Piers might let him live, but Roz certainly wouldn’t. She had plans for Jack—painful plans.
“Why would you do that? What does she mean to you?” Jack paused and Roz could almost hear his brain working. “Shit. You love her.”
Piers ignored the comment and quite rightly—it was a ludicrous idea. “The Order offered her protection,” he said.
Well, what had she expected? A declaration of true love? Never going to happen.
“Christ, you do—you’ve got the hots for her. Andarta is going to love this.”
Roz’s mind was working furiously. Could she break free? Maybe elbow him in the side? She shifted her arm to see if there was any leeway in the hold, but his grip tightened.
“Stop wriggling, bitch, or I’ll knife you right here.”
“That would be a bit stupid—you’d lose the only thing that’s keeping you alive right now.”
His fingers dug in cruelly. Had she hit a sore spot? Did Jack not like being called stupid? Maybe she could get him mad enough to do something even more idiotic. She’d always been good at getting people mad. “But from what I’ve seen so far, intelligence isn’t one of your stronger points. Maybe you’re useful for beating up little girls and nuns but not much use in the brains department.”
“Shut up,” he snarled. Then he gave a short, triumphant laugh. The air straight ahead shimmered, and a new portal opened.
“Shit,” Roz muttered. Andarta hadn’t abandoned him after all, though there was no sign of the demoness. Jack started dragging her toward the black gaping hole. She so did not want to go there.
Behind her, she heard the click of guns being drawn.
“Don’t shoot,” Piers said. “You might hit Roz.”
Aw, maybe he did care after all.
She started struggling. What the hell if she got hurt? It was better than ending up down in the Abyss, and she wouldn’t let herself be used as some sort of hostage. Not that she really considered anyone would give up much for her. But it was a nice dream.
She’d rather die now than end up down there. But she was pretty pissed off that they’d ruined her plan. She’d been going to die doing some good—destroying the Key and ending the wicked Andarta’s dastardly plot for world domination.
Now, she was just going to die.
Shit. Crap. Bugger.
She struggled some more, and felt the blade slice into her skin. Not deep enough to do serious damage, but it stung. And he didn’t slow down.
They were almost on the edge now. If she peered over, she would see the shadows waiting to pull her in, swallow her. So instead, she glanced over her shoulder and saw Piers standing, gun hanging from his hand, raw frustration etched on his gorgeous face.
“We’ll get you back,” he shouted. “Just stay alive. We’ll come after you.”
Yeah, right. Great advice. Though she had a suspicion that a few hours—maybe even a few minutes—in Jack’s company, and she might not be thinking it was such a good idea. No, she reckoned that a little time down in the Abyss with Jack and she might be thinking that death was a pleasant alternative.
They were on the edge now. All around her the lesser demons were streaming past, spilling into that break in reality, disappearing into the shadows. Then there was just her and Jack. He obviously couldn’t resist one last gloat at Piers.
“Maybe I’ll send you a little piece of her every so often, just so you know—”
His words were cut-off abruptly. Beside her, he stared up in horror. A figure swooped down from the air and kicked Jack in the face so the two of them tumbled back away from the portal. Jack’s grip loosened, and she scrambled away on all fours just as an arm wrapped around her middle and scooped her up. Then she was in the air and flying.
She held herself very still. It would be really stupid to fall now when someone had gone to the bother of saving her from a fate worse than death—and probably eventually from death as well. She couldn’t see the face of the man who gripped her hard against his chest, holding her with an easy strength, but she knew who it must be.
She was alive, and she really hadn’t believed that was going to happen. And she was flying. Actually fucking flying. She could hear the swoosh of huge wings beating the air. She threw back her head and laughed. Behind her, the demon chuckled.
They were high up above the city now, hovering and looking down; the figures were small, sticklike, the lights winding along the river, the roads, and the streets. Then they were falling. Fast, and she closed her eyes and clamped the scream in her mouth.
He landed lightly, close to where they had taken off, and released his hold. For a second she swayed, but righted herself and turned to face her savior.
“Damn, and I thought it was Superman, come to the rescue.”
Asmodai grinned. “Unfortunately not. Are you disappointed?
“Hell, no. In situations like these, I’ll take any help I can get.” She considered him for a second. “Just remember—no one asked you this time, so if you’re expecting me to find anything else for you, you can go whistle.” She shrugged. “But—thank you. I really believed I was a goner.”
“Just protecting my property.”
She curled her upper lip in what she hoped was a scary snarl, but the truth was, once again she had lost the Key, and she was still alive, which meant she was still indebted to the demon. But things could be worse.
“She’s not your property.”
The growled words came from behind. Roz whirled around to find Piers only a foot away.
“Really?” Asmodai murmured. “And whose is she then?”
“Er—actually, I’m no one’s property.” On the other hand, she wouldn’t mind loaning herself out to Piers for a limited amount of time. Just until she got rid of the inconvenient itch. And got her Key back. And maybe worked out just why she found him so fascinating. She looked up to find him staring at her, his gaze intent.
“I’m sorry about last night,” he said.
She glanced from him to Asmodai. The demon had a knowing smirk on his face.
“In case you’re interested—nothing happened last night.”
He quirked a brow but very sensibly said nothing. She decided to get off the subject and searched the area. “What happened to Jack?”
“Carl has him.”
She found him at that moment, in the center of a small knot of huge men. She recognized Carl, the werewolf, still looking boringly human. Would he shift if she asked nicely? Maybe now wasn’t the right time.
“What are you going to do with him?” she asked.
“He’s no use to us. What do you think we should do with him?”
She thought about Jessica, who had suffered at his hands. Of the first girl he had kidnapped, who hadn’t survived and had no doubt died in terror, alone in the darkness. Of all the others he had taken and would take again if he were freed. She’d come to see the line between good and evil as blurred, but some people were firmly on one side or the other, and Jack was evil. Then she thought about Sister Maria and black hatred rose up inside her. “Kill him.”
Piers studied her for a moment. “For you, my sweet, anything.”
She watched as he strode across. He spoke quietly to Carl, who released Jack and stepped aside, leaving the vampire standing alone.
Piers drew the sawed-off shotgun from the holster. He didn’t speak to the other man, didn’t gloat, just raised the gun, and blasted Jack through his heart. The vampire collapsed to the ground. Piers holstered the weapon and leaned down over the body. He gripped Jack’s head between his hands, rested one booted foot on his ruined chest, and twisted.
Jack’s head came free of his neck with what seemed a very loud crack followed by a disgusting slurping sound. With the head still gripped in his fists, Piers carried it to the portal and tossed it down. Two of the other men dragged the body and it followed the head.