The Golden Jackal (Kinkaid Shifters #8)

Prologue

The mage was running. Good.

Seth crouched behind a sandstone outcrop, his scimitar heavy in his grip as he watched the black-robed figure scramble up the rocky slope toward the ridgeline. The bastard had finally realized that he was outmatched. Unfortunately he’d left them a parting gift before trying to flee.

But first things first. Seth shot a hand signal to his sniper and watched in satisfaction as the mage toppled over, a bullet between his eyes, then rolled lifelessly down the sand dune.

Now for the other thing. The demon the mage had summoned lay coiled in the wadi below, its serpentine body as thick as a man’s torso and easily thirty feet long.

Scales the color of dried blood caught the dying sunlight, and its wedge-shaped head swayed back and forth, tasting the air with a forked tongue that dripped something acidic onto the sand.

Shit. Seth had seen a lot in his years as a shifter mercenary, but demons still made his hackles rise.

He adjusted the red headscarf wrapped around his face, leaving only his eyes exposed.

The khamsin had been blowing all afternoon, filling the air with grit and dust. His men wore more muted colors of tan, brown and faded olive, but Seth had never bothered to blend in.

The Golden Jackal didn’t hide from anyone.

Besides, the bright fabric served a purpose.

When his men needed to find him in the chaos of battle, they could.

It made him even more of a target, of course, but he trusted his own skills to keep himself safe, and had done so for decades.

He tracked movement to his left just before his friend and comrade, Pax Rojas, emerged from behind a boulder, his eyes gleaming above the tan cloth covering his lower face. His twin, Ari, appeared a moment later on the opposite ridge, completing the triangle they’d formed around the creature.

Seth raised his fist in signal. Wait.

The demon’s head snapped toward Pax’s position. It had caught his scent, or maybe just sensed his presence. The thing hissed, a sound like water hitting hot metal, and began slithering toward the jaguar shifter with terrifying speed.

Pax held his ground. Brave bastard. Or maybe he was dumb as a box of rocks. Sometimes it was hard to tell the difference.

Seth signaled again, pointing two fingers toward the narrow canyon mouth to the east. Then he closed his fist, opening it slowly. Draw it in.

Pax nodded once and broke cover, sprinting along the ridge with the demon in hot pursuit. Sand sprayed from beneath his boots as he ran, and Seth could hear the creature’s scales rasping against ground as it followed. The sound was wrong and unnatural, like arid bones grinding together.

Ari moved in from the opposite side, throwing a rock that cracked against the demon’s flank. The creature whipped around, momentarily confused by threats coming from multiple directions. Which was exactly what Seth needed.

He ran.

The canyon was maybe fifty yards away. There was a narrow gap between two massive rock formations that the demon would have to squeeze through to follow. Seth’s boots pounded against hard-packed earth as he circled wide, staying downwind, keeping the red of his headscarf below the ridgeline.

Behind him, he could hear his men continuing their deadly dance, drawing the creature forward. Making it angry. Making it chase.

Seth reached the canyon mouth and pressed himself against the rock wall, the stone still warm from the day’s heat. His breath came fast but steady. He’d done this before. Maybe not with a demon this size, but the principle was the same. Bait, trap, kill.

The scimitar in his hand was old, the blade curved and wickedly sharp, with script etched along its length that he suspected was some kind of protection spell.

It had been gifted to him by a Lightworker metal mage in Syria that he’d saved from certain death several years ago. It had served him well ever since.

The demon’s hissing grew louder as it drew closer.

Seth could smell it now, a reek of sulfur and rotting meat that cut through even the thick dust clogging the air.

His inner jackal stirred restlessly, wanting to shift, to fight in fur and fang.

But teeth wouldn’t do much against scales like armor plate. Steel was better. Steel and patience.

The creature’s head appeared at the canyon mouth, weaving from side to side as it squeezed between the rocks.

Its eyes were yellow, slitted like a cat’s, and they burned with a malevolent intelligence that made Seth’s skin crawl.

This wasn’t just an animal. This was something that truly enjoyed killing.

Seth held his breath and waited. The demon’s body followed its head, coiling through the narrow gap, scales scraping against sandstone. Ten feet in. Fifteen. Twenty.

Now.

Seth exploded from his hiding spot, scimitar already swinging in a vicious arc. The demon saw him, its yellow eyes widened with surprise, but it was too confined by the canyon walls to dodge effectively. It tried to rear back, tried to strike, but the narrow space worked against it.

The blade bit deep into the creature’s neck, just below the jaw and hot ichor sprayed across Seth’s arms, burning where it touched exposed skin. He ignored the pain and wrenched the scimitar free, then struck again. And again. Hacking through scale and muscle.

The demon thrashed, its massive body slamming against the canyon walls hard enough to shake loose a rain of pebbles and dust. Its tail whipped around, catching Seth across the ribs and sending him staggering. But the creature was weakening, its movements becoming jerky and uncoordinated.

One more strike. Seth put everything he had left into it, planting his feet, raising the scimitar overhead, and bringing it down with all the strength his human and jackal natures could muster.

The blade sheared through what remained of the demon’s neck. The head fell to the sand with a wet thud, those yellow eyes still burning with hatred even as the light faded from them. The body continued to twitch and coil for several long seconds before finally going still.

Seth stood there, breathing hard, ichor dripping from his blade and his arms. His ribs ached where the tail had caught him, and the chemical burns on his skin stung like hell, but he was alive. The demon wasn’t. He’d call that a win.

Footsteps approached from behind. Seth didn’t turn. He recognized the sound of Pax’s distinctive stride.

“Ugly bastard,” Pax said, pulling down his face covering to reveal his admiring grin. His twin appeared a moment later, equally pleased.

“Too bad we can’t question the mage.” Ari observed.

Seth nodded agreement even as Ari opened his canteen of water and doused Seth’s arms, diluting the acidic ichor. It was really disgusting stuff and Seth was grateful for the assist. He nodded at Ari in thanks.

Seth had hoped to capture the mage and find out who had sent him, but the man had been a bit too powerful to capture. Death had been the only alternative, which unfortunately left them wondering why he’d been summoning demons in this particular stretch of desert.

The Venifucus had been getting bolder lately, their operations spreading across the Middle East like wildfire. This was the third summoning Seth and his men had interrupted in as many months.

“I’m pretty sure we’ll have other chances. As long as the mages keep coming,” Seth said philosophically.

“And we keep killing their pets.” Pax agreed, moving to kick the demon’s severed head, but then he seemed to think better of it and stepped away.

The thing’s mouth was still open, its fangs glistening with venom.

“Though I wouldn’t mind a break. Maybe somewhere with beaches.

And women. And drinks with little umbrellas. ”

Seth was already moving toward the canyon mouth. The rest of his team would be regrouping at the vehicles, three klicks north. They needed to move before any of the mage’s buddies showed up with reinforcements.

He paused at the edge of the rocks and looked back at the demon’s corpse. Already the body was beginning to dissolve, the flesh sloughing away to reveal whatever passed for bones in a creature from another realm. By morning, there would be nothing left but a dark stain on the sand.

Good. Let the desert have it.

Seth unwrapped his headscarf as he walked, letting the red fabric flutter in the wind. His face felt raw, scoured by sand and sweat, but the khamsin was finally dying down. The western sky blazed orange and purple, painting the dunes in shades of fire.

Beautiful country. Dangerous as hell, but beautiful.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Seth pulled it out and checked the screen. It lit with a message from Mark Peppard, one of his contacts in the shifter community. The jaguar Alpha didn’t reach out often, which meant this was important.

MARK: Need you in Germany. Situation developing at Kettering Castle. Call when you can.

Seth read the message twice, his eyebrows rising. Abdul Kettering had been a second-generation arms dealer. He’d been bankrolling Venifucus operations across Europe and had died a couple of months ago. In fact, Seth had finished him off after he’d fought with the lion Alpha, Sam Kinkaid, in Monaco.

The king of all lions and his new mate had finally taken out the bastard.

Seth still wasn’t sure what that meant for the network of dark mages Kettering had been supporting, but Kettering Castle in Germany was rumored to be at the heart of that enterprise.

He wasn’t completely surprised there was trouble brewing there.

He typed a quick response.

SETH: En route to extraction. Will call tonight.

Whatever was happening in Germany, it would have to wait until he got his team to safety. But as Seth hiked toward the rendezvous point, the demon’s yellow eyes still burning in his memory, he had a feeling his brief career as a desert exterminator was about to take an interesting turn.

The Golden Jackal was heading back to Europe.