Hawkyn groaned as he opened his eyes, the stench of charred flesh rousing him to consciousness.
He must have been struck by a bus. Or a bomb. Had to be. As his vision cleared he realized he was in a parking lot, laid out at the base of a light pole, and it all came back to him.
He’d made a split-second decision that was probably a huge mistake.
He’d flashed to one of his Primori’s locations and, in an instinctive reaction, had tried to interfere in a woman’s abduction, something that was against Memitim rules. And he’d paid for it. But dammit, the pretty blonde had looked afraid and helpless, and he’d known full well what the owner of the van was going to do to her.
But she’d clearly not been as defenseless as Hawk had thought. No, she’d had a trick up her sleeve. A trick powerful enough to damage an angel. Which meant she was either not human or she was a human who possessed the kind of magic that could be wielded by very few. Maybe a demon-slaying member of The Aegis or an investigator with the Demonic Activity Response Team. She could also be a witch or possessed by a demon.
Interesting.
He eyed her car, remembering the terror in her face as she was dragged toward the van. Hawk had attempted to help even after she’d blasted him, but she’d left him paralyzed, unable to do more than wiggle his fingers. Hell, it had taken as much effort as he could muster to even remain conscious for as long as he had.
Headlights from an approaching car cut through the thick fog and blinded him, reminding him that he was still on the ground, in public, smoke wafting from a searing chest wound. Pain ripped through him as he struggled to his feet. He needed to see a healer, and fast. Whatever the female had zapped him with wasn’t healing as rapidly as it should, and anything that powerful could continue to cause damage until the magic was neutralized.
Clutching his charred rib cage, he limped over to the female’s car and checked for ID, but the bastard must have taken her purse. The vehicle registration, however, indicated that the Mercedes belonged to an Aurora Mercer. Okay, now what? He’d interfered with fate by trying to keep her out of the man’s clutches... But had her fate been to be captured, or would she have used her weapon on her attacker instead of Hawkyn?
Shit. He was going to have to fix this, and fast.
But right now, he needed medical attention. He just hoped Aurora didn’t need it as badly as he did.
* * * *
Faintly, somewhere in the distance, a rooster crowed.
A rooster? Usually it was the neighbor’s yappy dog that woke Aurora in the mornings. She wasn’t in her bed at home, was she?
Pain and cobwebs in her brain left her confused and panicked as she opened her eyes. Then shit got a whole lot worse.
She’d come to in what appeared to be a giant metal room, a box, maybe, lit by a single, dim bulb hanging by a cord from the metal ceiling. Along one wall was a wheeled table, the objects on top of it concealed by a sheet. Was this a shipping container? Or a train car? Didn’t matter, she supposed, and thinking too hard about it only made her head throb more. She tasted blood, and as she raised her hand to test her swollen jaw, chains rattled.
Wincing, she looked down at the shackles around her wrists and ankles. The connected chains had been attached to hefty anchors in the metal supports in the wall.
Oh, God. Deep inside her chest, fear made her heart cower so completely she swore it was pressing against her spine.
But hey, at least she had a moldy, stained mattress to lie on, and her abductor had left her water. In a dog bowl. There was another bowl too, for going to the bathroom she assumed, given the partial roll of toilet paper next to it. How thoughtful.
Shit, she was in trouble.
Closing her eyes, she reached deep for her powers, but the empty tingle she felt in her chest was as she’d feared; she’d blown her entire wad on the one man in the parking lot, leaving nothing for the second.
How many times had her parents warned her about keeping a cool head in times of crisis? Her people had been warriors since the day their creator had crossed a male human witch with a succubus who drained humans of their energy and life force. But Aurora had turned her back on that history. Had fancied herself a rebel...which was also a hallmark of her species.
Their creator had attempted to harness their power for his own sadistic purposes, using them as soldiers in his bid to wrest power away from the rulers of ancient human empires. But Aurora’s people had rebelled, killing him and his associates, and then they’d spread out, living among humans. Mating with them. Practically becoming them.
And now, because she’d embraced humanity and forsaken her warrior background, she was probably going to die a slow, torturous death, just as her annoying Navy SEAL brother had warned her. He’d tried to prepare her, to make it clear that one should hone every skill they had at their disposal, and that her stubborn refusal to use magic would fail her someday.
She hated that he was right. She could practically hear Aaron at her funeral already.
“I tried to tell her. Take some self-defense classes. Practice your magic. Build your stamina. Maintain situational awareness. But no, she would rather live and die as a human than embrace what made her special. And now I have to take time out of my day for her funeral.”
Okay, so he wasn’t that callous. But still. He’d be so disappointed in her.
The sound of footsteps outside scared her out of the glib thoughts she shouldn’t be wasting her time with. Aaron would, no doubt, have spent his time plotting an escape. She’d just disappointed him yet again.
Truth be told, she’d disappointed herself, too.
Metal clanged, and terror made even her organs quiver as the container door rattled open. Through the narrow opening, the man from the parking lot stepped inside.
The darkness from outside seemed to spill in with him. His tennis shoes thudded ominously as he moved toward her, one corner of his mouth twisted into an evil smirk.
“Hi, Aurora,” he said, almost pleasantly, as if he was welcoming her into his home.
Making things even more disturbing, he didn’t look like a monster. His clean cut reddish hair and glasses gave him a non-threatening appearance, and his dad jeans and kelly green polo shirt completed the nerdy, I’m-a-friendly-dude look. He was Jack the Ripper in Dexter clothing.
She didn’t reply, but then, he probably didn’t expect her to.
“Aren’t you curious about how I know your name?” he asked.
“I assume you went through my purse.”
“Oh, honey, you’re smart for a masseuse.” He moved closer, just a couple of steps, and her pulse kicked up a notch. “I’m Jason. Jason Drayger.” Still so pleasant. She wondered if he’d be as nice while he was slicing her up. “Can I do anything to make your stay more comfortable?”
She held up her wrists. “Keys would be great.”
“I think we both know that won’t be happening.”
Of course not. But she had to keep her head on straight. Play along to buy time to plot. She wasn’t dumb enough to think she could charm the bastard into letting her go, but if she could get her hands on him, she could absorb his energy, refill her well, and use it to escape.
“Could you at least loosen the shackles, Mr. Drayger?”
He leveled her a nice try look. “That won’t be happening, either.”
“Then why did you ask if you could do anything to make me more comfortable?”
“Just getting your hopes up, I guess.”
“What hopes?”
“That you’ll make it out of here alive.”
His chilling words made her gut turn over in a violent somersault. She’d known she was in trouble and was going to die. But to hear him say it, to hear him toy with her, was too much to handle and she had to swallow over and over to keep from throwing up.
“What are you going to do to me?” she croaked, the effort of keeping her dinner down making her voice rough.
“I figured you’d ask that. They all do.” He lifted one corner of the sheet covering the table and picked up a photo album. He blew dust off the surface and tossed it onto the mattress next to her.
Don’t look. Do. Not. Look.
She knew she shouldn’t, especially given the creepy anticipatory gleam in Drayger’s dead, pale blue eyes, but she flipped open the cover anyway.
She instantly wished she hadn’t.
Horror filled her mouth with bile and her stomach heaved again. That poor woman.
She shoved the album away so hard it landed on the floor, spilling more gruesome photos of several women from its tattered covers.
“Forty-one in all,” he said, gesturing to the album. “Plus five I didn’t take pictures of. With the first ones, you’re finding yourself, you know? Trying to get your shit together. Figuring out what works and what doesn’t. Plus, all that adrenaline is flowing through you, and you’re not thinking straight.” He smiled wistfully. “But I’ve got it down to a science now. I’ll just leave that album with you so you can see what’s in your future.”
“You sick fuck,” she rasped. “You evil bastard.” Forty-six women? How had he not been caught yet?
“Me? Evil?” He snorted. “Let’s talk about whatever dark magic you possess. Or are you going to deny what you did in the parking lot?”
“Deny?” That would be pointless, since he clearly had witnessed the power flowing from her fingertips. “No,” she spat. “In fact, I’d do it again. I just hope your buddy suffered before he died.”
Drayger’s sharp laughter echoed off the walls. “That guy you blasted wasn’t my friend. I have no idea who he was. You whacked some Good Samaritan who was probably trying to help you.”
She felt the blood drain from her face. “Oh, my God,” she whispered. “Oh, Jesus.”
Drayger snarled. “Don’t you invoke His name. He won’t help you, witch.” He moved closer, his amiable demeanor turned into something twisted and ugly that matched his insides. “I’ve dealt with your kind before, you know. My mom would do…things. She taught me to recognize your evil.”
Aurora’s mind was still spinning with the knowledge that she’d killed some innocent human, but somehow she had to stay on topic. To ask questions that might help her later.
“Are...are all the women in your book...”
“They were all evil users of magic.” He spat on the floor as if just talking about magic disgusted him. “Demons, some of them. Or shapeshifters. Mostly human witches, though.”
“So that’s why you chose me?” Shock rippled through her. She’d been so careful when it came to using her abilities. “Have you been stalking me?”
“Know what’s crazy?” he asked, and she bit her tongue before she blurted the obvious answer of “You.” “It was pure dumb luck that I found you. I stopped at the grocery store for milk, and there you were, radiating an unnatural aura like a neon sign.”
God, it was no wonder he hadn’t been caught yet. Profilers were probably driving themselves insane trying to figure out what his victims had in common, and unless someone working on the case was aware of the underworld, supernatural powers as a commonality wouldn’t occur to them.
He lifted the hem of his shirt to reveal a leather sheath strapped to his abs, a knife handle protruding from it, and her heart leaped into her throat. He slid the blade free and flipped it in his hand with practiced precision that made her skin crawl.
“Now, don’t worry,” he said as he tested the edge of the knife. “I’m not going to kill you right away. We have days of foreplay ahead of us. Tonight is just going to be a taste.”
Inside her head she started to scream, knowing that the real screams would start soon enough.