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I couldn’t get a reading on it at first, and then as it approached, I was slammed by the sensation that only one species could produce. Demonkin.
“Shit! Demon!” I shouted as it lashed out with a tentacle. I dodged as the dusky black arm came swiping by. Instead of suction cups, it was covered with tiny, razor-sharp barbs. Youch! That sucker could do some real damage.
I backed away to regroup. Eight—no, ten—tentacles full of what were essentially serrated fishhooks? No, thank you.
As it slid toward me, it glided a few inches above the floor.
Okay. Not good.
Again, I jumped out of reach. The back of my knees brushed against a table, and with one hand I shoved it out of the way. The marbled bench went flying across the room and shattered. Too bad. I had no time for subtleties.
Gauging my position, with a sudden burst of speed I launched myself in the air, boot slamming against the rounded head of the demon. But my foot stopped short an inch or so from the actual creature, sending a shock wave through my body. Damn—I felt like I’d just smashed into a brick wall. What sounded like a thunderbolt ripped the air, and I went sailing backward to land across the broken table.
What the fuck?
Slightly stunned, I leapt to my feet. I could tell I’d bruised a hip, but bruises would heal within the hour. Just one of the perks of being a vampire. Nothing had been broken, nothing punctured.
Should I try again? I decided to come at the creature from another angle, and once more, found myself flying across the room. As I landed, Delilah screamed, and I pushed myself off the floor and headed in her direction, stopping cold when I saw her.
She was covered with blood. Camille had dragged her away from another one of the shadow monsters. Kneeling by Kitten’s side, she started shaking her, just as Vanzir and Smoky raced through the doors.
Smoky let out a shout, and a cold snap filled the air, sending waves of frost through the room. Instantly, the temperature plummeted a good thirty degrees but didn’t seem to affect the creeping cruds at all.
Vanzir muttered, “Oh shit,” before shouting, “They’re bathed in shadow—try light. Blast them with as much light as you can muster!”
Light? I didn’t have a light, and I didn’t think he was talking about flipping on the overheads. Camille let go of Delilah and pulled out the crystal unicorn horn. She gave me a wild-eyed look.
“You have to get out of here,” she mouthed.
I didn’t ask questions. I just booked for the entrance. The doors had barely closed behind me when a huge flash from inside the club sent me reeling and startled all the patrons who were hovering around the police car and ambulance.
There’d been no heat—she hadn’t used fire—but whatever it was would have fried me in ten seconds flat if I’d been in the room with her. Sunlight in a can. Or a horn, rather.
I raced over to the officers, who were taking statements from the dazed crowd. Marquette, an OW Fae, and Brooks, a new FBH recruit, glanced at me. “Boss need us?”
“You better wait out here. But call several more ambulances. There are quite a few casualties. Make certain we have Otherworld medics on hand; it looks like only the Fae have been hurt.”
While they radioed for help, I headed back to the building. The light had vanished, leaving no residue behind. The dance floor was almost empty, and there was no sign of the Demonkin. Camille and Chase knelt beside Delilah, while Smoky and Vanzir tended to those who had been hurt in the fight.
“What happened? Did you kill them?” I tried to ignore the smell of blood rising from Delilah’s wounds. On closer inspection, they looked superficial, though jagged. Most likely, she’d gotten in the way of one of those barbed tentacles. “You need to get those tended to, or they’ll scar.”
“Menolly’s right,” Chase said, but Delilah shook her head.
“No. Look—they’re already healing. Great Mother Bast, what the hell’s going on? I know we heal fast, but this is ridiculous.”
She was right. As we watched, the sides of the wounds quickly began to knit together. A moment later, and we couldn’t see any sign of where they’d been. Our father’s blood gave us healing powers that were far and above an FBH’s, but this was abnormal, even for us.
“What the—” I stopped as Sharah and Mallen burst through the door, equipment in hand. Behind them came several teams of medics, in training for the FH-CSI.
Sharah made her way over to us as Mallen began directing rescue efforts. “What happened? What were you fighting?” She glanced down at Delilah, who by now was getting to her feet. “Great Aeondel, are you okay? Where did all that blood come from?”
“I got sideswiped by a deranged squid,” Delilah said, resulting in a snort from Camille. “The cuts healed up immediately. I’m a little woozy, though.”
Sharah’s expression took on a vaguely skeptical look. “Deranged squid?” she asked, her voice remaining neutral.
“She means Demonkin.” Vanzir joined us. A dream chaser demon, Vanzir had defected to our side and had voluntarily placed himself under our control through the Ritual of Subjugation, a painful and binding trial. His life was in our hands for as long as he lived and wherever he went. He looked like a shorter, younger David Bowie during his Ziggy Stardust days, with platinum short spiky hair and eyes that shone with an alien light. He had the whole punk, heroin-chic thing going on.
“I knew I smelled demon scent.” I glanced up at him. “I tried to attack it but damn . . . You happen to know what those things are?”
