A milky fog slithered over the land. Without a moon, the night began with a bone-chilling dampness. December held Louisiana in her clutches like a hungry hawk grips a mouse.
J.T. had to admit. It was his kind of night. Oblivious to the cold that surrounded him, he moved unnoticed in such gloom. The lamp posts of the quaint little town held globes glowing yellow in the misty murk. No brightly colored leaves floated from the trees any longer. No crisp cool tinge to the air of Cheniere Station’s advance into winter. No, the cold resonated around him like a shroud. J.T. glanced up then down the deserted street with a keen eye for trouble.
Like most nights, he prowled the streets looking for a fix. Not the kind most vampires sought. No, he hunted other vampires. J.T. had been a professional vampire slayer since that fateful night in Afghanistan. The Sultan, a blood demon of pure evil, had turned him. He was J.T.’s master and the bane of his existence. The Sultan viewed him as a blood slave and his number one boy. The shadow walker saw J.T. as an asset. His go-to-guy for blood kills. The irony was the Sultan didn’t want the bodies for blood. He wanted them for their souls.
For the first year of his existence as a vampire, J.T. performed the duties of a blood slave. His instructions from the Sultan were to suck the victim’s blood until they were on the verge of death. Any more and the victim would die which made him useless to the Sultan’s plans. Any less and J.T could die at the hands of the attacked.
Thank the gods the Sultan’s hold over him diminished once he escaped the Middle East. Here, he exacted vengeance against all who killed ruthlessly and without remorse. His notion was killing them proved his way to even the score. J.T. sought justice for those who were turned yet continued to respect humanity.
“You have a death wish.” The observation was one he used regularly. Each time he confronted a fellow vampire, he taunted his target. A surprised vampire made for an easier kill. Plus, J.T, liked the thrill of a face to face encounter. Sure, a stake through the heart of an unsuspecting vampire was quicker. The fact was, J.T. liked the confrontation. If he was going to kill vampires for a living, why not enjoy the job? In his line of work, there was never a shortage of prey. It didn’t matter that he would never kill them all. J.T. liked to think of his nightly hunts as a way of leaving his mark. That’s what he did, too. To date, he had killed over a hundred bloodsuckers since returning from the desert. The job beat the hell out of wandering the streets at night with nothing more than thoughts of the woman he could never hold again.
The vampire whirled. His eyes registered the shock.
J.T.’s feral growl signaled an attack. A lunge off the ground sent him flying into space before dropping atop the shocked blood hunter. After all, vampires did not kill vampires. Laws against such were in place and had been for centuries.
The vampire’s weak punch glanced off J.T.’s chin. He grappled with the bloodsucker. Reaching out, he managed to grip the vampire by the throat. Wasting no time, he went for the jugular. Blood spurted as J.T. sank his teeth into the neck of his prey. His victim’s life fluid filled his mouth and throat as he drank his fill. Soon, the lifeless body lay crumbled at his feet. “Good riddance.” Wiping blood from his face, J.T. whirled at the scent of more vampires. They were close.
Their spokesman sneered, his fangs shining in the street light. “Gonna need a little bit of magic to finish us all off, traitor. You are a hunted man, you know. The high council has a bounty on your head. It’s a matter of time.” Sauntering sideways, the cocky fellow examined his advisory.
“That fact isn’t going to slow me down. You’re the next to die.” Before the trio could blink, J.T. materialized behind them. Wheeling, each, in turn, found their doom. The blade in J.T. hand dripped with fresh vampire blood. Quick and efficient, he wiped the blade on his jeans. “No need to waste their carcasses,” he mused aloud. “The werewolves can always make use of a fresh kill.” Satisfied with a glance about for witnesses, J.T. scooped up the headless monsters before taking to the sky. Dawn was approaching. He grew weary.
As packs went, the Cheniere Station werewolves were a good-natured bunch of shifters. Their simple vision was to remain anonymous while living in peace. J.T. saw their creed as noble if not naive for a gang of primal hunters. Sooner or later, you had to defend your own. The time was fast approaching when all fangs would receive a call to action.
Simon, the elder, watched J.T. land. Stepping forward in greeting, the burly man smiled companionably. J.T. dropped the kill at Simon’s feet. “I bring an offering. You can call it an appreciation gift.”
Simon nodded but said nothing.
J.T. waited. He noted the man’s muscled arms liberally covered in human hair. No weak link here, he mused. “You’d honor me by taking this offering.” A plain smile crept across J.T. face. He remembered the old ones speak of the feud between vampires and werewolves. Centuries earlier, vampires had used werewolves as slaves. Times changed he supposed. “You are revered among those who seek justice for all shifters and magic creatures of good faith.”
Simon issued a small huff before stretching out his hand.
J.T. relaxed a fraction. Simon’s grin was an attempt at peaceable decorum, J.T. supposed.
“Come, celebrate with us. We have gathered for a winter solstice feast. You are more than welcome to enjoy the celebration with us.”
Glancing past his host’s broad shoulders, he spied a number of shifters gathered around a bonfire stacked high in the night air. Music filtered on the crisp breeze as laughter rang out among those gathered for the festivities. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a young boy saddle up beside one of the bodies lying in a pile on the frosted canopy of dried leaves and pine needles. In the boy’s eyes, J.T caught a glimpse of the untamed nature of the werewolf. The boy was born a werewolf, not turned as his father had been. The lad knew nothing else but the ways of his clan. A sharp pain hit J.T. square in the chest as he stared at the boy.
His only recollection of becoming a vampire was one of torture and suffering. Forced to live the life of a loner, J.T. saw a light in the boy’s eyes he envied.
Something akin to the green monster of jealousy reared its head before J.T. could tamp down the sensation. “Thank you for the offer, but I want to get back before the sun begins to rise. Enjoy the fare and know I have your back.”
“As we do yours, my friend.”
Simon’s words held sincere emotion. J.T. noted his handshake was strong. Somehow, that surprised J.T. Nodding coolly, he turned. Before he made the mistake of thinking the man pitied him, he wanted to leave. The early morning mist whispered through his hair as he made his way home. Some of the tension of resentment eased. Flying gave him release. He smiled at the thought of the talent being one he appreciated as a vampire. Still, he’d trade soring untethered as well as living forever for one more night with Jessie.
The timing was off when he’d met her. She was the subject of a case he worked as a private investigator. Returning from his deployment with more baggage than a normal vampire needed, she became a cruel distraction. One he desperately wanted to indulge. Falling in love with Jessie proved a mistake. One he would regret for all eternity. Cursing low, he surged forward. Drowning his thoughts sounded like a plan. He could use some whiskey. “I’m tired. That’s all.” Longing for a glass of whiskey before sleep, J.T. didn’t see the streak of energy before it was too late.
Several moments passed as J.T. tried to focus. He was falling from the sky. Gauging the distance, he had dropped at least several hundred feet. J.T. wasted no time in surging upward in the dwindling night sky. A church steeple loomed too close for comfort. He leaned right, dodging the spiked metal sphere by inches. The scent of warming metal assailed his nostrils. “I could do without that pointed reminder,” he mused dryly. Wit was all he had time for as he fought to stabilize his world once more. The burning in his side signaled a problem. Finding a place to land was a necessity now. “Damn it. I don’t have time for this!” Below, J.T. spotted an empty rooftop. Landing without a sound, he twisted to examine the damage. A fist-sized hole rested below his ribs. The healing had already begun. Nothing to do but rest and recover. Glancing about, he decided to utilize his own version of speedwalking the rest of the way home. Another talent he valued, especially at a time like this one.
Weaving in and out of the dawning rays of the morning sun, he didn’t slow until he was safely inside. He leaned against the locked door of his office, J.T. Leighton Investigations. When he could move again, he stalked to the bath off the main lobby, before ripping off his ruined clothes and tossing them aside.
“Meow.”
“Yes, it’s me. Who’d you expect, Zodiac?” Glancing between his legs at the chubby charcoal tabby slithering against his skin, J.T. relaxed a fraction more. “I guess you need your feed, am I right?”
The purring grew in volume until J.T. was certain something was going to fall from the vibrations.
“Give it a break, dude. I’m coming.” Through another door, J.T. entered the kitchenette. No office was complete without a working microwave and coffee pot. In the cabinet, he found the cat food. “Here you go.”
Now the purring took a back seat to the crunching as Zodiac scoffed down his morning fare. After all, being a watch cat took energy.
The doorbell rang.
“We’re closed.” Without an effort at politeness, J.T. turned for the stairs. He craved his bed.
The doorbell rang again. When that didn’t work, the pounding on the frame started in earnest.
Muttering something vile under his breath, J.T. flew down the stairs, snatched a robe off the peg on the bathroom door and slipped it on. “What do you want?” he barked.
“Ah, J.T., it’s Duke. Hey, did I catch you at a bad time?”
J.T. muttered more obscenities under his breath and unlocked the door. “It’s open. Come in.”
Duke Taylor strolled in like it was a normal occurrence to come calling at six a.m. in the F’n morning. “Hey, buddy. How’s it hanging?”
“What do you want, Duke.” Deliberately turning his back on his unwanted guest, J.T. headed for the kitchen.
“You got any coffee made?”
Making sure the growl was loud enough for Duke to hear, J.T. stalked into the kitchenette. “I don’t have any made. It’ll take a few minutes.” Positive the look he shot Duke was lethal, he waited.
“That’s no problem. How about a bagel or something to go with the Joe?” Duke saddled up to the kitchen cabinet and made himself at home.
“Fresh out.” Now he made sure his eyes blazed red. A trick he’d recently perfected. A surefire deterrent, or so he had heard.
Duke shrugged. “Okay, I guess I’ll have to make do. How’d hunting go last night?”
J.T.’s exhausted brain had trouble keeping up with the topic shift. “Good, fine. Got two of ‘em. Dropped the headless bodies off at the werewolves’ bonfire.”
“Bonfire. That sounds nice. We need to get everybody together and have one of those for Christmas or Winter Solstice or something.”
“Fucking A. What other brilliant plans do you have up your sleeve this bright morning, bro?”
His bud and SEAL team member paused. The meaning began to register. Duke blinked. His toothy grin faded under J.T.’s withering stare. “What crawled up your ass and died, bro?”
J.T. leaned his elbows on the island between them. “Nothing. I just got home. Got a decent sized hole in my side and I want some frigging sleep. That’s all.”
“Hole? Are you injured? Christ, why didn’t you say so? Let me see? I’ll call Aubrie or Logan. Do you need stitches?” Without waiting for an answer, Duke skirted the island and yanked J.T.’s robe open. “Jeez, bro. That looks nasty. I better call Katie. You need a painkiller and an antibiotic.”
Unable to stop the tirade, J.T. lifted his hands and took a step backward. “Easy, Duke. Remember, I heal fast. I’ll be fine after some sleep.” Tying the belt once more, he reached into the cupboard for a mug. “Want any cream, pervert?”
“No. Black is fine.” Duke suddenly was at a loss for words. Instead, he retraced his steps to the bar stool opposite J.T.
“Here you go.”
“Thanks,” Duke said.
“How is everybody anyway?” J.T. mustered up some genuine concern for his fellow buds from Team Six and their significant others.
“Fine. Katie’s ready to march back through the veil and kick some shadow walker ass.” He shook his bowed head. “I told her to hold her horses. She’s a firecracker, that one.”
J.T. filed the info away as proof Duke and Katie were back to being a ‘couple in love.’ The words meant nothing but heartache to him. Pushing the thought from his mind, J.T. smiled for Duke. “How’s the warlock?”
“Good. Pre-marriage life suites him.” Duke grinned. The wink came as he raised his own cup.
Another moment of irritated recollection passed through his mind’s eye. Logan Latimar and Aubrie Sinclair were heading toward wedded bliss. “I’m happy for them. Logan needed the stability. Luke’s death not to mention the circumstances surrounding our departure messed with his mind.”
Duke nodded soberly. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I had a few moments when I thought he’d lose it completely, you know?”
Now it was J.T.’s turn to agree. “Glad I was able to help him out of those charges the police leveled against him. Connie’s murderer is still out there. I have a suspicion we’re going to find out her killer thinks he’s untouchable.”
Glancing up, Duke winced. “You mean you think the Sultan killed Connie?”
“Yeah, I do. If so, being a shadow walker, he’s as good as gone. No way to arrest a shadow walker.”
“Yeah, but we know how to deal with those mind benders. Things will get bloody before they get better.”
J.T. had to agree. “No way to prevent the inevitable. Those enslaved by the Sultan need saving first.”
Duke stood then sat again. Standing once more, he stared straight into J.T.’s face. “Look, I’m sorry to barge in like this, but I need a favor.” He rushed on. “You mentioned the slaves. I know Aubrie’s told you about those that fought under her command in the war. Now we know the Sultan is behind this invasion of minds and bodies. I’m asking for your help.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Logan and I found a young girl in Nybbas’ mansion. The Sultan imprisoned her family. Her name is Meagan. She’s just a teenager.”
In Duke’s eyes, J.T. saw his concern for the girl’s life. “You say she was in Nybbas’ mansion? Doing what?”
Duke hesitated a moment. His hands fisted on the counter before he met J.T. gaze. “Some of the same things you do. She spied on intruders. The Sultan had her recording their movements.” Duke shook his head. “She is so young and scared to death. the Sultan threatened her with killing her family if she tried to escape.”
“The bastard.” Evil for evil’s sake was not J.T.’s cup of tea.
“Of course, I’ll help you. When do we leave?”
Duke’s mouth curved upward in a hesitant smile. “Soon. We need to sit down with the others and make plans. How about meeting at Aubrie and Logan’s tonight? Say around seven.”
“You got it. Now, can a vampire killer get some shut eye?”
Duke’s expression shifted back to his jovial old self once more. “Sure, sure. I’ll just let myself out, okay?”
“You do that, Duke.” Turning, J.T. headed for the stairs.
“Hey, one more thing,” Duke called back.
“What?” J.T. growled out the question, impatience riding high.
“I appreciate this, J.T.”
The statement hung in the air between them. Wondering if Duke understood some of the ramifications of help from a vampire, he nodded before turning toward the stairs. Some much-needed rest awaited. “Zodiac, are you coming?”
The cat padded toward the stairs in step with his master.
***
She danced across the stage in a flutter of white netting over spandex. Her hair, pulled back in a severe bun held the blues of an inky night. Long and slender, she flowed with the music, each movement beginning and ending in the next. A leap into the air reminded him of a gazelle. If only he could capture the moment, holding her so forever. In the dream, J.T. saw Jessie as she’d been almost two years before. She had been a beauty of exceptional poise and statue. The grace of her movements were compliments of her tall, lean curves. A ballerina – his ballerina. J.T. sat up in the bed. Nerves rippled along his arms. Glancing at the clock, he snarled at the readout – three in the afternoon. Damn! Rubbing the tension in his neck, he flung his legs over the side of the bed. Too early to go out.
Trapped! He was a fucking prisoner in his own house when the past came calling. Snarling at the fact, he switched gears, shoving at the memories from years before. Her laughter caught him off guard. Glancing around just in case, he stilled. Her image flitted through his mind. The damn Sultan was up to his old tricks. J.T. would wager money on that idea. Thank the gods he was allowed some small favors such as something other than pig’s blood to enjoy. With the glass in his hand, he wandered back up the stairs. He wanted to wallow in his memories of her, his Jessie.
No, he did not forget how he had come to meet her. A suspect in a crime of murder. No, he did not see her as a murderer or a psychopath. His job as a private investigator meant he sought the truth. In her case, the truth held his heart in the palm of her hand. She convinced him of two things in their short time together. Number one – that she was not the perpetrator. Number two – that despite being a vampire, he would move heaven and hell to keep her safe. The trouble with safe was he had no control over the realm in which the woman resided. In fact, he had no control over any realm or any condition. Only his existence in death. Glancing down at the glass, he realized he had finished the blood.
“Have you seen anyone who looked suspicious hanging around today, Zodiac?”
The cat rolled from sitting on his hind legs to resting on his side, before leaning into him. “Meow.”
“I’ll take that as a ‘no,’ Zodiac.” Getting back up, he prowled the room. Agitation, an old friend, appeared in not being unable to remain still for more than two minutes. “Blast it all to hell and back,” he groaned.
A door slammed downstairs. Jolted, J.T. wheeled. He’d been day-dreaming again. An irritating habit J.T. wished he could eliminate. Nothing good ever came from too much yearning. It took him a minute to focus. He could hear a pin drop, so when the shuffling steps of the intruder headed for the kitchen, he went into SEAL mode. Raking a lean hand through his dark mane, he opened the nightstand drawer where he kept his Glock. The cool steel rested perfectly in his palm.
Zodiac stirred beside him. The low growl he shared spoke of his feline concern.
“Yeah, I know. We have company.” Yanking on his jeans, J.T. padded over to the dresser where a flashlight rested. One quick check of the light had him moving out and down the stairs, a silent, shadowless body in the deepening shadows of a cool, December day. “You better get ready,” he hissed to Zodiac as the cat arched his back.
Zodiac’s claws dug into the wooden planks of the floor. A vampire’s cat had not been his first choice as a guard while he slumbered. However, Zodiac displayed carefully honed skills as a predatory feline. Strength J.T. shared with his companion in the form of blood once a week showed in the impressive muscles, in addition to the iron jaw of the cat beside him. “Ready?”
“Meow,” Zodiac’s lethal purr was the only sound from the shadows cast by the sun’s last rays.
At the landing, J.T. scanned the front office slowly. Careful not to step into any of the light rays he saw slicing across the pine flooring of the renovated 1920s bungalow, he stepped into the office. Nothing amiss there. He headed for the kitchen. Pressed against the wall next to the kitchen’s door jam, J.T. eased around the frame to have a look.
The demon standing in the open refrigerator door looked as if he had backed up to an explosion. His skin reminded J.T. of molten cheese. Green was defiantly not his color. Tufts of singed gray hair stood in weak waves atop his battle scared skull. No doubt this one was past his prime, J.T. mused.
The demon removed the half and half J.T. reserved for Zodiac, examining the label.
Had J.T. not already had experience with demons, shadow walkers and yes, even vampires, he would have found the creature standing in the open door of his refrigerator ludicrous. Since coming to Cheniere Station a few months back to help a friend, J.T. found nothing wrong in the overtly peculiar picture the demon made. The fact the demon busied himself rummaging through J.T.’s groceries, probably meant the guy was hungry.
Before J.T. could stop him, Zodiac leaped onto the war-worn bundle of green blubber.
The intruder let out a yelp like a small child frightened by the boogie man.
Sinking his lethal claws deep in the aged demon’s hide, Zodiac managed to topple him in one fell swoop.
The creature lay trembling, his hands thrown high over his head as he cringed in the face of Zodiac’s snarling and hissing. “Please, don’t hurt me.”
“He won’t have to if you explain why you were rifling through my kitchen without invitation.”
The demon shot a surprised look at J.T. His bloodshot eyes reminded J.T. of his own following a three-day whiskey jag.
“I…I meant no harm.” The demon’s eyes darted in his scruffy head like a pinball bouncing off the bumpers. “I was hungry.”
Watching the demon gave J.T. a moment’s pause. What if the guy was telling the truth? “Do you usually go snooping around in strangers’ houses looking for food?” Eyeballing the demon more closely, J.T. tugged at his hair once more. “Where did you come from?”
The demon blinked as his mouth quivered over the questions. “I…I…where am I?”
J.T. bit back an oath. He had a creature who vaguely resembled a puddle of green goo huddled in the corner of his kitchen. And to top it off, the guy was lost. “You’re in my kitchen in my house. Do you know you’re in Cheniere Station? The United States of America?”
The green blob’s eyeballs danced the pinball dance once more in his head. “I’m not in the Netherworld? This isn’t my house?” he queried weakly.
Consciously clinching his teeth, J.T. stepped to the demon, plucking the startled creature off the floor before seating him with ease at the kitchen table. The pieces began falling into place. “No, you are not in your house. This is not the Netherworld.”
Scruffy eyebrows winged up in the demon’s head as a look of shock registered in that one’s features. “I must have sleepwalked.” He scrambled to his stumpy legs. With his hands still high over his head, the creature rushed on. “I do that sometimes. Sleepwalk I mean.”
Deciding he had a basket case on his hands, J.T. tugged open a cabinet door and took out a glass. Skirting the table, he reached into the warming refrigerator and got out the milk. With a foot, he slammed the door and opened the top of the carton. “Want some?”
The demon’s face lit like flipping a switch. “Yes, please.”
As he poured, J. T. considered his uninvited guest. “How did you manage to get in here?”
“The door.”
J.T. mentally filed away a note to check his security setup. Trying hard to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, he asked, “What’s your name?”
The demon glanced up. He sported a white milk mustache beneath a large snout. The creature looked like an overgrown youngster who had rolled in slime. “Nybbas. My name is Nybbas.”
This was the demon warrior that kidnapped Aubrie Sinclair recently. His bud in SEAL Team Six and Aubrie’s fiancé, Logan had filled him in on some of the details of her harrowing experience under this one’s cruel domination. Apparently, he had ruled the alternate universe known as the Netherworld with a demonic hand.
Logan and Duke had returned to the Netherworld to destroy Nybbas. Following murder charges levied against Logan in Cheniere Station, Aubrie had followed them. What they found sat before him now – a glob of green goo. Nybbas posed no threat to them or anyone else at that point.
Cue his entry into the story. J.T. had gotten a call from Duke Taylor asking for help with Logan’s case. After review of the circumstantial evidence against Logan along with J.T.’s expert testimony, the case had been thrown out. What he did find, however, disturbed him more than the meager efforts of a lazy sheriff to close a case. The Sultan’s handy work in mind manipulation appeared to be the basis for the murder. J.T. suspected the Sultan committed the murder himself. Any good vampire could manipulate a person’s mind when motivated. Why, had been a question on everyone’s minds? The Sultan wanted Logan’s soul of course. Simple as that.
With the charges dropped and revenge taking a backseat, Logan and Aubrie had brought Nybbas back with them. The midlevel demon had also been manipulated and possessed by the Sultan. It turned out, the sad sack of goo, sitting at his kitchen table guzzling milk was nothing more than a vessel for the Sultan’s evil games.
Reaching for his phone, J.T. sucked in a breath. Unleashing on grandpa would do no good. He needed a babysitter.
The phone rang three times before Logan’s voice came over the line. “Hey, bro. Haven’t heard from you in a while. What’s up?”
“Not much. Hey, you wouldn’t be missing a demon, would you?”
The pregnant pause on the other end signaled a confirmation. “Well hell, now that you mention it, I do seem to have lost one. Is Nybbas with you?”
“Present and accounted for.” J.T. narrowed his eyes at Nybbas. “Apparently, grandad was hungry. Right now, he’s standing in the doorway to the fridge with lust in his eyes. What, you guys not feeding gramps?”
“Yeah, we’re feeding him. He likes to wander. I guess he worked up an appetite.”
“Who’s that?”
J.T. heard Aubrie’s voice on the other end of the line. “Hey, listen, I want to talk to you both. Mind if gramps and I come over once it gets dark?”
“Sure, come on. Thanks for bringing Nybbas back. Can he fly with you?”
“Yeah, I think I can manage. See you then.”
The line went dead. J.T. watched Nybbas scarf down yet another chocolate chip cookie. If his Greek mythology was correct, Nybbas was a mid-level demon from Hell. In his day, the demon manipulated dreams and thoughts. J.T. understood why the Sultan wanted him as a pawn in his little game. But now, the pitiful fellow was all used up. “I’m going upstairs and get ready. We’re taking a little flight back to Aubrie and Logan’s. Okay?”
Nybbas nodded. Crumbs scattered down the front of the demon’s chest.
“Come on, Zodiac.” J.T. crossed to the door. Glancing back, he saw his vampire protection cat weaving through Nybbas’ thick stumpy legs. “Some protector you are,” he growled under his breath as he mounted the stairs.