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“When you face Grim, strike fast and strike first. Because you won’t get a second shot.” He turned away.
So did Jun. Protecting his back. Good girl. Dee could admire that.
“Oh…” He stopped. Looked back. “Tell the Ignitor they’re dead.”
Then he was gone.
But the knot in Dee’s gut had just gotten bigger.
* * *
Spells were powerful things. A few words, charms, a wisp of magic, and the world could change.
Dee and Simon rushed back to Delaney’s. Simon half-expected to find the street swarming with fire trucks and neck-craning bystanders, eager for a glimpse of tragedy or heroism.
But Catalina’s spell held, and though smoke curled lightly from the shattered windows, no humans were near the bar. If a human came by and glanced at Delaney’s, they’d see no damage. No wreckage. Not while the spell was in place.
But Simon saw it all.
Catalina stood in front of the broken doors, her shoulders slumped, and her clothes stained with soot.
The demon wasn’t near her. He’d positioned himself next to a parked truck. A beat-up, older, gray pickup. When he caught sight of them, Zane’s head jerked. “You get the bastard?”
“He’s dead.” Not by his hand. Tore. Who would have thought that vamp would come calling? Simon had known he was looking at the Viking, even before Tore had opened his mouth and started talking about Grim.
The Born’s reputation definitely proceeded him.
Simon pointed toward the truck. Even with the tinted windows, he could see the slumped figure of the woman. “She still out?”
“Yeah, Dee hits hard.”
Dee grunted. “When someone is trying to fry me, I do.” She stalked toward the bar. “Catalina?”
The witch didn’t turn.
Dee touched her shoulder. She flinched. “Catalina, I-I need your help.”
Finally, the woman turned. Her face had drained of color, and her lips quivered when she asked, “Do I get to kill her?”
From the corner of his eye, Simon saw the sudden stiffness of Zane’s body. “Cat…”
“She would have killed me.”
“No.” Dee’s hand fell away. “She was looking for me. This wasn’t a hunt, Cat. She wasn’t here to bind or destroy you.”
A hunt. Simon’s brows rose. Witch hunts were supposed to be nightmares from the past. Burning and screaming and hell.
From the past.
Then why did they keep happening so often in the present?
“Doesn’t matter why.” Catalina’s chin lifted. “She would have burned us all.”
Simon remembered the tears he’d seen streaking down the woman’s cheeks. And she was right. The fire could have destroyed the building in one fast fury. But, lucky for them, they’d all had time to leave before the fire burned their flesh away.
With an Ignitor, they could have been destroyed in seconds. An Ignitor always had perfect control over the fire.
The woman had hesitated with her flames. Why? Slowly, he said, “I think there’s more going on here than we know.” Tell the Ignitor they’re dead. His gut knotted. Couldn’t be good. “Let her talk. Let’s find out what she knows.”
