Sharon Ashwood - Unchained

Perhaps that was what he’d been waiting for. She could feel rather than hear him drawing closer. He seemed to absorb the energy from the air around him, the weight of his magic blotting out the life in the night wind. She swayed slightly from keeping her eyes closed, but trusted her senses to tell her exactly how close he was.

Any slayer worth her salt knew how to fight blind.

He was waiting for an answer, so she gave one. “I liked the dark because it hid the stains on my soul. But now I’m coming to accept that people forgive my past. It’s spring. I’m in love, and with a living guy to boot.”

“Ticktock. Reynard still does not have his soul.”

Ashe concentrated on a cramp that was forming from holding the gun so still. Pain would help her keep her focus. “Yeah, the urn’s still missing. Which means you don’t have your supernatural Viagra.”

“Perhaps we don’t need it. I could teach you to love me. You could Choose me.”

“And what drugs are you on?”

He was close now, drawing closer. A predator ready to pounce. “Perhaps I could heal your powers. You could be the witch you once were.”

It was the one thing he should never have said.

Ashe opened her eyes. He was mere feet away, deadly close. She curled her lip. “You’re such a waste of space.”

Ashe pulled the trigger.

Belenos flew back, arms splayed in a graceful arc. He was a large male. The force of the bullet didn’t take him too far, but he toppled with a crash worthy of one of the great cedars sheltering the graves. A circle of dark blood bloomed on his chest, black in the torchlight.

Ashe switched weapons, now grasping the stake in her right hand, the gun in her left. One bullet wouldn’t kill a vampire this old, unless it ripped through his spine. She was counting on it knocking him cold for a good eight hours.

She stood before the fallen vampire, their boots nearly touching. “By the way, I’m not an idiot. My brother-in-law brought along two dozen of his closest friends to mop up your henchmen. The fun and games are over, Red.”

Eight hours should be long enough for the local vamps to take the Eastern vamps to Queen Omara. The monarch of the Northwestern territories could punish Belenos in ways no witch or mortal could dream of, and all within the letter of the vampire laws.

She wished she could watch.

Ashe knelt over Belenos, pressing the point of the stake over his heart. He looked like he was out cold, his hair strewn around him like an exotic mane, but she wasn’t taking any chances.

The bullet hole was a little to the right, just where she’d wanted it. Not quite a killing shot. Ashe could smell raw meat. That would be where the custom silver-coated slug had torn its way out his back, making a big mess along the way. Cruel, but if you tangled with a vampire like Belenos, you had to mean business.

She heard footsteps, and recognized Reynard’s tread. “I’ve got him,” she said. “What about the others?”

“They’ve been dealt with. Do you want me to search for the key?”

“Please.”

Reynard knelt on the other side of the fallen vampire.

“Do you think others vampires will show up, wanting children?” she asked.

“According to Caravelli, Queen Omara will make it clear what a bad idea that would be.”

“Good.”

He began fishing in the vampire’s pants pockets, and pulled out a small gold disk. It bore a six- pointed sun. Their gazes locked, Reynard’s eyes grim, as he gave it to her. “Are you all right?”

“Sure. I just did what any mother in my place would have done.”

Early the next morning, Ashe’s hacker contact finally called back, but only to report that he had no leads on any properties recently purchased by Anthony Yarndice. He’d tried every search known to hackerdom and then some. Bannerman, however, seemed to be constantly buying estates and selling them at a profit. He gave Ashe three addresses the lawyer had purchased in the last six weeks.

Ashe had just gotten out of the shower. Reynard was still in the bathroom, discovering the joys of a massaging showerhead. “Yeah, okay,” she said into the phone, trying to write and adjust the towel wrapped around her hair at the same time. “Thanks, bud.”

She wrote down the last address and hung up. Bingo! Ashe did a victory dance, losing the towel in the process.

Reynard appeared in the bedroom doorway and watched the performance with speculative interest.

“What is it?”

“A hit! A palpable hit!”

Reynard raised an eyebrow.

Ashe waved the notepaper with the addresses. “Bannerman bought three properties. One location corresponds with the demon-tracking spell Holly cooked up last night. We have Tony’s new location.”

Reynard’s eyes turned a cold silver. “Where?”

“North Central Shopping Mall. Where you met me at the library.”

Reynard picked up Ashe’s towel and handed it back to her. “Well, my dear, then let’s go check it out.”

“Har, har,” she said. “I hate librarian jokes. You know that, right?”

He gave her a look that mixed mischief and affection. “Why else would I make one?”

Tuesday, April 7, 8:30 a.m.

Carver House

Since Holly was the only one among them who’d actually bagged a demon, she agreed to meet them at the mall as soon as Grandma arrived to watch the kids. While Ashe was making those arrangements, Reynard called the hellhound guard post outside the Castle door and reported that the errant demon had possibly been found. Mac and the other guardsmen should be on standby.

Those errands done,Ashe and Reynard took the Ducati, roaring through the streets with the abandon of teenagers on spring break. She could feel his excitement in the play of his body behind her, in the tingle of his power dancing along her skin. It was a Tuesday morning and traffic was light. They sped past empty playgrounds, silent houses, and schools with throngs of children standing outside the doors. Coffee shops had tables out on the sidewalk, patrons reading the paper and sunning themselves. Except for the task at hand, it was a beautiful morning.

Hellspawn had a way of souring the mood.

Ashe tried to remember everything she knew about demons. There were many different kinds—the term “demon” was about as specific as “bug.” Some were born. Hellhounds were a kind of half demon. Born demons tended to be fairly sane and law-abiding. Others were parasites that infected human hosts. Most of those demons were far more powerful and very bad news. Fortunately, they were rare.

Ashe had killed a few lesser demons, but none bigger than a bread box. The big guys had to be banished, and that took magic powers. The Carver witches had performed a banishing spell exactly twice. It had been the same soul-eater demon both times. Ashe’s ancestor Elaine Carver had died the first time they’d booted it out of Fairview. The second time, Holly had killed the demon and ripped open the doorway to the Castle. Ashe hadn’t been present at that battle, but she’d heard it took a whole lot of magic to get the job done. Holly had pulled earth magic from a nexus of ley lines that converged right where the battle was being fought. Where that had been an ocean of power, the area around the mall was a trickle. Plus, Holly’s powers were just coming back online. They couldn’t count on her providing that boatload of power. The best they could hope for was, like, a kiddie pool’s worth. Or a salad bowl. Or a butter dish. Even if a collector demon wasn’t the badass that the soul eater had been, how the hell were they going to get rid of it?

They pulled up to a stoplight. It was only chance that made her glance down almost at the same time that Reynard tapped her shoulder and pointed at the brand-new BMW 5 Series sedan next to them. Ashe recognized the driver. Bannerman. A hot wave of dislike itched its way across her skin. Was he out and about doing business for Tony? Were they picking out curtains for more demon hidey-holes?