Flesh and Blood

‘I’m glad you remember me,’ he said quietly, wanting to hold on to the moment for fear there wouldn’t be many more.

Her eyes opened. ‘Me too.’

His hands clenched as fresh anger surged through him. Didn’t Dominic understand this was more than just wanting to help a friend? This was the woman Doc loved. Wouldn’t Dominic have done the same for Maris? Of course he would have. He would have done anything for that woman.

A pinprick of an idea formed in Doc’s mind. As it grew, his sense of hopelessness shrank. He rested his head against the storage container and let his imagination take over until the plan evolved into something concrete. Why hadn’t he thought of this already? The way to control anyone was to find their weakness and exploit it. Aliza and Dominic were not that different, they both wanted the same result. Doc had just been too wrapped up in his own needs to see things clearly. He jumped to his feet, ready to put things in motion. ‘Fi, I have to go, I … ’

But she had already disappeared.

The twelfth Nothos loped out of the fading fog, and Mal cursed under his breath. Facing down two of them in Corvinestri had been a different story. He’d had Doc, Dominic, and Mortalis to help. Not that Chrysabelle hadn’t held her own – she had, but the Nothos she’d killed then had gotten his claws on her. Only her body armor had saved her from serious injury, and she wasn’t wearing it now.

As a pack, the Nothos began to lurch forward, elongated jaws hanging open, piercing yellow eyes fixated on Chrysabelle. Let them have her.

She whipped out her swords. Creek leveled his crossbow. Like that was going to be much help. Mal doubted those bolts would be enough to down a Nothos. Then let them both die.

‘We each get four,’ Chrysabelle said softly. ‘I’ll take the ones in the middle, you two take—’

‘No,’ Mal interrupted. ‘I’ll take them all. You’re going to get the hell out of here. You’re the one they’re after.’ He wouldn’t allow harm to come to her, no matter what the situation was between them. Besides, with this much blood in his system, he could control the beast, use it, then shackle it up again. Probably.

‘Save the great-protector act, Mal.’ She kept her eyes on the approaching Nothos. ‘We’re doing this together. Just like last time.’

‘Last time there were two of them and five of us.’ He eased his control off the beast within and glanced at the KM. ‘Creek, get her out of here now and I won’t kill you the next time I see you.’

The slayer looked at him like his brains were leaking out his ears. Or maybe it was the names shooting black tendrils past the collar of Mal’s jacket. ‘Big assumptions, vampire. But it’s your funeral. Saves me some work.’ He nodded at Chrysabelle. ‘C’mon, my bike isn’t far.’

She pulled away, just as Mal knew she would, just as he’d expected the scowl on her face. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

The beast snapped its chains and roared with predatory joy. ‘Chrysabelle, they will capture you and take you back to Tatiana, who will torture you until you tell her where the ring is. We were too late to save Maris. I don’t want to be too late to save you.’

Her mouth thinned to a hard line. ‘I’m not happy about this.’

‘So noted.’ He shed his jacket to save it from the changes taking over his physical body.

‘If I go, you have to promise me not to kill Creek.’

Her desire to protect the slayer angered the beast. ‘Agreed.’

But she stayed rooted to the spot. The Nothos spread out into a semicircle, now less than a hundred feet away.

He could see by the look on Creek’s face that he hadn’t a clue about Mal’s curse. Already, the voices were expanding beyond his head, flowing into his muscles and bones. ‘Go,’ he commanded, his voice now layered with a multitude of others. ‘Let me do this.’

She nodded, her eyes soft with concern. ‘Be safe,’ she whispered.

His T-shirt tore across his broadening form. ‘I will. Now go.’

She sheathed her blades and backed into a staring Creek. ‘What’s happening to him?’

‘I’ll explain on the way.’ She tugged him along and he turned, glancing over his shoulder as they disappeared down the adjacent alley. The Nothos shifted in that direction, but Mal blocked their path. With Chrysabelle out of danger, Mal gave the beast its freedom. It stormed through him, scratching and clawing and leaving only a few fraying strands of control for Mal to cling to.

A couple yards away, the Nothos snarled as if they sensed their new opponent.

The beast snarled back with a mouth that held longer fangs and more teeth, then bent its head and plowed forward. It sliced out, claws shredding muscle and sinew.

Howls filled the beast’s ears and the stench of brimstone and blood bathed its nostrils like a sweet perfume.

The Nothos leaped onto the beast, raking its back with sickle-like talons, but it shook them off and shoved a fist into the maw of the closest one. Its fingers dug into the hellhound’s throat and tore out its spine. The Nothos crumbled, turning to ash as it fell.

Grabbing two more Nothos, the beast slammed their heads together. Brain matter splattered over its skin, hissing like acid. The beast laughed with a chorus of voices.

The Nothos hesitated. The beast did not. Dawn was coming and there was no time to waste. The host must be protected.

When the carnage was over and Mal had forced the beast back into its chains, he surveyed the ground around him, counting the piles of ash even as his body trembled from the beast’s exertion. Eight, nine, ten … where were eleven and twelve?