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“I want her dead.” Fury and fear raged from Cat.
He knew them both when he heard them.
“Stand down, Cat. Stand. Down.” A demand from Zane. One that came just as?—
The Ignitor blew out the back window of the truck. She hurled herself through the flames and crashed into the cement. Stumbled, but managed to get to her feet.
Zane took her down. Hard. “And don’t even think of burning me because, baby, I control the?—”
“They’re dead,” Simon said, the words ripping from him. Probably the wrong time. Should have used some tact, but the witch was looking twitchy and with her magic—no way could they take chances. They needed someone left alive to question, and he didn’t want to lose another link to Grim.
“Simon!” Dee’s soft and shocked voice.
The Ignitor stopped thrashing beneath the demon. “Wh-what did you say?”
“They’re dead.” Who was he talking about? Didn’t know. Had to be someone close to her. “A vamp told us.”
A sob broke from her. Not one of those soft sniffles that some women could do, but a hard, chest-shaking eruption of agony. Pain.
Her face reddened and the tears leaked from her eyes. She tried to curl into herself, but Zane held her fast. “What the hell?”
Then Dee was there. Staring down at the other woman with recognition. Understanding. One who’d been there and seen the darkness. “Her family. It’s…Christ. They’re gone.” She swallowed. “I-I cried like that, too. Zane, l-let her go.”
He stared down at the woman, the struggle on his face.
“She won’t hurt us,” Dee said.
The woman’s breath heaved out. She shuddered and cried as if the world were ending.
For her, maybe it was.
Simon’s hands clenched. What if the vampire was wrong? Lying wouldn’t be something new for his kind.
For any kind.
How many times had he lied? Tricked? To further his own plans—too many times to count. “We haven’t seen the bodies,” Simon said. The words slipped out, an effort to comfort. That agony—no, he couldn’t see it. Couldn’t hear it. Because when he looked at her, he saw Dee’s hell too easily.
And remembered his own.
No, Mom! Mom! Dad! So much blood.
Her watery eyes turned to him. Hope—faint, flickering—glinted through the pain.
He locked his jaw, and Simon added, “A Born vampire named Tore wanted us to deliver a message to you. He’s the one who said they were dead. We have no proof and?—”
“Wh-what about Greg?”
Greg? “The vampire who brought you here to kill us?”
Zane’s hands were tight around her wrists. Too tight. When the demon suddenly freed her, Simon saw the red imprints on her skin. Zane swore when he caught sight of the marks.
“Y-yes, h-he’s the one—” She pushed herself up.
“Greg’s dead.” Dee put her hands on her hips. “Very dead.”
Hope again, brighter this time. “Then there might be a-a chance. I-if we can get to the house before anyone else ch-checks in, I can get them out?—”
They’re dead.
