Fishing in his pocket, he jerked out his keys. He shoved them into Chloe’s hand and leaned close to breathe in her ear. “Get to the car, and I’l get Alex.”
He could hear her swal ow, feel her turn her head away from the fire and toward the pitch blackness that swal owed up the SUV. Tension screamed through her, and he waited for her to master her terror, knowing that she would. “I—I don’t . . .” She shuddered. “Okay.”
“That’s my girl.” He squeezed her hand, curling her fingers over the keys. “If we’re not there in five minutes, I want you to get out of here. Contact Luca and Mil ie.”
“No.” She jerked her head around to stare up at him, her pupils huge. “I won’t do that.”
His fingers clenched over hers. “Chloe—”
“I won’t leave you alone in the dark.” Another shudder went through her, but she dropped his hand and moved away. Toward the SUV, as he’d told her. “I can’t. Don’t even ask it.”
He knew that was the best he would get, so he didn’t say anything else. Not al owing himself a last look at her, he forced himself to focus on getting to Alex. He could only hope the kid was as stubborn a survivor as Merek had always taken him for. Tonight, it would mean the difference between living or dying.
Merek could feel his power flowing hot and wild through his body, and he tried to rein it in, bury it until he needed to use it. Find the balance between awareness of other Magickals, and hiding his own presence from their awareness. Too bad he sucked at invisibility spel s.
He slid from behind the tepee, ghosting into the few trees near their campsite to try to avoid casting shadows for them to see. The underbrush to his left moved, the noise created by something far too big to be an animal. His heartbeat slowed to a dul thud in his chest, and he lifted his weapon as he slid forward to look.
Whatever was moving through the bushes wasn’t trying to be quiet. He could hear the breath whistling out of a pair of lungs. The scent of blood came to him, but the energy was that of neither of the Magickals he’d dealt with so far. It seemed familiar somehow, but he didn’t know why.
Then he knew. His pistol was trained on the elf who’d rented the campsite to them the day before. And the man was dying, slow and bloody, just as Merek had seen in his vision the moment he’d looked at the elf.
Shit. He sighed softly and knelt beside the pathetic specimen crawling forward on his bel y. A single glance, even in the semidarkness, told Merek the other man wasn’t going to make it.
“I’m sorry,” the man choked. He met Merek’s gaze, reaching out to fist his fingers in the leg of Merek’s pants. “Reward . . . for people matching your description. I cal ed last night. Sorry. Didn’t know.”
His grip went slack as he began coughing up dark liquid. Merek shook off his hand and stood, knowing there was nothing he could do for the elf now. Part of him was glad he didn’t have to. The man had turned them over for money, and Merek had little pity for the fate that had befal en him.
“He broke so easily.” The dispassionate, almost regretful, voice sounded from his left, but whoever was there already had him. “But his blood was sweet. We brought him along as a snack for later. Pity.”
Merek turned only his head to see what he was dealing with. Vampire, from the fangs and the blood-tasting comment—different from the one he’d shot from the sky. A wolf would have had to shift at ful moon, so only one fanged race was in human form tonight. One look at his face, and a fresh explosion of adrenaline raced through Merek’s veins. He knew this man, whose red hair gleamed like a copper penny.
“Gregor.”
“Good to see you again, Kingston.” His tone was pleasant, bland enough to be discussing the weather.
Then again, murder was everyday business for the vampire, so this might be just that boring for him. This was no recruit for Smith’s cause, but a mercenary who whored his deadly skil s out to the highest bidder.
Merek shrugged, easing one hand off the butt of his weapon to try to angle his fingers in the bloodsucker’s direction. “I wish I could say the same, but my day is never good when I run into you.”
Gregor laughed easily. “I’m flattered, Detective, I real y am. Now, are you going to try to use that hand to cast or are you going to be reasonable?”
As usual, the vampire carried no weapons. He didn’t need them. Merek didn’t want to think about what he’d do to Chloe or Alex if he got his hands on them.
That wouldn’t happen. Merek wouldn’t let it. Playing in his favor was the fact that Gregor couldn’t know Merek’s best weapon—his precognition—was toast in this situation. He’d take any advantage he could get, even one based on a false assumption.
He let a knife-thin smile curve his lips. “When have I ever been reasonable?”
The vampire grinned, anticipation flashing in his gaze. His eyes burned red around the edges. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
Instead of moving his hands as Gregor expected, Merek slammed his toe into the ribs of the dying elf at his feet. The shriek that ripped through the air made the vampire flinch, but before Merek could launch a spel at him, Gregor had used his superhuman speed to disappear. The underbrush didn’t even rustle with his passing.
A wolf’s howl roared from the lakeshore, the sound of a cornered, angry animal.
Alex.
Pivoting on his heel, Merek bolted out of the trees and toward the beach. His pistol was up and ready, but he kept one hand free for casting. The vampire with the broken wing hunched over Alex, the tip of one wing dragging in the sand behind him. His talons were bared, arching with deadly purpose toward the young wolf’s throat.
He couldn’t get a shot off. The vampire was too close to Alex. Flicking his fingers, he fired a percussive boom into the air. The vampire slammed his hands over his sensitive ears, crying out hoarsely. Alex writhed on the ground, one half-Changed arm covering his head to block the noise. Gregor’s enraged bel ow sounded in the distance behind Merek.
Not even pausing in his movements, Merek launched himself forward to catch the vampire around the waist and rol him away from the wolf. Fleshy wings tangled around them, and Merek tore at the skin trying to get loose. The vampire screeched, slashing his talons down Merek’s bicep, and Merek lost his weapon as his arm spasmed.
Pain.
It exploded into his body, reverberated through his skul until he thought it would split. Black spots spun in front of his eyes, and the need to vomit cut through the adrenaline pumping through his system.
The vampire hissed, and only the thought of those talons biting into him again cleared his head enough to react. He swung blindly, slamming his fist into the vampire’s mouth. The fangs ripped through his knuckles.
Hard bones from the top of one massive wing clipped him in the jaw. He swayed, caught the top of the wing near the shoulder and blasted through the flesh, bone, and cartilage with a firebal . When the vampire shrieked and bucked under him, Merek was ready, rol ing toward the severed wing to escape being entangled again.
Staggering to his feet, he opened his hand. “Gun,” he ordered, and the universe obeyed. His weapon whooshed through the air and smacked into his palm.
The amount of magic he was using began to drag at him, his energy sapping. And they weren’t out of the woods yet. His body shook from the strain, but he moved toward Alex, dropping to his knees beside the boy. Alex had regressed to a half-shift, the monstrous form worthy of any Hol ywood depiction of werewolves, twice the height and breadth of any human. Three times as heavy, too.