Vengeance Borne (41 page)

Awareness slipped from her grasp for a bare moment. And when she opened her eyes, Micah stood over her, the magical warmth of his Bearer’s touch healing her broken ankle. “Where is he?” The words sounded barely coherent as she spoke them.

Micah pressed the dagger into her hand. “Coming, and pissed. Get. Up!” He wrapped his arms around her chest and heaved, bringing her to a standing position.

She allowed him to steady her, still unable to gain her bearings. Residual pain shot from her ankle up her leg and she stumbled as she backed away from the foot of the stairs just as Pete flew down them, the speed of his decent almost blurring. Micah shoved her, and she listed to the side and ducked before he fired two more rounds hitting Pete once in the thigh and again in his left shoulder. The silver did little to incapacitate him as he charged, and Micah fired again, this time hitting him square in the chest. Blood spewed from the wound with every beat of his heart. Pete screamed, a wild animal sound, and he clawed at his wound with his tongue flicking across his lips in a serpentine fashion.

Disbelief colored his features, rage spewed from his screaming mouth and Jacquelyn took the opportunity, charging with all she was worth. She wrapped her hand around his shoulder and positioned the dagger above his heart. “This is for Finn,” she snarled as she drove the tip of the dagger through skin, tissue and bone, piercing Pete’s heart.

His back bowed, and, for good measure, Jacquelyn shoved again, driving the blade hilt-deep into his chest. “Jack-lyn,” he whined, before he crumpled to the floor at her feet.

A bright flash burst from Pete’s body, and a wind raged in the confines of the kitchen, knocking pictures from the walls and the boiling pot off the stove. A tea towel landed on the exposed burner, the flames growing and consuming the towel only to rise and lick up the sides of the curtained window. Old wallpaper, peeling back to expose dry boards burned in an instantaneous flash, the fire eating away at every ounce of usable fuel. Black smoke billowed in shreds of dark curls, rolling along the ceiling where they exploded into toxic clouds. The old house began to burn like the dry kindling it was, the fire spreading quickly over the walls and bleeding to the floor in molten drops. Jacquelyn felt Micah seize her around the waist, but she wasn’t about to leave without the dagger. She pulled, twisting the blade against unyielding flesh, and slid the blade from Pete’s empty, soulless body. Without a living host, the Furies had fled in a torrent of light and wind, no doubt searching already for a new victim to claim.

“Where’s Trish?” Jacquelyn coughed as smoke filled her lungs. The fire raged around them, the heat scorching, the sound a dull roar in her ears. She’d burn to death before she left that house without Trish.

With the dagger safely in her possession, Jacquelyn pulled away from Micah’s embrace, crawling on the floor, well beneath the bellowing smoke, searching for any sign of Trish. “She’s here somewhere! Trish! Trish!”

“Jacquelyn! Over here!” She heard Micah call and she crawled toward a mud room just to the left of the kitchen by the back door. Micah found her, and scooped her up in his arms. He kicked the door and the latch shattered loose and swung open. He negotiated the doorway, careful to keep from knocking Trish into the jamb. “Come on, Jacquelyn!” he shouted. “Hurry up!”

Her ankle wasn’t completely healed and she limped for the door, pushing off the top stair in a leap. She flew over the stairs and rolled to the ground. Micah wasn’t too far ahead, running awkwardly with Trish hanging limp in his arms. Jacquelyn scrambled to her feet and ran, each breath a burning torture in her lungs, each step on her bad ankle enough to coax tears to her eyes. She rounded the fence and caught up to Micah just as the windows of the house began to burst. Shielding her head with her arms from the shards of glass that fell from the sky, she dropped to the ground beside Micah and Trish.

“Is she alive?” Jacquelyn panted, panic welling up inside of her. “Micah? Is she okay?”

“She’ll be fine.”

Jacquelyn watched as he laid his hands to Trish’s face, the faintest golden glow pulsing from beneath his hands. He’d healed her with his Bearer’s magic as well. And she knew from previous experiences, Micah had some pretty powerful mojo inside him.

Relief mingled with grief as Jacquelyn slumped to the ground, coughing violently as she expelled the last of the smoke from her lungs. The smell of moist earth and old grass filled her nostrils. A good smell, despite the odor of the dying land that clung to the grass. Winter would come and bury that smell and in the spring the new grass would burst from the ground, green and alive. She felt like that dead grass. Used up and spent. But just like winter would cleanse the land, time would heal her, too. Finn would heal. She was still alive, Trish was alive and, thank God, Micah was alive. And she couldn’t wait for spring.

Chapter 32

MICAH STOOD IN the tall, brittle grass, the Hunter’s Moon illuminating the clearing with false daylight. He’d made a promise, and, despite Jacquelyn’s suggestion that he not hold up his end of the bargain, he wasn’t about to go back on his word.

“Hello, Micah,” the Dryad said, her voice like leaves rustled by the wind. “I’m so glad you came.”

I’m sure you are
. He stood, alert and ready for anything, his emotions locked up tight, a wall raised against the Dryad’s intrusion. He’d learned so much in such a short time. Confidence in his actions was now second nature.

“But you didn’t come alone,” the Dryad chided. “You brought your hunter. I sense her somewhere near.”

Confident, yes. Stupid, no. Jacquelyn wasn’t far, waiting for him in her car up on the main road. She’d come in a heartbeat, guns blazing if he needed her.

The Dryad watched him with hungry eyes, much the same way she had the first time they met. Her flowing robes and long hair drifted on a non-existent breeze, the smell of the forest after a heavy rain washing over his senses.

“I’m here.” Micah spread his arms wide. “Just like I promised. Why did you want to see me?”

“The world needs Bearers,” the Dryad said. “Hunters would run rampant; killing anything they didn’t understand if it weren’t for your kind. They’re nothing more than thugs. But you,” she sighed, her lithe fingers caressing Micah’s arm, “are a different breed entirely.”

Micah wondered if this Dryad knew who really pulled the strings in his circle of acquaintances. Would it surprise her to know that Waerds only follow the orders of the Sentry? And that most of the high-ranking positions in that secret organization were held by Bearers. Her opinion of him might change if she knew the truth. “I’m pretty sure you didn’t ask me here because you wanted to give me a compliment.” Micah took a step back, out of the Dryad’s reach. “So say your piece and we’ll get this over with.”

“Let’s just say I’ve grown fond of you.” The Dryad’s bottom lip protruded in a mock pout. “I wanted you to know that I’ve decided to stay near. For a while, at least. You’ve drawn my curiosity, something few humans have managed to do.”

Great
. Jacquelyn was going to flip. Here they thought the Dryad would be leaving as soon as the Furies were expelled. Now she was planning on sticking around.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He felt her push, trying to worm her way into his head. But he pushed back, asserting his dominance and she smiled.

“Oh, it’s a good idea.” Her tone screamed of sensual promise. “I like these woods. They suit me. I promise I’ll behave.” She crossed her heart, her index finger lingering near the swell of her left breast. “
If
…you promise to visit often.”

More bargains. He’d be a fool to strike another with her. By all rights, she should have left town days ago. But instead she’d decided to take up residence. “I’m not promising you anything.”

“You might change your mind.” She looked up the hill to where Jacquelyn’s car was parked. “I can protect her.”

Micah’s blood-pressure spiked. “Is that a threat?”

“No. But many things lurk in these woods. Things I can either banish or allow to wander. Doesn’t she need a break? Just a little time to lick her wounds? Let me stay for three moons. Visit me once at every full moon, and I’ll give you repose while I’m here.”

No trouble. Normalcy. Time to mend, to settle in. It sounded too good to be true.
It is
, a voice urged at the back of his mind.
Don’t trust her
.

“Your hunter’s lover is still injured?” the Dryad asked.

“He is.” Finn had finally gained consciousness, but it would take months of physical therapy and a little boost from Trish and Micah before he was one-hundred percent again.

“And she killed the Furies’ host, the man that did the deed?”

“Yes. And the Furies are gone, just like we promised you.”

“Vengeance is a strange thing,” the Dryad mused. “Isn’t it, Micah? The Furies took their reward in the end. They won.”

“I’d hardly say that.”

"Your hunter took her vengeance on the man who almost killed her love. What do Furies care how the toll is exacted as long as it’s paid? She gave them what they came here for. Revenge.”

Micah cringed. It was a good thing Jacquelyn wasn’t here to hear the Dryad’s twisted words. She’d been plagued with guilt for days, hadn’t been able to let go of the fact that three people, including one she’d once loved had suffered because of Pete’s sick infatuation. The Dryad was right. Jacquelyn, more than anyone, needed a break.

“What would these visits consist of?” Micah asked, wary.

“Just talk. I want your companionship, not your soul.” The Dryad laughed. “I’m not as cruel as your hunter makes me out to be. Three moons. No more, no less. It seems a fair price to pay for a quarter year’s peace.”

It was tempting. Jacquelyn deserved it. She
so
deserved it after the shit she’d been through. Five years of keeping innocent people safe. Five years of repenting for a death that wasn’t her fault. And two more deaths she couldn’t scrub clean from her conscience. Not to mention what happened to Finn. Was three months, three nights really, worth a scrap of peace for her?

“Fine.” Micah hoped he hadn’t just rammed the nail in his own coffin. “Three moons. No more, no less. You have a deal.”

“That didn’t take long,” Jacquelyn said as Micah climbed into the passenger seat. “But ten more minutes, I was going to go down there to check on you.”

“I can handle myself.” Micah closed the door and buckled up.

“That you can. What did she want?”

“Just to talk.”

“No way,” Jacquelyn said. “Dryads don’t just talk. They always want something. She didn’t try to get you naked? Make you her slave? Or maybe she asked for clemency for a while. You didn’t fall for it, did you?”

Micah stared down the hill, watching as the glowing orb of light flitted through the trees, back into the forest from where she’d come. McCall was going to have a new supernatural resident, for a few months at least. But she’d stick to the trees. Anyway, he hoped she would. Did Dryad’s mingle with regular people, he wondered. “I didn’t fall for anything,” Micah said. “She wanted to talk, and I indulged her. Maybe she really just likes me.”

“Fat chance,” Jacquelyn scoffed.

“Are you saying I’m not attractive or interesting?” He turned to face her and she smiled, her eyes glistening emerald pools under a night sky.

“I’d say you’re cute enough to spark a Dryad’s interest,” she said. “Is she leaving?”

“Soon,” Micah looked out his window at the moonlit clearing. “So, do you think things will slow down for a while now that the Hunter’s Moon is passed?”

Jacquelyn looked through the windshield, up at the sky and the moon that had reached its zenith and would soon be on the wane. “I think so. For a while. It’s a good thing, too. We need to get you into a real house and find you a job. What do you do, anyway? I never even asked.”

“Actually,” Micah laughed, “I’m a veterinarian.”

“Doctor Micah Marinescu,” Jacquelyn said with a chuckle. “I like it. There’s only one vet in town, you know. We could probably use another.”

“Some time to settle in would be great,” Micah said.

“I think we’ll get a little rest.” Jacquelyn put the car into gear and pulled out onto the highway. “But if you thought the last week was crazy, just wait until Winter Solstice hits.”

Micah traced the features of Jacquelyn’s face with his eyes, memorizing every detail the way he had so often lately. She’d never really know what she meant to him. What he was willing to do for her, the bright flame burning in his soul.
Winter Solstice
, he thought.
About three months away
. Until then, there’d be peace.

Sneak Peek of Book 2 in Sentry of Evil

Chapter One

“I’M GOING WITH you tonight, and don’t try to talk me out of it.”

Jacquelyn topped off Micah’s latte with a dollop of foam and popped a lid on the paper cup before sliding it across the counter toward him. It was obvious since he wasn’t responding right away that he was, in fact, going to try and talk her out of it.
Big surprise
.