He’d grown tired waiting for the right females to stumble across the carousel that housed the animal forms of the warriors and release them. It was taking too much time. Years. Decades. He wanted this over and done with so he could get on with his plans.
He’d learned much from watching the other warriors being released. There was a certain type of energy surrounding these special women—strong, yet abundantly feminine, sweet and yet spicy. Invigorating. He licked his lips, almost tasting the power they contained.
He wouldn’t kill the next one he found. No, he’d steal her energy for himself. To that end, he’d dispatched his minions all over the world, searching for any trace of this unusual energy. His scheme had paid off. Handsomely.
This time his smile was genuine, and he threw back his head and laughed. “I’ve got you now.” He turned back to the mirror and a woman’s face filled the space. Her blue eyes were terror-filled and her ruby-red lips parted on a bloodcurdling scream.
“Is that her?”
Hades ignored Mordecai for a moment, simply because he could. He was enjoying the woman’s scream. When it ended, he swiveled in his chair and eyed his top general. “Yes.”
“I got the number.”
That was one of the things Hades found most useful about Mordecai. He was proactive, getting what was needed, anticipating what Hades would want, unlike most of his demons who wouldn’t move without specific orders. He held out his hand and Mordecai dropped a slip of paper with a name and number into it.
Victory was close. Hades savored the sensation. But first came the thrill of the hunt. “Get ready to leave. You’re taking a little trip.”
Mordecai cocked an eyebrow, his black eyes filled with questions that remained unasked.
“All in good time,” Hades promised. “Now leave me.”
Mordecai inclined his head and withdrew, his boots soundless on the carpet. Hades frowned. The serpent was good at sneaking around, maybe too good.
The paper crinkled in his fingers and he forgot about the former warrior of the Lady of the Beasts. Mordecai belonged to him now. Body and soul.
He plucked his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed the number. He was the only one who could get cell coverage from Hell. It was one of the many perks of being him.
The phone was answered on the other end and Hades’ skin tingled. The rush of anticipation was almost sexual. The hunt was about to begin. “I have a deal for you,” he began.
Chapter One
She slowly stretched out her hand into the darkness, cautiously searching for the wall. She knew it was there if she could just find it. Sweat made her thin tank top stick to her skin, molding the fabric to her breasts. In spite of the heat, she shivered. The unfinished planks of the boathouse floor were rough against her bare feet.
He was here. Somewhere.
Was that a creak?
She held her breath and listened intently. The frantic pounding of her heart filled her ears, making it next to impossible to hear.
She closed her free hand around the hilt of the kitchen knife she’d grabbed to defend herself. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. She didn’t want to fight. All she wanted to do was find a way out of this godforsaken mansion and go home.
Why had she agreed to housesit for a couple she barely knew? Because the offer had seemed too good to be true. A weekend at a private lake in a home with every amenity ever invented.
A pity she’d never get to try out the hot tub.
Something scuttled over her foot and she jumped back, barely suppressing a scream. A rat. Oh God, it was only a rat. Maybe he hadn’t found her. Maybe he hadn’t realized she’d left the house yet.
The speedboat was only a few feet away. If she could get to it, she could escape to the other side of the lake to the safety of the town and the local police.
“You can do this,” she whispered.
One foot at a time, she warily crept toward the boat. She wanted to run, but that would be stupid. She didn’t know where the man who’d broken into the house was. He could be anywhere—in the surrounding woods, in the house or standing a few feet away from her. In the pitch black there was no way to tell. She swallowed hard, ignoring the lump in her stomach, the burning in her eyes and the sour taste in her mouth.
Freedom was so close she could practically smell it. The sleek lines of the pleasure boat came into view as a sliver of light broke through a crack in the boathouse wall. She knew the keys were under the captain’s seat. All she had to do was get there without being detected. She cocked her head to one side, listening for any telltale sound as she moved stealthily forward.
Almost there.
“Leaving so soon, Amanda,” the low male voice mocked. He was right behind her.
She whirled around, knife raised and screamed. The bloodcurdling sound was abruptly cut off as he knocked her to the ground. The strike was brutal and stole her breath. Her head hit the boathouse floor, leaving her momentarily stunned. The knife slipped from her grip and she heard a skittering sound followed by a wet splash. It had fallen over the side of the wharf and into the dark, murky water. She was well and truly helpless.
“No. Please,” she begged, throwing her hands up in front of her. She wanted to move but terror held her frozen in place.
His laughed and his eyes seemed to glow in the dim moonlight streaming in through the window, giving him a demonic presence. He was big. He was strong. And he was bent on killing her. It wasn’t fair. He was a total stranger. She’d never done anything to him, never even seen him before.
The knife flashed as it descended, slicing through her top and into her flesh as easily as a hot knife cut through butter. She gasped and tried to scream as he raised the knife and brought it plunging back down, again and again.
Her scream was cut short and she felt her life’s blood draining from her. Her vision dimmed as her eyelids fluttered and closed for the final time. Just before everything went black, she heard his chilling voice. “You’re just the beginning.”
She gave one final sigh before her body went boneless.
“Cut!” The director turned toward the crew. “That’s a wrap for tonight.”
“Hey, Kells. Good scene.”
Her murderer held out his hand and Kellsie Morris took it, allowing him to help her to her feet. “Thanks, Stan.” She and Stan were both veterans of the horror-film industry. This was the fourth time he’d killed her. He’d also been her boyfriend once and had ended up being killed in a car accident, a very violent and gruesome death.
The special-effects guy hurried up to them. “How did the blood packs work?”
“Great, Gus.” She’d worked with Gus before too. Heck, with more than thirty horror flicks under her belt in the past eleven years, she’d worked with just about everyone.
He yanked up her top so it bunched beneath her breasts and examined her stomach, not taking her word for it. “Looks good,” he muttered, ignoring the mess that was seeping onto his hands. “All the packs deployed.”
Gus was a perfectionist. He was also a happily married man, and she knew his interest in her bare flesh was purely professional and not because he hoped to catch a better glimpse of her breasts.
“Hey, Gerry was happy,” Stan reminded Gus. Gerry Grant was the director of this particular flick, The Secrets of Summer Lake. Catchy title. Too bad she was simply cannon fodder in this one—an early kill. Her work here was already done.
She yanked her stained top back over her bloody tummy and hugged Gus. “Thanks for another great movie.”