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“Well, she’s his favorite kid,” Amaliya reminded him.
He bobbed his head in terse agreement, stalking about the other two. “What purpose does it serve to lure us out here? What does she gain from this?”
Amaliya shrugged. “It pisses you off. ”
“Which is actually kind of funny,” Eduardo added.
The wind swirled around him, ruffling his hair and bringing with it the scents of humanity, not the supernaturals. Cian shook his head in anger.
“No, no. It’s something else. She does nothing lightly. There is a purpose to all she does, even if she is temperamental. What is Rachon up to?” Cian ran a hand through his long hair, letting it fall through his fingers to rest against his shoulders.
“What does she want?” Amaliya asked. “That’s what we have to figure out. ”
Cian peered upward at the cloudless sky and pondered the question. Rachon had loved The Summoner. They had fought at times, but Cian knew that she would come to their creator’s side to defend him despite the distance. He remembered Rachon’s glee as she had tortured Cian in the ruins of a pyramid in Mexico while The Summoner calmly killed Cian’s mortal minions and stitched them back together as grotesque creatures. Maybe he had underestimated her devotion to The Summoner. If Rachon was out for revenge, she would have to find a way to destroy Cian and Amaliya. Possessing Bianca definitely evened the odds, but Rachon had not shown up with her own powerhouse of necromantic magic.
“It’s a distraction,” Cian decided, stopping in his stride, frowning. “She drew us here to distract us from something else. ”
“If she wants Austin doesn’t she have to kill us?” Amaliya asked.
“Yep, but she’s not here,” Eduardo said and yawned again. “Fucking boring night. Thought I’d have a nice little fight to enjoy. ”
“What else would Rachon want?” Cian paced, agitated. “This makes no sense. We’re missing something. ”
“We don’t know something,” Amaliya corrected him.
Eduardo’s head jerked swiftly to one side and he inhaled deeply. “We have company and it’s not vampires. ”
A scream rent the air.
“The van!” Amaliya shouted, breaking into a run.
Cian sprinted after her, Eduardo on his heels. Through the trees the van was hidden behind, he saw the flash of a light. The scream sounded male and raised voices competed with it. Amaliya plunged into the trees, eyes flashing white. Cian followed in her wake and barely caught sight of a woman shouting into the van just before Amaliya grabbed her and tossed her away.
“Back off, bitch!” another woman shouted, raised one hand, and swept it toward Amaliya.
Amaliya flew backward into the trees, branches snapping and cracking as she vanished into the gloom.
Alexia and Benchley shouted incoherently at Cian and Eduardo, but both men ignored them as they lunged toward the woman with long bronze hair and blue eyes. Jaw set and eyes blazing, she thrust her hands outward. Cian was hit with the force of a truck and knocked through the foliage. His body hit a tree trunk, snapping bones.
“Fuck!” Cian roared, healing instantly.
Recovering, he leaped to his feet and hurtled back into the fray. He was almost to the witch when the first woman he had seen appeared before him and slammed her fist into his face. He staggered, then seized her arm. She instantly raised her other hand, a silver tipped dagger in it.
“Get the fuck away from us!” The light from the open van spilled over her features. She had heavily-fringed blue eyes and chestnut-brown hair that fell in silky waves to her chin.
“Galina?” Cian gasped.
The young woman hesitated, her full lips parting slightly. After a second, she said, “No, that’s my mother. ”
Cian let go of her abruptly. Staring at the defiant woman before him, he rubbed his chin as it healed. She wasn’t a vampire, but. . .
“Stupid bitches!” Eduardo howled, his mouth full of teeth that were not human as he lunged forward out of the darkness. He had obviously been cast away, too. Bits of twigs and leaves clung to his hair.
Cian caught Eduardo by the back of the neck and hauled him to his side. “Stand down!”
“They’re friends!” Alexia’s words finally registered over Benchley’s incoherent shouting.
Behind the woman who had slugged him and held him hostage at the end of her stake, the witch lowered her hands, though her body was still tensed for battle.
