Bloodlines (Demons of Oblivion) (16 page)

“So if you went to school with this guy, don’t you know
something
about demons that could help?” I stared at the stacks of books, hope sinking fast and hard like a lead ball in my gut. I was
not
the bookish type and didn’t look forward to spending the night reading. “Surely you must have some idea as to what
section
of books we should look into, at the very least.”

Nate passed me, arm brushing my shoulder as he went. “Peter specialized in demons that inhabit the mortal realm. I didn’t.”

Interesting. “And what did you specialize in?”

He didn’t meet my eyes, instead crouching to cast the flashlight over the spines of a stack of books on the floor. “Not going to class. I told you I opted for a less traditional form of education, and that involved leaving in my third year of university. Peter did his full eight years of courses, but condensed them into five.”

That’s right—turn the conversation from you, Captain Obvious-Deflection
. “Huh. Smarty-pants, I take it?”

Nate stood smoothly again and continued on. “Two points below genius. And those points probably still keep him up at night.” He stopped at the computer and ran the flashlight under the desk at the tower. “Now why would he leave this on?”

I walked over to take a look. Hitting the mouse caused light and colour to flood the screen. Nate pulled a chair up to the computer and started bringing up files.

The phone rang. I met Nate’s eyes as it continued to ring; he gave a slight nod. I was closer, so I lifted the receiver to my ear and listened.

Silence.

Another glance at Nate; he gave me a questioning look and I shrugged, then let out a heavy sigh.

“I’m kinda busy burglarizing someone’s house right now and don’t have all day,” I said. “Talk.”

Nate muttered something I couldn’t entirely make out, but it sounded like his rich boy education taught him a great number of expletives.

“Would you kindly put Nate on?” a man asked on the other line.

“Gladly.” I passed the phone over.

Nate listened for a moment, then leaned back in his chair and exhaled loudly. “It’s Peter.” He gestured to the web cam on the computer. “He’s watching us from another location.”

“Well, here’s hoping he hasn’t called the cops yet. Or his neighbors haven’t. Could you maybe hurry this up?”

They spoke for a few minutes and I wandered toward the back window, winding around stacks of books as I went. I parted the curtains, peered out into the dark—

Then stepped back swiftly, curtains fluttering into place again.

Two figures in black circled the house, guns drawn. Skulking the perimeter, wearing black ski masks... Shit.

“Our friends are here,” I quietly called to Nate. “Make it quick.”

“While I appreciate the need to speed things up,” Nate raised his voice loud enough that I knew he spoke to me and not Peter, “this isn’t
The Zara Lain Show
and you’re
not
calling all the shots.”

I rolled my eyes. “‘You’re not the boss of me?’
Really
? What are you—five?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Says the bossy eight-year-old.”

Ugh, we
so
didn’t have time for this. I spun away from him again, my long ponytail of hair whipping my shoulder, and unholstered a gun. Either I’d shoot him or the people circling the house. Hadn’t decided yet.

“Yes, Lain,” he said in a lower voice. “You do? Interesting.”

“Tea and hugs
later
, girls—like maybe when we’re not about to be attacked.”

An irritated sigh. “Top shelf, green binding, and in the corner—got it. I have a disposable cell; I’ll call in a few days.” The chair creaked as Nate rose and returned the phone to its cradle, then he joined me at the window.

“He recommended a book for us?” I peered between the space in the curtains, acutely aware of Nate right
there
, warm, breathing, and smelling of faintly of wintery soap and a spicy aftershave over my shoulder.

“Mmm-hmm.”

I glanced back and up; he looked out the window instead of at me. “‘Mmm-hmm?’ Well, what’s it say? Does it have our demons in it?”

“It’s a book on vampires. Killing them with magic, specifically.”

I opened my mouth to snark about how we
weren’t
dealing with vampires, then caught his drift.
Oh, I see what you did there.
The prick. “Aww, you wouldn’t kill me, Nate.”

“It’s crossed my mind, if only for the blessed silence it would bring.”

“Nope.” I batted my eyelashes dramatically. “I’m just too pretty.”

His gaze shifted to look down at me, blue moonlight etching the strong lines of his face. Tension simmered in the air and a little chill walked my spine. One of his dark brown brows rose skeptically.

“Constantly disagreeing with me on this point would probably hurt my feelings if I had any.”

A slight shake of his head and he glanced back at our guests outside. “I take it we
were
being followed?”

I sighed and returned to business as well. “So it would seem.”

One of our guests disappeared from view, toward the front of the house; the second started trying the back lower windows. Shapes moved across the field in the distance—yet another approaching Peter’s house/shop.

I scanned the desk, spotted a heavy metal letter opener with a sharp point. That would do. My gun went back to the holster at my waist and I snatched up the letter opener instead. “I’m about to get bossy again.”

“I’ll grab the book on vampire killing then.”

“Position yourself so you can see the staircase we came up—I left the door open and I bet they’ll go there first. Shoot anything that comes through there...unless it’s me, obviously.” I unlatched the window and eased it open.

“And what are you going to do?”

“Take them out one by one,” I whispered. “Stylishly, of course.” I got a good grasp on the letter opener, aimed it at the third man in the field, and whipped the weapon straight at him.

It sailed through the air and pierced his forehead, plunging directly into his brain. He fell to the ground without making a sound.

I slipped off my jacket and handed it to Nate.

“Stealthy kills,” I responded to his unasked question. “Coat will get in the way.”

I pulled out the combat knife tucked in my belt—a beauty with a double sided blade—noiselessly hopped onto the windowsill, and crouched down to fit in the frame.

Shit, Nate was still standing there—I gave a quick, irritated gesture toward the door. He nodded, but sent one lingering glance in my direction. Probably just to drive home the
you’re not the boss of me
thing. Men are such babies.

My target wandered along the rear of the house. Closer and closer. He stopped at the window directly below the one where I crouched. As he leaned forward to peer through the glass, I dropped off the ledge.

I landed on his shoulders. A flash of movement under me—body tensing, hands rising to reach for me—and I put one hand over his mouth, then slammed my knife into his throat. Hot blood spurted past my fingers. I gave the blade a swift twist, opening the wound further and ensuring his death, then I wrenched the knife out and flipped off of him. He collapsed into a heap.

I cleaned the blood from the blade on the fallen man’s shirt—and wiped my fingers off too—tucked the knife back in the sheath at my belt, then looked around. No sign of others, so that meant there was probably just the guy at the front.

The one at my feet went down quickly, too. I eyed the body but nope, this weeble definitely wobbled
and
fell down. And wasn’t getting up again. So, humans. And given the black ops clothing deal they had going on, I’d take a shot in the dark and guess they weren’t carrying ID.

Right, so the other guy had to be on the other side of the house. Maybe we could catch and interrogate him. Rather than go around the building, I took a run and leapt onto the roof. The tiles were rough and chipped beneath my feet; the soles of my boots scraped, so I slowed to a crawl. Just as I was inching along the slope, a rumbling in the distance signaled approaching vehicles on the road. Two police cars sped down the sleepy street and pulled up in front of the shop. Great, so someone probably saw us break in. Stupid, nosy locals...

I hated when mortals got involved in supernatural situations. They almost always got themselves killed. Dead mortals didn’t really keep me up at night, but more importantly, most of us on the supernatural side tried to keep a low profile. Let’s face it: TV shows about humans learning the monsters of myth are real
never
end well for the monsters. Cops showing up while I was trying to kill some people would certainly risk exposure. Then Hunters would inevitably hear about it, and on top of everything else going on, I’d have them to deal with. Fuckity-fuck.

As the police were exiting their vehicles, gunfire sounded in the building below me. The cops ducked behind their cars, drew their guns, and started firing blindly into the second floor.

A shootout. Just what I need—fucking Wild West going down in a demonology bookstore.

I pivoted on one foot and raced back to the rear of the house, heart hammering, no longer caring how much damn noise I made. My fingers locked on the edge of the roof and I jumped, twisted midair, and swung into the open window I’d left from.

Bullets tore through the space, ripping through walls; bits of plaster flew, a fine dust spitting from holes and clogging the air. I rolled across the floor, glanced up, and scanned the room. Near the door the final man lay dead, bloodied from the numerous holes in his torso.

A loud, but slowing heartbeat caught my attention. I gave the room another once over. Where was Nate?

Movement just beyond a stack of books—feet.

Ah, shit
. I dashed forward, still half crouched, crept around the books splattered with blood, and knelt at his side.

A low hiss left my lips. “Nate!”

He didn’t respond. Then my gaze travelled over him, down, and stopped where his hands gripped his stomach, blood seeping over his fingers.

Chapter Seventeen

Revelation of Power

Fuck
.

“Nate?”

He didn’t acknowledge my voice but his heart continued beat softly and shallow breaths left his lips.

I reached forward to check the wound. As my fingers touched his, his eyes shot open and a sharp gasp left him.

“This fucking hurts,” he muttered.

“Aww, thought you got in lots of gunfights, rich boy?” If he got pissed off at me, he might stay conscious longer, which would be good. And I could do annoying
really
well.

“Never been this bad.”

“Gunshot wounds to the stomach tend to hurt like a motherfucker. Toughen up, little prince—remember I got shot a few times last night and you didn’t see me whine.”

“You’re a vampire.”

“Yep. Still hurts when I get shot.” He let me bat his hands out of the way and I slid his shirt up so I could see the bloody hole in his gut. Lighting was shit even with my vampy vision, so I popped out a penlight from my pocket and ran it over the wound. My gaze skimmed a handful of old silvery scars cut over his muscled torso, then I drew my focus back to the current injury. His back arched as I felt under him—nope, bullet didn’t go through. It was lodged in there somewhere. Shit. “On the bright side, you’ll probably take longer to die.”

“
That’s
your idea of good news?”

“Well, it means we’ve got time to get the bullet out.” The penlight clipped on the low neckline of my tank top, then I pulled out a small pocket knife. “And time to figure out how we’re getting you out of here. Now, I don’t have tweezers. I can heal you pretty quickly once the bullet is
out
, but I don’t want to close the wound with anything still in it or it’ll mean surgery to get it removed.”

“Do it.”

“Just hold on...and try not to think about the sharp object I’m about to drive into your stomach.”

“Great,” he mumbled and closed his eyes.

His lips pressed tight, suppressing a cry as I slid the knife in the wound. I was likely cutting
something
important, and as long as I got it and healed him before he bled out, he’d probably forgive me. I took my time, prying the bullet from its lodgings and forcing it toward the surface. When it was up a ways, I set the knife in my lap and reached right in with my fingers.

Sirens signaled more police arriving outside. I muttered a curse and continued my work.

The downstairs door crashed open and officers shouted as they stomped through the lower level; panic was a sudden seizing of my heart and chill along my back.

Oh hell.
Hell
. In moments, they’d be upstairs and they’d shoot me on sight. I could deal with the hospital no problem, but should any of my stalkers be around, it wouldn’t be hard to then catch and incapacitate me in such a weakened state. And they’d do a lot worse than human authorities.

I had to get out.
Had to
. Self-preservation was taking over and I’d lived for so many centuries ’cause I
listened
when everything in me told me to fucking run. I could just slip out the window and be gone without them even knowing...

Nate. He was shot and,
yeah,
a little worse off ’cause I’d probably cut something important. But he’d live. Probably. Why shouldn’t I just leave him? He was only a mortal; just some lowly warlock, and the reason I was in this mess in the first place.

Besides, the humans would take him to a hospital. Even criminals got medical attention and maybe I could break him out later?

The bullet slipped from my slippery fingers and I swore up a storm. I
almost
had it, I just needed more time.

Footsteps neared the stairway.

Just
leave,
Zara!

“Nate!”