Page 20

Angelo

The oil led us straight to a barely maintained building I recognized by reputation, not sight.

I avoided the feeling-laden parties common here like the plague. It made sense for the enemy we faced, though. It was dimly lit, remote, and unlikely to be well-traveled. Andrea could squat here for days at a time, eating her meal in peace, with no one the wiser.

Which was exactly what she was doing when I burst through the door, the rest of Lydia’s would-be rescuers fanning out in a line behind me.

We all stopped. We all stared.

For a second that seemed to last an eternity, I could only gawk at the tableau before me. It looked like something out of a horror movie. No, scratch that. Most of the people I hung out with belonged in horror flicks. This was the prelude to a supernatural snuff film, complete with a blood-bursting, soul-sucking fiend looming over the woman I...

Loved.

Hell below, it sounded completely absurd, but it was the truth. I did love her. Maybe it was the mating bond. Maybe it was something about the other creatures attached to her soul. I didn’t care. I wanted Lydia in my life, and there was no way I was going to let an overgrown bat with slippery entrails eat my mate.

Before I could lunge forward and rip the ugly, crouched figure off Lydia’s chest, I was knocked to the side by a large, well-muscled shape. The blow sent me spinning in the opposite direction, an alarming ringing sound coming from that side. I caught myself on the support beam before the hit could knock me entirely on my ass, but the force of the blow left me gasping. Blood ran in a thin stream down one side of my face, soaking my shirt. It didn’t take long to figure out why.

Vin stood only a few paces away, a metal chair held aloft. It was no nut shot, but I could tell he’d enjoyed taking back a little of his own on me. But there was something he seemed to have forgotten about this whole thing.

I was stronger than he was. I always had been.

Superior build and superior pheromones. He’d always lived in my shadow. He was attractive and successful enough that he intimidated mundanes and lesser monsters. But I wasn’t a lesser demon. I wasn’t a woman alone, comparatively helpless in the face of a predator. I was a motherfucking demon, just as he was, and he’d pissed me the fuck off.

I kicked him. Hard. In the face.

It sent him staggering back the way he’d come, spitting blood and a rain of teeth. It bubbled over his lips and splattered down his thousand-dollar suit, adding insult to injury. I used the distraction to advance on him, plucking the chair from his flailing fingers. I broke one, just because it felt good to hear his bones snap and his throat close around a scream.

Lydia’s scream drew my eyes back to the fight. Andrea had plastered her body to Lydia’s front, squishing the bunched entrails and her long, slick tongue between them. It made a stomach-turning squelch, and I was helpless to do much while Andrea’s teeth rested so close to Lydia’s throat. Sure, she didn’t need the vestigial fangs to feed, but they worked as well as a knife. She didn’t have to blow Lydia sky high to kill her. A severed artery worked just as well.

It was disturbing to look at Andrea. There was enough smooth, unblemished flesh on display to make any mundane man stop and stare. She hadn’t bothered to cover her top half after separating from the bottom, leaving her breasts bare. It might have been interesting to see Lydia pressed so tightly to another woman if that other woman’s tongue hadn’t snaked its way where it shouldn’t be. I could smell the rich tang of iron from her direction. Lydia was bleeding, and the stuff bubbling out had begun to stain the manananggal’s front, fusing to her ashy gray skin, all life automatically sapped on contact.

Vin tried to crawl toward her, crying out when a boot came down on his wrist and the blade he’d produced from somewhere on his person. I followed the shoe up to its owner and found a sour-faced Anthony pinning my downed cousin, a crossbow aimed firmly at his temple. The tip of the bolt was stained with something dark and viscous—probably poison from our home dimension. Even if Vin didn’t expire from a headshot, he’d die slowly later. No matter what he took from human women, it wouldn’t be enough to sustain him forever. He’d starve to death. In my opinion, taking the bolt and praying for death was faster and less painful.

“Don’t move,” Anthony said, his free hand curling into a fist.

There wasn’t enough aura of power to be visible, but I sensed the magic in Anthony all the same. He didn’t have to be a warlock throwing blood bolts. At this distance, magic was like a gun. It didn’t have to be large-caliber to ruin someone’s day. I could finally see the realization of that play across Vin’s face as he stared up at Anthony. For once in his spoiled life, he realized he wasn’t above consequences. It would have been a satisfying moment to witness if Lydia hadn’t bucked, nearly unseating Andrea.

Andrea slid a little and dug her nails into Lydia’s arms to anchor herself in place. Blood welled in the deep crescents, and an answering snarl built in my throat. I wanted to tear her head off. But Taliyah had it covered. The manananggal stilled immediately when the barrel of Taliyah’s service pistol pressed to the side of her head.

“Stop whatever you’re doing, right now,” Taliyah said, her voice admirably level, but I saw the flinching around her eyes. The screams would haunt her too. “Withdraw your…” Taliyah paused, seeming a little flustered before finishing with, “tongue and step away from Ms. Morton.”

The throaty chuckle that escaped Andrea was the sort of sound you heard in the bedroom, not a pitched battle. The bat wings, tattered ears, and ichor-stained bare skin clashed so violently with Andrea’s lazy, sensual laugh that it made me feel ill.

“Your bullets can’t kill me, your highness.”

Andrea added that last bit with a mad cackle. Her eyes gleamed with a similarly manic energy as she twisted toward the gun. She didn’t reach for it, as I expected. Even if she couldn’t be killed by a jacketed round, getting shot would still hurt. I’d been shot before. It ranked up there as one of the most painful experiences I’d endured.

Andrea’s gaze swept the room, taking in the gaggle of witches, a stern-faced faerie police officer, a monster hunter, and a pissed-off demon that had formed a loose circle around her. It wasn’t a favorable position for any monster, but even less so for this murderous bitch. It almost made one grateful for Hollows in general. They weren’t always successful, but their premise was sound. We were stronger and better off when we banded together against threats, instead of waiting for them to pick us off one by one.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Taliyah said flatly. “But I don’t have to shoot you to kill you, Andrea. I just have to wait. You still have a vampire’s weakness. If you remain separated from your legs, you’ll burn up when the sun rises, isn’t that right?”

Andrea didn’t respond, but the rapid, nervous flick of her batlike ears was answer enough. When she licked her lips, it was with a portion of that rubbery appendage that moved. I didn’t remember having it stuck in me, but I couldn’t imagine it felt pleasant. From the soft whimpers coming from Lydia’s throat, it hurt when the deed was done to a conscious person.

“What guarantee do I have that you won’t kill me the second I step away from your friend?”

None. I wasn’t letting her live, no matter what happened. If she burst into flames, good. I’d drag her off Lydia and then dance around the ashes. Maybe I’d leave and return with marshmallows, just to commemorate the event.

Taliyah’s look cut sideways, as though she’d heard my thought. Her lips pursed and she cast me a strained glower before turning back to Andrea.

“You have my guarantee. Leave Lydia alone and you keep your life. Fail to do so, and your days are numbered. I have armies now. Your Lords have another thing coming if they think I’ll allow another incursion into this Hollow. Lay a fang or finger on someone under my protection and I will bury you.”

Andrea’s wings flapped so suddenly that Lydia’s ring of protectors flinched, just an inch. It was enough, though. Vin scrambled out from beneath Anthony’s weight just long enough to seize one ropy entrail, squeezing it for all it was worth as Andrea took to the air, nimbly dodging my attempt to grab her by the hair. She dragged Vin along like a woebegone streamer in her wake, flailing and cursing as more of her organs slid messily down her torso to splatter on Vin’s head, blood and thicker substances oozing out to coat his face. I took some solace in that. At least he’d gotten some comeuppance for what he’d done to Lydia. The mess in a vampire hybrid’s intestines was a good start, as far as I was concerned.

No one contradicted Taliyah. Andrea fled the building unscathed, leaving a twitching Lydia on the ground. I lunged for her the second we were in the clear, my knees hitting the floor beside her with an audible thump. Only the flutter of a heartbeat against the pale skin of her throat kept me from transforming completely, off to perform a rampage that would have made the Dark Ones themselves proud. The rest of the scene was bad enough.

Lydia’s stomach hadn’t been torn into, nor had Andrea inserted that long, proboscis-like tongue into her womb. Instead, Andrea had ripped open her blouse, plunging through the material of her bra so that the white lace was stained scarlet. Rivulets of blood ran from the wound. It didn’t appear deep, or I would have worried about Lydia’s heart. A divot about the size of a golf ball had been carved just to one side of her breastbone, exposing her glistening insides to the air. It looked like a hideous invasion, and I had the visceral urge to slap a hand over it. I liked Lydia’s body exposed for my private viewing, not laid bare and carved like a Sunday roast.

A pair of witches knelt beside me. Without a word to each other, they got their hands beneath her arms and began hauling her to her feet. I recognized Wanda’s curvy frame on one side and the spare frame of a man on the other.

“I’ve got her,” Maverick barked. “You call ahead. We need to get her to the coven house. Or Taliyah’s house, failing that. I’d rather not, though, since she’s got kids. We need to get Lydia behind wards.”

“Why?” I asked, the word slipping out before I could stop it. “Andrea is gone.”

I stood, barely feeling my legs as I trudged after the pair. Maverick moved at a fast clip, ignoring an indignant Wanda bobbing near his elbow, just waiting to catch Lydia if she tumbled. Lydia was moving, barely, but still didn’t seem conscious. It was a relief when Maverick swung her up into his arms. I wanted to be the one holding her, but my limbs wouldn’t seem to cooperate.

Nothing about this felt right. Lydia looked fine, but a hollow ache had settled in my middle that hadn’t been there only a few minutes ago. The sense of dread and grief intensified, nearly bending me double. I couldn’t put my finger on what was wrong, but there was something.

“Because manananggal feed on essence, not blood,” Anthony said brusquely, sliding into the backseat of Wanda’s vehicle without being told. “And the places it chooses to feed are significant, as I explained.”

“Nads on men, wombs on women, I remember,” I said. “Why does that matter right now? Andrea didn’t poke her tongue into Lydia’s uterus, genius.”

“No, she did worse,” Anthony said, expression twisted tight with grief. “In some traditions, the soul is located in the heart or lungs. Indigo was fused to Lydia there.”

Oh. Oh fuck.

“She took Indigo’s soul?” I asked, sounding out the words. They didn’t feel right.

“I think so,” Anthony whispered. “That’s why Murrain sent Andrea in the first place. To get rid of the threat before he moves on the Hollow in a larger show of strength.”

So, he was planning on attacking Haven Hollow? At least this time we were prepared. Maybe we’d have enough warning to evacuate the human population before they arrived to slaughter us.

“Is there anything we can do about it?”

Anthony shrugged, eyes tightening when Maverick laid Lydia flat on his lap. I took the other end when I lowered myself into the seat next to his. He looked weary.

“Not unless Andrea vomits up Indigo’s soul,” He answered.

“They can do that?”

“Murrain wants to punish Indigo, so he might demand it,” Anthony said as Maverick nodded.

“A soul can be stored for brief periods in certain containers,” he explained. “Imani would be the one to ask about it. It’s more her area of magic than mine.”

“But Indigo can be saved if that happens?” I pressed.

“Maybe,” Anthony nodded as he looked at Maverick who shook his head.

“I’ve never tried to do anything like that. This circumstance is rare.”

Taliyah’s lights and sirens blurred to life nearby, and Wanda wordlessly followed the speeding cruiser further into town. I caught her glancing at us in the rearview mirror now and then, eyes wide and concerned, but she thankfully said nothing. She meant well and didn’t need me taking her head off for trying to apply a well-meaning but ultimately useless comment.

Lydia’s breathing evened as we drove, which should have calmed my nerves. It didn’t. There was something wrong with the cadence of her breaths, the beat of her heart. It wasn’t right. Neither was the scent. Lydia was tangy, mock orange, with a bit of surprising heat at the tail end. It was a scent and flavor I craved. The stuff wafting off her skin now was... jasmine. And her hair was still a thick, sweet-smelling mass of black, not the cloud of gold it ought to have been if Indigo truly had been parted from her.

My stomach sank.

“This isn’t Lydia,” I said.

Anthony glanced up at me and frowned. “What?”

“There’s a difference in her scent and magic. I’m attuned enough to it now to know the difference between—” My stomach suddenly felt sick. “Andrea didn’t take Indigo,” I said, my tone hollow as the reality sank in. “She took Lydia.”

Anthony understood a second later, his face blanching white. He couldn’t help but cast a small, hopeful glance at Lydia’s body and the stranger who was now its sole occupant.

And then he recoiled at the sound of my angry snarl.

The End