Both men froze, but neither made an effort to disengage.
She unsheathed her second sacre and added it to the mix, easing the points of the swords into the hollows of their throats. ‘Let’s go. Now. This foolishness is over.’
Slowly, they untangled and got to their feet, glaring daggers at each other.
‘If one of you kills the other, I’ll kill the survivor, understood?’
Of course, Mal spoke first. ‘No, you won’t.’
No, she wouldn’t, but right now she felt like it. ‘Try me.’ She pushed them farther apart, opening a tiny nick in Mal’s skin that healed in less than a second. She would hear about that later. ‘I don’t care if you hate each other, I don’t care if you get along, but if you’re both going to live in this city, you’re going to have to find a way to tolerate each other.’ Neither of them looked like they’d heard a word she’d said. ‘That means no killing. Each other.’
Creek pointed a finger at Mal. ‘Killing vampires is part of my job.’
‘Not this vampire,’ Chrysabelle said.
Mal straightened and stared Creek down. ‘Your job’s fatality rate just went sky-high.’
Creek shook his head. ‘You don’t get it. Neither of you do. This city is about to crumble before you – along with the rest of the world. Since the breaking of the covenant, bad things have begun to happen.’
‘Like you?’ Mal asked.
Creek ignored him. ‘Like nightmares coming to life and black magic strengthening and evil’s foothold in this world growing larger. The more humans start to believe in the danger around them, the more power that danger has. Things you’ve never dreamed of will materialize on the strength of those beliefs. I’m not just here to protect humans from vampires. I’m the first line of defense against every unnatural horror about to rise up and take a bite out of this world. Vampires are just the beginning.’
Chrysabelle sheathed one sword. ‘Who put you in charge of protecting the human race?’ She’d always thought that designation belonged to the comarré.
Creek’s scornful look spoke volumes. ‘That’s always been the job of the Kubai Mata. We’ve been waiting for the day this would happen, and now that it has, we’re here.’
‘We? How many of you are there?’ she asked.
‘Enough.’ Creek backed up a step and jerked his chin toward Mal. ‘You step out of line toward her again, and you’re ash. I shouldn’t even allow you that much.’
Mal laughed. ‘You think you scare me?’ He cracked his knuckles. ‘I eat mortals like you for breakfast.’
Creek brought his crossbow back down. ‘Thanks for the reminder. Maybe there’s no point in giving you a chance.’
‘Both of you shut up,’ Chrysabelle snarled. ‘Mal hasn’t killed anyone in years.’ A rapid, muted thumping filtered in from the alley behind them. ‘What is that?’
Mal and Creek swiveled toward the sound. It got louder, but not much. The wind shifted, washing a sour wave of brimstone over them. Chrysabelle reached for the sword she’d sheathed as the tremble of recognition shook her spine. The sacre whined for blood, quivering to be used.
‘Nothos,’ Mal spat. ‘That can only mean one thing.’
Chrysabelle nodded. ‘She’s come after the ring, hasn’t she?’ Chrysabelle shoved the white-cold fear away and opened herself to the anger over Maris’s death, still fresh and close to the bone. Her sacre hummed, hungry, greedy, ready to engrave her pain on someone else’s skin.
‘You mean Tatiana?’ Creek asked.
Before either of them could confirm, the first Nothos came into view, all wrongly jointed and horse-faced, yellow eyes lit like embers, spittle dripping from its crowded jaw.
Creek’s smile split his face like a jack-o’-lantern as he nodded. ‘Looks like the hellhounds have arrived.’ He cocked the crossbow’s trigger. ‘It’s hunting time.’
Chapter Fifteen
‘Fi!’ Doc burst into the cargo hold, praying he could pull Fi out of her loop even if just for a few minutes. After his disastrous meeting with Dominic, Doc needed to see her more than ever. His mind was awash with revenge fantasies, but he knew those could easily take him down the wrong path. Fi could calm him. Refocus him. ‘Fi! If you can hear me, please come out. Please, baby.’
Seconds ticked by. He swept the flashlight down the narrow corridors created by the stacked rows of rusting storage containers. A rat scurried back into the shadows. ‘Fi, please, if you can hear me.’
Nothing. Not a flicker. Not a hint of her wispy image. His hand tightened on the flashlight, and the anger simmering in his gut began to boil. He was too late. She was gone and the next time he’d see her, she’d be moments away from being torn apart right before his eyes. And once again, he’d be helpless to stop it.
He slammed the side of his fist into one of the containers. The noise echoed through the cavernous space as he slumped to his knees. His eyes burned.
‘Doc?’
The voice brushed his skin. His head came up, his flashlight searching. ‘Fi? Baby?’
‘Here,’ she whispered.
She was a few yards up the passage. She kept her right side to him, strangely shy now that she’d begun to remember bits and pieces. Or maybe it was the way she looked. She’d never let anyone see her in her murdered form the first time she’d been a ghost. He shined his light on her, but it was too bright and she disappeared beneath its intensity. He tossed it away, blowing out a hard breath and offering her a shaky smile. ‘I’m so glad you’re here. I thought you were gone. Until, you know … ’ No reason to complete that thought.