trained toward the woods. “Was that Levet?”
“Unfortunately.”
On cue the tiny demon charged across the meadow, his wings flapping and his short legs churning as he attempted to outrun the dark shapes that were following behind him.
“Something’s coming!” the gargoyle bellowed. “Something dead!”
The stench hit Ariyal at the same time Levet charged past them and headed down the dirt road. Shit. His gut twisted at the sight of the creatures who shambled forward with jerky motions.
Zombies.
At least a dozen of them.
The abominations were recently deceased mortals who had been reanimated by magic. They were nothing but mindless shells, which was why he hadn’t sensed them the moment they’d been called from their graves.
Unfortunately, they were also impervious to pain and nothing could stop them but fire or killing the magician who was controlling them.
He heard Jaelyn’s hiss of shock as she belatedly realized what was approaching.
“Friends of yours?” she muttered.
“I don’t have friends.”
Chapter 10
Jaelyn ignored Ariyal’s revealing words as she surveyed the nightmares that shuffled toward them.
Even in the world of demons the zombies were ... gross.
The moonlight starkly revealed their rotting flesh and the dirt that clung to the patches of the clothing that survived the climb out of their graves. Worse were their odd, jerky movements. As if they were ghastly marionettes being pulled by invisible strings.
“Where did they come from?” she rasped.
Ariyal shifted at her side, the sword held ready for battle.
“How would I know?”
“It’s your people who go around raising the dead.”
He snorted, his gaze never wavering from the approaching horde (or whatever it was you called a group of ambling zombies).
“I believe there are many who would claim your people are the grave robbers, vampire.”
She didn’t bother to dignify his accusation with a response. Mostly because he was right.
“Did Tearloch make those”—she grimaced, waving a hand toward the zombies—“creatures or not?”
He shook his head. “Sylvermyst can call upon the souls of those in the underworld. They don’t raise the dead.”
“And the difference?”
“Zombies are recently deceased bodies that have been animated by the magic of a necromancer.” His profile was hard with disgust as he swung his sword at the nearest attacker, slicing off its head with one smooth stroke. The body never faltered as it continued forward, the hands held out as it sought to grasp Ariyal. “They’re mindless weapons that have been forbidden since the beginning of time.”
Jaelyn took an instinctive step backward, firing her shotgun at a gray-haired grandma who clutched a shovel in her hands. The creature reeled backward but was swiftly replaced by another who lunged forward.
She danced backward, scowling as the hideous things began to circle them.
“So they can’t think for themselves?”
“No.” He kicked the nearest zombie, sending it flying halfway across the meadow. Not that it helped matters. Without hesitation, the creature was on its feet and shuffling back toward them with a stoic determination. One alone would be easy to chop into tiny pieces. But there were too many and with no visible means of actually killing them, the horde would eventually overwhelm their prey. Even if that prey did happen to be a powerful Sylvermyst and vampire. “They’re directed by the witch or wizard who animated them.”
She swiftly shot two more of the demons. “Sergei?”
“Doubtful.” Ariyal muttered a curse as a zombie darted from the side to hit him on the temple with a large rock. Blood ran down the side of his face as he turned to slice off the bastard’s head and kicked away the body. “The mage is an immoral snake, but his black magic is minor league. Only a true disciple of the Dark Lord could raise zombies.”
Her mind coldly clicked through their various options even as she reloaded her gun.
“Rafael?” she pressed, needing all the information she could gather.
“It should be impossible.” Ariyal ducked the clumsy fist directed at his chin. “But then I would have said a lot of things were impossible just a few weeks ago.”
Yeah, no crap.
She shuddered, the rancid odor of the zombies nearly overwhelming as they closed in.
“Can you keep them distracted?”
He shot her a suspicious frown. “Why?”
“I’m going on a witch hunt.”
“Dammit, Jaelyn ...”
Ignoring his protest, Jaelyn shoved the shotgun back in the holster and grasped the nearest zombie and used it as a battering ram to clear a path through the hands that reached out to try and halt her.
Once clear of the encroaching circle, she tossed aside the nasty corpse and flew with blinding speed across the meadow. Reaching the woods, she climbed up the nearest tree and used the spreading branches to silently make her way deeper into the shadows.
At last she halted, wrapping herself in shadows and sending out her senses to search for the magic-user.
She filtered out the mundane scent of the native wildlife that scampered in the underbrush and even the approaching scent of gargoyle. Her sole focus was finding the person responsible for controlling the zombies before they managed to rip Ariyal into bloody shreds.
Which would explain why she nearly jumped out of her skin when there was a flutter of gossamer wings and Levet abruptly landed on the branch beside her.
“What are we hunting?” he whispered directly in her ear.
Jaelyn nearly fell out of the tree.
And wouldn’t that be the cherry topper on her humiliation?
A highly trained Hunter not only allowing a miniscule demon to see through her shadows, but to alert every creature in the area to her presence by taking a tumble from the tree like a five-year-old human.
“Holy shit.” She released her powers, turning to glare at her companion. “How did you know I was here?”
He smiled at her furious disbelief. “I possess nutty skills.”
“Nutty?” It took a second to decipher his words. “You mean mad skills?”
He waved a hand.
“Oui.”
“And your skills allow you to see me even when I’m cloaked?”
“
Oui.
I can see through most illusions when I make the effort. Vampire, fey, and even witches’ spells.”
“Do all gargoyles possess the same skill?”
Something that might have been pain rippled over the ugly little face before the gargoyle was hiding it behind his smile.
“Some are better than others.”
She tucked away the vital bit of information to share with the Ruah, concentrating on her companion.
“Are you the best?” she asked, her voice softening.
He grimaced with rueful resignation. “When you are my size you must learn to recognize approaching danger no matter how well camouflaged.”
“Yeah.” She gave a slow nod, reaching to pat his head between the stunted horns. “I get that.”
They stiffened at the same time, turning their attention to the bulky form that was weaving through the trees.
“Cur,” Levet breathed.
Jaelyn scowled at the unwelcome intruder. He was a young man who appeared to be thirty in human years with blond hair that was buzzed in military fashion and a square face that might have been handsome if you liked the “all brawn and no brain” sort.
At the moment his head was bent over a mirror he clutched in his hands, indifferent to the danger that lurked just above him.
“Damn,” she whispered.
Levet pressed close to her side. “What is it?”
“I’m searching for the witch who is controlling the zombies, not a damned dog.”
The gargoyle sniffed the air. “The magic is coming from the cur.”
She hissed in shock. “You’re certain?”
“
Ma enfant
, did I not just prove my skills?”
Jaelyn didn’t truly doubt him. It was growingly obvious the tiny gargoyle harbored unknown depths. But ... hell. This was a complication she didn’t need.
“I’ve never heard of a dog being a magic-user,” she muttered.
“It is rare,” Levet conceded. “They must be a powerful mage or witch before they are turned or their skills are lost during the transformation. And since most curs are terrified of magic they usually do their best to avoid them. Certainly they would never deliberately try to attack a magic-user.” He leaned forward to study the man below them. “I would guess this particular mage sought out a cur to transform him on purpose.”
“Why?”
Levet gave a lift of his hands. “It could be a desire for greater physical strength, or a longer life span, or perhaps he is mated with a cur.”
Jaelyn regretfully glanced down at the shotgun she’d stolen in town. It was a fine gun, but it was made for humans and they had no need for silver bullets.
“It looks like we’re doing this the old-fashioned way.”
“Do not fear.” Levet squared his shoulders. “I have powerful magic of my own.”
“No.” Jaelyn grabbed the gargoyle’s arm as he pointed it toward the cur. “I think it would be better if I take care of the mage.”
“You doubt my abilities?” Levet asked, his wings drooping in a visible pout.
“Of course not, but I was trained to kill in silence,” she smoothly assured him. “We don’t want to attract any unnecessary attention. You keep an eye open for his companions.”
The gray eyes widened. “Companions?”
“Curs always travel in packs.”
Levet made a sound of disgust, but even as Jaelyn judged the precise distance to the cur, he lightly touched her shoulder.
“Be careful,
ma enfant
.”
She stiffened at his soft words.
Dammit. Why did he keep doing that?
Surely by now the tiny gargoyle realized that demons weren’t supposed to offer her concern. She was a Hunter. An unfeeling weapon who had been taught that emotions were nothing more than a weakness that others could use to manipulate her.
All this fussing around over her and her safety was ... unnerving.
Levet lifted his heavy brows. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No.” With an effort she pulled her crap together. For God’s sake. Now wasn’t the time to get all sappy. “Nothing’s wrong.”
Before she could make a fool of herself, Jaelyn leaped through the air, landing on the cur with a lethal silence. The dog howled in pain as her fangs sliced through his neck, barely missing his jugular as he tumbled backward.
Jaelyn cursed at having missed the killing blow, although she had at least made him drop the mirror he’d been holding. She assumed he used the thing to control the zombies, which meant that Ariyal, at least, should be safe.
Which was more than she could say for herself. Possessing the strength of a cur and the magic of a witch, the man beneath her managed to toss her aside with a disturbing ease.
They both rose to their feet, circling one another with the wary caution of trained warriors.
“Who are you?” Jaelyn demanded, knowing it couldn’t have been sheer coincidence that brought the cur to this particular place at this particular time.
The cur eyeballed her in annoyance, clearly more outraged at being taken by surprise than upset at the fact he was facing a pissed-off vampire.
Of course, there was the very real possibility that he was too stupid to comprehend his danger.
“Do you know how long it took me to prepare that spell, you stupid cunt?” he growled. “You’re going to pay for every minute.”
Cunt?
Oh, he didn’t just go there, did he?
She smiled, running a tongue along her razor-sharp fang. “I was going to ask you if you wanted to do this the easy way. Now there’s only one way.”
“And what’s that?”
“The hard way.”
“Oh yeah? You and what army?”
With a smirk, he reached toward the glowing crystal hung around his neck as he whispered words of magic.
No doubt he was conjuring a nasty spell, depending on his magical skills to protect him. Unfortunately for him, he’d never encountered a Hunter’s speed and before he could finish his chanting, Jaelyn was moving forward to jerk his tongue from his mouth.
The cur stood in frozen shock, his eyes shifting to the bloody length of flesh she held in her hands. Then with a mangled scream of horror he was spinning on his heels and attempting to flee. Jaelyn allowed him a few seconds of hope that he might actually escape before she slammed her foot into his retreating back and sent him flying into the nearest tree.
He slid face-first to the ground, his arms and legs churning in a combination of pain and panic.
She crouched at his side, her arms loosely wrapped around her bent knees.
“I did warn you it would be the hard way,” she taunted, dropping his tongue near his head. Eventually he would heal, but for now his wounds had to be near unbearable. “Listen very carefully, I’m going to ask you a series of questions. You will nod your head for yes and shake it for no. All very simple. Oh—” She leaned down far enough he couldn’t miss her deadly fangs. “And for every lie I will rip off another body part. Got it?”
He flattened himself against the underbrush, as if wishing he could sink through the hard ground. But his hasty nod assured her that he was ready to play nice.
“Were you responsible for the zombies?” There was a faint hesitation before the cur was nodding. She patted his head. “Good boy. Are the rest of your pack nearby?” Another hesitation and another nod. “Are they all curs?” she demanded, certain she was sensing a presence at the edge of the woods, but unable to determine exactly what it was.