“We will rule. You’ll find out soon enough.” The demon looked them over as if they were nothing but insects. “We are superior over humans and growing stronger every day. There are more and more of us coming on board, and the Masters are turning us at a rapid rate. Soon, we’ll take over and you’ll bow to us.”
“That’s pretty big talk coming from someone strapped in and held prisoner,” Mandy said.
The demon grinned. “Only a matter of time before I’m out of here.”
Mandy snorted.
“Don’t turn your back on me, bitch. You’ll be dead.”
“Knock the thing out,” Michael ordered the tech. An injection into its IV and the demon’s eyelids closed, but not before it sent Mandy a pale, blue-eyed look of utter hatred.
These demons had emotion. And egos. Too bad it was out cold. Mandy enjoyed the banter. And she really wanted to kill it, but not while it was strapped down like that. She wanted it free and going one-on-one with her.
She’d show it who was superior then. That demon had overconfidence written all over it. Which meant it was doomed.
Shivering from the subzero temperatures, Mandy stepped outside the room with Michael, peeling off the layers as she did. She rubbed her arms to get the circulation going again.
“Thinks a lot of itself, doesn’t it?” she remarked.
“You could say that. Obviously they assume they’re indestructible,” Michael said as they strolled down the sterile white hallway and into an office. “That could be a critical mistake.”
Mandy slid onto a well-worn leather sofa. “I can’t believe it gave us so much information.”
Michael pulled up a chair in front of the metal desk, turning the chair to face Mandy. “It doesn’t see us as a threat. So it felt safe in boasting about its talents. Obviously the Sons of Darkness haven’t taught their new recruits the better part of discretion.”
“So what do we do with all that information now?”
“Since we know it feeds on humans, the first thing I want to know is if there are victims, and if so, how spread out are they? I’m going to have the Realm run a search of hospital emergency rooms and morgues, also police records, see if there have been any suspicious attacks, injuries, or deaths in recent weeks. That should tell us how widespread these demons are.”
“I hope they’re contained.”
“I would bet they’re not. The Sons of Darkness want to wage their war worldwide. I imagine we’re going to see these types of injuries crop up internationally.”
Mandy grimaced. “That’s a nightmare in the making.”
“Yes and no. The fact that these creatures have to feed is a good thing. It means we can spot where they’ve been.”
“After the fact.”
“True enough,” Michael said. “Not ideal, but it gives us a way of identifying their locations.”
“And if they are everywhere?” she asked.
His gaze was direct, and she already knew she wasn’t going to like his answer. “Then we take them out one at a time, one location at a time. We’ll alert all the other Realm cells to know what to look for. We’ll figure out how to spot them.”
New demons to hunt. Great. But at least having them on human turf made them easier to battle. Sort of.
“How do we kill them? Have we actually been able to kill one yet?”
Michael smiled. “Not that I’m aware of. Ryder and Angelique battled one similar to this one, but it disappeared. We don’t know if it was destroyed or not.”
“So how are we going to figure out what kills them?”
Michael arched a brow. “We have a nice test subject in the lab.”
She smiled back. “We get to do battle with it?”
He leaned back in the chair, stretching out his long legs. “We’re not going to keep it around as a pet, Mandy”
She laughed. “I might have underestimated you in the beginning, Michael.”
He laced his fingers behind his head, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Does that mean you’re starting to like me?”
“I wouldn’t go that far. I don’t like anybody.”
He cocked a brow. “I’ll get to you yet, Mandy. Just wait.”
“Famous last words. Many have tried. Most fail.”
“I’m not most.”
She snorted. “Speaking of boasting …”
“Just stating facts.”
“Maybe we should pit you against the demon. You could have an ego match, see who comes out the winner.”
“Still a smart-ass, I see.” He stood, went around to the desk, and picked up the phone, a smile still lifting the corners of his lips.
Not only did he have a wit equal to hers, he also had a really nice mouth. Full lower lip, the kind a woman could grab on to with her teeth.
Not that she would know anything about that kind of thing. Or even care. Especially about Michael. Where had that come from anyway? She didn’t think about him that way at all.
Though she just had, hadn’t she?
Gah. Where had her head gone? She shoved her hands in her lap and laced her fingers together, trying to look anywhere but at Michael, think about anything but his mouth. Her gaze ended up drifting back toward him. He was on the phone with someone about their demon, telling whoever it was everything they’d discovered.
He had full, midnight black brows that matched his hair. He needed a haircut, though she kind of liked it long and shaggy like he wore it. Lots of hair there for a woman to sift her fingers through during—
And there her mind wandered into very unfamiliar territory, setting off mental visuals that warmed her up considerably. Someone needed to turn the heat down. She shifted, turned on her side so she leaned against her hip, and laid her head against her hand, studying Michael as he turned his back to her.
He had a great ass. Narrow waist, muscular thighs, but not overly big like a lot of the guys she was used to. He was all lean muscle, really well built but not like a bodybuilder. She’d bet if she touched his body, he’d be solid.
Her gaze drifted up, and she realized he’d turned back around, was off the phone and staring at her, his expression that of bemused interest. Like he’d been checking her out the same way she’d been checking him out.
Oh, God. This was so embarrassing. Men as fellow demon hunters, fine. As her pseudo brothers, check. She had those relationships down pat. Men as … men, as sexual creatures, as potential partners … she had no clue how to handle that aspect of the male species.
“Mandy.”
His voice had gone all low and sexy. She jumped off the sofa and ran her sweaty palms down the front of her pants. “I think I’ll go check on our demon.”
She nearly ran down the hall, hoping the breeze it created would quell the heat flaming her body. As she reached the interrogation chamber, she looked at her coat, then grimaced. She probably wouldn’t even need it. The arctic temperatures inside the chamber were just what she needed to cool down her libido.
Bad time for her sex drive to decide to kick into high gear.
And with the wrong damn person. The absolutely wrong damn person.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Isabelle had found peace. A tenuous peace, anyway. Last night she’d slept in Dalton’s arms, and the dreams had stayed away. If she’d known all it was going to take to keep the demons of her nightmares away was sleeping with Dalton, she’d have done that a long time ago.
This morning was the first time she hadn’t woken in a haze, or with the remnants of her nightmares still with her. She’d woken with a gorgeous, sexy man slumbering next to her. Her body cradled against his, her butt nestled up against him, had been the most pleasant wake-up call, especially since Dalton woke up hard.
Morning sex was an amazing thing. Warm, half asleep, he’d roused her to full wakefulness by sliding inside her, stroking her breasts with one hand and her sex with the other until she cried out and arched against him in an amazing orgasm. They’d showered together afterward, had breakfast, then Dalton said he wanted to w
ork with her out back on weapons and strength training.
All in all, it had been a damn fine day so far, even if Dalton was a bit quiet.
Men. Who could figure them out. She was happy and she wasn’t about to start questioning every little thing. They worked companionably together, Dalton teaching her some basic moves. She was lithe and learned quickly. It wasn’t like he intended to drop-kick her across the yard, so she came at him head-on, kicking like he taught her, though she couldn’t imagine coming that close to a demon, or what possible use any martial arts training would be on a demon. But Dalton explained it had more to do with honing her physical and mental reaction skills. He didn’t expect her to fight a demon one-on-one.
After they’d worked themselves into a decent sweat doing the physical stuff, they took a break, had a drink, and Dalton brought out the weapons. Lasers, sonic guns, rifles, swords—amazing things, from the ancient to the high-tech. She was riveted while he explained how everything worked.
The day wasn’t even as hot. After the storm the night before last, the heat had lifted. Of course it was still hot as blazes, but not as humid, and there was even a breeze. Every little bit helped. She felt so much lighter now. Was it the weather or something else? She decided it was the weather. After the hellacious heat they’d battled the past few days, this weather seemed like fall and it made her happy.
But really, it was probably the sex. Isabelle smiled.
“You make me nervous when you smile at the weapons.”
Her gaze lifted to his and her smile widened. “Actually I was thinking about sex.”
“Oh. In that case, keep smiling.” He winked.
She laughed and he held out one of the lasers to her. “You have to be careful with these.”
Her eyes widened. “It’s loaded?”
“Yes. And the trigger is an easy pull. It doesn’t take much to set it off. But I want you to get a feel for it because it’s heavy and bulky.”
He laid the rifle in her hands. He was right. It was heavy. She lifted it and, as Dalton showed her, she laid the butt against her shoulder and aimed for the trees at the back of the yard.
Shoot him.
She stilled, blinked, turned to Dalton. “Did you say something?”
“No.”
She shook her head.
Kill him.
She closed her eyes as a wave of dizziness swept over her, a blanket of evil wrapping itself around her. It was like darkness cloaking her, touching her, fingers caressing her hand, willing her to do something she didn’t want to do.
Pull the trigger. Kill him.
“No. I won’t.”
Dalton was right there in front of her. She wanted to scream at him to get out of the way, but her voice wouldn’t work.
He’s going to hurt you. Kill him before he can.
She refused to listen to Tase’s voice. He was behind her. She could feel him, his presence so real she felt the heat coming off him. She shook her head, the tears in her eyes blinding her. She lifted the barrel of the laser, pivoted and pulled the trigger.
“Leave me alone, damn you.”
A blue stream shot from the barrel of the rifle.
And right into Dalton.
No. No. That couldn’t be. Dalton had been on the other side of her.
Dalton fell to the ground and Isabelle dropped the rifle.
Oh, God, what had she done?
She heard Tase’s laughter in her ears, wanted to cover them to drown out the sound of his evil.
That’s my girl.
No. She hadn’t done this, had she?
But she had.
“Dalton!”
She smelled burning flesh and nausea rose into her throat. She forced it down, dropped to her knees in front of him. His eyes were closed, his shirt torn, a large dark hole in his stomach where she’d—
She’d shot him. With a laser. Dear God, he was dead. He had to be dead. No one could survive that. She looked for blood but there was nothing but a deep, dark hole in the middle of his stomach.
Frantic, her hands shaking, she touched two fingers to the side of his neck.
A pulse! She felt a pulse! Weak, but it was there.
She had to get help. She swept her hand over his forehead.
He looked so pale.
“I’m going to get help, Dalton. I’ll be right back.”
Don’t die. Please don’t die.
She didn’t want to leave him there alone, afraid he’d die while she was gone. But she knew she couldn’t help him. She pushed off the ground and sprinted to the main house so fast her lungs burned by the time she flew through the front door. Georgie must have known from the look on Isabelle’s face that something was wrong. She grabbed a tapestry bag from the kitchen counter. “Don’t talk. Let’s go.”
Fueled by panic and concern for Dalton, Isabelle nodded and they ran down the path back to the cabin. She was certain she was going to find Dalton already dead by the time they returned.
She’d shot him. How could she have done that?
Don’t think about that now. Save him. Don’t let him die.
She should have told Georgie to call 911. Dalton needed an ambulance, not a voodoo priestess with a carpetbag. Where were her brains?
She flew through the house and out the back door, skidding to a halt when she saw him.
Dalton not only wasn’t dead, he was sitting up.
She dropped to her feet next to him. “You need to lie down.”
“I’m fine.”
“You are not fine.” She reached for his middle, but he grasped her wrist.
“I said I was fine.”
“Let me.” Georgie moved in and Isabelle stood.
“I’m okay, really.”
“What happened here?” Georgie asked.
“I shot him. With a laser.”
Georgie lifted her gaze to Isabelle, then back at Dalton.
“It was an accident,” Isabelle added. “I didn’t mean to.”
“It’s okay,” Dalton said, his voice calm and even. “I’m going to be fine.”
Georgie turned to her. “I’m going to bring him in the house. Go grab a pot and boil me some water.”
Isabelle nodded and ran inside to start filling the pot with water, the whole time lifting up on her toes to peer out the window to see what Georgie was doing. She had Dalton on his feet and was helping him to the door. Isabelle ran to open it. They came inside, and she was heading toward the bedroom when she noticed they weren’t following.
“In the kitchen is fine,” Georgie said.
She didn’t understand this. The wound was the size of both her hands. He should be in the hospital having major surgery, not sitting at the kitchen table.
By the time Isabelle had dragged the pot out of the bottom cupboard, washed and rinsed it and filled it with water, then set it on the stove, Georgie had removed Dalton’s shirt and was inspecting the wound.
“I need more light, Isabelle. Can you find me a lamp?”
“Sure.” The kitchen only had an overhead light, so Isabelle pulled the lamp from the living room and set it on the table, plugging it into one of the floor outlets in the kitchen. Georgie was bent close over Dalton. Dalton was watching Isabelle. He actually looked pretty good, all things considered. He should have been in shock, and pale, but he looked dark. Tan. Normal. Completely different from how he’d looked before she’d run up to get Georgie.
The water was boiling, so Isabelle took the cloths Georgie gave her and soaked them, pulled them out with tongs, and set them on the clean cutting board to cool a bit before handing them to Georgie.
“This isn’t bad at all,” Georgie said after washing Dalton’s stomach.
“Are you serious? That hole was huge. It was a laser blast and he was only a foot away from me, Georgie. I had to have hit major organs.”
Georgie looked up at her. “No, Isabelle. It’s not that bad.”
Georgie stood and went to the sink to wash her hands. Isabelle leaned over the tabl
e, then frowned as she examined the hole.
There … was no hole. It was closed, a small puckered wound the only evidence of what she’d done.
“You don’t even need stitches,” Georgie said to Dalton with a satisfied smile, then handed Isabelle a tube. “Keep it clean, put this antibiotic cream on it to ward infection away.”
Still puzzled, Isabelle nodded, then lifted her gaze to Georgie. “I don’t understand. It was much worse. Did you—”
Georgie laid her hand on Isabelle’s arm. “No, chère. I didn’t.” Georgie looked over at Dalton.
Isabelle shook her head. She didn’t understand this. Not at all.
Georgie gathered up her supplies and left, but before she did Isabelle saw the frown Georgie had cast at Dalton.
Throughout it all, Dalton had stayed quiet. After Isabelle saw Georgie to the door, she walked back into the kitchen and pulled up a chair across the table from Dalton. Less than an hour ago she’d blown a hole the size of both her hands in his stomach. Dalton had looked near death.
Now, the hole was closed and he looked plenty healthy.
“You want to tell me what’s going on?”
He shrugged. “I heal fast. I told you I was going to be okay.”
She cocked a brow. “You must think I’m really stupid.”
“No, Isabelle. I don’t think you’re stupid at all.”
“Then do you want to tell me what happened out there?”
He reached for her hand. “Maybe you should tell me what happened.”
Okay, fine. They’d go there first. She owed him that, since she was the one who’d shot him. But then she wanted answers. “I don’t know. I had the rifle in my hands. Then I heard Tase’s voice. He told me to shoot you.”
Dalton leaned back in the chair. “So you did?”
“No! I fought it off.”
“Fought what off?”
“Him. The urges. His influence.”
“What influence?”
She inhaled, sighed. “It’s hard to explain unless you’re the one feeling it. But I’ll try. It’s like he crawled inside my head and became part of me.”
“Like he was controlling you?”
“Sort of. He kept talking to me, telling me to shoot you, to kill you. That I shouldn’t trust you, that you were going to hurt me.”