Page 28

CHAPTER 27

“ R emind me again why we are helping?” the fae drawls.

“I became a hunter to help people. I cannot ignore this,” I retort as I add more weapons to my body, ignoring all the unsure gazes in the room, including the warlock’s on the bed who seems to be evaluating me. Ronan is still hiding from the other ghost who wants to cling to him, much to his horror.

“What about your revenge?” the fae asks casually, seemingly not bothered by what we do as long as he gets to feed and kill.

“It will still be there, but my soul might not be if I ignore this,” I answer as I drop my booted foot from the rickety chair and slide my last blade into place.

The fae shrugs. “Souls are overrated.”

“You are really going to help this boy?” the warlock asks.

“Why wouldn’t I?” I snap, growing annoyed.

“Hunters do not help. They kill,” he murmurs as he slides to the end of the bed, eyeing me. As I watch, he waves his hand. For a moment his eyes turn red, a glowing red mark appearing on his cheek before he fades back to normal. A red ribbon appears however and slides up into his hair, tying it back from his face, onlyexposing more of his stunning looks. I hate that Ronan is right. He really is pretty—unnaturally so.

“Not this hunter,” I say. “The room is paid for tonight. Feel free to stay and figure out what you wish to do.” I didn’t forget the haunted look in his eyes when he admitted he had nowhere to go, but it’s not my problem. I did my duty by saving him, and I’m not collecting more broken toys, as Ronan said.

“If you’re really helping him, then I will too.” He stands, and I narrow my eyes.

“Why would you?”

“I have nothing better to do. Besides, I’ve only used my magic for death recently, and magic is about balance, so it needs some life,” he says as he eyes me. “If you are not like the other hunters like you say, then I need to see that too.” He smiles, and it’s like the sun breaking through the clouds, blinding and slightly shocking. “I’m Jarek,” he shares.

“Oh god, not names! That means we are keeping him.” Ronan groans before he yelps and flies up to the ceiling as the ghost moves closer to him. “Be gone, demon.”

Sighing, I meet Jarek’s eyes. “Tate,” I reply, introducing myself. If we are hunting together, then he deserves to know. “The scaredy ghost is Ronan, and this is Tem, Addeus, and, well, the fae . . . I never got his name.”

“You got his cock though,” Ronan yells with a laugh before screaming when the ghost boy appears at his side.

“You shouldn’t say that. My sister says it’s a bad word,” the boy says. “She also said anyone with a cock who isn’t me should be castrated.” He stumbles over the word.

“Well, your sister is stupid.” Ronan sticks his tongue out. “I happen to have a very nice cock?—”

“You’re stupid!” The kid sticks his tongue out, and they argue.

“Ronan, stop arguing with a six-year-old,” I demand as I glance at the boy. “Your sister sounds smart.” I soften my tone, seeing him nod as tears form in his eyes. Whatever happened to him must be recent. He’s too . . . bright to be an old ghost. It makes me worry about what his sister is going through. “Can you take us to her?”

He nods, wringing his hands together. “You’ll save her?”

Crouching before him as he floats, I smile softly. “I promise I will save your sister if I can.” I cross my heart then lower my voice. “She’s right about the men thing. They are more of a hassle than anything.”

He grins and nods as I lean back and hold out my hand. “Show us.”

We don’t travel far. He must have been searching for someone to help. We are only a street over in a residential neighbourhood, and we stand before a normal, blue, two-storey house. The lawn is mowed, and the drive is empty. It looks like every other house.

“Here?” I murmur in confusion, looking around as the sun shines on us. I don’t want to linger here for too long. We do not blend in with our leather, weapons, and bloodstained clothes and faces.

“Here,” he confirms. “I remember the number. I memorised it so I didn’t forget.” He points at the number fifty-five on the plaque next to the door. “The bad man isn’t here at the moment. He got angry and hurt me. I don’t remember much after that.”

Hurt him . . . He must have killed him.

“And your sister?” I ask, checking the suburban street.

“She came after me. The bad man took me here, but she found us. He didn’t like that, so he threw her down into the basement with me. She doesn’t like the dark.” He floats into the house, and we don’t have much choice but to follow. I don’t use the front door, though, just in case, and instead I walk down the driveway and to a path along the side that leads to a gate. Hoisting myself up, I climb over and drop onto gravel on the other side.

A dog barks, lunging on a chain connected to a doghouse. “Quiet,” I order, and he whines and slinks back in as I walk around the patio to the sliding doors. I go to pick the lock when the door slides open, and I glance over to see Jarek shrugging. “It’s easier.”

Nodding, I pull out my knife and gun. “Stay behind me,” I mutter as I head inside, tracking mud all over the polished kitchen floor. I glance around, but everything is clean and perfect. There’s something off about it though. It seems too empty and impersonal for someone to live here, as if he tried to copy what he’s seen without understanding.

There’s no warmth.

The boy pokes his head through a white door under the stairs, and I head that way. The door unlocks just as quickly as the other one, and I swing it open. “You’re sure he’s not here?” I ask the kid.

“I don’t know.” He purses his little lips. “Come on, she’s down here.”

“Ronan, take Tem and check upstairs. Jarek, watch the back door. Fae, guard the front.”

“All this for one man?—”

“Now,” I hiss. If someone were here, they would have heard us by now, but I’m taking no chances on someone sneaking up on us. The guys go off to do as I’ve ordered, and I glance at Addeus. “Stay up here and warn me if anyone comes.”

He nods, guarding my back without question.

Swinging the door open, I peer down the stairs. They are concrete, with a buzzing bulb hanging above us. I get a horrifying feeling this isn’t the first time he’s done this. I glance at the kid. “Did he . . . do anything bad to you?”

“No.” He seems confused. “He hurt me, though, and my sister said he’s a . . . p-pedo?—”

“Paedophile,” I finish, confirming my worst thought. “Great. Were there any other kids down there?”

“No, but there were so many bones,” he whispers, “I got scared.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to be scared anymore,” I promise. “I’ll protect you.”

“And my sister?” He looks so hopeful, I couldn’t deny him anything. He had a tragic, horrible ending to his life, yet he’s trying to save his sister. He’s a good kid.

“And your sister,” I say as I head downstairs. At the bottom, the staircase opens into a small landing, and then there’s another door there. It’s padlocked, and I don’t have time to break the lock. I whistle, and Addeus peers down at me. “Come break this,” I order.

He jumps down the stairs, grips the metal door, and simply takes it off, leaning it to the side before nodding and heading back upstairs. “That’s one way of doing it,” I mutter as I step inside and scan the room.

My stomach rolls at the difference down here. It’s all concrete walls and floors with scratch marks on some. There are even tallies on one wall under a stained mattress with blood specks on it and chains at the top and bottom.

There’s not much else to the room, but then my eyes land on his sister, who’s curled against the back wall next to a small, unmoving version of the boy next to me. His head is facing the wrong way and his eyes are wide, frozen in fear, even in death. I blow out a breath and try to rein in my anger and horror.

I run my eyes over her again, but she doesn’t even notice, nor did she hear the door opening.

She seems frozen, lost in her grief.

Tears track down her pretty, heart-shaped face as she rests her head on her knees, which are dirty, as she stares at her brother’s body. There’s a collar around her neck, connected to the concrete wall by a chain. What I’m guessing is usually vibrant, pink hair is oily and knotted at the base of her neck. She seems small and young. If I had to guess, I would say she’s maybe in her early twenties, but there’s magic surrounding her.

She isn’t human, I realise.

I really am the monster saviour.

The boy stares up at me sadly, his hands tugging on his striped shirt. “She won’t talk to me or look at me. I tried for hours, but she couldn’t see me.” Tears flow down his face, and I nod. I don’t know how much he understands, but I don’t want him to be upset.

“It’s okay, buddy. I’m here now.” I walk over, putting my gun and knife away so I don’t spook her, then I crouch within her eyesight, careful of the boy’s body.

“I’m here to help,” I tell her, but she doesn’t even blink. Her deep brown eyes are open and unseeing, surrounded by long, pink-tipped lashes. “What’s her name?” I ask her brother.

“Isabella, but she prefers Fang,” he replies.

“Fang?” I ask, but she doesn’t move, so I tread closer, holding my hands up. “Fang?” I say louder. I don’t want to scare this girl, but I can’t let her stay down here. It’s not fair to her or her brother. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Writ,” he whispers.

“Isabella, Writ sent me.” At his name, she jerks upright, her eyes landing on me, and she scrambles back to the wall, realising someone else is here.

“Easy,” I murmur softly. “My name is Tate, and I’m here to help you.”

“How did you get here?” she asks, her voice hoarse, but I have a feeling it would normally be silken.

“I had some help. We don’t have time, and I will explain later, but for now, I’m going to free you, okay? To do that, I’ll need to call one of my friends down to help. He’ll break the chains?—”

“No!” she yells at the word “he,” and I freeze. Anger, hatred, and terror fill her eyes, and I nod in understanding.

“Okay, I won’t, but can I try to free you?” I nod at the collar. “Then we can get out of here.”

She watches me for a moment before nodding softly. Sighing, I approach her and look at the chain, trying to find a lock or something I can unhook without touching her.

“He had keys. He always takes them upstairs,” she tells me, and I turn and meet her gaze from inches away. She swallows but seems braver.

“Okay—”

“They are in the kitchen,” Writ says.

I stand and step back.

“I’m just going to get the keys, okay?” I tell her.

She shuffles to her knees, her eyes wide. “Please, please don’t leave me here.”

“I won’t.” I kneel before her again, taking her hands, and she doesn’t pull away. “I promise, okay? I will be right back. I just need to get the keys so I can free you.”

She leans closer, pressing her forehead to mine, and I let her. She blows out a breath and leans back. “Be quick.”

Nodding, I hurry up the stairs, ignoring the curious looks from the others as I search the cupboards in the kitchen, taking great pleasure in ripping open doors and spilling their contents everywhere. “There,” Writ murmurs, pointing at a drawer.

I hurry over, yank it open, and toss the cutlery drawer on the floor, seeing the keys under it. I grab them and dart back down. Fang’s eyes are wide and her chest heaves in fear, but she relaxes a bit when she sees me.

I head back over and search for the right key. It takes a few tries, and then it finally clicks. The collar drops, and I remove it from her neck, letting it hit the floor. She rubs her throat, eyeing me. “Thank you,” she whispers.

“Of course. We need to leave,” I instruct softly, knowing she’s struggling right now.

I help her to her feet, and she tugs on her clothes, trying to cover her curvy body. I was right. She’s small, barely reaching my shoulder, and I find my gaze wandering over her delicious body appreciatively.

Fuck. I step back, wondering what the hell is wrong with me. I don’t give a fuck about gender, I never did, but now is not the time to check someone out, even if she is stunningly beautiful. That’s just fucked up. Luckily, she doesn’t notice.

“I won’t leave him here.” Her voice cracks on the last word as she stares at her brother.

I see grief, heartbreak, and blame in her eyes. She faults herself for not protecting him. Writ is quiet, and I glance at him to see him looking at his body.

“We won’t,” I promise her, and I head over. “Can I carry him for you?”

She nods, wrapping her arms around herself, so I take my jacket off and hand it to her. She slips it on, and it drags on the floor, but it will keep her covered. I gently slide my hands under Writ’s unmoving body and lift him, propping his head on my shoulder.

He watches me sadly. “I’m dead, aren’t I?”

“Yes,” I tell him. “But you saved her.”

He nods, looking at his sister, who is staring at me in confusion. “Come on.” I head to the door then hesitate. “There are men upstairs, but they will not hurt you,” I promise her, but she looks scared. “They are with me. Trust them.” I juggle Writ slightly as I reach down and grab a knife. “Here, to help you feel safe. If you get scared, drive it into them, okay?”

She nods, clutching the blade to her chest, and I head up the stairs. When I reach the top, I whistle to get their attention. “I want every single one of you in the living room with your backs to the wall. Do not move or speak. I mean it,” I order and wait as I hear footsteps. When I think it’s done, I step out. They are positioned like I asked, though the fae looks annoyed at my command.

I feel Fang step out behind me, hiding behind me, and hear her breath stutter when she sees them, but she’s braver than I gave her credit for. She doesn’t run or hide; she steps out at my side, glancing around. “Is he here?”

“No,” I answer for them. “Let’s get you and Writ out of here, and I will come back and deal with him?—”

“No, you won’t,” she snaps, turning her fierce gaze to me. Her skin seems to glow and her hair uncurls, becoming bright and healthy, flowing down her back. Every inch of her oozes sex appeal as she watches me. “You may leave. I will wait for him. I’m going to make him pay for what he did.” Her eyes drop to Writ for a moment, and I stagger back as intense power hits me.

“If you’re staying, then we are staying too. This revenge is yours.” That is something I understand. “But we will be here to help if you need it.”

She nods and turns away as if she cannot bear to look at her brother. “Fang, may I give Writ to one of my men to hold so I can keep my hands free for weapons?”

She hesitates before nodding, and I glance at Writ. “Him.” He points at the fae, and my eyes widen.

“Erm, let me hand you to Addeus?—”

“Him,” Writ demands, pouting. No doubt he was used to getting his way. He’s a tiny version of the woman at my side.

Swallowing, I head over and stretch his body out. Surprisingly, the fae straightens, looking serious, and bows his head. “It would be an honour, little warrior.” He accepts Writ’s body and carefully cradles him in his arms.

When I’m sure he’s okay, I turn to Fang. She sits down in an armchair facing the door, waiting, playing with the knife in one hand, and my estimation of her goes up.

Whoever this man is, he fucked with the wrong woman.

She might have been scared, starved, and locked down there, but it seems this is the true her—powerful, vengeful, and filled with wrath.

I cannot be too close to her without her power washing over my skin, making my heart race and, worse, heat pass through me.

“Succubus,” Ronan tells me softly. “The boy would have been an incubus.” He eyes Writ sadly, all his fear gone. “This happens far too often to their young. Their powers grow, and it attracts the wrong sort of people.”

Sickness rolls through me, as does understanding, and I glance back at Fang to see her bloodthirsty eyes locked on the front door.

Shit, yeah, the man definitely fucked with the wrong person.

The hours pass slowly, and we do not move. I wander through the house, checking for entrances and exits, finding his personal information on an open letter, and then I keep watch. The entire time, she sits in the chair, running the blade through her hands.

When night is drawing near, I hear an engine and, a moment later, the telltale sound of a car pulling onto the drive. Pulling the curtains, I hide behind the door and wait, sparing Fang a look. She nods. I wind the chain I went back downstairs for around my arm.

The door unlocks and pushes open.

“Fuck, why is it so dark?” he mutters, slamming it shut as he reaches for the light switch. I step out of the shadows behind him as he freezes, and I snap the collar around his neck before unwinding the chain as I walk past, yanking him after me. He stumbles and struggles, but it’s too late. I drag him closer as he shouts in confusion, then I push him down to the sofa opposite Fang. I step behind him, keeping him in place with the chain, refusing to touch a hair on his head. I don’t want to see what this monster has done.

I have a feeling it is something I could never unsee.

“What the fuck?” He freezes as Fang stands and heads his way, knife in hand. “How did you get out?”

“That’s your worry?” she purrs, her voice silken once more. He shudders, and I see his pants tent, making me snarl as he gasps for breath.

“You took her and the boy, didn’t you?” I ask him.

When he doesn’t answer, I tighten the chain, waiting as his face turns purple and he slaps at the collar. I release it, and he sucks in desperate gulps of air, glancing up at me with terrified eyes. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this normal-looking man. He would blend in with a crowd. He’s middle-aged, not fat or thin, with short blond hair and brown eyes.

“I usually kill them. I don’t like them old, but this one . . .” He shakes his head. “I couldn’t resist.”

It’s her powers. I’m starting to think that’s also the reason she hates all men.

Men are weak as it is, especially human men, and with a beauty like her who also has her kind of power, I’m guessing this isn’t the first man who has tried to take her by force.

She stops in front of him, and we focus on her. This is her revenge, not mine. I’m just here to ensure she doesn’t get hurt, though I have a feeling the only one getting hurt will be him.

She slides the knife gently across his face before lashing out. Fang carves off his nose as he howls, and with a wicked look, she grabs his open mouth and reaches inside with the knife, slicing off his tongue. His screams sound different as she tosses it away and steps back, putting the knife away as she wipes her hands.

Suddenly, she presses her hands on either side of his face, gripping his head, and his screams grow louder, his whole body shaking from whatever she is doing. Her eyes turn black, and when her voice comes, it’s seductive and deeper. “Succubi don’t just feed on pleasure. We can feed on pain, too, if we wish—two sides of the same coin.”

He continues to writhe and scream as her fingers seem to dent his skin, and her smile grows as she watches him, an evil look overtaking her face.

This woman is dangerous, maybe more so than any other being in this room.

Suddenly, she releases him, stepping back as he slumps, still screaming and clawing at his face. She watches him, her eyes slowly turning back to their normal deep brown. “It will never be enough for what you have done, but I will make sure you never do it again.”

Pulling the knife out again, she slams it into his cock and steps back, all of us observing as he dies slowly and painfully.

His screams and moans fill the air until he becomes silent, and when I look up, I find Ronan has his hand over Writ’s eyes and Tem has his over Writ’s ears, and something about that makes my heart skip a beat. I glance at Fang as she pants, staring at the dead body.

“Do you feel better?” I ask, genuinely curious as one woman seeking vengeance to another.

“No,” she replies as she stares at her brother’s body. “Not even a little bit, but it’s a start.”

I have nothing to say to that.

“Would you like me to take you home? Maybe to your family?”

“We have no other family. It was just . . . us.” She breaks on the last word. “Just me now, I guess.”

“I’m sorry, Fang. I wish I could bring him back for you.”

“It’s not your fault. You saved me. How did you do that? How did you know my name?” It seems to click, and I offer a sad smile.

“Ronan, can you help?”

He steps forward, nodding, and I glance at Fang.

“There will be a small touch, don’t worry.” Her eyes widen, but before she can react, Ronan touches her head and steps back, his hand on Writ’s shoulders. She blinks and looks around.

“What—” Her voice breaks off, her eyes widening as she stumbles over to Writ and falls to her knees before him. “Writ, Writ—” Tears flow down her cheeks.

“Hi, sissy. I made some new friends. Hope that’s okay. I know you always told me to stay close, and I’m sorry I didn’t listen.”

She sobs, and my heart breaks for her. So much pain is contained in her body, it leaks out to us.

“No, no, it’s okay. It was my fault, buddy. It was all my fault.” She hiccups and trembles as she breaks. “Writ, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I didn’t protect you.” Her sobs shake her body. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

He steps forward, wrapping his little arms around her and kissing her head. “It’s okay, sissy. You protected me for so long. This wasn’t your fault. Don’t blame yourself like you did with Mum and Dad, okay? I don’t want you to be sad forever.”

“Writ.” Fang presses her face to his chest. She holds him and cries, and then he steps back.

“I think . . . I think there’s a light here for me.”

“No, please stay,” she begs before she swallows her words, closing her eyes. “Yeah, buddy, that will be for you. You’re right. It’s okay. You can go through.”

“What will happen?” he asks, scared.

“Nothing. You’ll be safe, and Mum and Dad will be there, okay?” she promises. “They’ll take care of you, and then I’ll join you.”

“Soon?” He frowns.

“Do you want me to be there with you?” Something serious fills her tone, and I freeze.

He frowns, watching her. “Not yet. It’s not your time.” He looks older for a moment, and then he smiles, looking like a kid once more. “Don’t join me too soon, okay? We can wait. We’ll wait for you, sissy.” He glances at me. “Take care of my sister please?”

I nod. What else can I do?

He looks back at his sister and presses his hand to her face. She covers it with hers, watching him. “Bye, sissy.”

“Bye, buddy,” she whispers, holding it together. He smiles and then, seeing something we don’t, he heads towards it. I step forward, my hand landing on her shoulder, and we watch as he turns back, grinning.

“You’re right! They are here. Bye, sissy! Love you!” Suddenly, he’s gone.

“I love you,” she croaks, and then she falls back into me, sobs ripping through her. Kneeling behind her, I hold her as she cries. Her nails dig into my arms, drawing blood, but I don’t complain as she breaks.

Ronan was right.

She’s lost, alone, and broken.

We are all broken toys. Maybe that’s why we found each other.

When her screams taper off, her sobs turning into quiet whimpers of pain, I gently slide my arms under her and lift, all my weight training paying off as I carry her to the door, my men following silently. Once outside, we turn back to the house, and Jarek steps forward.

“May I?” he asks.

She nods, and flames burst through the house.

We watch it consume the place before we turn and walk away. A portal opens before us, and we step through and out into a beautiful field.

“Where are we?” I ask as Fang clings to me.

“It is where we bury our dead—a sacred place,” the fae answers as he carries the boy. He waves his hand, and a fresh grave appears. Fang sobs harder, burying her face in my chest, and the fae carefully lays the boy down, arranging him so he looks like he is sleeping. I head over, and Fang looks, sniffling.

When she’s ready, the fae covers him with dirt and grass.

We don’t speak, honouring the boy the only way we can. He saved his sister. He was strong and determined enough to fight off death until she was safe.

The fae is correct. This is the right place for a fighter like him.

Flowers grow over the grave, and I glance at the fae to see his fingers twisting at his side. He meets my gaze. “He deserves a warrior’s burial.” The fae looks at Fang. “Any time you wish to see him, just ask. I can bring you here. No deals. No charge.”

“Why?” she croaks. “The fae don’t do anything without cause.”

“He gave his life for you. How could I do anything but? I might be cruel and evil, but that little boy had more strength in his body than any of us have in our entire souls. He was a warrior. He deserves this, and so do you. No deal needed. Not this time.”

“Thank you,” I whisper to him.

He nods and turns away, walking amongst the flowers like the prince he is, and I understand now why his sister wanted to save him so badly.

There’s something in him, something good, even if it’s usually hidden.

The fae isn’t as evil as he seems, and we are not alone in this.

Neither is she.

I made her brother a promise, one I will keep.

The fae is right. Writ deserves it.

He died to protect his sister, and I will live to protect her in whatever way she needs.