“I want her dead.” Fury and fear talking from Cat.
He knew ’em both when he heard ’em.
“Stand down, Cat. Stand. Down.” A demand from Zane. One that came just as—
The Ignitor blew out the back window of the truck. She hurled herself through the flames, crashed into the cement. Stumbled, but managed to get to her feet.
Zane took her down. Hard. “And don’t even think of burning me because, baby, I control the—”
“They’re dead,” Simon said, the words ripping from him. Probably the wrong time. Should have used some tact, but the witch was looking twitchy and with her magic—no way could they take chances. They needed someone left alive to question, and he didn’t want to lose another link to Grim.
“Simon!” Dee’s soft and shocked voice.
The Ignitor stopped thrashing beneath the demon. “Wh-what did you say?”
“They’re dead.” Who was he talking about? Didn’t know. Had to be someone close to her. “A vamp told us.”
A sob broke from her. Not one of those soft sniffles that some women could do, but a hard, chest-shaking eruption of agony. Pain.
Her face reddened and the tears leaked from her eyes. She tried to curl into herself, but Zane held her fast. “What the hell?”
Then Dee was there. Staring down at the other woman with recognition. Understanding. One who’d been there, and seen the darkness. “Her family. It’s…Christ. They’re gone.” She swallowed. “I-I cried like that, too. Zane, l-let her go.”
He stared down at the woman, the struggle on his face.
“She won’t hurt us,” Dee said.
The woman’s breath gasped out. She shuddered and cried as if the world were ending.
For her, maybe it was.
Simon’s hands clenched. What if the vampire was wrong? Lying wouldn’t be something new for his kind.
For any kind.
How many times had he lied? Tricked? To further his own plans—too many times to count. “We haven’t seen the bodies,” Simon said. The words slipped out, an effort to comfort. That agony—no, he couldn’t see it. Couldn’t hear it. Because when he looked at her, he saw Dee’s hell too easily.
And remembered his own.
No, Mom! Mom! Dad! So much blood.
Her watery eyes turned to him. Hope, faint, flickering, shined through the pain.
He locked his jaw and Simon gritted, “A Born vampire named Tore wanted us to deliver a message to you. He’s the one who said they were dead. We have no proof and—”
“Wh-what about Greg?”
Greg? “The vampire who brought you here to kill us?”
Zane’s hands were tight around her wrists. Too tight. When the demon suddenly freed her, Simon saw the red imprints on her flesh. Zane swore when he caught sight of the marks.
“Y-yes, h-he’s the one—” She pushed herself up.
“Greg’s dead.” Dee put her hands on her hips. “Very dead.”
Hope again, brighter this time. “Then there might be a-a chance. I-if we can get to the house before anyone else ch-checks in, I can get them out—”
They’re dead.
Simon shook his head. False hope, that’s all he’d given her. Freaking false—
“The vampires drained the man first. The one with streaks of silver in his hair.” Catalina’s voice. Calm and cool. Simon’s gaze found her huddled on the ground, leaning over a thick shard of broken glass.
Her eyes were fixed on that glass. No, on what she could see in the glass.
Scrying. A witch’s talent.
The human’s heartbeat raced in his ears. Pounding, fast, too fast. Dangerous that.
“They held the woman, made her watch. Then it was her turn.” Catalina picked up the glass and blood dripped from her fingertips when the sharp edges cut her. “Death waits in that house near the water. Only death.”
The Ignitor didn’t cry out again. The tears came silently, long, pouring streams, and Dee snarled.
Her fangs were out, her claws glinting, and when she rounded on the witch, her eyes were perfect midnight black. “See him.” Grim.
The blood drops splattered onto the ground. The scent drew him and power pulsed in the air.
Simon crossed to the witch.
Catalina’s eyes had been glassy with her magic. A dazed blink seemed to bring her back to them. “I-I didn’t mean—I haven’t even cast my circle—”
No time. The bodies were piling up. The evil closing in.
No more attacks.
Our turn.
Simon swiped his claws over his forearm. He lifted his hand and let the blood drop onto the darkened glass. “See him through me.”
A glow lit her eyes, then she stared down at the glass once more. He couldn’t see a damn thing. Soot. Ash. The red smear of his blood. Darkness. But Catalina stared and stared, and the silence thickened around them.
“Where.” A demand from Dee. He should have known her patience would break first.
“Texas.” Soft, tired. “Waiting, in a place called Heuco, near the Mexican border.”
Hueco. Hollow.
Excitement burned through him. “Cut the link.” She couldn’t look too long. With Grim, there was no telling who he’d forced onto his side. An Ignitor was just the start. He could have a witch or even a warlock. Probably a warlock. When choosing his weapons, Grim would go right for someone who’d stepped onto the dark side of magic. A warlock would be able to sense Catalina’s power if she stayed tuned in too long.
The glass shattered in her hands. “Can’t find me now,” she whispered. “But I found you.”
Hot damn. They’d done it. His gaze met Dee’s. Her lips began to curl, just a bit.
He hurried to her. Kissed her hard and deep. Tasted her.
The end was coming.
Not for them, oh, no. For them, it would be a beginning. They’d have forever.
But for Grim, hell waited.
Simon would get his freedom. Dee would have her revenge, then they’d have each other.
Pretty fucking perfect.
“Is the trap set?” Grim asked, his eyes on the woman who danced before him. Human. He liked the human dancers best. This one—her eyes smiled, flirted. Her heart raced and all that sweet blood pumped with every sway of her body.
“Greg didn’t report in.”
At that, Grim pulled his stare away from the woman. Music beat, a sensual rhythm, and he knew the woman kept on slithering. “How long has he been missing?” He didn’t worry about guarding his words with the dancer. No need with her.
“An hour.” Malik, a vampire who’d been with him since the guy’s first Taken breath five hundred years before, met Grim’s gaze directly.
An hour was plenty of time to die. Grim rubbed his hand over his chin. “The parents are dead?” His Ignitor was such a useful tool. Weak package, but an incredible power inside.
“Their bodies should be found tomorrow.”
A quick tip to the cops, yes, that would do just fine. “And my brother?” Like he didn’t know the asshole was around. The instant Tore had crossed the ocean, he’d felt the fool. He’d taken steps to prepare for him. Tore wouldn’t have an advantage in this hunt.
“No word yet.”
There wouldn’t be. “He won’t come for me.” Tore had learned his lesson the last time when Grim had left the dead children for him to find.
His brother had always had a soft spot for the kiddies.
When you knew someone so well, it was easy to work their weak spots. He knew just how to make Tore suffer.
His brother had begged him for death over twelve hundred years ago. When he’d seen what Grim had become. When he’d found the bodies and known that he’d be the next to feel Grim’s fangs on his throat.
There’d been no controlling the bloodlust. No stopping the vicious thirst. But he hadn’t wanted to stop it. He’d just wanted to kill.