Chapter Eighteen
Zoey faced off with the vampire bitch who’d cornered her—in the freaking bathroom. No one was finding out about this.
She seethed. This was a new low, even for demons. Trying to take care of nature’s demands, thanks to the twenty-ounce Gatorade she’d downed for breakfast, and they’d attacked.
Zoey had barely zipped her ass back into her leathers when the door had been blown off. She’d hopped into the shower and now stared through the glass at one of the females she’d gone to school with.
One she had a serious beef with.
“Morgana,” Zoey forced her voice to be calm. “I see time has not been kind.”
“Zohana, you wretched hag. How is it possible you became even more of an uptight bitch?” The female’s blood-red lips twisted into a smug smile. “I’m sooo sorry to hear about Mitchell’s demise. Did things get too hot between the two of you?”
The image of Mitchell’s handsome face turning blistering red from the flames overtaking him was one burned into Zoey’s memory. Every hour, every time she closed her eyes, she saw him mouthing, “I love you!” before he was consumed.
Morgana wanted her to go berserk, but Zoey was the queen of calm. Only Mitchell had been her safe spot to lose control, and usually only in bed.
“Just for that, I think I’m going to rip out your fangs and shove them in your jugular.” Zoey put her hands on her hips, but she was really angling for a better grab for her knife.
The other female’s black gaze turned calculating. She had to be possessed, and by one of the Circle, but Morgana appeared to be fully in charge. Was she that powerful that she could hold off the power of one of the Circle?
“Before you do,” Morgana’s smug tone emphasized her pleasure in taunting Zoey with the loss of her true mate, “let me note that he’d still be alive if he’d stayed with me.”
Zoey let out the most indelicate snort, and it was so fitting for the female who thought she trumped the bond of true mates. “Doubtful. Misery can kill a guy.”
Mitchell had been about to break things off with the evil female when he and Zoey had met. Morgana had always blamed Zoey instead for losing a prime male of Mitchell’s worth.
Morgana’s arrogant smile returned. “He never sounded miserable in between my legs.”
Oh, that bitch. “I’m sure you never heard him over your epic ego.”
Anger burned in the black gaze. “We didn’t talk,” Morgana bit out.
“Well, we did. And he said you were an insufferable bore whose only friend was the one on the other side of the mirror.” Zoey snorted again. Dammit! Good thing she didn’t play poker, that reaction would give away a shit hand every time. “Actually, I lied.” She leaned in closer to the glass and lowered her voice. “He didn’t talk about you at all.”
The comment hit the bull’s-eye Zoey was aiming for. Morgana screeched and lunged like she was going to plow through the glass.
Because she was.
Shards of glass sprayed the bathroom seconds before hands wrapped around her neck.
Zoey’s back hit the wall, but she kept her own hands firmly at her side. Morgana’s nails bit in and this close it was clear the female was possessed. The glee in the demon’s gaze shone through what was left of Morgana. The demon was female and her pleasure in their catfight oozed out of Morgana’s every pore.
As soon as her fingers touched the hilt of her knife, Zoey jerked it out and shoved it into Morgana’s abdomen. The other female only grunted, her upper lip curling against the pain. They were so close, Zoey could only withdraw and shove it back into the same spot.
Morgana grunted.
Zoey moved her lips, trying to distract the female.
“What?” Morgana snarled and eased the pressure slightly.
She mouthed gibberish, easy to do with the agony at her throat. Morgana leaned closer and Zoey twisted the knife.
“You’re not going to kill me before you run out of air.” Morgana’s sultry voice grew deeper. The demon was taking more control with each second. “So, I think I’ll just drink you dry.”
Fangs flared in front of Zoey’s face before Morgana dropped a hand at her neck to create an opening and struck. Zoey was wrapped in a bear hug with the vampire latched onto her neck. She couldn’t move her arms; the female’s strength had been tripled thanks to her inner demon. Morgana’s mouth stung as it siphoned her blood, leaving Zoey wanting to wretch.
Zoey slammed up a knee, which was the equivalent of moving it two inches and nudging it between Morgana’s legs. Their embrace was damn near intimate. As if that didn’t spur memories of Morgana’s attempted intrusions into her life with Mitchell. Zoey tried again, aiming instead for Morgana’s ballet-slippered foot.
Bones crushed under Zoey’s combat boot.
Another grunt, but no give.
The brimstone scent grew stronger and a shadow moved behind Morgana. But it was probably just her fading consciousness.
Blood pounded in her ears, her heart having to work hard to keep her brain functioning.
Her eyes rolled to the back of her head. If she couldn’t keep Mitchell alive, how’d she expect to save herself?
Stryke slammed the wooden stake into the vampire’s heart, ensuring it didn’t go through and take Zoey out, too.
Morgana screamed in the back of her throat, but her jaw disengaged.
A roar of fury followed. That one was from Hypna. Would she know it was Stryke who’d thwarted her? If she did, Zoey was dead and he was in for a world of torture and pain.
Morgana’s body burst into ash. Zoey crumpled, her eyelids falling closed. Blood ran in rivulets down her neck and soaked her black shirt.
He caught her before she sank all the way.
The groan that preceded the portal to the underworld echoed against the ceramic tile of the shower.
Cradling Zoey to his chest, he stumbled out of the bathroom into the attached master bedroom. He’d chosen the same young human he’d inhabited before, but while Zoey didn’t match Fyra’s heft, the kid still struggled under her weight.
How he’d dreamed of holding Zoey again, only to his own chest.
He laid her on the bed and hovered over her, inspecting her.
So pale. Alabaster skin covered a fluttering pulse that was having trouble keeping her heart going. She’d be a target for anyone who walked by, other than her team. Her buddies could help revive her, but Stryke’s feet wouldn’t move. He couldn’t leave her completely defenseless.
Finally stepping back, he closed his eyes and stepped out of the human, Lee. The young man stumbled at suddenly having control of his body again.
Stryke faced him toward the wall and growled, “Don’t move.”
It seemed to work. The more Stryke used the kid, the easier it was to move in and out of him. Like the dude had been aimless for so long and relished an authority figure. Stryke sympathized. Been there, done that, had the fang marks to prove it.
Never again, and for that reason, Stryke knew he was more protective of Lee than he had been with any other host. At twenty-one, the boy was really a man, but a diet of booze and a day full of sleeping did not a man make. Last time Stryke had stepped from him, he’d told Lee to buy some carrots and chicken breasts and learn how to cook.
Speaking of food, he switched back to Zoey. He sat on the bed next to her and bit into his wrist. He swore on his father’s dark heart that he hated fangs and biting. He hated that he had them and he used to hate all creatures who did, too. Humans were naturally unlikeable, so that meant he’d hated everyone.
Until Zoey had entered his life. Or he’d entered hers, as it were.
He rested his wrist against her lips and wiggled it until his blood seeped into her mouth.
She wasn’t swallowing. He adjusted his position to bring him closer so he could wedge his other arm under her and raise her head and shoulders up.
The movement spurred a swallow and she latched on. Her eyes stayed closed and he wanted to will them open. Wanted her to finally see him.
Enough. He couldn’t afford to reveal himself. Not yet. Then she’d go and say something to the others and they’d hunt him. He had enough underworld bullshit to deal with, he didn’t need her team hunting him, or worse, asking questions. Fyra putting two and two together was enough of a risk. She wouldn’t mean to put Stryke in the Circle’s crosshairs—no, she would. She’d have a good reason, one he couldn’t begrudge her for, but she’d do it in a hot second to save her own ass. Or Bishop’s big ass.
Zoey’s color had returned. He withdrew his wrist and gently set her back down.
She moaned and turned to her side, her eyes still closed as her body finished repairing itself.
Stryke hurried back into Lee and darted out of the room. He needed to see how everyone was faring and figure out how to remain uninvolved without anyone noticing.
***
Bishop’s gun was jammed, thanks to the demon throwing it across the room. He cursed and shoved it back into its holster and chose another. They’d found Rourke in a sitting room, taking on three possessed humans.
Fyra stalled next to him and her eyes got a faraway look. “Brimstone and tinder, Hypna’s here, too.” She frowned. “Never mind, she’s gone now.”
Bishop shook his head and retrieved another pistol. Having Fyra at his back in a fight provided a running commentary.
“Rancor’s close.” Her voice was hushed, but Rourke nodded and pointed to the second door at the other end of the room. They were adjoining bedrooms.
Fyra snapped her fingers and sparks flew. She lobbed a fireball at one of the humans attacking Rourke. The human was incinerated. “He and Hypna must’ve used their vampire hosts and flashed all the humans here.”
Bishop had figured so, too. He nailed a second human with a head shot, but he and Fyra let Rourke finish off the third as they all steered clear of the demons getting sucked into the underworld.
Rourke snapped the man’s neck and tossed him aside. He stood with his chest heaving and scanned the room. “Zoey?”
Bishop didn’t answer but charged out the door to find Rancor. Fyra was right behind him.
Rancor, in Godet’s body, had run to the window to escape, but it was locked. He spun around with his fangs bared.
Bishop raised his gun to empty his clip, so damn frustrated it wouldn’t do any good, but at least it would cut off Rancor’s link to the realm. Fyra’s stream of fire beat him to it.
Rancor’s snarl of rage faded to Godet’s cry of pain as he burned to ash.
The drapes caught fire.
Rourke rushed in. “The room is on fire.” His gaze caught the smoking curtains. “Rooms.”
Bishop spun and herded them out to the hallway. “We have to find Zoey.”
“She was searching the top floor,” Rourke shouted and they raced to the stairs.
Smoke alarms were blaring and the sprinkler system went off. Once those had been invented, every vampire who could afford one had gotten one installed, but they were no good against demon fire. Bishop increased his speed.
It wasn’t until the third room that they found Zoey sitting up in bed, holding her head.
She squinted up at them and swooned. Rourke went to her, Fyra hung back. He sensed she wasn’t sure she was welcome to check on Zoey. Bishop studied the bedroom.
There wasn’t much damage, but he smelled copious amounts of blood, and brimstone clogged the air.
Zoey released a manic chuckle. “I won’t be plagued by Morgana Dossier anymore.”
Bishop hadn’t heard that name in ages, but the Dossiers were the cream of the prime crop and knew it.
Zoey coughed and gingerly touched her neck. “She almost killed me, dammit. But someone shanked her.”
Rourke’s brows dropped and he glanced at Bishop. Bishop shook his head. Fyra tiptoed to the window.
She flipped the lock and threw it open. Squaring off, she cupped one hand with the other and aimed an index finger. A tiny fireball flew from her fingertip.
“Are you going to ignite the woods, too?” Rourke’s dry tone held a hint of panic, like he thought she was crazy enough to do it.
“Nah, it fizzled out at his feet.” She snickered. “But the jolt it gave him was extremely satisfying. Oh, look. A one-finger wave.” She waved cheerfully in return.
Bishop crowded behind her. “Who?”
“Stryke’s running away as fast as those little human legs can go.”
“Do you think he saved Zoey?” Bishop asked.
Fyra’s expression sobered and she murmured, “If he did, if she’s the one he… The poor bastard.”
“The fire’s spreading fast.” Rourke lifted Zoey to her feet, but she leaned heavily against him.
Timbers groaned beneath them and heavy smoke was billowing in under the door.
He grabbed Fyra and jumped out the window, flashing as they went. Her exhilarated laugh faded into the night and they landed by the SUV.
Rourke and Zoey were right behind them.
“Who’s Stryke?” Zoey asked no one in particular. “Why does he seem familiar?”
“My frenemy,” Fyra answered.
“We’ve briefed you on him,” Bishop filled in. “This wasn’t our first encounter with him.”
Zoey nodded and eyed the mansion. Flames licked out of the windows, smoke gathered and rose to the stars. Snaps and crackles preceded the middle section of the roof caving in.
“Well, this was an extreme waste of time.” Zoey spun slowly to face Fyra. “And it was a trap.”
“Totally.” Fyra’s irises jumped and danced to the rhythm of the house fire.
Zoey recoiled. “Wow. You agree that you led us into a trap. That was easy.”
Fyra’s mouth dropped open, and Bishop stepped between them. “She didn’t know they’d be here.”
“Really?” Zoey crossed her arms. “Because she was insistent this is where we needed to go.”
“You wanted Rancor and I knew he’d be here.” Fyra’s defensiveness was causing her heat to bloom.
“With another member of the Circle and more minions than we’ve ever encountered,” Zoey shot back.
“I didn’t know!” Heat waves radiated around Fyra. Rourke and Zoey stepped back.
Bishop rested his hand on her shoulder, trying to soothe her with his cold like she’d done for him. But a lifetime of keeping himself calm had aided his efforts. She had no pressure valve.
“And even if he’d wanted to inform me, which he wouldn’t,” the crunchy winter grass at Fyra’s feet smoldered, “he couldn’t have because I’ve been with Bishop the entire time. You know, to help you.”
Zoey jerked her thumb over her shoulder to point at the inferno. “Really? This kind of help?”
Sparks danced along Fyra’s hair and it was the only warning Bishop had. A boom like fireworks temporarily deafened him. He ducked, taking Fyra with him. The SUV shot into the air and landed fifty feet away, crashing into trees, a blackened piece of rubble.
“Holy shit.” Zoey’s stunned expression showed a hint of fear of his demon. She rose from where she was crouched with Rourke. “And if I believe you, we still have this for an issue.”
Fyra’s lower lip quivered as she gaped at the smoking SUV, but her heat had simmered. If Bishop was the type to hit a friend, he’d pound Zoey into the dirt.
“Look, I have a plan.” Not for Fyra’s emotional outbursts, but one problem at a time. “We need to talk to D and Calli about it.”
Zoey glanced between him and Fyra. Rourke’s astonished look stayed on the smoldering vehicle.
“Fine,” Zoey said. “We go back. You two first.”