Kiss of Darkness (25 page)

“Wait for me, Winter,” Dupree answered. She tuned him out. She tuned them
all
out.

The sounds of fighting behind her intensified as she entered the alley. It was only a few feet long and at the end was an open door glowing with light. She slowed. Getting close to one wall she crept down it until she could peek inside.

There was no sign of Ben, but inside a hulking demon spun in circles, raging. Blood dripped down the side of its mottled red face and its chest heaved. Horns, huge and spiked, curved from the top of his head. He radiated strength and power. His body was thickly muscled, his eyes glowing red and with too much thought to be an ordinary demon.

Marcus was a steady presence in her mind and she shared her suspicions with him.
This must be the warlord.

Get out of there, Winter.

She had to agree. It would be suicide to take on a warlord by herself. She started to back up slowly, but it was too late. The demon had already spotted her. Lifting its snout, he sniffed the air a second before his gaze fell on her retreating form. He roared his challenge and charged. She reached for her rifle, the fact it was missing somewhere in the fight registering way too late. Shit.

She waited until he was within arm’s length then dived to the opposite wall, making herself into as small a ball, as small a target, as she could. His momentum slammed him up against the wall, shaking flakes of plaster free to float like snow in the air. Screaming his fury, he whirled back around. There was nowhere to go. She felt Marcus’s horror, his cry for her to
move damn it,
but where to? Then the damnedest, and luckiest, thing happened.

Someone stabbed the demon from behind, the edge of a long blade missing its mark and coming through the demon’s side at the waist. It wouldn’t do much damage, and seemed to have only enraged it more. Without turning to face the attacker, he lashed out. There were two thuds. The first the impact of the demon’s fist hitting his attacker and the second the man being flung against the wall. Suddenly, she could see him. When had Ben learned the trick of invisibility?

No time for that now, Winter.

Marcus was right. She’d worry about it later. For now, she had to get out. The way out of the alley was blocked so while the demon’s attention was focused on Ben, she carefully backed up into the room hoping there was an exit in there. If nothing else maybe she could close the door and call for reinforcements.

He didn’t follow her, but there was no exit. As quietly as she could she explored the room. It was small, around twelve-by-twelve feet, and set up as an office with a large desk and three chairs. No closets. No other doors. No place to hide.

She smelled him before she heard his approach. Turning slowly, she faced him, frantically trying to figure a way out. He blocked the doorway, his grin slow to come and pure malice.

“Finally. The one I’ve been looking for.”

She cocked an eyebrow. Impossible. “Why would you be looking for me?”

He snarled and stepped into the room. Ben was nowhere to be seen. “Half breeds. Soul stealers.”

She shrugged, not sure what he was talking about but not about to admit it.
Careful,
Marcus admonished her. He didn’t have to share what he was thinking with her. It was stupid, foolhardy to bait a demon. Well, she’d never been known for her cautious nature.

“We do what we must.” She smiled, letting the feral nature of her demon show through. “To fight you.”

“You steal souls from the Abyss. Take what should be mine.”

Again she shrugged. She should have known better than to try to converse with a demon. Warlords didn’t make any more sense than the rest of them. It could be important though. She’d discuss it with Nadia later. Right now she had to focus on getting out alive. But she couldn’t fight him, not yet. Not alone. “That doesn’t tell me why you’re looking for me.”

His expression was almost disdainful. “Half breeds are stupid. You don’t even know what you have.”

She had a demon soul that was getting more enraged by the moment, wanting to attack, and not understanding why she didn’t. She was shaking with the effort to control it. Finally, she heard footsteps in the alley, knew it was Dupree coming to her aid.

She repositioned her knives in her hands, shifted on the balls of her feet in preparation. The only way to do this would be fast and hard, from the front and behind. She tried to tell Dupree her plan, but he wasn’t much of a telepath and she wasn’t sure if he got the message.

Marcus did though and fumed, but didn’t rant at her. She knew he didn’t approve of this move, but he was too worried about blowing her concentration to say so. She even agreed. It was just the kind of crazy stunt she would pull.

“What do I have then?”

He knew she was going to attack, spoke at the same time that he moved. “Not just a warrior’s soul,” he grunted.

She rolled out of the way in time, but not before taking a long slice with his blade. It only took a moment to feel the poison. She screamed her fury in her mind and waited for the effects. She didn’t even consider teleporting away. This might be her only shot at killing this demon. If her backup would hurry the hell up. He watched her expectantly. Nothing happened, but instead of pissing him off more it seemed to please him.

Her gaze flickered away a moment. Dupree staggered into the doorway, a gash bleeding from his forehead. He wasn’t quick enough when the demon whirled around and struck. His body slammed against the wall with a sickening crack she recognized as breaking bone. He slumped to the ground and the warlord’s tail swished, leaving a long gash down the front of Dupree’s chest. He didn’t move. She hoped desperately to see his chest rise, didn’t get any response when she shoved her mind at his.

There was nothing left in her but rage and guilt and the burning need for retribution. She got close enough to stab the demon in the back, but not near enough his heart to slow him down. She barely lunged out of the way when he turned to attack her. They circled each other—he toying with her while she tried to buy more time. The others would come. If they could. Outside the doorway Dupree still didn’t move. She refused to accept that he was gone. He couldn’t be gone.

There wasn’t a lot of room to maneuver in and the warlord shoved the desk out of his way so hard it banged against the wall and bounced back a couple feet. It was too much to hope the sound was heard outside over the din, but she hoped anyway. She didn’t want to die here, like this. She wanted a chance to tell Marcus…what? So many things. That she liked having someone to talk to, even if he pissed her off most of the time. That she liked waking up in his arms. That she loved him.

I know. And your timing sucks. Now concentrate on the room. On everything in it, exact positions.

Don’t even think about it.
She knew what he was planning, but it couldn’t be done. They were too deep in the earth. She tried to tell him that as she avoided a thrust of the demon’s blade and lunged in for her own attack. She didn’t move fast enough and she felt his knife scrape over her ribs. The pain was like fire as it sliced through her skin.

You just concentrate on staying alive.

She knew that likelihood was dwindling as the demon struck her again, this time in the thigh. He wore her down in an embarrassingly short period of time, each of his attacks landing while only a few of hers did. She felt herself slipping, felt her death approaching.

I’m sorry,
she whispered to Marcus. Sorry she was slowing down. Sorry she wasn’t strong enough. Sorry she was leaving so many people exposed, failing to perform a duty she’d sworn to never falter in. But mostly sorry Marcus had to witness it, knew he’d always carry it with him as a failure to protect her.

NO!
His anguish screamed through her mind, but she didn’t have time to think about it. The demon had decided it was done toying with her and she gave in to instinct, gave herself over to her demon completely. She would
not
die here. Not like this.

Chapter Thirty-Three

God damn it, Winter!
But calling her was no use. She was gone, her mind nothing but a red haze of fury. She’d given over control to the demon completely. Irrevocably maybe. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to bring her back. Could it be done? Conventional wisdom, everything they knew about the hybrids, said no. He took a deep breath. They were bonded. She had to still be in there somewhere, it was just a matter of finding her. If he could get her out alive.

He’d been in her mind, watching the fighting for what felt like hours. Furious and unable to do a damned thing about it. He felt how deep underground she was, a heavy pressure on the connection between them. He’d paced all afternoon, hoping like hell she wouldn’t need help because he wasn’t sure he could get to her if she did. Now he had no choice.

He turned to Luke and Kadall, waiting with him in the Order’s basement, and felt their power surge into him without having to ask. He’d been giving them an account as he saw it through Winter’s eyes, realized he’d actually called out when he felt her mind surrender to the demon’s. Teleporting to her was a brainless thing to attempt, but she was his mate. He didn’t have a choice.

He concentrated on the room she was in, the layout, the feel and smell of it, and pushed himself there, felt his molecules coming apart and moving slowly as if through foot after foot of sludge. For a few seconds he got stuck and brutally repressed a spike of fear. That he wouldn’t get free. That he wouldn’t get to Winter on time. He felt more power pouring into him, took a moment to wonder whose it was when the answer came to him. Gia linking through Luke. It was enough and finally, he came back together, in one piece in the room he needed to be in. There was no time to feel relief.

Winter was down, her form slight but still fighting. She couldn’t hope to win, but she didn’t give up. He allowed himself a moment of pride before attacking. He focused all the mental energy he could summon, surprised at the amount considering the difficulty of the teleportation, into a sharp point, threw it at the base of the demon’s neck. It didn’t kill him, but it knocked him off his feet, stunned him.

Marcus drew his knives and threw. The first missed. In the heartbeat it took him to throw the next, the warlord was back on his feet. Marcus’s second knife embedded in his shoulder. From the corner of his eye, he saw Winter get to her feet and circle around behind them. With a roar, the warlord yanked the blade free and charged for Marcus. He lurched to the side, felt the demon’s claws nick his arm and then threw another burst of power at the warlord.

The warlord wasn’t any better prepared for the second strike and fell back into the desk. Winter didn’t give him time to recover, immediately she was on him, knife plunging into his heart. Once. Twice. Again.

“Enough, Winter.”

Arm raised over her head to strike the warlord again, she slowly turned to face him. There was nothing sane in the eyes gazing back at him, nothing that acknowledged him as anything but an intruder into her fun. She got to her feet and sprang, going for his throat and chest. He grabbed her wrists just in time. He spun them around, slamming her back against the wall and pinning her wrists over her head, using his body to hold her still.

“Winter!” he barked, shaking her. “Control the demon.”

She snarled and bucked against him, struggling to get free.

“Now, baby,” he said, hardening his voice to the tone he used to command, trying a different tactic, doubting gentling or reason would work on the beast. “If any of your people see you like this, they’ll be forced to kill you.”

There were no more sounds of fighting out there. He heard men calling to each other, heard someone ask where the Commander was. Something flashed through her eyes so fast he was afraid he’d imagined it. She was in there somewhere.

“Damn it, Winter. You’re disobeying me again.”

There was intelligence in her glare this time, but she still yanked at her wrists, tried to twist them in his grip to point the blades in his direction.

“What? No comeback?”

Her chest heaved from her exertions, her jaw tightened and determination warred with bloodlust in her eyes. His relief was almost palpable.

“That’s it, baby. Fight it. You control the demon, not the other way around.”

He heard footsteps in the alley and she did too. She opened her fists and let her knives clatter to the floor. Surrender. Leaning forward, she rested her head against his chest.

I need a minute. Don’t let anyone in yet.
There was an underlying tone of pleading in the words, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to protect her from prying eyes.

Mitchell was the first through the doorway and Marcus met his gaze over Winter’s head. They exchanged a long look before he looked around and saw the demon dead on the floor.

“The warlord?”

“Yes,” Marcus answered, unwilling to discuss it further until Winter got control of herself. He didn’t want to explain how she’d managed to survive the confrontation until he got to her to help. He didn’t need to. An expression of understanding crossed the lupine’s face and he turned to greet the others approaching the door. He met them and turned them back. Marcus easily overheard as he ushered them away.

“She’s fine. And the warlord’s dead. Give her a minute. We’ve got a mess to clean up out here anyway.”

After several minutes her breathing evened and her body began to relax. She lowered her hands to grip his biceps and tried to push him back. His arms convulsed around her. She lifted her head to meet his gaze and her eyes were back to normal.

“Dupree,” she whispered.

“Mitchell’s people carried him out.”

“I got him killed. How many did I get killed here today, Marcus?”

Her guilt and sorrow was a crushing weight in his brain.

“Dupree isn’t dead, baby. I can feel his mind.” There was a moment of sharp relief at his words, but it was quickly suppressed. “The others,” he added, “made their own choices, Winter. They wouldn’t have let you come alone. They had their own people to avenge. You can’t take that all on yourself.”