Vivi Anna - Seducing the Hunter

No, Quinn didn’t harbor any delusions that the intruders were after his valuables. At least, not the type that a person could buy in a department store. He did possess some things of worth. Things that only certain types of humans and demons would know about.

Were they after the key? God, he hoped not. That thing had been nothing but trouble from the second his father had bequeathed it to him. He’d tried to hide it in plain sight by giving it to his sister disguised as a pendant, but it had ended up back in his hands anyway. Back to being his responsibility.

Before he could consider that further, the door burst open. And not in one push. It splintered into a hundred pieces, as if C-4 had been placed on it and lit by a fuse. But he didn’t hear an explosion. Something else of great power had rendered his door into kindling.

He cocked the shotgun and, stepping over the wood pieces scattered on his floor, he took a stance in the doorway, pointing his weapon. But he couldn’t get a shot off before he was catapulted backward by a ball of green light that hit him full force in the gut. All the air was knocked out of him when he hit the wall.

He slumped to the floor just as a man with long dark hair and glowing green hands stepped into his bedroom. He smiled down at Quinn.

“Quinn Strom, I presume. Where is the key?”

All of Quinn’s muscles quivered. It was as if a thousand volts of electricity surged through his body. He could barely blink.

The man stood over him, threatening green sparks dripping like melted metal from his long fingers. “I don’t want to kill you. But I will to get what I want.”

Quinn licked his lips, trying to get his mouth to work. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play with me, Strom. I know you have it. Your lovely sister, Ivy, had it and then she gave it to you.”

Quinn tried to sit up at the mention of Ivy’s name. “If you touched her, I’ll kill you.”

The man chuckled. “Don’t worry, she is quite safe. The cambion of hers is quite formidable. I should know, he killed Reginald, the man I succeeded as leader of the Cabal.” He turned his glowing hands this way and that, looking at them affectionately. “Although I probably should thank him for that...”

Quinn now knew who had broken into his house. The Crimson Hall Cabal. They were a ruthless group of powerful sorcerers who ran their organization pretty much like the mob and a gentlemen’s club combined. Not long ago, his sister, Ivy, and her lover, Ronan, a cambion, otherwise known as a half demon, had had a run-in with Reginald Watson. He’d initially hired Ronan to find Quinn and steal the key. But Ronan had had a change of heart—everything to do with the fact that he’d fallen in love with Ivy—and had given the key back. Then he ended up killing Reginald to keep Ivy and the key safe.

Obviously, the legend of the key had been passed on to the next in line for the cabal throne. The legend and the desire to possess it.

“You’ve wasted a trip. I don’t have the key,” Quinn croaked, his throat dry from the pain that still zipped through his body.

There was movement behind the sorcerer in the doorway. He turned as a small squat creature hobbled into the room.

“I could not find it, Master.”

It was a goblin, a female one by the way it was shaped. It regarded Quinn with its big, opaque eyes, and Quinn thought maybe he saw a quick flash of remorse in its wide-eyed stare. He couldn’t be sure. He’d only ever seen a goblin once before. It was rare to see one topside. They usually resided in hell, acting as servants to the demons that inhabited the pits.

“Yes, well, I did not suspect that the great Quinn Strom would have it lying around.” The sorcerer looked back to him. “You’re much too much like your father. Paranoid to a fault. Too bad that didn’t help him before he died.”

“I’d leave my dad out of this.”

“Or what?” the sorcerer sneered. “You’re going to kill me?”

Quinn nodded. “Something like that.” He pulled his hand out of his satchel and a dagger glinted in the light cast by the sorcerer’s hands. The sorcerer saw the knife too late.

He lifted his hands, just as Quinn sank the lethal blade into the sorcerer’s leg, and dodged his magic green rays. The green light slammed into the wall behind him, just missing his head, and burned a hole through the wood and concrete.

Dragging the shotgun with him, Quinn gained his feet, but the sorcerer was already turning toward him, the knife still sticking out of his thigh. Quinn dashed past the little goblin and out of the room. A blast of green fire hit him in the shoulder as he rounded the doorway.

It sent him to the ground, and he rolled dangerously close to the first step on the staircase. Pain shot through him like acid, but he managed to pull himself up using the railing and started down the stairs. Another bolt of green hit the wall next to him, causing him to stumble. Sparks sizzled on his cheek.

He reached the bottom step just as the sorcerer started down. Quinn risked a glance at him. The sorcerer had pulled the knife from his leg and dark droplets splattered the rug with each step he took. It wouldn’t be long before the blood loss affected the sorcerer’s vision. He’d be seeing black spots soon. Or least, Quinn hoped he would.

Quinn ran into the living room. He had to get to his bookcase. There was one book he needed before he could get out of the house. The room had been trashed by the little goblin. Sofa cushions had been sliced open and spilled out on the floor. All his shelves were tossed. The bookcase was broken apart on the rug, the books scattered everywhere.

He surveyed the damage, desperately seeking a thick black tome. He spied it in the corner, off by itself. As if waiting for him.

He dashed for it even as the sorcerer came around the corner, his hands glowing brighter. Quinn had a feeling that if he was hit by another wave of magic he wasn’t going to be getting up so easily. He’d crossed paths with the sorcerers before, but this one’s magic seemed much more powerful.

Ducking to grab the book, he barely missed being hit by a large orb of green. It crashed into the wall just above him. Liquid green sparks rained down on him, burning holes in his skin. He sucked in a breath to deal with the pain and shoved the book into his satchel.

If he could just make it to the kitchen, he could escape out the back. He had an escape route planned in advance. One he’d practiced repeatedly. He’d dash across the yard, out the back gate, down the alley and over the fence of his neighbors who had two dogs he’d already made friends with. After going through their yard, out the front and down another block, he’d get to the old junker he had sitting there. The keys were sitting on the right front wheel, under the fender.

But the thoughts were moot. Just as he reached the archway to the kitchen, he felt the impact on his back.

Quinn catapulted forward. Luckily he had the presence of mind to put his hands out, so he didn’t land on his face. But he did manage to smash his knee against the kitchen island as he fell. Dark, searing pain surged over his back, up his neck and over his skull. His vision wavered.

He tried to gain his feet, but dizziness seized him and he collapsed to his knees, agony bursting through the one he’d just battered. “Damn it!” he yelled.

He half crawled, half pulled himself on his stomach, toward the back door. But it was pointless. He was down.

“Admirable, Strom. But face it, I have more power than you do.”

Quinn rolled onto his back to see the sorcerer limp into the kitchen, the little goblin trailing behind him.

“Loir, grab the bag.”

The little green creature shuffled past the sorcerer to where Quinn was sprawled out on the kitchen floor. He clutched the satchel to his chest. “Touch it, goblin, and I’ll bite your hand off.”