Hawkyn Page 3

  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 would rather live and die as a human 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?”

  “Know what’s crazy?” he asked, and she bit her tongue before she blurted the obvious answer of “You.” “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.

  Chapter Three

  “Dude. That’s fucked up. Does it hurt?”

  “What,” Hawkyn gritted out, his breath coming in shallow pants, “this gaping hole in my chest? Yeah. Stings a little.”


  Clad in green scrubs, Darien, Hawkyn’s ebony-haired half-brother and Sheoul-gra’s resident healer, gestured to a chair in his office. “Did you at least save your Primori?”

  It was pretty safe to assume that any injured Memitim had taken the damage during a battle to protect their Primori, and Hawk was perfectly okay with letting Darien believe that was true in this case. All of the thousands of Memitim were Hawkyn’s brothers and sisters, sired by the same male, but functionally they were no different than anyone in the general population, stabbing each other in the back, fighting, and being assholes. Hawkyn trusted few Memitim, and Darien wasn’t one of them.

  “My Primori is fine,” he said, which was true.

  “How about the guy who did this to you?”

  “It was a female. And I don’t know.” An image of her, helpless and afraid, filled him with guilt as he peeled off his ruined shirt and sank into the hard plastic chair. He’d seen so much ugliness in his centuries of life, but for some reason, this was affecting him more than usual. But he wasn’t going to be able to do anything about it if he didn’t take care of his injuries. “So, can you fix me, or what?”

  Darien’s skeptical expression was all Hawk needed as answer. “I’m best with non-magical injuries. If you’d been eviscerated with a sword, it’d be right up my alley.” He kneeled next to Hawkyn with a tiny vial of glowing green liquid. “This might work, but I need to know what kind of demon did this to you.”

  “I have no idea. She vibed human.” A human who was, no doubt, suffering right now.

  “A witch, then? An Aegi?”

  “Dunno. Maybe.” At Darien’s huff of annoyance, Hawkyn gave one of his own. “So, can you fix me?” he repeated.

  “I told you, I’m better with injuries of non-magical origin.”

  “That’s not very helpful.”

  “You know what’s not helpful?” Darien gestured to Hawkyn’s charred wound. “Your inability to identify the type of weapon that injured you.”

  “Don’t know what to tell you. The female blasted me with some sort of silver-blue light. Next thing I knew, I was waking up in a pile of smoking flesh.”

  Darien’s fingers smoothed over the edges of the wound, and Hawkyn hissed in pain. “It’s partially healed. How long were you out?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe an hour.”

  “Damn.” Darien frowned. “It should have healed more than this.”

  Duh. “Which is why I’m here.”

  “Okay.” Darien held up the vial and popped off the rubber stopper. “I’m going to try this elixir on it. It’s good for a lot of the kinds of spells human witches use.”

  “I don’t think it was a spell. It seemed innate and organic.” Spells cast by humans were often preceded by a warning tingle Hawkyn could feel like tiny pinpricks on his scalp, but abilities that were species traits usually gave no detectible warning, which was damned inconvenient.

  Darien’s hand paused with the dropper hovering over the pulsing gash. “Then...there might be some wee side effects.”

  “What kind of side effects?” It was a safe bet that Darien wasn’t talking about dry mouth, blurred vision, or anal leakage.

  “Depends on the species of the person who wielded the power. And the power itself, of course.”

  That didn’t sound good. Hawkyn narrowed his eyes at the healer. “Examples?”

  “Well, I once used it on a strange blister that formed on Llewellyn’s arm after a Thraycer demon battle. The elixir caused blisters to erupt all over his body. You don’t want to know what came out of them.” Darien’s brown eyes glittered with excitement. He had always gotten a kick out of bizarre medical mishaps. “Ooh, and one time I used it on Gladys when a human cast a revenge spell that turned her blind. It restored her sight but caused temporary insanity and a loss of bowel control for a week.”

  So...anal leakage was a concern.

  Hawkyn stared at his half-brother. “Where the fuck did you get your medical training? Hogwarts?”

  “Ha. Funny. I did a year and a half stint at Underworld General.”

  “Did they fire you, by chance?”

  Darien looked hurt. “Fired is a strong word. Look, if you just...oops.”

  “Oops?” Hawk looked down at where a drop of Darien’s magical mystery juice had fallen into his wound. A foul stench and hissing noise rose up as the liquid absorbed, disappearing into the mangled flesh. “Are you kidding me?”

  “It was just a drop. Probably wasn’t enough to affect anything,” Darien said quickly. “Probably.”

  Hawk shoved the guy away and staggered to his feet. “Never mind. I’ll just drop by the hospital.”

  “They treat demons,” Darien reminded him. “Not angels.”

  He reached for the door, wincing at the stretch of his muscles. “We’re half demon.”

  “We’re half fallen angel,” Darien argued. “There’s a difference.”

  Not according to a lot of folks. “Have you even met our father? Azagoth is a demon if I ever saw one. He stopped being any kind of angel a long time ago.”

  Darien nodded emphatically, his long bangs flapping against his cheeks. “Especially lately.”

  “No shit.” Hawkyn paused with the door half open. “What’s up with his grumpy ass?”

  Shrugging, Darien popped the rubber stopper back into the elixir bottle. “I overheard Zhubaal and Hades talking the other day. They said he’s been demanding access to the Memitim Council. And several of our brothers and sisters mentioned that he’s been asking them weird questions.”

  Hawkyn frowned. “Questions? Like what?”

  “Personal stuff. It’s bizarre. He’s never taken an interest in us before, and now he’s wanting the history of our lives.”

  That was bizarre. Azagoth had always taken a cool, detached approach to fatherhood, treating all his children more like tenants than family.

  “And yesterday,” Darien continued, “he was in a rage all day. Not even Lilliana dared to cross him. You should have seen him at dinner. He devoured a steak like it was someone’s soul. He was fucking snarling.”

  “Yeah? You know what else is snarling?” Hawk looked down at his destroyed abdomen. “My wound, thanks to the radioactive sludge you dripped into it.”

  Darien laughed. “You think Underworld General will be any better?”

  “Can’t be worse.”

  Funny, but Darien had nothing to say about that, and Hawkyn wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

  * * * *

  The staff at Underworld General Hospital weren’t the nicest people Hawkyn had ever met, but they fixed him quickly, and without using crazy mystery potions. They’d even called in the head doctor after Hawkyn’s full sister, Idess, had explained who he was. UGH might specialize in demon care, but the children of Azagoth and siblings of Idess got first class treatment.

  As he started to leave the building, located beneath the busy streets of Manhattan, Idess gave him a hug. “I’ll be bringing Mace to see his grandpa tomorrow. Will you be there?”

  Idess was mated to one of the Seminus brothers who ran the hospital, and they had a rambunctious, dark-haired toddler who was full of mischief and who might be just the thing to lighten Azagoth’s mood.

  “If I am, I’ll make sure to see you guys.”

  She gestured to the sliding ER doors to the parking lot. “Where are you off to?”

  He hesitated. Idess had broken Memitim rules for one of her Primori, so he could probably trust her, but...

  “I haven’t decided yet,” he lied. He hesitated again, and then, well, fuck it. “Idess?”

  “Yes?”

  “When you were Memitim, you had to protect some real scumbags, didn’t you? Including an assassin?”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “Careful, little brother.” Her tone, issuing a playful warning, reminded him of Suzanne. But given that he, Suzanne, and Idess were full siblings—centuries apart—he wasn’t surprised. “That assassin is now my mate.”

  “But h
e’s not an assassin anymore,” he pointed out. “He’s a partner at the hospital, and he works here, right?”

  She nodded. “In the morgue.”

  Since the dude’s bare-handed touch was fatal, working with dead people seemed like a good job for him.

  “Okay,” he said, “but what was it like having to protect someone who killed for money?”

  “What’s this about, Hawk?” Idess crossed her arms across the black scrub top she wore over a pair of jeans. She had the mom-thing down pat. “Is one of your Primori an assassin?”

  “Serial killer.”

  She winced. “Yes, that’s tough. I know that bad people affect change in human society in ways we can’t understand at the time, but it’s still hard to stand by and let them wreak havoc. I had to watch over a number of truly disgusting Primori in my two thousand years of service, and the ones who tortured and killed for pleasure were some of the worst.”

  Agreed. But somehow Hawkyn had managed to disconnect himself from his Primoris’ lives, duty-bound to protect them no matter what. And he still would. But he couldn’t get Aurora’s eyes, wide with terror, out of his mind.

  “How did you deal with it?” he asked, lowering his voice as if the hospital was full of Memitim Council members instead of vampires, demons, and werewolves. “Were you ever tempted to save the victims?”

  “All the time,” she sighed. “If not for my brother reining me in, I might have.”

  “Would that have been so bad?”

  She blinked in surprise, and he couldn’t blame her. He was just as surprised that those words had come out of his mouth.

  “Hawkyn, I’d think you of all people would understand the need to not interfere in the lives of our Primori. Don’t you want to join the Memitim Council when you Ascend? It won’t happen if you break a rule like that.”

  Well aware of that fact, he swallowed dryly. “I’m just curious.”

  She didn’t appear to buy it. “Once,” she said, lowering her voice the way he had, “when I had a breakdown over the death of a teen girl at the hands of one of my Primori, a king who got off on raping and murdering his own subjects, a Council member broke with protocol by telling me that the king wasn’t Primori because he was a great ruler who would make a difference in the world. In fact, his name has been, deservedly, lost to history. He was Primori because he was destined to kill the girl. If he hadn’t, she would have given birth to someone who would have changed the course of history and made Caligula seem tame and sweet.” She inhaled a ragged breath. “It’s still hard to think about, but you have to trust that the system works, and remember that ninety percent of the people you protect are good. We just tend to obsess over the bad ones.”