“She won’t hurt us,” Dee said.
The woman’s breath gasped out. She shuddered and cried as if the world were ending.
For her, maybe it was.
Simon’s hands clenched. What if the vampire was wrong? Lying wouldn’t be something new for his kind.
For any kind.
How many times had he lied? Tricked? To further his own plans—too many times to count. “We haven’t seen the bodies,” Simon said. The words slipped out, an effort to comfort. That agony—no, he couldn’t see it. Couldn’t hear it. Because when he looked at her, he saw Dee’s hell too easily.
And remembered his own.
No, Mom! Mom! Dad! So much blood.
Her watery eyes turned to him. Hope, faint, flickering, shined through the pain.
He locked his jaw and Simon gritted, “A Born vampire named Tore wanted us to deliver a message to you. He’s the one who said they were dead. We have no proof and—”
“Wh-what about Greg?”
Greg? “The vampire who brought you here to kill us?”
Zane’s hands were tight around her wrists. Too tight. When the demon suddenly freed her, Simon saw the red imprints on her flesh. Zane swore when he caught sight of the marks.
“Y-yes, h-he’s the one—” She pushed herself up.
“Greg’s dead.” Dee put her hands on her hips. “Very dead.”
Hope again, brighter this time. “Then there might be a-a chance. I-if we can get to the house before anyone else ch-checks in, I can get them out—”
They’re dead.
Simon shook his head. False hope, that’s all he’d given her. Freaking false—
“The vampires drained the man first. The one with streaks of silver in his hair.” Catalina’s voice. Calm and cool. Simon’s gaze found her huddled on the ground, leaning over a thick shard of broken glass.
Her eyes were fixed on that glass. No, on what she could see in the glass.
Scrying. A witch’s talent.
The human’s heartbeat raced in his ears. Pounding, fast, too fast. Dangerous that.
“They held the woman, made her watch. Then it was her turn.” Catalina picked up the glass and blood dripped from her fingertips when the sharp edges cut her. “Death waits in that house near the water. Only death.”
The Ignitor didn’t cry out again. The tears came silently, long, pouring streams, and Dee snarled.
Her fangs were out, her claws glinting, and when she rounded on the witch, her eyes were perfect midnight black. “See him.” Grim.
The blood drops splattered onto the ground. The scent drew him and power pulsed in the air.
Simon crossed to the witch.
Catalina’s eyes had been glassy with her magic. A dazed blink seemed to bring her back to them. “I-I didn’t mean—I haven’t even cast my circle—”
No time. The bodies were piling up. The evil closing in.
No more attacks.
Our turn.
Simon swiped his claws over his forearm. He lifted his hand and let the blood drop onto the darkened glass. “See him through me.”
A glow lit her eyes, then she stared down at the glass once more. He couldn’t see a damn thing. Soot. Ash. The red smear of his blood. Darkness. But Catalina stared and stared, and the silence thickened around them.
“Where.” A demand from Dee. He should have known her patience would break first.
“Texas.” Soft, tired. “Waiting, in a place called Heuco, near the Mexican border.”
Hueco. Hollow.
Excitement burned through him. “Cut the link.” She couldn’t look too long. With Grim, there was no telling who he’d forced onto his side. An Ignitor was just the start. He could have a witch or even a warlock. Probably a warlock. When choosing his weapons, Grim would go right for someone who’d stepped onto the dark side of magic. A warlock would be able to sense Catalina’s power if she stayed tuned in too long.
The glass shattered in her hands. “Can’t find me now,” she whispered. “But I found you.”
Hot damn. They’d done it. His gaze met Dee’s. Her lips began to curl, just a bit.
He hurried to her. Kissed her hard and deep. Tasted her.
The end was coming.
Not for them, oh, no. For them, it would be a beginning. They’d have forever.
But for Grim, hell waited.
Simon would get his freedom. Dee would have her revenge, then they’d have each other.
Pretty fucking perfect.
“Is the trap set?” Grim asked, his eyes on the woman who danced before him. Human. He liked the human dancers best. This one—her eyes smiled, flirted. Her heart raced and all that sweet blood pumped with every sway of her body.
“Greg didn’t report in.”
At that, Grim pulled his stare away from the woman. Music beat, a sensual rhythm, and he knew the woman kept on slithering. “How long has he been missing?” He didn’t worry about guarding his words with the dancer. No need with her.
“An hour.” Malik, a vampire who’d been with him since the guy’s first Taken breath five hundred years before, met Grim’s gaze directly.
An hour was plenty of time to die. Grim rubbed his hand over his chin. “The parents are dead?” His Ignitor was such a useful tool. Weak package, but an incredible power inside.
“Their bodies should be found tomorrow.”
A quick tip to the cops, yes, that would do just fine. “And my brother?” Like he didn’t know the asshole was around. The instant Tore had crossed the ocean, he’d felt the fool. He’d taken steps to prepare for him. Tore wouldn’t have an advantage in this hunt.
“No word yet.”
There wouldn’t be. “He won’t come for me.” Tore had learned his lesson the last time when Grim had left the dead children for him to find.
His brother had always had a soft spot for the kiddies.
When you knew someone so well, it was easy to work their weak spots. He knew just how to make Tore suffer.
His brother had begged him for death over twelve hundred years ago. When he’d seen what Grim had become. When he’d found the bodies and known that he’d be the next to feel Grim’s fangs on his throat.
There’d been no controlling the bloodlust. No stopping the vicious thirst. But he hadn’t wanted to stop it. He’d just wanted to kill.
He’d granted his little brother’s wish. Too bad Tore hadn’t stayed down.
“He’ll be our next project,” Grim said, giving a nod. “It’s time we freed him from his torment.” A gift.
The music ended. He glanced over at the woman. Heaving chest. Glistening lips.
He’d screw her first.
Then kill her.
“It’s a pity. I always loved my brother.”
Malik didn’t speak. Didn’t call him a liar. Or a fool.
And Grim was both. After all, he’d let Tore survive for this long. He should have taken his head long ago.
But when his brother had woken—just like me.
Sentiment. Attachment. So yes, he had a soft spot for the man he’d known as his brother. Tore had tried to save him once, right before his father’s bitch of a new wife had betrayed them all.
Tore had come to him, worked to free him from the chains, but there hadn’t been enough time.
Too many warriors around them. Too much rage.
Blood eagle.
He squeezed his eyes shut but the memory of agony seared his flesh. His hands reached behind him automatically, touching his back.
No wings.
But he’d never forget, never. The snap of his ribs, the jerk backward—
Death had not come fast enough as his blood spilled onto the ground.
The silence hit him then. Thick and complete. His arms still behind him, he looked up at the dancer. Dark skin. Long, supple limbs. Her eyes were on him. Studying. Watching.
Watching like all those others. Watching and laughing as he fell to the ground.
No one had helped him then. No one.<
br />
“We’ll kill the Born bitch.” Grim’s voice came out hoarse. He’d screamed that long ago night. Screamed until they took his breath and ripped his lungs out.
Blood eagle. No myth of Viking torture. Real. Real.
He would not die again. The vampiress coming would know the agony. Not him. Not again.
She’d die. He stepped forward. The dancer lifted her chin and asked, “Kill me…or change me?”
Humans were always wanting to live forever. He reached for her and didn’t answer.
Because he’d never wanted to be a liar.
Or a killer.
Such a pity he was both.
Chapter 13
That day Simon dreamed of agony. Of a snow-covered battlefield that turned from white to red beneath him. Simon twisted on the bed, jerking and shuddering, but he couldn’t make his eyes open. Couldn’t escape.
Hands caught his body. Held too tight. Two men. One on each side. Long braids surrounded their faces. Thick helmets sat on top of their heads and some kind of cape or cloak billowed behind them.
A scream burst from him as fiery pain pierced his back. Simon choked, struggling for breath. He heard a snap, as if a bone were breaking. Again—
What the hell?
Pain, so much pain. Death would come. Death had to come. I will die with honor, I will not—
“Wake up, vampire.”
His eyes flew open at the soft voice and he sprang up, breath heaving. His hands flew to his back. He expected to find the flesh torn open, his ribs ripped out and broken, to look like—
“You dream of him.” Catalina eyed him and shook her head. “His link to you is growing once again.”
Fuck, no. Simon ran a trembling hand over his face.
She glanced toward the door. A cheap motel room door. They were on the Louisiana/Texas border. She’d come with him and Dee. Come with the demon and the Ignitor—the woman who could only sit and cry.
“If you don’t kill him soon, he’ll start to control you again.” No censure there. Catalina just seemed to be stating a fact.
Okay, she was stating a fact.
Simon climbed from the bed. When had the witch come in? “Where’s Dee?” He reached for his shirt. Good thing he still had his jeans on or Catalina would’ve gotten a show.
“With Zane. She wants him to take the human away.” Catalina blew out a hard breath. “He wants to stay by Dee’s side.”
He yanked the shirt over his head. “Do you know what’s going to happen?” He’d first gone to Catalina weeks before. He’d known she was close to the hunters at Night Watch. He’d told her about Grim and asked if she understood what would be coming.
“I’ve been waiting for you.” Her first response. “You’re the one who’s come for Dee.”
Her shoulders rolled and she glanced back at him. “I know if I go with you, I die.”
He blinked at that. “You been looking into the future?” There was a price for that. A heavy one. And looking forward took dark magic.
She gave him a weak nod and rubbed her right hand over her forehead. “It was the fire. I had to make sure I wasn’t going to—”
The door swung open. “Well, that guy is a pure asshole.” Dee stormed inside. “Won’t listen to a thing I say, and the woman—Nina—she’s doesn’t even seem to know where she is.” She stopped, blinked. “Uh, what’s going on?”
Catalina’s spine straightened. “I’m leaving.”
Dee gave a fast smile. “Good. I knew you’d see reason, at least. I mean, you could have stayed in the city, you didn’t even have to come this far.”
“Everyone is going to die, Dee.”
Her lips parted. She hesitated. “Wh-what’s that?”
“I looked.” Catalina shook her head. “I saw death. Zane was surrounded by flames. I burned. Nina—her throat was cut.” She swallowed. “And you…”
“What about me?”
Catalina’s eyes darted to Simon.
Shit. Not good.
“You die, Dee.” Said again, softly. Sadly.
“I’ve already died once.”
“You won’t come back this time.” Catalina looked back at her. “You can’t win against Grim. I saw—”
“You’re afraid.” Dee’s arms crossed over her chest. “I know you are. Hell, I’m scared, too, okay?”
Had Dee just admitted that? No way. Simon stepped toward her but she threw up a quick hand. “Just…hold on. When you touch me, it’s hard to think.”
Well, damn.
She turned that hand and pointed at Catalina. “You can’t look into the future when you have fear in your heart. Even I know that.”
Catalina didn’t speak.
“You mess with the Dark, and it’ll show you the things that scare you the most, not what will be.” Dee gave a hard sigh. “I’ve been playing these games for a while, and I know about witches. And what you can and can’t see.”
“I saw death.” Catalina’s hands clenched. “I’m not going to a slaughter for a fight that can’t be won.”
“He killed my family. Simon’s family. Nina’s family. He won’t stop.” Dee paused, then said, “We have to stop him.”
“You’d kill us all for vengeance?”
“Watch it, witch,” Simon warned. The fear in Catalina was new. The fire had ignited the terror and the strong woman he’d met now seemed to have vanished. Fear could do that. Twist you. Change you. “Walk away if you want. This fight isn’t yours.” It was his. There’d be no stopping for him. No choice.
Her gaze held his. Sadness there. “You’ll kill her,” Catalina whispered.
Simon’s heart shuddered in his chest. No, no, he wouldn’t.
He’ll start to control you once again.
His vision dimmed. Fear, his own, licked at his gut and rose to his throat as—
“If you send her after him, you’re as good as killing her,” the witch finished and Simon’s breath came back.
“No, I’ll stand by her. Grim’s afraid of her. He knows she can kill him.” Or else he wouldn’t want her dead so badly.
“Can.” Catalina’s eyes closed. “Just because she can doesn’t mean she will.”
“I will.” Absolute certainty in Dee’s voice.
He’d back her any day.
Catalina’s lashes lifted. “You’re always so sure of yourself. From the first moment I met you, you were so strong—”
“You mean when that idiot warlock came and tried to bind you?”
A warlock like Skye. A former wizard who’d turned to the dark.
“We kicked his ass, didn’t we?” Dee murmured and Simon wished he could have seen that.
Wished he could have known Dee, before hell came calling at both of their doors.
The witch licked her lips. “We did.” A pause. “And I thought—I thought we’d be able to kick ass again. When he”—a weak flutter of her hand toward Simon—“came to me, asking me for the promised Born, I thought we could make everything all right. Thought we’d be strong enough to face what’s coming.”
“We will be,” Dee said. Her voice was sure and confident but Simon happened to glance down, and he saw that her fingers shook.
“I’m not.” Simple and as certain as Dee sounded. “I’m leaving tonight. I don’t even know where I’m heading,” Catalina said, lips curving down, “I just have to get away from here. The fire—”
Fire. The one thing that could scare a strong witch. Grim had known exactly what he was doing. Separate. Yank Dee away from the friends who could help her.
Grim could have gotten the Ignitor to attack Dee at any time. But, no, he’d waited until Dee sought shelter with Catalina.
He’d sent his other goons with fire the first time. But the second time, he hadn’t been playing. Grim had brought out the big guns. Ignitor.
Burned around her.
One down. Grim was working his twisted magic.
Dee stepped away from him and crept close to Catalina. She pushed a hand through her short h
air and stared in silence for a moment. “I understand.”
No pleas to stay. No guilt trips that they could use the witch’s magic.
Dee’s arms wrapped around the other woman. “Just be safe.”
He caught a glimpse of Catalina’s face. Simon saw the tear that leaked down her cheek. Her arms clamped tight around Dee. “You, too.”
Friends.
But Catalina was still walking away.
And Dee was trying to force the demon to leave her side.
Friends.
She wanted them safe and being safe meant that she didn’t want them anywhere near Grim.
Catalina eased back and swiped her hand over her cheek.
Then she walked away. The door shut behind her with the softest of clicks.
Dee’s shoulders straightened. “You want to tell me…” she began slowly, then glanced back at him, “why I had a vision of you, dying, in some freaking blizzard right before I stormed in here?”
He blinked. How had she—
She rubbed her eyes. “Damn, Simon, that was bad. One minute, I was talking to Zane—idiot won’t listen to me. The next, all I could see was you and you were—”
“It wasn’t me.” He could give her that much, at least. It had to be their blood link. Grim was trying to tune back to him, but Dee was slipping inside his mind, without even trying.
Her body turned fully toward him. Her gaze dipped over his chest and she crossed to him. “Uh, yeah, it was.” She walked behind him. Her fingers trailed down his back and Simon stiffened at the light touch. “What they did to you—”
“Not to me,” he said again, his breath sucking in. Her scent always got to him. Sensual and rich.
“I saw you.”
Because she’d been in his mind, and the images had taken hold of his consciousness and hadn’t let go. “Grim.” Her palms pressed into his back, seeming to burn his flesh even through the T-shirt. “What you saw—it was him.”
Her breath feathered over his flesh. Warm. His eyes closed. She lifted the back of the shirt and her lips pressed into his skin.
Simon swallowed. “They called it the blood eagle.”
Her fingers slipped down the skin of his back and he knew she’d remember the image from the dream. Vision. Whatever the hell it had been.
Torn, broken, ribs spread to look like an eagle’s wings. “An old Viking torture.” One he knew had been used on Grim. Their link had shown him that before.