Guardian's Joy #3 (3 page)

Eyes intent on her prey, she almost ran into
the other in the faded blue t-shirt which she now saw advertised a
Concert for the Americas in Spanish. His jacket was back in place,
the pockets loaded and heavy in an easily recognized weapon’s sag.
Holy shit! How much hardware was he carrying? He passed by her,
head turned to the center of the room, eyeing the dancers with an
angry glare as he moved through the throng.

He moved with confidence, but without
aggression and by the way he weaved through the crowd, the way his
head moved slowly from side to side, she could tell he was hunting,
too. But what?

Damn. Once again, she’d allowed herself to be
distracted by things that didn’t matter and now the beast was gone.
JJ began a frantic search, climbing on chairs, pushing people
aside, and ignoring the curses that followed her as she elbowed her
way through the crowd. The thing was no longer in the building.

JJ began to run for the exit. She had to get
outside and find the beast before someone else died.

The last of the Paenitentia kids were out of
the warehouse and on their way home. Nardo turned up his collar
against the cold.

“The babysitter’s club is hereby adjourned.
Let’s go home.”

Dov looked wistfully back at the warehouse
behind them. “Oh please, Daddy, can’t we stay and play?” he asked
plaintively.

“No. I’ve had enough raging or raving or
whatever the hell it is for one night. Besides, Grace is making pot
roast and you don’t want to miss that.”

“Then can we get our asses in gear here,
because mine’s about to freeze off.” Col hugged himself and looked
down at his bare legs.

“But…”

Nardo held up his hand and sniffed the air.
“You smell that?”

The twins raised their noses and sniffed the
air like hounds on a scent. Their demeanors changed from whiny pups
to trained hunters in an instant.

Nardo was already unloading weapons and
passing them to Col in his unarmed shorts and tank when a faint
scream rippled the air in an eerie, repeating echo, heard only by
the Guardian’s sensitive hearing and one lone dog who’s howl joined
the eerie refrain.

The twins took off at Nardo’s hand signal to
circle the area behind the row of warehouses while he ran forward
down the wide lane that served as a street front for this group of
buildings. Shattered windows, doors hanging from hinges and broken
light fixtures all attested to the economic blight that infected
this area making it ideal for illegal parties and more deadly
activities.

Halfway down the lane, Nardo stopped to
listen and to sniff the air again for the distinctive odor of
demon. He heard a soft, sharp, whimper of pain from one of the
buildings to his left. The lock on the gate of the chain link fence
that surrounded the property hung broken and useless and he could
see recent drag marks in the dirt and debris leading to the
door.

Dov and Col were crossing the lane’s dead end
up ahead on their way to complete their perimeter search and he
flagged them down with a wave of his hand and motioned them to
follow at a distance.

Then the Guardian, weapons at the ready,
jogged across the small parking pad and through the door. Very
little light penetrated through the grime laden windows high above,
but his night vision was nearly perfect and it wasn’t hard to see
the two figures, one lying prone and the other kneeling over it, at
the back of the empty cavern.

Nardo screamed a war cry to attract the
thing’s attention away from the victim and felt the burst of energy
course through him. His eyes glowed gold and his muscles bulged as
the battle rage took him and his fangs fully extended. He roared
again when he hurled the throwing stars across the space that
separated him from the creature.

It fell to the side at the last moment and
rolled to its feet with a grace unusual in a demon. In a deliberate
action, it flung out its bloody hand toward him as if flinging a
weapon, again unusual for those who usually relied on brute
strength. A streak of bright light shot across the darkness,
momentarily blinding the Guardian.

Now it was he who leapt aside, but not
quickly enough. Recognition of the attacker caused him to hesitate
and the hesitation cost him. The streak of fire seared the flesh of
his thigh.

He roared again and should have flung a
series of stars at the retreating back, but he ran to the victim
instead. The young woman lying on the floor, legs sprawled and arms
flung wide, was a member of the Race and her murderer was no
mindless demon nor was it a human innocent. It was the leather clad
woman from the club. He wanted this kill to be up front and
personal.

“Take care of her and call Canaan,” he
shouted to the twins as he headed out the partially opened bay
doors in search of the killer. No human could outrun him and he
wouldn’t use white light to catch her. He wanted her to know she
was being stalked. He wanted her to feel the same terror as that
poor child in the warehouse. The jangle of chain link told him
where she was headed and he trotted off in the other direction to
cut off her escape. She was certainly making no effort to soften
her footsteps or control her ragged breath.

Nardo ran at an easy lope, always keeping her
within sight or sound. Occasionally, he crossed her path to let her
know she was pursued. He cut off her retreat, made her jog and
backtrack and turn, driving her deeper into the concrete jungle
where only the rats liked to play.

He was angry with himself for not seeing her
for the killer she was. Dammit, he was a member of the Paenitentia,
a Guardian of the Race and he’d been blessed with talents and
powers most humans only attributed to their gods. He should have
been able to sense her evil from across the room. Instead, he’d let
his imaginings wander to thoughts of those long shapely legs
wrapped around his waist and feeling that wide sensual mouth
against his own.

And what about the demon smell? It was in the
air, but it wasn’t in the warehouse. It was still on the loose and
as long as it was out there, it was a danger to everyone. He had no
business playing games with this bitch. It was time to end
this.

Chapter 4

JJ ran without thought of where she was
going. She knew now what made those men different. They were
vampires, another myth come to life and one of them was responsible
for the death of that poor child.

They were every bit as bad as the beasts she
hunted, so why couldn’t she kill him when she had the chance. She’d
aimed true and only had to throw the fire, but at the last second,
the fire sputtered and her aim faltered. If he hadn’t moved, she
would have missed him.

The wound didn’t seem to slow him down much.
Shock and panic had her running in circles and she no longer knew
in which direction lay the safety of the street and her car. Her
only hope was to keep moving until the sun came up, if that part of
the mythology was even true. She was a marathon runner and she
could keep this up for as long as she needed to. She heard him
coming at her from the right and she sprinted forward, ducking into
the next alley.

With the occasional patch of yellow moonlight
providing the only illumination, JJ was running blind and the brick
wall at the end of the alley appeared out of nowhere. She slammed
her palms against it as if her fury could knock it down and then
she spun away to run back the way she had come. He was there,
standing at the mouth of the alley, hands on hips; a blacker
silhouette against the darkness of the night.

She watched him walk toward her with long,
slow strides, his shoulders rolling with each step and she knew, by
the movement of his body, that this was an accomplished athlete.
She hadn’t outrun him, hadn’t evaded his pursuit. He’d been toying
with her, running her up one alley and down the next. He wasn’t
even breathing heavily. She rubbed her thumb across the tips of her
fingers to bring forth the fire, but it was useless. For six
months, she’d been fully in control, yet now, when she needed it
most, the power abandoned her.

He paused in a pool of moonlight half way
down the alley and JJ had time to study the face of the man who
might kill her. His sharp, almost too thin features had sharpened
even more with his anger. His fangs flared, piercing his gums and
forcing his lips back into a snarl. His muscles hardened, seemed to
grow, thighs bulging in definition against the narrow cut of his
jeans. His eyes blazed with a golden fire.

He stalked toward her, his body language
daring her to flee. She couldn’t, though everything in her screamed
at her to run. This creature, this vampire, was something feral. If
she ran, she would trigger the primal instinct to chase and maybe
the other, more deadly instinct; the need to kill one’s prey.

All this flew through her mind in an instant
as she watched him close the distance between them, his eyes locked
on her face. She shifted her weight to the balls of her feet and
moved her hands up and out, ready to defend. There were nights in
her past when she’d prayed for death. Now that death was here, her
anger rose against it and the anger overrode her fear. She might go
down, but she would go down fighting.

Nardo saw the shift from fear to fury, saw
her ready herself for battle and had to admire her courage. Not
many humans could face down a Guardian transformed by rage. She was
awesome in her anger. He’d never killed a woman before, never
dreamed he’d have to, but he was a Guardian and it was his job to
do what must be done. He flashed to white light and was on her
before she had time to react.

His hands grabbed her biceps as he pushed her
to the wall. Through the silky softness of her sleeves, he felt her
muscles bunch beneath his fingers, still ready to fight and he
tightened his grip. He should have snapped her neck and ended it
there, but he brought his body close to hers and set his pelvis
against the tops of her hips never taking his eyes from that
arresting face.

Nardo was surprised by the strength of her
slender body as she strained against him. She’d looked so delicate
when she stood alone watching the dancers. Her skin was smooth and
unblemished, a dark, dusky rose though whether it was from nature
or from anger, he couldn’t tell. And she was more angry than
afraid. Her body vibrated with it and the vibration set his own
body thrumming in response. Her eyes were defiant as she boldly
returned his stare. Lightly lined and mascaraed, they were pools of
liquid smoke, a dark and glistening grey that looked almost black.
Her face was long and narrow, her nose long and straight. Her wide
sensual mouth, now tightened and shaped with anger, beckoned to be
softened with a kiss. She was beautiful in a way that sucked the
air from his lungs and all thought from his head.

He snarled, a reminder to himself that she
was the killer of a Paenitentia child, and shifted his stance.

JJ was pressed into the wall, her shoulders
grinding into the brick. He’d moved so fast she didn’t have time to
strike or dodge. She struggled against his hold, but it was
useless. When he pulled back slightly from his full body press, she
raised her knee, aiming for his groin, but the maneuver seldom
worked and this time was no exception. He shifted his body so that
his right knee hit the bricks between her legs and his thigh and
hip pressed into her abdomen effectively repinning her lower body.
Her hands were still free and she should have been able to call on
her power to zap him with enough energy to stop his heart. She
could feel the blue fire crackling at her fingertips, but she
couldn’t send it out. When he raised his thigh into her crotch and
lifted her off the ground, she gasped.

Her pulse quickened beyond the adrenaline
rush of fear and flight. She closed her eyes and silently cursed
the tingle of desire that crept from the juncture of her legs where
his thigh was pressed tight, up to her abdomen where muscles
constricted in anticipation and fingers of heat curled through her
stomach. Her breasts stood taut against the confining leather of
her vest and when he spoke, inches from her lips, her body
quickened with desire. Goddamn him.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked in a
whispered growl.

Her lips parted against her will to drink in
the warmth of his breath and her body trembled slightly with her
sigh.

“Why did you do it? Who are you?” he asked
again without the growl. He didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to
question her, didn’t want to hurt her. He bent his head to her neck
and took a long, slow breath, trying to place her scent. She
smelled of something spicy and sweet and delicious. Goddammit, he
couldn’t do this.

“Who are you?” he asked a third time and his
lips touched her neck. Recognition came as the scent and the taste
blended together in his memory and he couldn’t help it. He smiled.
It was those little red candies Grace used to decorate cookies.

“Joy,” she whispered and swallowed hard. Why
had she given him that name, the one she abhorred? His lips were on
her neck, over her jugular and their whisper soft movement sent
another sexual shiver through her core. Was this what it was like
to die from a vampire’s bite?

Joy? Nardo pulled away from the sweet
temptation of that long slender neck. He shook his head to clear it
of the fantasy that was swirling through his brain and hardening
his cock against the fly of his jeans. There was a job to be
done.

“No joy for the kid you killed,” he said
quietly.

Her mouth opened and closed several times
before she could speak. “Killed? You think I…? She was…”

Her fist came up and clocked him in the ear.
She’d been held in some kind of vampire thrall and hadn’t even
realized she was free. He only grunted with the blow that would
have knocked a normal man off his feet. As he was planting his feet
more firmly to steady himself, she struck again, twisted and slid
beneath him.