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The shifter’s fingers were a furnace compared to hers, and he pulled her up with an ease that spoke of strength. He was a warm, solid presence she could feel but not see. A man whose emotions she could taste as easily as she tasted the evil of the other two.
And she had no idea why. Empathy with the living was not one of her talents.
“Thanks.” She pulled her hand from his, and the emotive swirl died a little. But his hostility lingered, mixed with some deeper emotion she couldn’t quite define. Yet it stirred her senses. Made her pulse race.
“Get out of here,” he said. “This place is too dangerous for a woman. I’ll keep the creature occupied.”
“It’s not alone,” she retorted. “And this place is just as dangerous for a man who has no idea he has two opponents rather than one.”
“Listen, lady—”
“No.”
Tendrils of smoke formed behind the shifter’s solid presence, ready to caress and kill. Kat hit the soul-sucker kinetically, dissipating it yet again, then was flung sideways by the shifter.
She flailed her arms, battling to keep her balance, then heard a grunt as the shifter was hit by the vampire. Blue fire flickered across the darkness—evidence that the stake was still buried deep in the vampire’s flesh. So why didn’t he damn well die, like all bad little vampires should?
She dragged the second stake free and clenched it tightly. The two men were slugging it out, the shifter apparently giving as good as he got. But he obviously knew he was up against a vampire, so why didn’t he just grab the stake and thrust it into the bastard’s heart? Surely he had to know it was the best way to stop a bloodsucker? Going toe to toe with one generally never ended well—for the attacker, not the vampire. Hell, the only reason he could even hit the vampire was the stake holding it in human form.
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and fought the need to move. She didn’t dare attack until the shifter was clear. The stake she held was just as deadly to him as the vampire, and the slightest mistake could prove costly.
The mist began forming again. She swore and slashed it with the stake. The air howled—an inhuman sound that sent a chill down her spine. The vapor disappeared, and the sense of old evil retreated, flowing up the stairs and out the door.
If she didn’t follow it, she’d lose it. But she couldn’t leave the shifter here alone, either. Not when instinct suggested he would not come out of this warehouse alive if she did.
“Back off, shifter, and let me at it,” she said.
“Like … hell.” His words were punctured with the smack of flesh against flesh.
“Hitting it is not going to damage it.” Exasperation edged her voice. If she lost the soul-sucker’s trail because of this man’s stubbornness …
“He’s injured. Bleeding.”
“And already dead,” the vampire snarled. “As you and the bitch will be by the time I’m finished with you both.”
“As I said to the lady, like hell.”
His words were emphasized by a grunt of effort and another smack of flesh. The vampire made an odd sound deep in his throat and staggered backward. It was the break she’d been waiting for. She reached deep, drawing on all her remaining kinetic strength, and flung the shapeshifter back—far back, across the warehouse. Surprise whisked around her a moment before he smacked against the wall, then all emotion died. He hit his head. At least she didn’t have to worry about him getting in the way.
She raised the stake and ran at the vampire. He snarled and tried to dodge, but his movements were slowing, and he was nowhere near fast enough. She drove the stake through his chest into his black heart, then leaped sideways as he lashed at her with clawed hands. His fingers slithered down her leg, tearing through her jeans and into flesh. She cursed and kicked him, shoving him backward.
He hit the ground with a splat and didn’t do anything more than writhe. Blue fire encased his torso, and the smell of burning meat churned her stomach. She climbed to her feet, brushed the dirt from her hands, and watched the vampire incinerate. She felt no elation at her victory. She couldn’t. Not when there was one more horror still running free.
When there was nothing left but ash, she turned and ran for the stairs. The shifter was safe enough now that the vampire was dead, and with any luck, Gran and she would be well gone by the time he awoke. Because if the hostility he’d projected was anything to go by, it wouldn’t be pleasant to be within a ten-mile radius of the man when he eventually stirred. Especially after she’d knocked him cold.
The moonlight seemed abnormally bright after the shuttered darkness within the warehouse. She blinked and hesitated, searching for some sign of the soul-sucker. Evil was a distant echo, moving away fast.
She shifted shape and flew down the alley, skimming past the cops who raced toward the warehouse. This time, the creature headed for the main street. Perhaps it hoped the noise and motion might loosen any psychic hold she had on it—which was a definite possibility after all she’d been through tonight.
The soul-sucker hit the street, its ethereal form getting lost in the warm glow of lights. It whisked away to the right, and the psychic leash she had on it snapped with a suddenness that had her plummeting to the ground.
She hit with a grunt, then shifted shape and rolled onto her back, staring up at the moon.
She’d lost it.
