Cue another glare from Glint. Unfortunately, he was quite attractive, even beneath the veil of pain and hatred. He was tall and lean, not much with big muscles, but strong, proved by the struggle to get him tied to the chair.
His face was angular and harsh in a way that stopped him being conventionally handsome but made him endearing if you didn’t know he drained babies. He shook out the curtain of black hair that had fallen over his eyes.
“Not with what he has. Not with the army we’re building,” he snarled. “We’re going to wipe all half breeds and race traitors off the planet. And the master will make sure everyone has a turn with you before he grants you the mercy of death.”
I laughed. “Well that’s a date I just can’t look forward to enough. This ‘master’ sounds like he’d be a blast. Care to tell me who he is?”
He stared at me in a way that would have melted the skin right off my face.
But he couldn’t, so I was golden.
I squeezed harder. “I’ve got all night and there’s nothing good on TV,” I purred, my intention clear. “Torture is so much more entertaining than zombie TV shows, no matter how hot the human with the crossbow is.”
His resolve lasted one more brutal squeeze and one arguably more brutal dismemberment.
Then I had a location to meet up with Earnshaw. It was turning out to be a particularly productive evening.
“YOU DON’T TELL ME WHERE you are, I’m doing a tracking spell on you right now,” a very irritated Sophie shot through the phone.
I rolled my eyes, watching the seemingly abandoned mansion just a few miles out from where the final edges of New York City surrendered to the wilderness.
The sprawling brick mansion sitting desolate behind bent and broken wrought iron fencing was a shadow of opulence and vigor that had long left this place. Instead, a stillness that even the dead couldn’t reproduce remained.
That was their first mistake.
An empty night was never quiet. The absence of humans, or vampires for that matter, gave the air a different quality, and wildlife and creatures that slinked away from unnatural presence thrived with dominion over the darkness.
Not a blade of grass moved on the balmy night.
The quiet was unnatural.
The sprawling grounds removed from New York proper might not be a place even homeless people looking for shelter would stumble upon, but the sheer inconspicuousness of the echoing silence worked as a flashing beacon. I didn’t need but to glance upon the house that seeped menace in its stillness to know Glint had given me the goods.
And I had returned the favor by granting him a much quicker death than he deserved.
“You wouldn’t be that stupid to waste a spell on finding me,” I retorted. My voice carried over the still air and it recoiled from the disturbance. “Plus, I’m guessing my current location will be cloaked from magical eyes.”
Sophie’s sharp indrawn breath cut through the magically silent night. “The witch is there?”
I gazed into the darkness, little issue to me as I watched the edges of the overgrown garden for signs of life. Or death.
There were none. But there was no mistaking the bitterness to the air that mingled with the stillness, sending waves of foreboding down my back.
The warmth of my snack with the king disappeared as soon as that feeling cloaked my skin and that yawning chasm appeared once more, death too tangy on my tongue.
I didn’t tell Sophie all that, of course. “I’m thinking so. Earnshaw is too weak to be somewhere without magical protection and he’s not stupid. He’d know I’ll be coming for him.”
“Yeah well, he isn’t the only one who isn’t stupid,” Sophie snapped.
I straightened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that I think you’re incredibly dense to waltz into a situation with no backup and no idea of what you’re facing. Oh yeah, apart from a witch who practices death magic. You know, some of the only magic that could actually kill you,” she hissed into the phone.
“I’m hanging up now. You sound like I imagine my mother would sound if, you know, she didn’t want me to die. As it is, I’d assume she’d be encouraging me to go in and hope my bad decisions got me killed. I’m going to follow her advice and still hope to disappoint her for coming out undead. I’ll see you soon. Or never. Catch you on the flipside, witchy. All my handbags and shoes are being left to you in my will.”
On that, I hung up, shoving my phone into the pocket of my jeans. I fingered the copper knife at my belt.
I didn’t like having weapons with me. At all. In fact, I was embarrassed to be carrying that, plus the sword strapped to my back Samurai-style. But although Sophie might think me dense for going into such an uncertain situation, I wasn’t suicidal. The opposite, in fact. Catching Earnshaw and pumping him for information that would hopefully lead me closer to proof my family was in on this was a very enticing prospect to continue to bless this earth with my presence. I knew my best bet would be to kill the witch before she had the chance to wave her magic wand.
Hence the gun at my other hip.
Witches were still human in the mortal sense of the word. They didn’t require special weapons, like vampires needed copper, or werewolves needed silver, or demons needed a knife blessed by a true priest. No, anything would do. Heck, they could trip on a bath mat and break their neck if they were unlucky enough. Their only protection against death was their magic. The stronger the witch, the less likely she was to die.
I did enjoy a challenge.
After careful consideration on how to conduct a stealth attack, I made my decision to strut right up the broken cobbled path and knock on the crooked wooden front door. I’d already made an almighty racket kicking through the wrought iron fence, so if they did have magic burglar alarms, I was sure I’d already set them off. No need to look like a twat creeping around when they knew I was there.
Just before I was about to take my first step down the path, a familiar boom echoed in my head and my senses exploded, the taste of death replaced with something different. And equally dangerous.
I let out an exaggerated sigh and whirled around, hands on my hips.
“Buffy, what are you and the Scooby Gang doing here? Didn’t you get enough of a hint at just how out of your league you are earlier today?” I asked, irritated as Thorne and a couple slayers from earlier stalked towards me.
They had the stealth thing down pat. If I weren’t a vampire with an unnatural connection to the hard-faced and hard-bodied slayer currently glowering at me, they would have seemed to melt out of the darkness.
“Isla.” The growl of rage, the way his anger rolled over my name, had my knees weaken in an irritating reaction. “What the fuck?” he continued when he stopped his boots a few feet from me. His slayers had pointedly stopped much farther away, their hands on the weapons at their belts. They had much more than me. Then again, I was stronger than them.
And more attractive, and intelligent. Just all round better than them, really.
“Those will just slow your boyfriends down, you know,” I said by response to Thorne, nodding to the arsenal on their belts.
I spied a grenade and decided it would come in handy.
I had plucked it off No Neck’s belt and was back in front of Thorne before any of them could even blink. It was vaguely impressive that he was still there, although he had a cast on his arm betraying his injury, and stupidity. It would take a vampire a gentle squeeze to rip that off and take advantage of him. That vampire could turn out to be me.
I tossed the grenade between my hands as they took the usual human slowness to understand what happened.
Well, most of them. Thorne’s eyes had seemed like they followed my entire journey. Which was impossible, of course. His human eyes would have seen nothing more than a blur.
Then why did it feel like he’d watched it all as if time itself had slowed?
Rick’s drugged blood, I decided. That could be the only option.
/>
I grinned as No Neck cursed at me, stepping forward abruptly until Thorne’s hand at his chest stopped him.
“Thanks. I totally forgot explosives. They’re usually always in my purse but”—I gestured down at my skintight outfit, illuminated in the dim moonlight—“a purse doesn’t go and I don’t have many pockets.” I winked. “So I’ll send you a fruit basket as thanks.”
My sarcasm was a shield from the sudden molten heat coming from Thorne as he took in every inch of my outfit.
Not the time.
Never was the time.
He seemed to shake himself out of it, stepping forward and leaving No Neck fuming and breathing heavily through his nose like a bull.
“What are you doing here?” Thorne asked, his voice rough velvet.
“Out for a moonlight walk. Maybe some murder. You know, the usual. You should go before one of you trips over and breaks a neck.” I glanced behind Thorne. “Those of you who actually have necks, that is.” I gave No Neck a pointed look before focusing back on Thorne and his flickering irises. “This neighborhood is dangerous for those with a heartbeat.” My own voice smoothed over the threat like it was a seduction.
“You know what’s in there,” he deduced instead of addressing my words.
“In where?” I played dumb.
The glistening anger in his eyes told me he didn’t buy it.
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I know what’s in there. And I also know it’s none of your business, unless you want to check out of this world early and not see your next birthday.” I shrugged. “But whatever, at least then I won’t have to worry about getting you a gift.”
His breath tickled my face in a violent caress. “That’s the second time you’ve threatened me and mine. There won’t be a third,” he promised.
I quirked my brow at him. “I’m not threatening you. In fact, I’m helping you. Or trying to. You humans seem heaven-bent on your own destruction. Meddling with things much stronger than you, that could snap your necks in the blink of your useless eyes.”
With one hand on the grenade, I darted around the rough semicircle once more, stopping with my mouth at a slayer’s neck. “Dead,” I murmured. I was gone before anyone could even gain purchase on my shadow. Moving to the next one, I did the same. “Dead,” I repeated. When I moved to No Neck, I may have given his cast a gentle squeeze—you know, for fun. “Dead,” I told him cheerfully, feeding off his pure fury and frustration.
And then, in what would have been a flash of nothingness to him, I had my hand around Thorne’s neck, not even properly circling the muscled cords, but gripping it hard enough to communicate my point.
“Dead,” I murmured. My eyes locked with his.
To his credit, he barely even flinched.
I couldn’t say the same for his boy band.
The air filled with human hostility and the unmistakable sound of exposing weapons. The slayers had found their attack stances, only about four seconds too late.
I glanced behind him at the two men who had advanced and the third who was trying to come behind me.
I used my other hand to pull the gun from my belt and point it at him. “First, I’d thank you for making sure this weapon is actually used, as I was frightfully afraid I’d have brought it for nothing. Second, I’m sure you’d like to not be plucking a bullet from your cornea, so I’d stop if I were you.” I glanced to No Neck and the other human. “And one step guarantees your stupidly fearless leader’s pretty little neck being snapped.”
They stopped.
“There’s a good slayer. Not so hard, is it?” I glanced back to Thorne, who was staying remarkably calm. His steely gaze had yet to leave me. And the comforting cloud of his anger was a pleasing scent to kiss the edges of my psyche. My hand was already exploding with heat at my grip on his skin, vibrating as his heartbeat jerked my hand with its steady cadence.
“I won’t kill you because I’ve got bigger fish to fry. But I would advise you to be on your merry way and go look for kitties to be saved from trees or something equally human that has nothing to do with vampire politics.” I let him go with a grin. “Run along.”
He didn’t run. Nor did he move a muscle. The only thing he did was speak. And not to me.
“Stand down,” he clipped at the men still crouched to attack. There was a loaded pause before they did so.
“That’s the second time this bitch has threatened our lives and the fuckin’ second time you’ve stopped me from putting the cunt down,” No Neck growled.
I frowned at the ugly language, and in an unexpected turn of events, Thorne moved quicker than me, slipping out of my grip with an ease that should have been impossible.
His hands were around No Neck’s… well, neck, large enough to circle the expanse and even lift him slightly off the ground.
“And that’s the second time you’ve questioned a direct fucking order,” he bit out, his rage like an open flame.
Interestingly the taste of it, the sheer volume, dwarfed his earlier fury with me. Swallowed it.
I didn’t have time to inspect that little irregularity because he’d dropped No Neck, who let out a splutter.
When he straightened, the fury was palpable, but the silent night was silent once more. Apart from the scream of male testosterone, that was.
“You and Stephens take the back, recon only. Go in through there. Wait for my signal.” He glanced to the man I still had my gun pointed at.
“Lenex, I want you on the western perimeter, by the woods.” He nodded to where the house jutted into a wooded area, strange for New York, even the outskirts. What wasn’t strange about this night, though?
“I’ll go in the front,” he finished. “With Isla.”
His directions were a taunt, a challenge for me to argue. As were the eyes that glued themselves on me as his little toy soldiers melted back into the darkness.
I finger-waved at No Neck’s retreating glare. “Have a nice death.”
Once their heartbeats disappeared into the night, Thorne wasted no time in backing me up against the iron fence that surrounded the property.
I let him, curious where it was going. And maybe a little excited. He was like those drugs humans ruined their bodies with. I hadn’t understood the allure of chasing a high that only distracted you from the havoc it was wreaking on your body, your life. I did now. All I wanted was a hit, the consequences be damned.
He put his hands on either side of the iron, boxing me in.
“You knew where this vamp was holed up this entire time,” he accused through gritted teeth.
I shrugged. I wasn’t going to split hairs and say I hadn’t at the time.
“You told me—”
“I lied.” I rolled my eyes at the expression on his face. “What? I’m not a moral snob. I’m a vampire. I lie as easy as I breathe. Or don’t breathe, as the case may be.”
His breath was hot on my face. An inferno. “You were going in there, alone?”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes. Yes I was. And now I have to sidestep the bodies of your fallen comrades, no doubt. Such an inconvenience.”
He furrowed his brows at me. “Why?”
I blew out an impatient breath. “Because I learned something that I’m sure you’ll learn through blood and pain because you’re far too superior to listen to a vampire. People, vampire or otherwise, slow you down. If you want a job done right, or wrong for that matter, do it yourself. Less people die.” I paused. “Or more, depending on the aim. But whatever the mission, it’s best not to worry about anyone else’s jugular but your own. Oh, and if you haven’t noticed, I’m kind of a lone wolf. The way I like it, of course, and the only being strong and not irritating enough to come with me is currently recharging her witchy batteries. Since she had to use the last of her juice to save your idiot buddy.” I gave him an accusing look. “Now, is story time over? Can I please go do what I came to do and also pretend you don’t exist, until you actually don’t?”
He didn’t move and I didn’t
make him. Despite my protests, the pressing need of killing a witch, a vampire and getting closer to killing my family, plus the bitter twang of magic in the air and the unshakeable cold in my bones—I didn’t want to move. Thorne’s body was almost pressing into mine, electricity whipping thought the night. The heartbeat that should have acted as somewhat of a deterrent to getting to close to him seemed to yank me closer.
“That’s not what I wanted to know,” he said, his voice thick. “Why are you here? Doing this? You don’t strike me as a mercenary, and you sure as shit aren’t a concerned citizen. What’s your play here?”
I snapped my logic back into place. “My play is none of your damn business,” I snapped. “Slayers don’t get the luxury of breathing around me, so I’d keep the questions close to your chest, you know, if you want it to keep containing that fucking loud heart of yours.”
At that, I shoved the very chest that was the topic of our conversation. I tried, and failed, not to appreciate the hard ridges of his pecs.
I strode away from him before I could do anything stupid, such as lick them.
“I’ve got shit to do, things to kill. I’m not having chats anymore. If you’re coming in, stay out of my way. And if you die, try not to do it at an inopportune time,” I instructed, giving my voice a flat, disinterested quality, so as not to betray any ounce of what this exchange was doing to my insides.
The crunch of his boots on the uneven ground signified his following of my footsteps. That and the molten heat of his stare on my ass and the thundering of his heartbeat, of course.
In my effort to focus on anything but that, I stared at the ground beneath my feet. A good thing too, because it tilted almost vertical and came up to meet me.
Or would have, had iron-like arms not caught me and yanked me upright.
Thorne’s eyes glowed with something it took me a split second to recognize.
Concern.
“Isla,” he growled, his hands tight on my shoulders.
The grip was stronger than it should have been, to the point that it almost hurt. Which I would ponder later but was grateful for now. Nothing was more useful for clearing the head than pain.