Crowned by Fire (12 page)

“
Oh,” she sighed, into his mouth, “I can still taste her on you.”

Finn said only a single word in response, and then the vampire was off him, screaming, as her face began to melt off her bones like wax. He wiped off his mouth and turned away. He didn't feel sorry. He never did; he only killed when necessary.

Now where the fuck is Catherine?

Before he could look around for the shape-shifter, though, the blonde vampire hopped in front of him. “Where are you going, witchling?”

He was tired of vampire games. “Where's the shifter?”

“
Alec has her,” she said, over the sound of her Sister's screams. The dark-haired vampire was having trouble putting out the flames. Then she smiled at him sunnily. “You'll be playing with me.”

“
I don't play,” he said coldly.

Her eyes dropped to his torn shirt. She glanced contemptuously at her Sister, who had gone deathly silent, and then her smile was back, predatory, white, and gleaming.

“Oh good,” she said. “Neither do I.”

Chapter Six

Shape-shifters were warned about vampires as a matter of principle. Be home before dark or you'll end up as some vampire's blood-whore. The warnings were always vague; they didn't prepare one for their speed, their strength, or the painfulness of their bite.

It was
excruciating—

But only for a heartbeat. Almost as soon as Catherine registered the blistering agony and had the presence of mind to scream, it faded abruptly, washed away by a cool and soothing tide, made stronger still by the sudden absence of pain.

They must have had a drug in their saliva, something soporific. Its effect was strong, potent, and the effect was amplified by the rate at which she was losing blood. She had to Change, to get away. If she fell unconscious, she was done for. If she was human when it happened, she was dead.

Maybe I already am.

Still in leopard form, she stared at the vampire's throat with glazed eyes, watching as his Adam's apple bobbed with each swallow. Violent thoughts flashed through her head. She could tear out the throat, and then he would choke on all the blood he could handle.

But she had tried that already, and sacrificed several teeth to no effect.

Another idea flickered into existence, just out of reach. Something about appetite…about
feeding
. The wheels of her drug-addled brain turned slowly, with effort.
Feeding makes them vulnerable
, said Predator quietly.
Feeding makes them
weak.

And her paws were free.

She rallied her strength and landed two blows on his neck that would have killed a human, instantly. A sound like a rifle shot split the air as Alec's head twisted to an angle that didn't normally occur in nature. Rivulets of blood—
her
blood—coursed from his slack mouth as he tried, and failed, to speak.

Breaking his neck wouldn't kill him. It was a painful inconvenience, nothing more. But it had bought her some extra time—and it had forced him to let her go.

That was the important thing. She had to get away. She had to Change.

There was a sickening pop as Alec cracked the vertebrae back into place with a rough jerk of his head. It sounded painful, and probably was, but Catherine had no interest in sticking around to watch. She had seconds. Maybe less. Probably less. If she'd
gotten lucky and severed his spinal cord she had a few more seconds' grace.

He's coming
, Prey cried.
He's coming for us.

Catherine shifted back into her human form, ducking inside the nearest clothing store. Being out in the open made Prey panic, so she dove under one of the racks to regroup. The smell of fabric preserver was overpowering but being surrounded on all sides by clothes was comforting to Prey; it had the feel of a nest.

She yanked one of the dresses off the rack and tore off the anti-theft device with her teeth. Fabric tore, and ink squirted out from the sensor to spray her. She hissed in annoyance, wiping it away with the back of her hand. At least it hadn't been one of the noisy ones. An alarm equaled a dinner bell as far as the vampires were concerned.

Because that's what she was to these creatures. Dinner. Prey.

Gods, what was she going to do? Her claws were useless. Her teeth, useless. She rubbed at her jaw and felt the phantom pain of her teeth cracking around the vampire's rock-hard skin all over again. How on earth was she supposed to fight that?

I should have gone with the cheetah. At least then I'd match them in speed.

And reveal herself as a black beast. The vampire had been surprised to see her as a cat instead of a bird, which meant the Slayers didn't know she wasn't settled. For all the vampire knew, they had gotten it wrong as humans did often enough, and she was a leopard. Once was a fluke—but twice? They would know something was wrong.

She was going to have to fight the vampires the old-fashioned way. The human way.

The
Slayer
way.

“
Gods help me,” she muttered, sucking in a deep breath of chemical-laced air. Then she pushed the clothes aside and stepped out of her hiding space.

Alec was nowhere in sight.
Looking for me
, she thought grimly, picking her way around the shattered glass and rubble.
But not if I find him first

Catherine had spotted a furniture store earlier. Pete's Suite's, she thought it was called. Knock-off IKEA. The cheap wood would splinter easily and then she would have the perfect weapon.
Only if you get him through the heart.

In her haste, she almost missed the store, crammed as it was between a See's and a Bath and Body. She checked to ensure she wasn't being followed before
ducking inside Pete's and seizing one of the chairs on display. With enough force the leg tore off easily, showering wooden splinters across the lap of her dress. She brushed them off, testing the weight of the makeshift stake in her hand. Solid wood. Perfect for vampire hunting.

If the legends are even true. There's a whole lot they've gotten fucking wrong.

What was she supposed to do, then? Cower in the corner and cry?

Hide
, Prey suggested.
Lots of hidey-holes. Easy to wait them out.

No. She wasn't going to hide. The vampires were predators, and they were playing with her the way a cat would with a mouse. If she ceased being entertaining they would grow bored and simply kill her outright.

She scanned for Alec. No sign of him. In the food court down below the witch was with the female vampire. Still fighting. Surprising, considering that he had disposed of his first adversary so quickly. Her corpse lay crumpled on the floor and Catherine could smell her rotten, melted flesh from where she stood. The blonde must have been older, faster, more experienced.

The female vampire struck tirelessly at the witch's weak points. He had many. Unlike shape-shifters, witches didn't possess any extraneous healing abilities beyond what they could conjure up themselves. They were essentially glorified humans.

Slow. Frail. Weak.

Prey
, suggested Predator.

But the witch was holding his own. Not like Prey. He had cast a dragon out of fire: flame red, rippling with hotter blues that jagged through the hot mass like veins of lightning. Clouds of flame seared at the vampire whenever she came too close, and her face, as she stalked him, was one of wary concentration.

The witch mirrored her footsteps; he was slower, but more lithe—as if he could anticipate her moves in advance but didn't quite have the speed to retaliate.

Like watching a time lag on a video
.

In comparison to the vampires, and even to her, he was deceptively slender; but there was a fluidity behind his movements that made his attacks look choreographed, lag or no. The witch wouldn't have been able to pull off some of those feints and dodges if he didn't have the muscle to back it. She knew firsthand that he was quite well-built.

And then Ebony struck, shattering the illusion, and the smell of blood jerked Catherine from her thoughts. She had wasted precious time standing here, watching the witch and the vampire fight. Time she should have spent running for her own life.

Still, she couldn't help flinching when she saw the damage. It was not good. Ebony had struck a nasty blow, shallow but painful—her claws had raked right into his bare chest, shredding his skin from neck to navel. Her bright laugh pierced the air.

The witch man aged to pull back and avoid the follow-up attack, using the dragon to parry the swipes and kicks she aimed in his direction. But Ebony could feint better—and faster—than he could, and they were almost indistinguishable from the real blows. What she lacked in finesse she made up for in speed, so she was still achieving her goal. The witch was losing his vigilance and losing blood. She was wearing him down.

The dragon moved into place to ward off another blow and stuttered, slowing down. Something rose up in Catherine's throat. A warning, though it could have easily been bile. This time, the spell wasn't fast enough and Ebony caught the witch on his side. Not a glancing blow, either. The smell of blood and magic filled the air, hot and metallic, copper and ozone mingling together in a bitter, acrid smog that clung to
the back of her throat like a film she couldn't swallow away. Overhead, the dragon flickered, like lights on the verge of extinction. Which made Catherine remember—
dragons
.

The man in her dreams, the one fated to end the word, had spoken of his dragons. He had said that they would rule the world in darkness when everything else was gone. Catherine's heart leaped into her throat. Was Phineas Riordan the Shadow Thane?

Leave now, then. Best to let him die if he's going to fucking annihilate the world.

But what if she was wrong?

What if she was right?

The witch pressed his arm against his wounded side to staunch the blood flow. Catherine watched him center his balance and resume chanting, though his voice was guttural with pain. The dragon dove down with renewed strength but lacked the leisurely grace from before; its movements had grown sharper, more precise. The coils that previously flowed and spiraled were now cracking out like brightly-colored whips, lashing at Ebony with such savagery that even the Predator inside Catherine was impressed.

She wasn't alone.

“
He's very talented, isn't he?” said an all too familiar voice.

Catherine stiffened. She hadn't even heard Alec approach, but there he was, leaning back against the elevator doors. Both his eyes were on the food court but she knew at least one of the was paying attention to her because of the way he straightened when she turned around. “Yes,” she said coldly.

“You're quite attractive as a human.”

“
Chalk it up to good genes,” she said.

“
Very good.” Alec glanced over her. “Why are you with him?”

Her hands clenched at her sides. “That's none of your business.”

“I see.”

Did he?

Alec turned his eyes back to the witch. “Well. In any case, it will be a shame when they kill him.”

“
Your friend?”

“
There would be no point.” He smiled, baring fang. “We can't drink ichor.”

She didn't miss the threat buried beneath those words. “Does that mean that
you
are working for the Slayers?” she demanded.

Alec didn't bat an eye. “Yes.”

Mercenaries, then. “Why?”

“
They agreed to leave our hunting grounds in peace if we delivered the witch and the book. Gave us our advance in blood. It was a good deal. I agreed.”

Why didn't they just kill him? Why were the Slayers dealing with an intermediary?

He's lying
, a small voice whispered.

“
I was a witch in my past life, you know,” he said, his eyes slipping back to the fight, “But then I was reborn and then I became faster, stronger”—he paused—“better.”

“
Maybe,” said Catherine.

“
Maybe?” He glanced to his right. Catherine did too, warily. There was a car on display for a contest the mall was having—a champagne-colored Pontiac G3. He raced over to it and picked it up, hoisting it over his head with both arms.

“
Maybe,” he repeated, mockingly, and threw the car at her. She screamed and hit the floor as roughly two tons of steel flew over her head. It bounced twice. Then there was a heavy crash that shook the floor. Glass windows exploded out of their panes. She heard a groan of steel, the crumbling plaster as the shops caved in from the car's impact.

“
Maybe.” He raced around the entire perimeter of the mall, ruffling the fabric of Ebony's dress—an untraceable black blur, visible only by the destruction in his wake—before halting in front of Catherine with such suddenness that she stumbled backwards. He threw back his head and laughed.

Catherine glanced over her shoulder at the mess of twisted steel and shattered glass, the numerous storefronts that he had destroyed, and was filled with a sudden, horrifying vision of what the vampire could do to her, easily.

Swallowing her fear, she said, “You sure showed that car who's boss.”

“
I am stronger than you have any hope of being,” said Alec. “The ultimate predator.”

“
You broke the Fourth Rule to get your powers,” said Catherine. “That's why sunlight and spirit burn you. That's why you can't spell-cast or shift. It's your curse.”

She raised her right hand, the hand with the stake.

“That's why only wood and fire can kill you. They're organic. They're alive.”

“
And I suppose you have no weaknesses?”

He was holding a silver necklace that he'd stolen from one of the jewelry stores during his impossibly
fast run. She gaped at it and felt her control of the situation slip through her fingers.
This is bad
.