Dead After Dark

  "Hm. So who did I scare off? A husband playing around?"

  "Not exactly. Just a nobody," she murmured then turned to the right down a sparsely lit street Trey could navigate blind. Scattered leaves shed during a breezy autumn covered the sidewalks he once strolled along with Sasha's hand in his--before he'd had to make the hardest choice of his life. He'd always admired the classic homes built here in another era, most of which were in restored condition now.

  At the steps to the two-story Victorian home Sasha once told him had been in her family for three generations, she stopped and turned to him, her boot heel scuffing against the concrete with finality. Porch lights dusted a subtle glow over the swing where he'd told her goodbye.

  His throat tightened at the painful memory.

  She lifted a hand he thought was going to touch his chest, the desire for her to do so stabbing him deep. But Sasha drew her fingers up and away instead, fingering a lock of hair she twisted just like she used to do when she was nervous. His fingers twitched, missing the feel of her soft hair.

  "I do hope life has turned out well for you, Trey, and appreciate your help tonight with those guys, but please don't come back. Okay?" Her eyes slipped away from his, then back, filled with an uneasy glimmer that said more than her words.

  He would love to know what she was really thinking, but had developed migraines trying to reach into Sasha's mind in the past. That problem alone had sealed their fate to travel different paths. He could never trust his heart to any woman he couldn't hear the truth from. It was too unpredictable.

  "Do me a favor, Sasha, and don't go out alone again to track strange men. Like you said, money isn't that important."

  Her dark eyebrows drew together in disbelief. "I won't stay in business long if I'm not willing to take a few risks and go out after dark, now will I?"

  "You don't know what you're hunting."

  "Yes, I do. A man with information."

  A man? Trey wanted to shake her. Ekkbar was not a man, nor did he possess any human qualities like compassion. He would do more than hurt Sasha for hunting him. He would steal her soul. But she wouldn't believe Trey if he told her.

  "You aren't trained to deal with these . . . situations."

  "You have no idea what I am or am not trained for. I excelled at Tae Kwon Do, for your information."

  "I just--"

  "Good night, Trey." Sasha flipped off his coat and tossed it at him, then turned and climbed the stone steps without a look back. She stuck a key into the ornate brass lock, opened the leaded-glass door, and disappeared inside the dark house.

  He had his work cut out for him if he was going to find Ekkbar before she did and keep her safe as well.

  Sasha held her breath until she got inside her home, then slumped next to the door away from the oval glass center. Cool plaster touching her back did nothing to ease the heat firing through her body and roaming across her skin.

  That was close. If Trey hadn't annoyed her at the last minute, she might have embarrassed herself by asking for a kiss . . . or just taking one. She leaned around and peeked at him walking away. His coat was slung over broad shoulders that seemed to droop.

  Did he regret breaking up? Was he wishing she wanted to see him again? She did.

  He paused under the streetlight on the corner, the amber beam of light outlining six-foot-three of pure sensuous male she missed seeing next to her when she woke up. Maybe he was considering coming back and pulling her into his arms to ask for a second chance and . . . he strolled off.

  She swung back around. I'm pathetic. When was she going to truly accept that he was gone and not coming back?

  Damn him for blowing her search tonight.

  Damn him for questioning her ability.

  And damn Trey's lopsided smile and his searing green eyes for still sending her heart into fits. She wished he'd kept his coat on. The last thing she needed filling her head before bed was the clean male scent she remembered vividly from the days of wearing his discarded T-shirts after hours of making love. How could he just pop in tonight and start chatting like nothing had ever happened between them? Like he hadn't spent nineteen incredible months with her, then just walked away two days before she turned twenty-one without offering anything that would help her make sense of his actions.

  Actually, he had suggested, "You'll find someone better."

  She'd tried. Boy, had she tried and tried and tried to fill the gaping hole he'd left in her life and her heart. But just because she still wanted to jump his bones didn't mean he could dance back into her life and start giving her orders.

  Leave it to a man to screw up a simple plan.

  Sasha straightened up and patted herself mentally for showing a strong front. Who was Trey to question her abilities and act as if she couldn't take care of herself. As if she hadn't been doing a damn good job for the past nine years.

  Striding up to an Empire classical table in the foyer where three Ping-Pong sized balls of aqua glass sat in the center of the light brown marble, she passed her hand over the smooth surface. The globes flew into the air. She flipped her hand palm up a few inches beneath them, then wiggled her fingers. The floating orbs glowed and spun in circular patterns--her personal version of stress-relief.

  Trey thought she wasn't cut out for PI work, huh? Well, he was wrong. She had more than a few tricks up her sleeve. Sasha waved her free hand, kinetically locking the front door and turning off the outside lights. She then headed for the kitchen where a light spilled from the open doorway.

  "Where were you tonight?" Her sister, Rowan, sat at their butcher block table with a mug of tea that smelled like Rowan's personal blend of raspberry and mint.

  "At the Black Fairy looking for Ekkbar." Sasha gently lowered her glass balls to the tabletop. She plopped down, hooking a handful of hair behind her ear.

  "You shouldn't have gone searching for Ekkbar without me." Rowan leaned back gracefully, looking like any other attractive mid-thirties woman in the historic neighborhood. Except her sister's face exposed a fragility Sasha had never seen before.

  "You're in no condition to help me. I'd be more worried about something happening to you." Sasha took in Rowan's gaunt cheeks and shadowed eyes. Her sister was losing the battle.

  "Your powers aren't stable yet," Rowan said in that older sister tone reminiscent of when she'd told Sasha she was too young for makeup at nine years old.

  "I've been practicing. In fact, I think I'm pretty solid, getting better every day."

  "Really?" Rowan smiled indulgently. "Then why were all the clocks off downstairs this morning?"

  What? Sasha thought back to last night. Could she have misdirected her power when she'd been too tired to physically walk through the house to turn off lights? The all-knowing hike of Rowan's eyebrow confirmed she was busted. Well, hell.

  "Must have screwed up something," Sasha admitted, thankful nothing worse had happened.

  "You can't just wave your hand, sweetie. You have to focus your thoughts. That's why Ek--er, that's what I've been trying to teach you."

  Sasha cringed when her sister didn't finish the sentence with That's why Ekkbar slipped past you in the cemetery.

  "I'm working on it." Sasha had practiced daily before Rowan became sick, making her wonder if the witchcraft had caused her sister's bizarre behavior. Their coven refused to help, believing Rowan must have brought this on herself by performing magic for the dark side. Her sister would never do that.

  Sasha didn't have years to practice if she hoped to save Rowan. She started to ask for more details when Rowan's head snapped back. The spoon her sister had been holding slipped from her fingers and clattered against the floor.

  Oh no. "Rowan . . . hey, sis . . ." Sasha tensed with fear.

  Her sister's head rolled forward, eyes no longer hazel but a bright orange color. In deference to what happened the last time Rowan's madness struck, Sasha stood and backed up a step.

  Rowan moved so fast Sasha had no chance to escape before her s
ister had her by the throat. "Don't . . ." Sasha squeezed out, gripping her sister's thin wrists now strong as steel.

  "Find Ekkbar or you die, witch," Rowan threatened in a high-pitched voice that sent chills skating up Sasha's spine.

  "Rowan . . . please . . . it's me . . . Sasha," she croaked.

  Her sister's eyes shifted between crazed and confused. "Stop . . . killing me . . ." she whispered in a frail voice.

  Prying desperately at Rowan's fingers, Sasha struggled to breathe. Her vision clouded. The world turned gray.

  Rowan's fingers loosened at the same moment her eyes cleared, mortified. "Oh no, I'm so sorry."

  Released, Sasha staggered backward. Rowan fell into a heap at her feet, crying, finally free of whatever had held her mind prisoner. Wheezing for air, Sasha massaged her aching throat. Dear God, how am I going to help her if she kills me?

  Anger and hurt jumbled her emotions, even though she didn't believe for a minute Rowan would intentionally harm her if she weren't possessed. Sasha squatted and grasped her sister's arms, helping her stand.

  "I'm so sorry I hurt you." Tears flooded Rowan's eyes.

  "I know, honey," Sasha assured her, feeling bad for her sister in spite of what had just happened. Normally, Rowan was not a threat when she slept. She seemed worse after sleeping, but lost her appetite and strength when she didn't rest--a vicious battle either way. "Why don't you lay down for a bit?"

  When they reached the bedroom at the top of the stairs, Sasha helped her sister into bed, then handed her a set of headphones. Rowan believed soothing music helped, but Sasha was beginning to wonder if the music sounded like the soundtrack from The Exorcist in her sister's mind.

  Once Rowan was asleep, Sasha headed back downstairs to continue her Internet research on demonic possession, since their coven had barred anyone from helping them. With their brother, Tarq, off on some trip where he couldn't be reached, Sasha was flying solo.

  Not even Trey can help me. She paused at the bottom landing of the staircase, wishing she could go back nine years.

  She wanted one more time to feel him deep inside her and wake up together. Give her that and Sasha would let him return to his precious bachelorhood and secretive work without a word. I've got more to worry about than how much I want him back.

  Curing Rowan came first.

  By then, Trey would be gone for another decade. Sasha sighed. Better that he leave rather than have Trey as a distraction. If she didn't stay focused on keeping herself cloaked the way Rowan taught her, Sasha would expose herself to Ekkbar before she was ready. The manservant couldn't be trusted. After she'd helped the little bastard open a portal between his world and hers, he'd slipped through and scurried away from the cemetery in a blur of pungent mist.

  He wouldn't go far, not after negotiating through dreams for a chance to live here and now . . . as a red-blooded human male with full sexual ability again. And she'd felt an energy pass through the nightclub that was evil. Had to be Ekkbar, lying in wait. He probably thought he could trap her with his ancient Hindu magic and make her his servant.

  He was a fool to underestimate a tenth-generation witch.

  When Sasha did drop her protective cloak, she'd have Ekkbar cornered and ready to pay up for having been brought forward in time from Mount Meru.

  He would cure her sister's madness.

  "Ekkkkkkbaaarrrr!" thundered through the stone-and-myst world below Mount Meru.

  Batuk's voice raced from the great hall, fingering out along pathways and tunnels in search of his manservant.

  The warlord's muscles tightened hard with the need to kill, his perpetual frame of mind since being cursed to live beneath this mountain with his soldiers and their families. He should never have trusted Ravana who had offered Batuk and his people everlasting life if he swore fealty to the Hindu demon god.

  Gripping the two smooth green serpents carved of malachite stone that served as chair arms on his throne, Batuk roared in frustration. The serpents came to life, hissing. Flames licked off the tips of their forked tongues.

  Rock walls in the towering great hall glowed bright red like a dormant ember breathed to life, then settled back into their normal molten purple state that left the air cold as a winter freeze. Serving wenches scurried from the room. Soldiers lounging with concubines merely lifted a respectful glance his way then returned to their activity, having earned a respite from training.

  Batuk glowered and slouched against his throne. There'd been a time when he'd lived a flesh-and-blood life as a revered Kujoo warlord, one his foes feared and women worshipped. When he'd loved one woman above all others . . . the reason he'd lifted a sword against the Beladors. What sin had he committed to end up in a place worse than Fene where the damned were sent upon death? None, as far as he was concerned.

  He'd only warred against the Beladors to regain what was rightfully his. That and he'd trusted Ekkbar's assessment of Ravana's offer.

  Where was his manservant? The spindly magician had sworn he was close to finding a way out of their demise or Batuk would never have given permission for the fool to experiment with a new incantation. Ekkbar's last attempt infested their underworld home with lost souls screaming in pain nonstop until he'd concocted a way to remove them. Exterminating rodents from an infested dung pile would have been easier. The stench the damned left behind hung in the air for decades.

  If the idiot had blundered again, Batuk would . . . what? He'd already neutered the loathsome blight on his existence.

  A ball of smoke rolled into the room, parting the fine nihar--a pungent-smelling veil of myst floating chest high--and stopped in front of Batuk.

  Ekkbar appeared on his knees, head bent and hands in supplication.

  Batuk almost laughed. No God listened to the prayers of the damned. "Where have you been, knave? I've called you for hours." His fingernails sharpened and curved into steel claws with the desire to rip out a throat. Ekkbar's.

  "My lord, my lord," Ekkbar began in his echoing manner, his voice humble. "I've just awakened from being hurt unmercifully, most unmercifully."

  Batuk flipped a braided strand of hair from his face, waiting for the eunuch to lift his milky-yellow gaze. Only Batuk and his elite Kujoo soldiers had double pupils, each surrounded by a ring of deep gold--to mark them as cursed.

  What? Did Ravana think they'd forget? Wasn't like any of them could stray from this forsaken pit.

  Ekkbar's brows puckered with feigned distress. He lied with the expertise of Ravana some days. But unlike the demon god who was safe from repercussions, his manservant was not.

  "My lord, my lord, I see you do not believe me, but I speak the truth." Ekkbar crossed his delicate arms in front of his naked bony chest in a child's attempt at indignation. Torchlight danced across his shiny head wrapped with a cloth bandage. "I had just found a way to leave this--"

  "What?" Batuk sat forward, not believing his ears. Could the fool really deliver his people from this hellhole?

  "As I was saying"--Ekkbar adjusted his position, jade-green silk pants reflecting off the polished stone floor--"I believe I've found a way to leave, but--"

  "Show me now!" Batuk bellowed.

  Ekkbar frowned. His eyes shifted toward the heaven none of them would ever see, then back to Batuk. "My lord, my lord, if you'll allow me to finish, I might be able to explain all."

  "Careful not to take that tone, lest you pay the price."

  "What more would you take from a man who can no longer bed a woman?" he groused.

  "Do you risk finding out by raising my ire?"

  Ekkbar muttered something, pouting about ungrateful warlords and all he'd done.

  Batuk fantasized putting them both out of their miseries by killing the irritation, but none of his people could die as long as they lived beneath Mount Meru, a curse in itself since no one aged beyond the point at which they'd arrived.

  But they could feel the pain of his sword.

  Batuk sighed heavily. "Finish your tale, magician."

/>   Ekkbar straightened his scrawny back and began anew. "I found a connection, yes a connection to the outside world. A witch heard my chants and communicated with me. I explained my, er, our, yes our dire dilemma and pleaded for her help, swearing you would repay her handsomely. She agreed to help me open a portal through which we could travel to her world. As I was experimenting--with all intentions of contacting Your Highness once I could ensure success--I was attacked in a most unkind manner. Most unkind. When I awoke the path had disappeared."

  "Who did this?" Batuk shouted, vibrating with the need to crush a skull. Who would have ruined their chance to escape?

  "I, uh, believe it was one of your elite soldiers." Ekkbar touched his bandaged head in a wasted effort to incur pity.

  "What?" Batuk's elite would lay down their lives for their warlord and the people he protected. "Who?" The walls glowed again at his roar. Heat churned the nihar into steam.

  "Vyan. I found his shield in the room when I awoke." Ekkbar began wringing his hands. "My lord, he must come back."

  "No."

  Ekkbar's dull skin paled to a mottled gray. "Wh-what? Vyan is possessed with a fierce need for revenge. He rages over the loss of his wife and family at the hands of Beladors. He will go after the Belador leader, he will. You know what that will mean!" Ekkbar trembled, eyes turning pure white.

  "Yes. It means if he is successful, Vyan will have found a way out for all of us and not just himself as you were obviously trying to do."

  "Not true, not true! I merely planned to test the pathway before inviting your wrath for failure." Translucent gold tears spilled from Ekkbar's eyes. "What about the curse? If we start a war again, we will be sent to Fene for a thousand years."

  Batuk could not see much difference in where they lived now with the exception of eternal fires and becoming sex slaves to Fene's perverted creatures. However, he'd rather slice off his own manhood than submit to those beings.

  "Vyan is one of my best strategists. He has a plan, no doubt. If he is successful in killing the Belador leader Brina, we will be liberated. Ravana swore if we were lured into battle and produced the head of the army's leader, he would return us aboveground and force the Celtic goddess Macha to prove her honor by sending the Beladors to their fate beneath Mount Meru for breaking the truce."