Within seconds of Jacob flashing out of Sheoul-gra, Hawkyn did the same. Then he spent nearly every minute of the next thirty-six hours shadowing Jason Drayger...with nothing to show for it.
Hawkyn had left Drayger alone only twice. The first time was during a four-hour period when one of his other five Primori was in danger—danger that never materialized. But when Hawk returned to Drayger, the guy had been driving home, blood spattered on his shirt and pants.
It had been Aurora’s blood, and Hawk knew it. He’d felt sick to his stomach and furious that he’d missed an opportunity to locate her. Guilt had weighed him down like a wet shroud, and out of guilt, he’d left Drayger to shower and go to bed, and Hawk had gone to Aurora’s house to see who she was.
To see who Drayger was hurting.
As Hawkyn had wandered through her little one-bedroom house in Portland’s quirky Pearl District, he couldn’t help but smile at her cheery ‘50s retro decor and the delicate spun glass and stained glass ornaments hanging in her windows. Hedgehog figurines and scented candles lined a couple of small shelves, and, while she had a few framed family photos on the walls, there were far more artsy pictures of Portland and the surrounding area.
Her place was cozy and warm, and he got the impression that this was more than a home for Aurora; it was a sanctuary. From her overstuffed furniture to the yoga mat in the corner, the gurgling water fountain in the entryway, and the Japanese rock garden that filled her tiny outdoor space out back, her house was a soothing retreat.
Which made sense when he discovered that she was a masseuse at an exclusive nearby spa.
Every discovery Hawkyn made only strengthened his resolve to help her. He just needed to find her first.
Hopefully, that was going to happen now.
Drayger was on the move again. This was it. Hawk knew it.
You can’t interfere.
No, technically he couldn’t. But he had to do something. Aurora’s magic had been wasted on Hawk when she could have used it on Drayger. What if she was supposed to have gotten away? What if his interference had caused her capture? By saving her he’d be righting a wrong. Setting Drayger’s future back on course. Maybe. Hopefully.
Sounded good to him.
Shadow wings out and the shrowd engaged, Hawkyn sat in the backseat of Drayger’s unassuming beige Ford Escort and listened to the too-loud, incoherent screech of some heavy metal band as they navigated the streets of one of Portland’s industrial areas. Drayger had picked up some cheap fast-food burgers and had eaten one, but the others sat next to him in a bag, the greasy stench filling the interior. Finally, Drayger pulled into a junkyard, unlocked the gate, and parked the car near a shipping crate tucked in a rear corner of the lot.
Hawkyn’s pulse quickened with anticipation as Drayger opened the creaky door and stepped inside.
And there, huddled in a corner on a filthy mattress, was Aurora, her long blond hair tangled and matted. She reminded Hawkyn of a chained, neglected animal, and his hands clenched in fists of hot rage. She was naked except for panties and a ratty, stained AC/DC T-shirt Drayger must have given her, and her exposed skin was bruised and crusted with dried blood. Her bloodshot eyes were bright with fear, but also defiance. Hawk had seen that look so many times over the centuries, from soldiers who knew they were cornered by the enemy but were determined to go down fighting, to abused women who had had enough.
Fierce respect swelled inside Hawkyn’s chest, and he found himself torn between wanting to comfort her and wanting to fight beside her.
“Hope you’re hungry today,” Drayger said as he held up the bag of food.
“Fuck you,” she rasped, and Hawkyn couldn’t help but admire her spirit. “I’m not playing the puke game with you again.”
“You either eat the food so I can watch you throw it up from the pain, or I gut punch you until you throw up bile. Your choice. Personally, I think it’s better to be able to puke something up, but whatever. Dry heaves are a choice, I guess.”
Hawk’s own stomach turned over. How could he have forgotten that Drayger loved to watch his victims vomit while being tortured?
You know how.
Yes, he did. Like most of his brethren, he was capable of compartmentalizing, separating his feelings from his job and locking the bad shit in a virtual box that rarely had to be opened. Because opening that box could wreck even the most callous of warriors and destroy the vital objectivity and distance required to do one’s duty.
Aurora closed her eyes and shuddered. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because I have to,” Drayger said, his tone chillingly ho-hum. “I’m sure there’s some underlying pathology, some traumatic break I endured as a child, but what it comes down to is that I get off on causing fear and pain.”
She opened her eyes, the dim light making the exhausted circles around them even darker. “That doesn’t mean you have to.”
“Wrong.” Drayger inhaled as if savoring the scent of her misery, the fucker. “Imagine having nothing to live for. Imagine a depression so deep you can’t climb out of it. I’m dead inside. Nothing makes me happy. Nothing makes me feel. Nothing except what I do to women like you. Knowing I’m ridding the earth of magic-using scum gives me a reason to live.” He dropped the bag of food on the floor and reached for a scalpel on his tray of torture instruments. “So let’s get started.”
Shit. Hawk had to stop him, but how? He couldn’t very well pop out of thin air and trash the guy. Of all Memitim rules, harming your own Primori was the biggest no-no. An offense so egregious that one could, potentially, lose their freedom...or their life.
Which meant that Hawkyn had to lure Jason away.
Or scare him away.
Quickly, Hawkyn zapped himself outside and searched for a suitable projectile. As he picked up a rusty crowbar, a bloodcurdling scream, muffled by the metal walls, filled him with even greater urgency. And rage.
Imagining that Drayger was sitting in his vehicle’s passenger seat, Hawkyn hurled the metal rod through the passenger side window. Glass sprayed into the air, but it would have been far more satisfying if the shards had been made of Drayger’s skull. The car alarm blared, drowning out the tinkle of glass pelting the ground.
Still invisible, he flashed back into the cargo container just as Drayger heaved open the door and peered outside. Inside, Aurora dangled helplessly from chains, blood dripping from one partially skinned thigh, and it took every ounce of control Hawkyn could muster to keep from releasing her right then and there.
Mercifully, she’d passed out, but the fact that she couldn’t, at this moment, feel pain didn’t make Hawkyn feel any better. If anything, his anger level went up a notch, making him tremble with the desire to slaughter Drayger the way he would have if the guy hadn’t been Primori. Damn the rules. Damn this job. Hawk hated it. He was good at it, but son of a bitch, he despised it sometimes.
The day Hawkyn swore in as a Council member, shit was gonna change.
Drayger scanned the deepening twilight before he ventured out to turn off his car alarm. Looking as nervous as Hawk had ever seen him, the bastard scurried back to the container, frowned at Aurora as she hung limply from the chains, and slammed the sliding door closed.
Hawkyn flashed out long enough to watch Drayger take off, and then he went back inside and lowered the female’s unconscious body to the metal floor. The anger inside him raged even harder as he gathered her petite frame in his arms. She needed medical attention, but he couldn’t take her to a human hospital. There would be too many questions, police, and eventually her statements would lead to Drayger’s arrest.
So what?
The question flashed in his thoughts a dozen times before logic and duty brought him back to reality. Like it or not, the scumbag was vital to humanity in some way, and Hawkyn had a duty to make sure Drayger fulfilled his destiny. Besides, maybe by removing Aurora from the equation he could set things right.
Maybe.
Please let this set things right.
Holding her securely and trying not to think about how cold and fragile she felt, he flashed himself to UGH’s underground parking lot and strode through the sliding Emergency Department doors for the second time in as many days. Instantly, a hairy male nurse with a snout and a female nurse with tiny horns jutting from her temples jogged over and directed him to a cubicle, where he laid Aurora on a waiting wheeled exam table.
A female in a white lab coat embroidered with a modified caduceus and the name “Blaspheme, MD” joined him and asked questions as the other two prepared IVs and performed checks of Aurora’s vitals.
“What species is she?” Blaspheme asked.
“I’m not sure,” Hawkyn said, “but I’m guessing she’s at least half human.”
She nodded and gestured to the male nurse. “Run a DNA DB test, STAT.”
“DNA DB?” Hawk stepped aside so the nurse could slip past.
“DNA Database,” she said as she cut through Aurora’s T-shirt. “We can run her DNA against all the logged species in our database to see if we can find a match.”
“If not?”
“Then she’ll be listed as a new unknown species until she regains consciousness and tells us.” She barked some orders laden with strange medical terms at the remaining nurse and then turned back to Hawkyn. “What happened to her, and how are you involved?”
He blinked at the forcefulness of the question, and when he caught the nurse staring at him it occurred to him that this could easily appear to be a case of domestic violence. It kind of surprised him that demons would give a crap about such things.
“She was imprisoned and tortured by a serial killer. I rescued her.” He could have explained in more detail, but he figured it was probably best to keep the fact that he was an angel under wraps in a demon hospital. Yes, he’d had to reveal his identity when he was treated yesterday, and several staff members knew he was Idess’s brother, but she’d assured him that no one would blab. Apparently, the doctor who ran the hospital was a stickler for rules.
As if Aurora knew she was being discussed, she moaned. Her eyes flickered open and locked with his, swirling with fear and confusion that he actually felt. Understood. Because hundreds of years ago at the age of eighteen, he’d been beaten, tortured, and caged while waiting for his turn at the chopping block. The only question was whether he’d lose one hand or two for stealing the bread he’d been desperately hungry for.
Then he’d woken in a soft bed in a castle in Belgium, surrounded by strangers and confused as hell. So he knew what Aurora was experiencing, and instinctively, he reached for her hand.
Blaspheme blocked him, and in that instant, he realized she was no demon. Her energy, dancing on his skin like butterfly wings, was angelic.
Blaspheme was an angel. Her heavenly vibe was weak, so she wasn’t a full-fledged Heavenly resident, but neither did she emit the shadowy vibe of an Unfallen, the evil vibe of a True Fallen, or the flat, stale vibe of a fellow Memitim. Interesting.
“I need you to hang out in the waiting room,” she said sternly, leaving no room for argument. “Or you can leave your contact information and I’ll update you when I can.”
As reluctant as he was to leave Aurora, he understood duty.
And it was a good thing, too, because if he didn’t, Drayger would be dead by now.
* * * *
Scalpels and bone saws. Grotesque scenes of gore and body parts. Bits of flesh and hair sticking to tarps. A handsome man reaching for her but unable to connect. Snarling monsters emerging from the fog in dark parking lots. The rattle of chains, the stench of burning blood. The man was reaching for her again, but she was being dragged away by clawed hands. No!
Aurora woke to the sounds of screams. It was only after a warm hand closed over hers that she opened her eyes and realized that the screams had come from her. As her blurry vision cleared, chains on the ceiling came into sharp focus, and another scream lodged in her throat.
There are chains on the ceiling.
She lurched upright in bed, her heart pounding, her breaths coming in spastic gasps. Where was she? And who was the hot blond guy dressed in jeans and leather sitting next to her bed? He looked familiar...especially those piercing emerald eyes.
There are chains on the fucking ceiling!
A vision of him in a dark parking lot flashed in her mind, and she saw herself blasting him in the chest with every drop of power she’d been able to muster.
He was the man reaching for her over and over.
He was real.
Oh, God, the nightmares had been real. Not dreams, but memories.
Her throat closed up even as her lungs tried to take in air. Everything closed in on her, turning her own body into a prison. Or a coffin. Was this what claustrophobia felt like? She wanted to scream, to flail, but where would that get her?
Close your eyes. Calm down. Focus on breathing. It was what she told her tense clients at the spa. Breathe. In. Out. In. Out.
Open your eyes. Feel the peace.
There were still chains on the ceiling.
“Hey, it’s okay.” The man covered her cold hand with his warm one. “You’re safe now.” The stranger’s deep voice soothed her, which made no sense, given that he was part of her nightmare.
You whacked some Good Samaritan who was probably trying to help you.
Okay, yes, Drayger the Psychopath had claimed this guy was innocent, a potential rescuer. But Jason Drayger was also a twisted monster who couldn’t be trusted.
She yanked her hand away. “Who are you? Where am I?” Her voice was hoarse, her throat tender from screaming.
“You’re at Underworld General Hospital. And I’m Hawkyn.”
Which told her nothing. And... Had he said Underworld General Hospital?
The door to the room swung open, and a woman in Spongebob Squarepants scrubs and a lab coat entered.
“Good morning,” she said cheerily, her fuchsia-tipped brunette pigtails bobbing as she walked. “I’m Doctor Gemella Morgan, but you can call me Gem.” Another female followed her inside, a red-skinned demon female with tiny black horns, her whip-like tail swishing against her legs as she walked. Holy shit.
Holy. Shit.
Gem glanced at Hawkyn. “Could you give us some privacy?”
He inclined his head and shoved to his feet, his black leather jacket creaking as he stood. For some reason, Aurora didn’t like the idea of him leaving. Maybe because, right now, he was the only thing familiar about any of this, even if their history only went back as far as a dark parking lot.
“Aurora,” he said in his whiskey-smooth voice, “I have some other people to check on, but I’ll be back soon.”
She nodded numbly, unsure how to respond. He was a complete stranger. Why would he care about her enough to come back?
She watched him saunter out of the room, not ashamed in the least to admire the way his butt looked in his worn jeans. He might be a stranger, but he was a well put together one. And hey, her ancestors were sex demons, so admiring male assets was in her nature.
And his assets were spectacular.
As soon as he was gone, the demon put down a tray of food on the counter and followed him out, leaving her with the doctor.
Gem put her fingers to Aurora’s wrist. “How are you feeling?” she asked in a humdrum voice as if this was all perfectly normal.
Aurora had encountered demons before, but few of those encounters had been pleasant. Seeing them working in a setting as normal as a hospital, even if it was a bizarre one with black floors, ceiling chains, and skulls on shelves, left her at a loss for coherent thought.
“I’m feeling like I’m in the Twilight Zone,” she rasped. “Am I really in an underworld hospital?”
Gem pointed to the stylized caduceus on her jacket and the “Underworld General Hospital” script beneath it. “Yep. We specialize in pain.”
That sounded a bit ominous. “Relieving it...or giving it?”
“That,” Gem said with a waggle of eyebrows, “depends on the circumstances.” She gestured to the sheet covering Aurora’s legs. “Mind if I take a look? The doctor who treated you when you first arrived used a new salve to regrow your skin and I want to see how it’s coming along. It only works on people who have at least some human in their DNA, and it doesn’t work on all demon/human combinations, so we aren’t sure how complete the heal will be for you.”
“Ah...okay,” Aurora said, having no other real options.
Gem smiled reassuringly. “You can trust me. I’m a doctor.”
“Are you a demon?” That Aurora was asking a doctor if she was a demon added another layer to the Twilight Zone sensation.
Gem folded back the sheet to expose Aurora’s legs. “Yes, ma’am. But I’m also half human, so I promise I won’t eat you.” Aurora stared, unsure if Gem was being serious or not, and Gem laughed. “That was a joke. I don’t eat humans. No one at this hospital does.” She paused, looking thoughtful. “Well, the vampires do, I guess. And sometimes the werewolves have an accident. But not inside the hospital,” she added quickly. “We’re under an anti-violence ward.”
Relieved that she wasn’t about to be eaten, Aurora sank back into her pillow. “This is so bizarre,” she whispered, mainly to herself, but Gem laughed.
“You act as if you aren’t at least part demon.” Gem looked up. “I’m guessing you were raised in the human realm?” At Aurora’s nod, Gem continued. “We weren’t able to determine your species or identify whether or not you’re a human/demon crossbreed. Can you help out with that?”
This was so crazy. But these people seemed like they were trying to help, and Aurora didn’t see any reason to lie about her species. “We call ourselves Wytches.”
“Like human witches?”
“With a ‘Y’.”
“I see.” The doctor probed Aurora’s wound with her fingers, but it didn’t hurt at all. “What makes you different from witches with an ‘I’?”
“For one thing, we aren’t entirely human.” For another, their abilities were part of them, activated by thoughts or single commands rather than spell books, chants, potions, or charmed objects.
Gem gave her a quizzical look. “Do you know your origins?”
For some sketchy superstitious reasons, Aurora’s people rarely spoke about their ancient history, preferring to concentrate on their history since the rebellion that had gained them freedom and life among humans. Aurora had always thought the reluctance to discuss their origins was ridiculous, but then, she’d long ago adopted a human lifestyle and left behind Wytch lore, customs and, especially, mating rituals.
“According to lore,” she said, trying to sound like she wasn’t mentally rolling her eyes, “we were created when a Charnel Apostle sorcerer mated male human witches with a breed of succubus that’s now extinct.”
“Huh.” One of Gem’s dark eyebrows climbed up her forehead. “So what kinds of abilities do you possess?”
Startled by a question Wytches considered rude, Aurora stiffened. “I’m sorry, but I’d like to keep that information to myself.”
Gem smiled, apparently not offended by Aurora’s sharp tone. “That’s your right, and I absolutely understand. Now, let’s take a closer look at this leg.”
The doctor approved of the way the wound was healing, but all Aurora could do when she looked at the mess on her thigh was remember the pain of the knife and orgasmic gleam in Drayger’s eyes as she bled and screamed.
“Hey,” Gem said softly, and Aurora realized she was trembling. “It’s okay. You’re safe here. No one will hurt you. I promise.” She took Aurora’s hand and gave it a comforting squeeze, but her fingers weren’t near the spot on Aurora’s palm that would allow her to absorb the doctor’s energy. If she could shift just a little to the left, she could replenish her powers... “We took care of the injuries we could see, but did your captor hurt you...in other ways?”
Rape. She was talking about rape. Forgetting the need to steal a little of Gem’s magic-giving energy, Aurora shuddered.
“No. He cut off my clothes, but...no.”
The memory of it, the fear as he stripped her, brought a wave of fresh anxiety. He’d led her to believe he was going to sexually assault her, but his taunts turned out to be just another way to terrorize her. In the end, he was too disgusted by what she was to be turned on.
“Good,” Gem said crisply. “And I hope he’s too dead to hurt anyone else.”
Ditto. Big ditto. “Who...who brought me here?”
“Hawkyn.” The doctor released her and reached for a box of bandages. “He’s the one who rescued you.”
“Why? How did he find me? How did he survive what I did to him?”
Gem eyed her. “What did you do to him?” She shook her head, making her perky pigtails swing around her jawline. “You know what? Never mind. All I know is that he brought you in and demanded the best medical team available.” She let out a sigh as she loosely covered the wound with a fresh gauze pad. “Typical angel.”
It took a second for Aurora to process Gem’s words, but even then, they didn’t make sense. “Did...did you say he’s an angel?”
“Oh, shit.” Swearing again, Gem settled the sheet and blanket over Aurora’s legs. “I thought you knew. He’s sort of an angel... I’ll let him fill you in on the details since I wasn’t supposed to say anything in the first place.” She glanced at her watch. “I’ve got an appointment, but I’ll have a nurse come clean your wound and apply another coat of salve. You should be able to go home tonight, and you’ll be fully healed by morning.” She brought the tray of food over and settled it on the bed’s table attachment. “Want me to send Hawkyn back in?”
Aurora’s breath caught. She associated him with the worst few days of her life, but at the same time, it appeared that she owed him that same life. Plus, she’d hurt him that night when he was, according to Drayger, trying to help her.
“Please,” she told Gem. “I have a lot of questions for him.”
“I’m sure you do.” Gem reached for the door handle. “I don’t know him well, but his sister is part of my family, so for what it’s worth, I think you can trust him.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
Nodding, Gem left. Before the door whispered closed, Hawkyn caught it, stepped inside, and the air rushed out of Aurora’s lungs. But this time, her physical response wasn’t the result of trauma or fear. This time it was pure female appreciation. And maybe a bit of awe that the tall, devastatingly handsome male was an angel. An actual angel.
Gods, she had so many questions.
“Hi,” he said, flashing a smile that would have dropped her panties in any other situation. Not even the fangs that peeked between his full lips would have given her pause. Except, maybe, to ask why an angel would have fangs. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m not in pain, if that’s what you mean.” She opened the little bottle of orange juice and took a sip. “The doctor said you’re an angel. Was she joking?” Because angels didn’t wear ass-hugging jeans and untucked blue plaid button-downs, right? They wore robes and sandals or something.
“She wasn’t joking.”
Oh, wow. She exhaled slowly, needing a little time to gather her thoughts. Why would an angel have been in the parking lot that night, and why would he rescue her? Unless... “Are you my guardian angel?”
He moved closer, his boots silent on the gleaming black floor. “Long story, but no.” He looked down, his long bangs falling across his face and obscuring his eyes. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you from him.” He didn’t have to say who “him” was. “I failed.”
“Are you kidding me? I blasted you with silver fire. I thought you were with that bastard who abducted me.” The sound of his body hitting the lamp post reverberated in her ears as if it had happened only seconds ago. “Later, when he said you were a Good Samaritan, I was afraid I’d killed you.”
His hand came up to rub his sternum. “You put a serious hurting on me, but we angels are pretty tough.”
Apparently so. A Wytch’s silver fire weapon was so deadly they were forbidden to use it except to save their own life. She’d never heard of anyone surviving a full-body strike. But then, she’d never heard of it being used against an angel.
“How did you find me?” She frowned. “Why did you find me?”
He shoved his hand through his sandy hair, and bizarrely, she wondered what it felt like. Was it as silky as it looked? Did angels have perfect, super-soft hair? What about their wings? Would it be rude to ask?
“Another long story,” he sighed. “I just wish I’d found you sooner.”
Yeah, she wished that, too, but she wasn’t going to complain that he hadn’t saved her life sooner. That he’d saved it at all was a miracle.
“Please tell me he’s dead.” She’d never wished death on anyone, but Drayger needed to die slowly and in excruciating pain.
“I would love to tell you that,” Hawkyn said, his voice dripping with raw anger. “But I won’t let him hurt you again.”
Footsteps passed by the door, reminding her how weird this whole thing was. “Excuse me, but... You’re an angel. You brought me to a hospital full of demons? Aren’t angels and demons mortal enemies?” Hell, she should be his enemy as well.
“Well...”
She held up a hand to stop him. “Are you going to tell me it’s another long story?”
The red tinge in his cheeks said yes. “Let’s just say it’s complicated.”
“I’m sure it is.” She peeled the top slice of bread from the sandwich on her tray. Looked like ham and cheese. She liked ham. But then, this was a demon hospital... Maybe it wasn’t ham. Ew. Appetite ruined, she pushed the tray away. “What is the angelic stance on Wytches?”
“We have no problem with witches.”
“Just to be clear, it’s Wytch. With a Y.”
His eyes shot wide. “Seriously? I’ve never met one. I always thought you were mythical.” He shrugged, a slow roll of one big shoulder. She’d bet those broad shoulders carried a lot of weight, and her fingers itched to knead the tension out of them. “Of course, I always thought elves were mythical too, but last year one of the fallen angels who works for my father mated one.”
Elves? And who the hell was his father? She was about to ask who Hawkyn’s father was and why a fallen angel would be working for him when the door opened and a pretty, dark-skinned nurse entered. This one looked human, but somehow Aurora doubted that she was.
“Hi, Aurora,” she said. “I’m Shanea, and I’m going to take care of you.”
Hawkyn stood, rising to his full height, which was somewhere around six and a half feet, she guessed. “I’ll give you some privacy.”
Instinct made Aurora want to ask him to stay. She didn’t know anything about him, but he’d been there for her in the grocery store parking lot, he’d rescued her, and he’d sat at her bedside while she recovered. Right now, he was the one thing in her life that made her feel safe.
She couldn’t even call her brother because he was in some Middle East hellhole, and her parents were just two weeks into a year-long cruise around the world. No way was she going to interrupt anyone.
“Are you coming back?” Aurora asked, hoping the eagerness in her voice wasn’t as obvious to Hawkyn as it was to her. “Will I see you again?”
His smile made her pulse flutter, and it even made Shanea sigh a little. “Absolutely.”
He took off like a shot, disappearing before the door swung closed, leaving her with far more questions than answers.
But he also left her with something to look forward to, and that hadn’t happened in a long, long time.