Back out on the street, an icy drizzle had glazed the pavement, turning it into a blurry mirror reflecting the buildings above. Jaci tilted her face up toward the dark sky, letting the rain mist over her cheeks. The nights were getting colder now, the holidays fast approaching. Soon the city would be draped in glittering white lights—a beautiful snowglobe fairy tale she wanted to love, but never could.
At a time when friends and families gathered in celebration, lights and Christmas music and big turkey dinners and pumpkin spice everything only reminder Jaci how alone she truly was.
“Bad night for a little girl to be out walking alone.”
Jaci startled and spun on her heel, suddenly face-to-face with three demons.
“Hello, little witch-demon,” the middle one sneered.
“Witch-demon?” Jaci barked out a laugh, hoping it hid the terror. “Sorry, boys. Sounds like you got the wrong girl.”
No one topside knew who she really was.Whatshe really was. Her magic protected her, keeping her demon side invisible, even to her own kind.
So what the fuck did this asshole know?
And who had he learned it from?
“Oh, we got the right girl all right.” Caveman took a step toward her, the other two following. She tried to get a read on their marks—the brands on their necks that would reveal their demonic alliance—but she couldn’t see past their heavy leather jackets. They were American, though, which meant they probably weren’t Rogozin’s.
And if they weren’t loyal to Alexei Rogozin, they sure as hell weren’t loyal to the Redthornes.
Fuck.
There was no way she could outrun them. Not in her spiked heels in the rain. Her athame would do her little good. By the time she called up her hellfire, the three of them would’ve roasted her with their own.
Slowly backing away, she held up her hands, trying to stay calm. “Look, I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m telling you, you’ve got the wrong—”
A dry, wheezing snarl cut off her words, paralyzing her with new fear.
Only one creature made that bone-rattling sound.
Grays.
She darted a quick glance over her shoulder. Three of them emerged from the alley, their pale flesh naked and bruised, eyes vacant, bones protruding from open wounds. All three were leashed on thick chains, their movements controlled by two vampires she recognized as Renault’s favorite thugs.
Double fuck.
Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. Thanks to the weather and the late hour, the street was deserted.
Besides, screaming for help would only get some innocent human killed.
She turned back toward the demons just in time to catch Caveman’s backhand across the mouth. She dodged his next blow, but one of the other assholes grabbed her from behind, wrapping an arm around her throat and pressing a knife against her ribs.
“That’s enough, witch-demon,” he growled into her ear, his rotten breath nearly making her gag.
“If you kill me,” she said, “the Redthornes will hunt you down like dogs.”
She had no idea if that were true. Gabriel didn’t care about her personally, but he might do it on principle. She washiswitch now, just as she’d been Renault’s witch before. Her murder would be taken as a direct offense against the royal family—one they wouldn’t let go unpunished.
Right?
“In fact,” she said now, pushing a whole lot of false bravado into her voice, “Gabriel’s probably already out looking for me.”
One of the vampires laughed, the sound of it raising the hairs on the back of her neck. Tristan, his name was. Shaved head, dark eyes, hands the size of baseball mitts. He used to like cornering her at Renault’s place while Renault was busy with his blood slaves, whispering into her ear all the things he’d do to her if he ever found her alone.
“We’re betting on it, sweetling,” he said now.
“I always love a betting man myself,” a voice echoed from the shadows. Dark. Dangerous. Cold. “They make for good sport.”
