Something was wrong. The pain in my thigh had dulled, but it was throbbing now, like the beast had a beat of its own. I gripped the muscle high and drove my nails into the denim.

Bone-grinding.

Soul-crushing.

Making me whimper.

Making me weak.

I grasped the energy drink and swallowed the remainder of the painkillers. I needed more…I needed something stronger. Just enough to get through, and then whatever happens would happened.

A crack of thunder tore across the sky high above as storm clouds moved in. The window of the old pickup wouldn’t close all the way, leaving the bitter wind to whistle and howl in my ear. I jerked the handle, and then pushed the glass. Still the damn thing refused to budge, leaving me wincing at the damn sound. I grabbed my thin jacket, leaned to the side, and poked the edges through the gap.

It worked, for a while…long enough for the agony in my thigh to raise its ugly head. I gripped the wheel and held on, turning on the wipers when the first drops of rain plopped on the windshield and then finding the next speed when it turned torrential.

Cars slowed as I crawled toward Killman and slowly pine trees gave way to soft flowing palms and sandy soil—just like the arid earth back home. My hands shook against the wheel as Alma filled my mind. I jerked the wheel and eased the big pickup against the curb in front of an all-night pharmacy.

She was so real, as though I could pick up the phone and call her. But I couldn’t, and she wasn’t...and the loss was a gaping wound bigger than the one in my thigh. I opened the door and carefully stood.

My legs wouldn’t hold me, jerking and trembling. I wasn’t going to make it…not to Jerry Leander, not anywhere. Warm tears slipped down my cheeks as thunder growled overhead.

My sigil flared hot across my palm. I opened myself to the power, and the burn carried through my veins. Something was calling me, some cocoon of power whispered my name as I crept from the pickup and forced my feet to hold me.

Hell spoke to me…it was that urgency I felt now, driving me forward one step at a time toward the pharmacy and the bright lights inside.

I pushed the door open and stumbled inside as the pharmacist lifted his head behind the counter. I tried to catch his concern, tried to hold on to everything around me as fire flared through my veins to settle in my thigh.

“You okay?” The pharmacist moved closer.

I tried to force a smile. “Need the strongest painkillers you have and something for an infection.”

Concern flared in his eyes. “What kind of infection?”

The doors to the front of the store opened and closed behind me. But all I could see was the white coat as the pharmacist came closer. Gun shot…thigh. I scanned the counter and stopped on the sign. No Supernaturals allowed.

“Everything okay, Hank?” The gravelly female voice came from behind me…sounding like…

I spun, catching the glare of bright overhead lights, and felt the room sway. The woman blurred under the lights as she stepped forward. “Alma?”

“Doctor Mendle,” the pharmacist behind me called.

I was caught by the shadows as the woman moved closer. Heat blasted along my palm, carving and slicing. I dragged my hand high and stared at the darkened marks.

“Read the sign. We don’t allow Supernaturals in here.”

I ignored the remark behind me as the woman stepped even closer. Shadows shifted, catching the edge of her cheekbones, and then the well of her deep brown eyes. “Hank, don’t be an ass. Look at the girl…”

“But…” he muttered.

The woman paid him no mind. She reached out, grasped my hand by my fingers and rotated my wrist to stare at the thick black markings on my palm. “You do this yourself? You a witch?”

“No,” the whisper slipped free as I stared.

She was so much like Alma in some ways, and in many ways, she wasn’t. Rain was still beaded on her skin and trickled down. Her deep brown eyes didn’t have that coldness that cut in Alma’s. The thick, sodden braid of silver hair hung over one shoulder to brush her breast. I glanced at the stethoscope around her neck and then dropped my gaze to the pack in her hand.

“Mr. Pree okay?” The asshole behind the counter muttered.

She moved her fingers to the inside of my wrist. “Just fine, no better, no worse…not like this one here. I heard the word infection. Your pulse is thready and weak, skin cold and clammy. Why don’t you sit down over here, honey, and you can tell me what’s going on?”

“Let me call an ambulance,” the pharmacist grunted.

Panic reared. I shook my head. “No, no ambulance. I’m okay…I just need some painkillers.”

The doctor jerked her head high and scowled at the asshole behind the counter. “Don’t be so damn daft. No...no one’s calling an ambulance, you’re okay. You’re safe with me.”

I glanced over my shoulder at the groan of disapproval as the asshole rounded the counter. “Meg, she can’t stay…”

“Fine…fine, Hank,” she snarled, drawing me back to her. A fighter reared in those brown eyes as she muttered, “You always were a spineless bastard.”

She bent, reached into her bag, and pulled out a prescription pad. “Here, make yourself useful and fill this, then.”

“You can’t…you can’t write your own…”

Her lips curled into a sneer. “Call it supplies. Now hurry the hell up, or this young lass looks like she’s about to hurl all over your nice clean floor here…aren’t you, honey?”

I caught the glint of amusement in her eyes and nodded. “Yeah, I don’t feel so hot right now.”

There was a scuff of shoes, hurrying steps, fumbling fingers that clinked bottles together as they spilled against the counter.

“Hold on.” The doctor reached out and grasped my hand. “We’ll get you fixed up in no time.”

Pain stabbed in my thigh…the heat was rising, swelling like a wave inside me. Sweat ran down my brow as I looked down at the dried brown patch on the denim over my thigh.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, and brushed her fingers along my hand. “Hold on there.”

“Here…” Hank snapped. “Here, here’s your order.”

The doctor rose, left me for a moment, and moved to the counter. “Put it on the tab, Hank…and Hank…not one word. Don’t make me ruin you.”

Footsteps came closer. She gave me a hint of a smile, shoved the bag of drugs into the top of her bag, and bent to grasp my arm. “Let’s go, precious. I have my right car out front and my place is just around the corner.”

“It’s Lorn…my name is Lorn.” Fuck, she had some fire. I could see it all blazing bright in her eyes. Kin to kin…I felt the call. But it was dull…swallowed by mortal blood. I turned and followed, taking the steps nice and slow, while the fires of hell raged in my thigh.

“Lorn, right,” She gave a nod and then shoved through the door, lowered her head, and stepped out into the rain. Fat drops hit my face. I turned toward the old pickup.

“Leave it,” she yelled over the drumming of the downpour. “I’ll drive you back for it.”

I shook my head. I couldn’t leave it, couldn’t risk it, not without my stuff. “I’ll follow you. I got this far, I can get around the corner.”

She stopped, straightened, and then gave a nod. “Okay, flash your lights if you’re in trouble, and don’t goddamn faint.”

Her hand slipped from around my waist, as I stumbled for the truck. I held on…held on while I climbed back inside. Held on while I started the engine and followed her down the street and then turned.

She pulled up outside a perfect yellow house, with purple, blue, and white flowers standing up behind the small white picket fence. Her car door opened and closed, then she raced through the open gate toward the front door.

I was trapped between the road and the fire in my leg. An hour…an hour is all I could give her, get a shot, something strong enough to dull the pain, and then I was back on the road again.

I shoved open my driver’s door as she unlocked her house and slipped inside. Heavy drops smacked the back of my head as I shoved my door closed and then followed, hobbling step by agonizing step toward her.

Bright lights flared inside before she was back out again, racing down the steps toward me. “Come on, I have everything I need to help you.”

I gripped the timber railing and pulled, dragging myself up one stair and then the other.

Meg Mendle, GP. The brass plaque said on the wall as she eased me through the front door.

The place was pretty, whites, and yellows…too pretty for someone like me…

Heat spilled and I glanced down at my thigh to see fresh blood seeping free.

The front door closed and the lock snapped shut. “That looks bad. I’ve got the heater going inside, so let’s get those clothes off you and see what damage you’ve done.”

She supported me to the bed and then turned to her bag. “Pants off and up on the bed. Claws or fangs?”

I dropped my hands to my jeans. “Neither, gun.”

She stilled for a second before she spilled the bottles and packets onto the stainless tray beside her. “Not what I was expecting. Is the bullet still inside?”

“No.”

There was a nod. “Good, that’s good. I didn’t want to have to put you under.”

I shoved my jeans low, stepped on the heel of my boots, and yanked my feet free. “Thank you,” I murmured as she grabbed a syringe and plunged the needle into a bottle. The leather was cold against my ass, tearing a shudder free.

“You can thank me later. You’re running a high fever and to be honest, a hospital is where you need to be. But I have a feeling anything to do with the authorities is out of the question. Am I right?”

She didn’t wait for an answer, just pulled on latex gloves and turned, raised the needle high, and plunged it into my good thigh. The sting was instant, distracting me from the fire.

“Not bad,” she muttered and pressed against the wound. “Not good, either.”

“The Supe,” I hissed as she pressed deeper, gouging muscle. “Which one was it?”

“Demon, on my mother’s side.” She never flinched as she answered, and then lifted her gaze. “I’ve never told anyone before. Not even my husband of fifty-three years.” She straightened, moved to the stainless tray, and smiled. “It feels good to get that off my chest. Folks around here don’t really welcome others of our kind.”

“I got that impression,” I muttered.

She gripped a small plastic vial, twisted the top free, and then turned toward me. “And you, what…creature?”

Shifter…Hellhound…Orc… none of those applied. “Daughter, how’s that…”

She smiled, squirted the stuff all over the wound and then picked up another syringe. The bottle was different that she drew from this time. “Daughter indeed. This here is gonna sting like a bitch…for one whole second.”

I gave a nod and gripped the sides of the mattress as she sank the steel needle tip into the reddened flesh. She was right, in a second, the pain was gone…even when she drew the needle free and punctured the wound once more.

She worked fast, cleaning, delving into the hollow with a pair of tweezers before she dragged a fragment free. “Here we go. There’s always one tiny bit left behind. You can bet this was the cause of your problems, not that I get many gunshot wounds these days.”

The snip of scissors followed as she bent and stabbed the wound with a curved needle, winding the sutures around forceps before she tugged them tight. “It’ll scar, but a few days of heavy antibiotics will do the trick…if you stay off it. Keep it clean, don’t get shot or stabbed or hit again. You’ve done some damage and, immortal or not, you’ll need some time to heal.”

I waited for her to cover the wound with a bandage before I sat up. “Thank you.”

“These,” she peeled off the gloves and grabbed a large pack of tablets, “are as strong as they come. I’m not sure how your body metabolizes drugs right now, but they’ll take the edge off the pain, just don’t take too many at once.”

This was three times…three times someone had helped me. I didn’t believe in coincidences.

“You’re lucky. I hadn’t planned on going to the store tonight. I planned on coming straight home in this damn rain. Somehow, I had this feeling I was needed, and it looks like the hunch was right. You’ve got a Guardian Angel following you, child.”

She packed up the mess of packets and bottles and then stepped toward the sink. The clang of steel instruments tore through the room as her words hit home.

Guardian Angel…

Gabriel…

My heart leapt at his name. I slid my ass to the side of the bed as Meg handed me my soaked jeans. “I’d offer you some of mine, but I fear they’d just fall off. You need to look after your body, Lorn. You’ll only get one.”

I nodded, grabbed the soaked denim and slipped my feet through. But I was lost, lost to her words…lost to the chain of events.

It couldn’t be luck.

And my mind was filled with the image of butterflies…hundreds and hundreds of butterflies as they smothered the front of my car’s hood.

I pulled on my boots and then stood, testing the strength in my leg. The pain had become a dull ache, gnawing and pulsing. “Thank you…thank you for everything.”

Meg lifted her head, smiled, and dragged her hand to her hip. “I think we both healed each other. Me with my family secret and you with your bite.”

I stilled, cocked my head. “But it was a…”

She lifted a hand. “Under state law I’m required to notify the police of gunshot wounds. Bite wounds, on the other hand, aren’t really their concern, and seeing as I found no real bullet, just a metal fragment which could’ve come from anything, I’m leaning toward a bite.”

I nodded and glanced at the fragment she pulled from the wound. “A bite, yeah. That’s what it was.”

She took the pharmacy bag, moved to her drawers, and pulled out a handful of dressings and bandages. “You’ll need to change the bandage every day and check the wound, then after five days, you can let it breathe. But keep it clean.”

Meg handed me the bag, and then lifted a finger. “Just wait right here.” She strode through the open door and was gone as I looked in the bag of supplies. The crack of thunder overhead muffled the sound of her steps, but she returned in just a few minutes, carrying a plastic bag of big filled rolls and a container of fresh orange juice. “I was going to go hiking later today, but it looks like that isn’t in the cards, so at least the food won’t go to waste. East, drink, clean the wound, and rest.”

I stared at the food and the drink in her hands and then stepped forward. The hug was more for me than it was for her. Tears pricked my eyes as my throat tightened.

She hugged me back, holding me hard, and for a second, I could smell Alma’s peach blossom shampoo mingled with the heady scent of gun oil before Meg pulled away. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

“I will,” I whispered, then picked up the bag, and limped toward the front door.

The words weren’t a lie…but they weren’t the truth, either. I opened the door and headed into the thunderous downpour once more. The only way I could help myself was to help others…men…my men.

Curtains parted in the window behind me as I hobbled to the pickup and opened the rear door. I hefted the bag filled with guns and ammunition, closed the door, and climbed into the driver’s seat. The bag hit the passenger side floor with a thud.

I didn’t lift my gaze, didn’t wave, only started the damn thing and slowly pulled out into the street.

My hands didn’t shake anymore, and the pain in my thigh was numb and alien. I gripped the wheel, forced my foot harder against the accelerator, and pulled out onto the highway as the signs for Killman Bay pointed east.

I hit the turning signal, timed the rush of traffic, and then turned as the phone beside me went beep…I reached out, grabbed the cell and turned it…46 missed calls…29 messages…

Not now…now when I needed to keep my head. The faint scent of salty air slipped in through the gap in the window. I inhaled deep and felt a tremble. Jerry Leander was a well-guarded man. I’d fought my fair share of shifters, and vamps…but none like this. None trained in military warfare as well as the natural instincts of their kind. My fight wasn’t with them.

Trees gave way to buildings. Up ahead, the sign to Killman Bay pointed left. Palm trees and buildings blurred. I headed for the coast as the darkened clouds above became streaked with red.

Rage filled the skies…rage and pain. It roared with the thunder. It slashed with the blinding bolts of lightning. It was hungry and sickening. I leaned closer to the crack of the window and understood.

Salt and sulphur. Hell had spilled into this world.

Beep…

The phone beside me vibrated and fell silent. I leaned over, gripped the phone, and stared at the climbing numbers on the screen. The last text message flashed before it was gone…

Titus…

Blue opened up in front of me…blue as far as I could see. Nine-foot fences surrounded a compound, Keep Out signs on every corner. I tapped the brakes and pulled the pickup over onto the shale shoulder of the road. Scrub brush lined the compound on one side, the ocean on another. Through the gaps in the spindled branches, I could see the sign…Claws for Hire.

This was it…this was it…

I shoved the pickup into park and stared at my phone. Missed calls…messages. Lorn don’t do this…Lorn call me…Lorn…Lorn…LORN…

My fingers trembled as I hit the button and waited for the messages.

Lorn, it’s Rival. Please find this. Titus had a seizure today. He’s still alive, but the doctors are concerned. They’re saying there’s more seizures to come…and they’re preparing for the one he won’t come back from. Lorn, they’ve moved up the date to disconnect the life support. It’s in two days. I want you…no, I need you to come home now. I made a mistake…I made a mistake and I’m ready to do what needs to be done to fix this. I…I…I love you, his voice was raw and savage…I love you, Lorn, please come back to me.

Rain drops slipped in from somewhere to fall down my cheek. I swiped away the slick as the screen in my hand blurred. All the messages…all the need. I scrolled my thumb across the screen…Rival…Redemption…Rival…Redemption…Unknown….

Another message played.

Lorn, it’s Rival. You have to stop this. Get off the streets, find somewhere to hide. Redemption is coming for you…Redemption—I flinched…my thumb smacked the button ending the call.

Redemption was coming. I lifted my gaze to the compound through the trees. Somehow I knew he would. Somehow I knew it’d come down to the two of us.

Blood for blood.

Pain for pain.

I leaned over and grasped the bag of guns from the floor of the car. Could I kill him? Could I even try…that dark pit inside me whispered the truth as I pulled two pistols and four magazines onto the seat beside me.

Kill one lover to save another.

Movement at the corner of my eye. Shadows swept between the trees, rushing toward me…

My hand closed around the grip of a pistol as I shoved from the truck.

Prince Absolon strode from the brush, long legs eating the distance as he lifted his head, and infernal dark eyes centered on me.

You can’t hide…the night hag whispered…You can’t hide from us…

I tried to lift my hand, tried to aim the gun, but I was frozen.

You’re not there…not there…not there…

I closed my eyes, and then opened them again.

Gone was the spindled brush…gone was the compound.

Gone was the pickup.

I stood in the middle of a forest. Dark green moss soft under my feet. Towering trees closed in. One leaned over me. The air was bitter and cold and that foul stench of decay filled me…Unseelie…I jerked with the thought as she came from between the trees.

Her matted shroud skimmed the ground as she stepped, trailing over boulders before it slipped away. Tall, thick antlers speared out from each side of her head to reach for the sky. But it was her eyes that gripped me. Those black orbs filled with sickness and hate.

She lifted her hand, skin over bones as she pointed at me…You can’t win, Lorn…you never could. Redemption is coming for you…I’m coming for you. Open your eyes, Lorn…I’m coming.