Chapter Two
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. Against 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 chose to live and die as a human rather 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?”
“That’s what’s so funny.” he said. “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.