I waited until the last minute, until I could see the bloody glimmer of hate in her eyes, then raised Amaya. Black steel met sharp claws, and blood spurted as two fingertips plopped to the flagstones.
Lilac slithered in from behind her and wrapped around her legs. Hunter hit the floor face-first, but her hiss was more a sound of fury than one of pain. She made an odd motion with a bloodied left hand, then twisted around and grabbed the Dušan with her right, forcing the laser into its mouth. I swung Amaya before she could fire, aiming for her head. She ducked and the blow sailed over her head, but it at least forced her to release the Dušan. It slithered away again.
Flames leapt from Amaya’s steel and anchored onto Hunter’s flesh, flickering and dancing in eager anticipation as Amaya began to feed on her soul.
Hunter either didn’t know what was happening or didn’t care. She jumped upright and ran, which was so out of character I swung around instead of giving chase.
Twelve other vampires were now in the room. Hunter certainly wasn’t taking any chances. If ever there was a time for Azriel to appear . . .
Can’t, Amaya spat. Magic stop.
Meaning it was just me and her, as I’d always feared it would be. Fine, I thought, resolutely. Let’s have at these vamps first.
And with that, I attacked. Or rather, we attacked. Because the minute I moved, Amaya surged fully into my mind, and together we became a killing machine.
Everything became a blur. We weaved, dodged, blocked. Attacked, retreated, parried. There was pain and blood and screams, and I really couldn’t have said whether they were mine or whether they belonged to the vampires we slowly but surely decimated.
But in the end, the sheer force of numbers overwhelmed us.
I went down in a bloody tangle of arms and legs. Teeth tore at me, fingernails sliced into me, and all I could smell was blood and fear and rancid vampire.
Flame can, Amaya said. She sounded as weary as I felt, no surprise given that we’d undoubtedly been drawing on each other’s strength.
No, I said. We have one chance left. Hunter thinks she’s won. We have to play with that.
Could cost.
Yes, it could. But if blood and pain were the price I had to pay to kill Hunter, then pay them I would.
“Enough!” Hunter’s voice rang out across the din of growling, angry vampires. “She is mine.”
I was dragged unceremoniously to my feet. Blood poured down my face, blocking my vision, but I didn’t need to see Hunter to know she was closing in. I could smell her. Smell the rancidness of her.
It was new, that smell.
Or maybe it was merely what remained after the strength of her god had left her.
The soft sound of her steps stopped. I waited, body thrumming with pain. Pain that I had no doubt was about to get far worse.
“Drop your sword, Risa.”
No! Amaya screamed, even as my fingers tightened instinctively around her.
“Drop it, or I will be forced to chop your hand off.”
Behave, Amaya. Don’t react just yet. I released my fingers. The vampire on my left took her from me and flung her away. She shadowed immediately, but her metal clanged as she hit the stone and bounced. She hissed in displeasure, but it was a sound only I heard.
And only I knew that she was already on her way back to me.
Hunter smiled, all teeth and nastiness. “And now, you will pay for this.” She raised her left hand with its two missing fingers; she was gripping a thin, sharp knife. “Flesh for flesh seems only fair, after all.”
The trouble was, the blade was aimed not at my hands or even my heart, but at my stomach.
At my child.
Time seemed to slow to a crawl.
I screamed and twisted and fought, cursed and kicked, only to be pinned down even harder. My screams were echoed by another, the source far from human. Flames shot from Amaya’s steel and arrowed toward us, but they were never going to get here in time.
Then, from out of nowhere sprung the Dušan. It chomped down on Hunter’s wrist, consuming flesh and steel in one large gulp, then twisted around, lashing its body around Hunter, binding her completely.
I gave her guards no time to react. I called to the Aedh, pulled my particles free from their grip, then dropped and flung out a hand. Amaya hit it almost immediately, and in one smooth motion, I swung her around in a circle, severing the legs of both vampires. As Amaya’s flames crawled over both of them and began to consume their souls, I rolled out from under their dropping bodies and killed the third vampire. A quick check told me there were no more.
Now it really was just me and Hunter.
I pushed to my feet and somewhat unsteadily walked back to her.
She bared her teeth and hissed at me, but there was nothing she could do. The power of her god had departed, and she was just a very old, very powerful vampire whose blood was pulsing out onto the stones at my feet, draining her strength with every second that went by.
“This is for Jak,” I said, and gutted her.
Then, as her stomach split and her insides began to leak out, I swung Amaya again and beheaded her.
The Dušan unwound itself from her, allowing her body to slump to the floor. As the Dušan crawled back into my flesh, steam began to rise from Hunter’s body. Her soul, rising.
“Do not think I’m going to let you off that easily, Hunter,” I said, and stabbed Amaya through the wispy heart of her.
Amaya’s chuckle was fierce and savage as she almost lovingly consumed Hunter’s soul.
Evil this one, she murmured. Full for many months.
I half laughed, but the sound disintegrated into a sob as weakness washed over me and I dropped to my knees. Ten seconds later I was pulled into arms that were warm and strong and shaking with relief.
I wrapped my arms around Azriel’s neck and somehow murmured, “Dingdong, the bitch is dead.”
After that, I knew no more.
Epilogue
“I really do not like the idea of you moving all the way up here.” Riley crossed her arms, every bit of her body bristling with indignation.
“It’ll take you less than an hour to get here,” I said, voice mild as I maneuvered down onto the picnic blanket. My back was aching but my stomach was so damn large these days I made whales look positively svelte. It made doing anything extremely awkward.
Not everything, Azriel commented, amused.
I snorted softly and shot him a look. He was standing close by, ready to offer a hand if needed. I didn’t need it, not in this instance. Barrel belly or not, I was determined not to lean on him too much for help. It was that whole stubbornness thing I was famous for raising its ugly head again.
I wasn’t thinking about sex, reaper.
No, I was. His amusement grew. Have I told you how utterly irresistible you are when you’re fat and round with my child?
A hundred times a day, I said dryly, but I’m getting a little tired of the word “fat.”
Rotund?
Worse.
Portly?
No.
Amply proportioned?
I picked up a twig and tossed it at him. His laughter ran through me, warm and teasing.
“That’s an hour I could be spending with my grandson,” Riley grumbled, oblivious to the fact that there was a whole other level of conversation happening. She dropped beside me. “You’re sure you wouldn’t reconsider the warehouse near our place? It’d make a truly stunning home.”
“So will this—if it ever gets finished.”
“If you’d bought the warehouse, I could have been there every day to hassle them along.”
I grinned and twined my hand through hers. While it hadn’t taken us all that long to find and buy this acreage up in the Macedon hills, it had taken months—and months—to get council approval for our uniquely designed, rough-hewn residences. I did not want to go through all that red tape again—especially now, with the birth of our son so close. Besides, I wanted him to grow up in t
he clean, fresh air of the mountains rather than in the city.
“How’s Uncle Rhoan coping with being the boss of the guardian division?”
She snorted. “He says he hates it, but he’s always loved a challenge. And with the Cazadors on his side, helping him clean out Hunter’s factions, I think we’ll soon see a very different—and ultimately more efficient—Directorate.” Her gaze met mine, gray eyes glittering silver in the morning sunshine. “That was a very shrewd move on your part, suggesting he appoint Markel second in charge. They make a good—and dangerous—team.”
“All I did was ask a favor. Rhoan’s the one who deserves the congrats. He took the chance on him, not me.”
And I was grateful he had, however dubious he might have been at the time. Markel certainly deserved the opportunity to be something other than just another Cazador lost to the berserker bloodlust.
And while neither he nor Stanford might have had as much of a place in the final battle with Hunter as either they or I had hoped, Stanford had, at least, helped steer the high council away from seeking retribution for Hunter’s death. For that, I was grateful.
Movement caught my eye. I glanced around as Quinn and Tao emerged from the thick forest and sauntered down the hill. The rather large tree trunk they were carrying between them might have been a twig for all the effort they were showing.
“There’s something very satisfying about watching men building a house,” Riley murmured, her gaze following Quinn. “Maybe we need to buy some land up this way and build one of our own.”
“Good idea.” I reached for one of the sandwiches. “It means my babysitter is that much closer.”
She grinned. “And you think I’d mind?”
“Not in the least.” I paused, watching as Quinn and Tao positioned the log onto the plane saw. Behind them was the roofed framework of three large pavilions—separate living quarters for me and Azriel, Ilianna and Mirri, as well as Simi, Tao’s new partner, and the woman he’d initially been afraid to go on another date with because of the elemental. She, when it had become obvious he’d had no intentions of taking their relationship any further than the one date, had taken matters into her own hands. She was definitely a woman who knew exactly what she wanted, and she’d fit in rather nicely to our little group. Both Ilianna and Tao would be living here only part-time; Ilianna had recommitted herself to working at the Brindle—which was where the last piece of the key now resided. Tao—in elemental form—was still spending his nights up at the nearby sacred site.
It didn’t matter. I’d once feared, with everything that had happened and our home destroyed, that our relationship could never be the same. And, in some respects, that was true. It wasn’t the same, but it was stronger. And I hadn’t thought that could be possible.
For the moment, everything was good. Hell, even Amaya had stopped grumbling about the lack of action over recent months.
Time yet, she muttered. Demons still there.
Yes, they were, unfortunately. And we still had only the one gate between us and hell. Azriel was very much involved in hunting down the demons who broke through into his world and ours, as would Amaya and I be once my son was born. I was a Mijai in waiting; my job now was to protect this world.
“You know,” I said, watching the two men ready the log for cutting into planks, “I’m really glad the professionals are coming back tomorrow. At the rate these two are working, this child will be going to school before everything is actually finished.”
Riley laughed and bounced up again. “I shall go motivate them.”
Azriel sat down beside me as she ran down the hill. I leaned against him and smiled. As I did, I felt my water break. Excitement and fear stirred within me. “Have I told you lately how glad I am you came into my life?”
“Not recently, no.” He considered me for a moment, a slight frown creasing his features. “Why?”
“Because you need to hear it before I go into full labor and start swearing at you for causing me pain.”
He blinked. “Is it normal for women of this world to swear at their partners at an event as beautiful as the birth of their child?”
“You try squeezing a melon out of your penis and see how it feels.”
“I do not believe that would be at all pleasant, even if it were possible.” He paused again, and this time his excitement surged, just about blowing my senses apart. “Did you just say before you go into full labor?”
I smiled. “I did.”
“Does that mean—” He trailed off, his expression a priceless mix of hope, excitement, uncertainty, and love.
“It does indeed.”
He jumped to his feet. “Shall I let the others know? Should we get you to the hospital?”
I laughed and caught his hand. “We have plenty of time yet.”
And we did. We had all the time in the world to build our family and grow old together.
The fates had assured us both of that.
Don’t miss the first novel in the Souls of Fire
series by Keri Arthur,
FIREBORN
Now available from Signet Select
All of us dream.
Some of us even have pleasant dreams.
My dreams might have been few and far between, but they were never, ever pleasant. But worse than that, they always came true.
Over the course of my many lifetimes, I’d tried to interfere, to alter fate’s path and prevent the death I’d seen, but I’d learned the hard way that there were often serious consequences for both the victim and myself.
Which was why the flesh down my spine was twisted and marred. I’d pulled a kid from a burning car, saving her life but leaving us both disfigured. Fire may be mine to control and devour, but there’d been too many witnesses and I’d dared not use my powers. It had taken me months to heal, and I’d sworn—yet again—to stop interfering and simply let fate take her natural course. But here I was, out on the streets in the cold, dead hours of the night, trying to keep warm as I waited in the shadows for the man who was slated to die this night.
Because he wasn’t just a man. He was the man I’d once loved.
I shifted my weight from one foot to the other and tried to keep warm in the confines of the abandoned factory’s doorway. Why anyone would even come out by choice on a night like this was beyond me. Melbourne was a great city, but her winters could be hell, and right now it was cold enough to freeze the balls off a mutt—not that there were any mutts about at this particular hour. They apparently had more sense.
The breeze whisked around the parts of my face not protected by my scarf, freezing my skin and making it feel like I was breathing ice.
Of course, I did have other ways to keep warm. I was a phoenix—a spirit born from the ashes of flame—and fire was both my heritage and my soul. But even if I couldn’t sense anyone close by, I was reluctant to flame. Vampires and werewolves might have outed themselves during the peak of Hollywood’s love affair with all things paranormal, but the rest of us preferred to remain hidden. Humanity on the whole might have taken the existence of weres and vamps better than any of us had expected, but there were still far too many who believed nonhumans provided an unacceptable risk to their existence. Even on crappy nights like this, it wasn’t unusual to have hunting parties roaming the streets, looking for easy paranormal targets. While my kind rarely provided any sort of threat, I wasn’t human, and that made me as much a target for their hate as vamps and weres.
Even the man who’d once claimed to love me was not immune to such hate.
Pain stirred, distant and ghostly, but never, ever forgotten, no matter how hard I tried. Samuel Turner had made it all too clear what he thought of my “type.” Five years might have passed, but I doubted time would have changed his view that the only good monster was a dead one.
And yet here I was, attempting to save his stupid ass.
The roar of a car engine rode across the silence. For a moment the dream raised its head, and I saw again the flashes
of metal out of the car window, the red-cloaked faces, the blood and brain matter dripping down brick as Sam’s lifeless body slumped to the wet pavement. My stomach heaved and I closed my eyes, sucking in air and fighting the feeling of inevitability.
Death would not claim his soul tonight.
I wouldn’t let her.
Against the distant roar of that engine came the sound of steady steps from the left of the intersection up ahead. He was walking toward the corner and the death that awaited him there.
I stepped out of the shadows. The glow of the streetlights did little to break up the night, leaving the surrounding buildings to darkness and imagination. The ever-growing rumble of the car approaching from the right didn’t quite drown out the steady sound of footsteps, but perhaps it only seemed that way because I was so attuned to it. To what was about to happen.
I walked forward, avoiding the puddles of light and keeping to the darker shadows. The air was thick with the growing sense of doom and the rising ice of hell.
Death waited on the other side of the street, her dark rags billowing and her face impassive.
The growling of the car’s engine swept closer. Lights broke across the darkness, the twin beams of brightness spotlighting the graffiti that colored an otherwise bleak and unforgiving cityscape.
This area of Brooklyn was Melbourne’s dirty little secret, one definitely not mentioned in the flashy advertising that hailed the city as the “it” holiday destination. It was a mix of heavy industrial and run-down tenements, and it housed the underbelly of society—the dregs, the forgotten, the dangerous. Over the past few years, it had become so bad that the wise avoided it and the newspapers had given up reporting about it. Hell, even the cops feared to tread the streets alone here. These days they did little more than patrol the perimeter in a vague attempt to stop the violence from spilling over into neighboring areas.