A Demon in Dallas (3 page)

‘Thank you,” I said quietly.

Connor nodded stiffly and the seconds seemed to stretch into an eternity as I looked into his eyes. I hoped my expression conveyed how very sorry I was for hurting him. It was all I could do to keep my hands on the table and not reach out to touch him or take his hand. I tried to swallow down the lump in my throat as Connor tore his gaze away and headed for the door. After taking only a few steps, he paused and turned. My breath stuttered as I stared at the face I knew so well—loved so well. If things had been different we could have been so happy together.

“It really is good to see you again, Raven.” Connor’s voice was rough and it cracked on my name. For the first time his mouth curved into a smile, but the expression didn’t reach his piercing, dark blue eyes. They remained sad, haunted. I gave up trying to swallow down the lump in my throat, which had grown so big it was choking the damn life out of me. Words failed me, but it didn’t matter. Connor didn’t give me the chance to reply. He turned and strode out of the diner without looking back again. I watched his retreating form with regret. Our reunion had been much shorter than I would have liked, but it was no more than I’d expected or deserved. I’d walked out on him two years ago and had only called now because I needed his help. I couldn’t blame him for being distant. It was obvious that Connor had moved on with his life. If only I could do the same.

Resting my elbows on the table, I scrubbed my hands over my face and rubbed at my tired eyes. Seeing Connor again had been painful—more so than I could have imagined. The sorrow that had been in his eyes when I’d delivered my parting shot had been still present. And what a shot it had been. Something died inside me the night I told Connor I didn’t love him anymore, but it was the only way he’d have let me go. I should have tried to find Matt without his help, but in truth I’d wanted to see Connor again, even though I knew that was selfish as hell. There was a constant ache in my heart that no amount of time or distance could cure. I guess the truth of the matter was that I didn’t want to be cured because that would mean I’d let Connor go. I wasn’t ready to do that, even though missing him was the worst kind of agony.

Chapter Three

I’d been hoping to get in a couple of hours of sleep before I heard back from Connor and had to go out again, but my cellphone started buzzing the second I arrived in the motel room. When I saw the number on my phone’s display, I had a feeling my lousy night was about to get a whole lot worse. I was tempted to let the call go to voicemail, but I had to get the conversation over with or the council would send in a team of operatives and that would be bad.

“Why isn’t Matt answering his cell?” Neal asked in a gruff voice as soon as I answered the call.

Lying would have been futile because Neal wouldn’t have settled for anything less than speaking to Matt himself.

“Because he’s missing,” I admitted. “Vamps took him.”

“What? Since when?”

“A couple of hours ago.”

“Why didn’t you call it in?”

I sighed wearily. “I’m on it, Neal. Just give me some time, please. I’ll find him.”

Neal wasn’t usually the cooperative type, but I’d worked under him for a long time and he trusted me implicitly. I hoped that would count for something.

“Seventy-two hours,” he conceded. “If you haven’t found him or I don’t hear from you when the time is up, I’m sending in a team.”

He hung up.

Well, crap.
That could have gone better. What was I supposed to do in three days? Not a whole damn lot. I’d been involved in missions that had gone awry before and the results had been bad. The ‘team’ that Neal had referred to was a last resort. It consisted of hunters like Matt and me, but, unlike us, they were what you’d call a clean-up crew. A last resort, if you will. They took no prisoners and didn’t care how many lives had to be lost in the process of getting what they wanted. Any and all supernaturals that got in their way were dealt with swiftly.

We were all killers—I wasn’t trying to kid myself that I was innocent in all of this—but I had a conscience. I didn’t get a kick out of killing. It was simply something that I had to do to ensure the safety of
all
supernaturals. Hunters like Matt and I only ever took out supes that had killed others—the dregs of our society that would kill again if they got the chance. By killing, I was saving lives, or at least that’s what I told myself to help me sleep at night. The slayer teams were a different kettle of fish. It didn’t matter to them who was guilty or innocent. All they cared about was following orders and keeping our existence a secret from humans, whatever the cost. Lives were expendable to them—both civilians and other hunters like Matt. Which was why it was paramount that I found Matt before the team arrived—I was his last chance for survival.

I eyed the bed longingly before checking the dressing on my chest. It still burned like holy hell but at least it had started to heal. I didn’t have the super-fast healing abilities of vampires or many of the other supernatural species, but hunters did heal faster than humans. It was something to do with our genetic makeup. It wasn’t a bad trait to have, but I could think of better.

After I’d finished re-taping my chest, I threw on one of only two sexy dresses that I owned. It was a figure-hugging number in deep scarlet—definitely not a blend-into-the-background kind of dress. It had a high neckline and long sleeves, but it clung to my curves like a lover’s caress, and the hem was about an inch short of being obscene. After sliding my feet into a pair of killer heels, I put my trusty stake in my purse then headed down to the old warehouse district on Colorado and Third. I stopped briefly to hide my motel key in a plant pot outside the motel door. Losing a key one time too many during a fight with bloodsuckers had taught me never to take the thing with me, and letting the motel receptionist see my bruised or bloody body after I’d been in a fight with supes was not an option. Anonymity was tantamount in my profession—the less humans knew about what I’d been up to, the better.

I hated that I needed to wear the dress at all, feeling far more comfortable in my leathers or a pair of jeans. However, in those clothes I’d stand out like a sore thumb in the bars I was going to. Sometimes, showing a little leg worked wonders when one was trying to come by information, particularly in those situations in which I couldn’t use my fists—or stake. The trendy bars on Third and Fourth were the best places to find the people that could start giving me some answers. It was a long shot, but it was all that I had.

The first two bars were a complete bust. Filled to capacity with drunken humans, there wasn’t a single supernatural in sight. I struck gold when I entered the third bar. Most of the patrons were human there, too, but the incredibly handsome man propping up the bar was anything but. I sauntered over and took a seat on the stool next to him. Though I knew he wasn’t human because of his incredibly strong physic aura, I didn’t have the first clue what species he was and that fascinated me.

“You mind?” I asked, indicating the space I’d already occupied.

His eyes roamed salaciously over my legs and a self-assured smile played on his lips. Eventually his gaze lifted to meet mine.

“Never mind a beautiful woman sitting next to me,” he flirted. “What can I do for you, huntress?”

Busted!
“How did you know?” I tried to keep my voice casual even though his statement intrigued me.

Vampires have a sixth sense about my kind in the same way that most animals can sense danger. Shifters usually figure out what I am too, even though I’m no threat to them, unless of course their nocturnal habits included killing humans and they caught the attention of the council. This man was neither. And most of the warlocks I’d encountered had assumed I was human.

As I studied his face, his smile grew wider. Even in the dim light of the bar, his pale blue eyes glistened like aquamarines under a cloudless sky. They were the prettiest colour I’d ever seen and as I stared into their depths they seemed to intensify. I could have willingly spent days getting lost in those eyes—I wanted to. My heart pounded thunderously as I leaned in closer to the beautiful man and breathed in his mouth-watering scent. It was as fresh as a sea breeze after a tropical storm—pure and untainted by the often overpowering scent of aftershave or cologne.

And his skin… His skin looked softer than an angel’s wing or the down on a newly hatched chick. I had a burning desire to reach out and touch him—a compulsion that overrode sense and practicality. I lifted my hand and inched it closer, needing to feel the smoothness of his skin beneath my fingertips, to confirm with touch what my eyes had already distinguished. What would it be like to kiss him? His lips were perfectly formed, the colour of soft pink rose petals with the finest Cupid’s bow curve. I tilted my head to the side and leaned in. But then a firm hand landed on my shoulder and shook me roughly, wrenching me out of my trance.

“Watch yourself with him, he’s Fae.”

With a muttered curse, I tore my gaze from the handsome man, but not before I noticed a shadow pass over his face. His once beautiful features distorted and for a brief moment I caught a glimpse of the ugliness within. The fairy snarled at the man behind me then got up from his seat and headed for the door, hissing and swearing as he walked out of the bar.

Closing my eyes, I breathed a deep sigh of relief. In all my years as a hunter, I’d never come into contact with fairies, as they usually stayed in their own realm, but I knew those of the Unseelie court were not to be trusted. I also understood my own limitations and, though my abilities allowed me to be unaffected by a vampire’s glamour, I had no such protection from the Fae. Even so, I hadn’t thought their mojo would work quite so well on me. Clearly I needed to rethink that estimation. Jesus, if the guy had asked, I would have willingly offered up my mortal soul and then some.

My saviour walked around and took a seat on the now empty stool beside me. When I got a look at his face for the first time, the dread settled into my stomach. I’d thought the voice had sounded familiar, but I’d still been under the Fae’s spell when he’d spoken and the recognition had only barely penetrated my dulled senses. Could the night get any worse? If there was one person I hadn’t wanted to run into and certainly didn’t want to owe a debt of gratitude to, I was looking at him.

Getting the attention of the bartender, I ordered a scotch, neat. I nodded gratefully when he placed the drink in front of me and downed it in one long gulp, enjoying the burn as it slid down my throat with purpose. Only when I’d placed the empty glass back on the bar did I turn to face the man next to me. He had his head cocked to the side and was regarding me with marked interest. I didn’t like it.

“What do you want from me, Malaki?”

“We have a favour to ask of you.”

Cold seeped into my bones, in complete juxtaposition to the warm numbness the whisky was spreading through my veins. “I have no interest in serving angels.”

Malaki shrugged. “Personally, I prefer the term ‘messenger of God’ and
technically
you are on our side.”

“I’m not on anyone’s side but my own.” I knew I was fighting a losing battle because Malaki’s favour didn’t sound like a request, it sounded like an order.

“I’m not sure the hunters’ council would agree with that.”

I ignored the comment and stared into his steely grey eyes, refusing to look away even though holding his gaze was as difficult as swimming against the current in a heavy storm. “I repeat, what do you want from me?”

Power oozed out of the angel’s every pore, making my skin prickle as it trickled over me, raising goosebumps on my arms. “We’re having a little problem with a demon in Dallas,” Malaki said conversationally, as though he was discussing something as innocuous as the weather.

I shook my head. “I don’t get involved with demons.” On the few occasions I’d crossed paths with them in the past, I’d barely escaped with my life.

“No, but this one has aligned himself with some powerful supernaturals, specifically of the furry kind, and I believe those
do
come under your jurisdiction.”

Crap, he had me there, but, if I was smart, the situation could work to my advantage.

“Okay, so let’s say I help you with your little demon problem. Would you be willing to do something for me in return?”

“If you’re referring to the infamous partner in crime that has recently gone missing, I’m afraid there isn’t a lot I can do about that.”

My ears pricked. “How do you know about Matt?”

Malaki lifted one perfectly shaped brow, his smug grin returning. “I have my sources.”

“If you know that he’s missing, then you also know who took him
and
where he’s being held.”

Malaki nodded and the self-satisfied grin that I was so used to seeing on his face became wider. “I do, as it happens. I also know
why
he was taken and I have it on very good authority that he is not being harmed. I’ll be more than happy to give you his location when you’ve helped me find the demon in Dallas.”

I scowled. “Does the man upstairs know about your penchant for blackmail?”

“Needs must,” he returned with a shrug.

“Fine, give me the damn details.”

I didn’t like my position one little bit, but Malaki had me boxed into a corner and he knew it. I could have just waited to see if Connor could come up with the goods, but it didn’t pay to get on the wrong side of angels. Besides, Malaki would owe me a favour. Even though I disliked him, he would be a good person to have fighting in my corner. Angels were conniving SOBs and would do almost anything to achieve their objectives, but if they owed you something, they always paid up.

The demon, as it turned out, was no small fry. I hadn’t crossed paths with him personally, but I
had
heard of him. Barbatos was apparently working with a pack of were-shifters in Dallas. Together, they had stolen a sacred book from a witch in a local coven. Malaki didn’t know all the details or what the shifters had offered as compensation for helping them, but demons didn’t come cheap. Neither did they accept money as payment. Souls were of far greater use to them and a more common bargaining tool.