Unknown - Scorched

“That’s the way it works.”

“I don’t want to play.”

The hound’s expression went from neutral to icy. “Destiny doesn’t make you special. It’s simply more responsibility.”

“I just want my life back.”

The words, however true, suddenly sounded childish in Mac’s ears. That just made him more annoyed. “Get out of here.”

Disappointment flickered in Lore’s eyes, then vanished as he shuttered his expression. “When you need help, call us.”

He left without another word. From the kitchen, Mac heard the door click shut.

Crap. That was stupid.

Mac had never asked Lore why he had brought up the prophecy in the first place. Or why he had offered the hounds’ help.

Hellhounds never involved themselves in other people’s business. What was their interest in whatever it was the Sparkly One was supposed to do? Was there trouble in the hellhound kennel?

He’d been so wrapped up in his own shit, he’d missed all that. Motivation was something a cop should never overlook. He’d be damned if that would happen twice.

There was something going on there. He could smell it.

God, I’m hungry.

October 5, 2:00 p.m. 101.5 FM

“That’s what I mean, Oscar. What can the supernatural community do about humans who believe they have the right to kill us on sight? We all know there’re even tribes of so-called Hunters that have existed for centuries in Eastern Europe. Some say they’ve even evolved into a species of their own. Their whole culture is based on exterminating vampires. What have I, George de Winter, ever done to them? And yet they would still kill me at a moment’s notice and the law protects them from retaliation. How do we shield ourselves from something like that?”

“But really, isn’t there a greater threat from random violence against supernaturals, the vampire slayers who appoint themselves vigilantes?”

“Most of them are rank amateurs, but you’re right. Every so often they do get in a lucky stake.”

Alessandro slept. For vampires, dreams were usually lost in the deep, deep sleep of the Undead, slipping away during the long climb back to consciousness.

The odd quality of this one stuck with him, though.

There was a magpie the size of city hall trying to carry off the T-Bird, and he was trying to stop it with a garden hose.

Why the hell am I spraying it with water? The hose is long enough to wrap around its neck. This is a stupid dream.

The image blanked as absolutely as if someone had pulled the power cord.

Merda!

His hand shot out from beneath the covers, grabbing the stake inches from his chest. It was pure vampire survival reflex. His eyes squinted open a moment later, tears forming in reaction to the daylight peeking from beneath the blinds.

Through the haze, he saw Ashe’s rage-mottled face. His other hand shot up, snatching her throat. Delicate rings of cartilage tempted him to squeeze and crush.

He really wasn’t a morning person.

Ashe wasn’t letting go of the stake, but was yanking on it with rabid persistence. Alessandro started to sit up. She tried to poke her thumb in his eye. That did it. With a snarl, he flipped her over onto the bed, knocking the stake from her hand. It hit the wall and skidded under the bed.

“Agh!” she yelped, clawing at the hand he still had wrapped around her throat.

He snarled, letting her see the fangs. “I’ve had it with you, hunter. I’ve held back for Holly’s sake. You crossed the line.”

She brought her knee up sharply, catching him in the ribs. He grabbed her hair, using the leverage to tip her head back and sniff her throat. Her eyes went perfectly round in a moment of pure abject terror. The stink of it roused the predator in him. In the single tick of the clock, Ashe wiped the look from her face, but she couldn’t hide the slight trembling of her chin.

Fear was spice. Saliva pooled in his mouth. As Holly’s Chosen, blessed by her magic, he didn’t need to feed on blood any more than a human needed a candy bar. That didn’t mean the temptation wasn’t there. Just ask a chocoholic.

“You aren’t supposed to be awake,” she said, her voice shaking just on the last syllable. She cleared her throat.

“Really?” The light was making his head pound.

“You can’t move in daylight.” She squeezed her eyes closed, for a moment looking so much like Holly it made him loosen his grip on her hair.

“Of course I can.”

He was kneeling beside her on the soft mattress, bracing with one hand while he held her down with the other around her throat. Ashe was strong enough to break the grip of a human male. Against him, she didn’t stand a chance. Both her hands clutched his wrist. Any moment she’d start trying to pry herself free because survival instinct demanded it.

She wouldn’t win.

He gave a deadly leer. “Trade secret. Any vampire that is old enough can wake during the day. It just makes us very, very cranky.”

At the moment, he felt like he had the mother of all hangovers.

“What’s Holly going to say when she finds me dead?” A low growl slipped out. “What’s to say she’ll ever find you?”

Ashe made a tiny, rebellious noise. “You’re a monster.”

“Your point?”

The floor shook, a brief rumble. The tension between them was waking the house’s sentient magic.

Ashe hauled on his wrist, her fight coming back. “You won’t win. I’ve never lost yet!”

She bit him.

Alessandro ripped his hand away, swearing as the blood welled up. “Son of a whore!”

Ashe sprang off the other side of the bed and whipped a second stake out of her boot. “Hurts, doesn’t it, asshole? How do you think Holly felt when you bit her?”

Alessandro reached the end of his rope. With vampire speed, he hurled a pillow straight at her face. Reflexively, she stabbed, releasing a snowstorm of feathers. He used the moment to sail over the bed and grab her from behind, twisting her arms behind her back.

The house trembled again, this time rattling the blinds on the window. Soon it would become dangerous, but to which one of them? Both?

Ashe gave a bitter laugh. “You can kill me if you want, but that doesn’t make you a living man. You can’t be part of my sister’s life. You’re death.”

Her words sliced so deep, he didn’t feel the sting until a second had passed. Then it seared him to the marrow, too deep for any real response. He twisted the second stake out of her fingers, not caring if he hurt her. “I’m still better than the family she has. I wouldn’t send my child away to be raised by strangers.”

“I’m keeping my daughter safe from the likes of you.”

Alessandro bit back a profane retort. He had few options. He could kill Ashe, lock her in the basement, or toss her down the front steps. He dropped his voice to his coldest, cruelest tones. “How do you feel about family counseling?”

“Fuck you.”

His conscience was clear enough to introduce a final option.

“Then I have a very special place for you to go where you can kill all the monsters you want.”

“Pissed” didn’t begin to cover Mac’s mood.

He’d bought groceries, stuffed himself to bursting, and, suddenly exhausted, fallen asleep on the couch. He remembered getting up for a midnight snack that had involved another normal day’s supply of food. When he woke up midmorning, he was sure he’d changed even more. He felt like an ox. Maybe somebody out of Alice in Wonderland. It would have been funny if it had been happening to anybody else.

He was not amused.

That was just the physical stuff. The demon had put his aggression on high, something he’d noticed the second time he’d been forced out of the apartment to find clothes and food. He’d nearly attacked a guy who’d cut him off in the beef aisle in the supermarket. Yeah, Mac was pissed, and there was fear underneath the anger. At moments, he was hanging on to his self-control by the fingernails. The demon was taking over.