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He nodded and stepped aside, allowing her to punch the exit code into the control box. As Roland had taught her, she held the portable panic button in one hand and entered the code with the other. “Gotta protect you in those few seconds when you don’t know what’s outside the door,” he’d said.
The system disengaged, she peered through the peephole, and since nothing was there, moved to open the door. Guido got there first, edging in front of her with a stern wag of his finger. He opened the door and took one step forward—just far enough for the sword that slashed downward to lop off his head.
Sara screamed, her finger fumbling for the panic button even as her mind registered the attacker—a teenage girl with auburn hair and an expression of grim satisfaction. And right by her side was Xavier Stemmons.
Sara pressed the button hard as she stumbled backward, tripping over the bag she’d dropped. Even as the gray mist of the security force filled her apartment, she grappled in her purse, her fingers closing around the butt of the gun. She yanked it out, and as Stemmons leaped upon her, she fired.
His body jerked from the impact, but he held tight, the woman holding on to him as well so that the three of them were locked in an unwelcome embrace.
And as Stemmons’s blood spilled out upon her, Sara succumbed to the odd sensation of her body disintegrating.
The last thing she saw before her mind turned to mist was the dark form of the Phonoi materializing in her living room.
And the last thing she heard was the girl’s singsong voice whispering, “Lucius is mine. Mine, mine, mine.”
* * *
Luke hadn’t bothered to wait for Doyle. If the para-demon had a death wish, he could damn well wait at Luke’s house for him to return home.
Luke had a more pressing engagement: Caris.
He raced down the Coast Highway, then maneuvered the busy streets until he careened to a stop in front of the private drive that led to the house his research had revealed was owned by CV Enterprises.
He hoped to hell she lived there. If not, he was all out of leads.
He killed the car’s engine then sat in the dark, weighing his options. He ruled out approaching by car, as that would eliminate the element of surprise. As for climbing the fence and approaching on foot, the security cameras that dotted the landscape would similarly alert her to his presence, something he would rather not do. He wanted her weak. He wanted her vulnerable. And that meant that he needed the advantage of surprise.
His wants, however, weren’t aligning with the physical reality of her home. As he was cursing that fact, he heard the low, strong purr of a motor. A Jaguar, unless his ears deceived him.
He smiled and stepped out of the car. The element of surprise had just been tossed back into the mix.
He eased back, out of sight, but still close to where her car would emerge. He stood still in the dark, waiting and watching, listening as the hum of the engine drew his quarry closer and closer. The first hint of headlights cut through the dark, and he tensed, his body ready to pounce. And then, as the gate opened and the car eased through, that’s exactly what he did.
Caris turned as he leaped, slamming the car into park even as she began the slide toward the opposite door. It did her no good. He’d yanked the driver’s door open before she was even half out of the car.
He lunged, snarling, his hand grabbing her shoulders as they both slid through the car and out the passenger door to land, hard, on the rough asphalt. Whatever surprise she’d felt, she’d recovered, and now she kicked back, trying to free herself from him.
“Nowhere to go, Caris. Nowhere to run.”
She spat in his face, then froze, her expression one he knew well. Transformation. He clung tight to her, the hematite bands at his wrists seeming less of a burden now that their proximity was screwing with her abilities.
Confusion flashed in her eyes, and he closed one hand around her neck. With the other, he pressed a stake to her heart. “The truth,” he said, “or you will die. Are you prepared for that, Caris?”
“What do you want, Dragos?”
“Tasha,” he said. “I want revenge.”
There was a pause, then her brow furrowed. “What the hell are you talking about?”
He reached down and ripped open the white linen shirt she wore, then pressed down on the stake, hard enough to draw blood, the serpent itching to press harder. To kill. “Do not fuck with me. I should end you this instant for the things you’ve done, but first I need you to tell me where Stemmons is.” He leaned in close and lowered his voice. “Go ahead and resist. Trust me when I say I’ll enjoy getting the information from you.”
Not a hint of fear rolled off her. “Stemmons? That human worm? Like I’d associate with that kind of garbage. And you know damn well I’m not inviting little Tasha over for tea.” Her eyes flashed. “So tell me what the hell you’re talking about, or stake me. The asphalt’s cutting into my ass, and I want to get up.”
“Don’t tempt me,” he said, increasing the pressure on the stake. “And do not even think about lying to me. I caught your scent, Caris. At the Slaughtered Goat, and then at the scene of Stemmons’s last victim.”
“Well, color you clever,” she said. “I had my reasons for being there.”
“Share,” he said, twisting the stake like a drill.
