Harvest Hunting (9 page)

“Damn,” I whispered.

“It gets worse.” The look on Chase’s face stopped me cold. “Exo said they’re led by a couple of Tregarts—the demons went upstairs.”

He closed his eyes for just a second, but I saw the worry in his look. Tregarts had nearly ended his life and were ultimately responsible for us giving him the Nectar of Life. One of the demonic human look-alikes had ripped Chase to ribbons with a blood dagger, a blade specifically enchanted to keep the victim’s blood from clotting. We’d almost been too late.

And then it hit me: Chase was afraid. Which meant he’d be a hindrance in battle. I tapped him on the shoulder.

“Would you coordinate the troops? And get as many people out of the hotel as you can. Take some of the less seasoned officers and start evacuating the areas you can safely reach.”

“Bullshit. You’re giving me make-work.” Pausing, Chase cocked his head. “I guess I am a liability,” he said softly. “I’ll do as you ask, but Delilah, don’t soft-pedal me. I may be fucked up, but never patronize me again.” He flashed me a dark look.

I bit my lip, piercing the skin with one of my fangs. Shit. But there wasn’t any time to argue. I swung around to the others.

“Split up. Camille, you, Morio, and Smoky come with me. We’ll tackle the lounge. Trillian, you, Roz, and Vanzir follow Menolly and head upstairs.” I didn’t want to separate Camille and Morio—they were becoming more and more bound with their magic, and together, they made a formidable foe.

The others nodded and peeled off, following Menolly toward the stairs. I turned to the double doors leading into the refurbished lounge. Last time we’d been here, it had been a psychedelic nightmare.

“You guys ready? With all the screaming and thumping there, I doubt they’ve heard us.”

“Ready,” Camille said, and as I watched her, I could feel the swathe of energy descending around her. But it wasn’t from the Black Unicorn’s horn—she had so thoroughly discharged the horn when she was in Otherworld that it was taking two full dark moon cycles to recharge.

Morio put his hands on her shoulders, steadying her. He arranged his bag so that it was out of the way—he carried his skull familiar wherever he went because without it, he couldn’t return to human form when he turned into a fox—and nodded. Smoky cracked his knuckles and gave me a thin smile.

“Let’s go. And remember: No mercy, no compassion, because the goblins won’t have any.” I slid Lysanthra out of my boot sheath and glanced at them, then slammed open the door.

As we burst through the opening, I scanned the room. It was filled with shadowy figures illuminated by what remained of the dim light from broken sconces and overheads. From what I could see, we were facing a good twenty figures. Goblins. Drunk goblins. Oh goody. Sober goblins were bad enough, but hyped up on booze, they’d be feeling their oats. Goblins with an attitude:
so not attractive
.

The dining hall was a mess—overturned tables and chairs everywhere, broken glass from behind the bar, holes dotted the walls, and it smelled like someone had put out a fire in the smelliest way imaginable—the stench of urine was strong. With all the strong odors, I could barely smell the skunk.

The shouts of fighting abruptly stopped as all eyes turned to us. I held my breath, waiting for that moment, waiting for the inner urge that would propel me forward. Always before a battle, there was the deciding nudge, the prime moment when all hell broke loose. And it always came before I thought I was ready.

But this time, as I surveyed the enemy, I felt a quiet confidence. Fear, yes, but confidence. Lysanthra hummed in my hand, and I felt her shiver of anticipation. She loved a good fight, and when her edge cut into our opponents and she tasted blood, Lysanthra sang. And her song boosted my energy.

And then someone—perhaps it was a goblin, perhaps it was one of us—made a slight move, and the tableau crumbled and we were into the battle.

 

 

I raced forward, straight toward one of the biggest goblins I could see. Our policy was to start with the toughest, which generally scared the weakest ones into submission or to run away.

The brute was at least my height, but he outweighed me by fifty pounds. A surge of adrenaline flooded my body. Goblins were butt-ugly, their leathery skin protecting them like good armor. His hair hung in makeshift dreads, and he arched one eyebrow as I moved in, a sick look of pleasure crossing his face.

Camille let out a scream—a battle cry of sorts—and joined hands with Morio. They were weaving a web of magic impossible to ignore. Smoky slipped past them, rumbling like an earthquake, and as he met one of the goblins, his nails grew into long, razor-sharp claws, and his hair lashed out like a bullwhip, striking the creature in the face with a loud
snap
. He swiped a long gash along the demon’s torso and then leapt back before the creature could touch him.

My opponent engaged me, and we circled one another. I noticed an entry—he’d let his guard down by a fraction, just enough for me to dart in and thrust. I lunged at him, Lysanthra singing in my hand, and landed a stab to his lower torso. He bellowed as I pulled back, my blade bloody.

The goblin brought his hands up, clasping them together overhead. I looked for his weapon, then realized too late that he was casting a spell. Oh shit—a goblin mage, and I didn’t have anything to counter magic!

I darted away as he thrust out his palms and a lick of flame shot toward me. Dodging the fire by mere inches, the heat singed me as the column of fire passed by. Now I had the upper hand. I took advantage of his position, bringing Lysanthra down across his forearms. He screamed as I slashed long gashes across both arms and, as he staggered back, I pressed on to drive Lysanthra into his chest, through a gap in his leather jerkin.

The goblin fell back, yanking me along as I held on to my dagger. I landed atop him and promptly slid the blade out of his body. His eyes were flickering—I could still see life—and grimly, I brought my blade across his throat, severing from side to side. Confident he was dead, I leapt up to gauge my position.

Camille and Morio were spreading something through the goblins—I could tell that much, though I wasn’t sure just what they were doing. A web, a net of shadow seemed to be gliding over a group of five of them, dark and thick, oozing like poison. The goblins stared at my sister and her husband, petrified.

The looks on their faces shook me, and I wondered what the hell Camille and Morio were up to. But there wasn’t time for more than a fleeting thought. Smoky had downed another two and was onto another.

I turned to the next and tapped my blade against my thigh. “Come on, boy, let’s get it on.”

He said something in Calouk, but I didn’t bother trying to translate. I raced toward him full-tilt with a loud shriek. The goblin swung to meet me, his short sword parrying my attack.

Our blades whistled, singing as they cut through the air. I managed to deflect his blows each time, but he was getting the upper hand.

Just then, a noise startled me, and I turned to see a goblin who’d been hiding behind a tipped-over table careening my way, his serrated blade outstretched. I threw Lysanthra at him and dove out of the way. As he stumbled past, my blade lodged in his stomach.

I whirled and gave him a massive kick on his backside. He went plummeting to the ground, driving my dagger through him.

The smell of blood was thick and nasty as I quickly kicked him over and grabbed the hilt of my blade, yanking it out of his body. Turning, I was just in time to meet another goblin, but his blade was already whistling down. As I ducked, trying to roll out of the way, I heard the clang of metal against metal, and for a moment, found myself staring at eyes gleaming at me, out of a dark shadow. The goblin’s blade had been deflected before it could reach me and, with a grunt, he fell to the ground, bleeding from the heart.

I scrambled up, startled, feeling a rush of chill wind pass by, the scent of graveyards and bonfires riding high on it.
Hi’ran?
His energy lingered around me, a comforting embrace, and yet . . . and yet . . . it was not him. I whirled toward the dark cloud, but in that moment, it dissipated.

“What the . . . who are you?” I shouted at the vanishing shadow, but it was gone, as if it had never been.

“What did you say, Kitten?” Camille’s voice sliced through my thoughts.

I wiped my blade on the dead goblin’s tunic, realizing the room had become silent around us. Camille, Smoky, Morio, and I were the only ones standing. The air reeked of blood and death, and a shiver ran down my back. I wavered a moment, feeling Panther rise. She wanted to hunt, to join the fight, to follow whoever it was who had killed the last goblin, but there was no one left for her to battle. I pushed the desire down, whispering to myself, soothing the big cat trapped within.

As the others joined me, I saw that Smoky, in his white and pale blue, was spotless as usual. Morio and Camille were as blood-spattered as I was.

“Aren’t we all just a delightful mess?” I asked, glancing at them. “Except you, Dragon Boy. Someday you have to tell us your secret. You’re family now.”

He merely grinned.

Morio slid his arm around Camille’s waist. “At least we took care of this mess.”

Camille nodded but glanced at me. “Who were you talking to a minute ago?”

Kicking the goblin, I shrugged. “I . . . don’t know.” For some reason I couldn’t bring myself to talk about it. “Let’s go see if the others need us.”

Smoky frowned. “I suggest we advise Exo Reed to dispose of the bodies. Permanently. Lately the undead seem to have had a thing for Seattle, and we don’t want a bunch of goblin zombies—or worse—running around.”

“Reanimation,” Morio said. He glanced at Camille. “Not that we’d know anything about that.”

She stifled a laugh that sounded mildly hysterical, and we headed out of the room. Exo was standing there beside Chase, who gave me a tight smile.

“All done,” I said. “Exo, you’d better burn those bodies unless you want trouble. Don’t chance them ending up on their feet again. Ash them.”

The werewolf nodded, his face serious behind the Elton John glasses he’d taken to wearing. “I’ll call my cousin. He’s got space on his land for a bonfire.” He glanced at the double doors. “I guess it’s too much to hope that the room’s in one piece.”

I stared at him, feeling sorry for the hotel owner. He was just trying to do his job. Goblin invasion had not been on the menu. But my thoughts kept running back to the strange shadow who had saved my life. Who the hell had it been, if it wasn’t Hi’ran?

“Um . . . no. I’m sorry. Not a chance.”

He sighed. “I didn’t think so.”

A noise on the stairwell announced Menolly, Roz, and Vanzir as they came trooping down the steps. They were covered with blood, and Menolly’s mouth was slick with the red stuff. Looked like she’d had an after-dinner snack. Or maybe it was her dinner. It was then that I noticed she was dragging somebody behind her. One of the two Tregarts—all trussed up and nowhere to go.

“You captured one? You think they have any information worth knowing?” Camille hurried over to her.

Menolly grinned, her smile all too scary. “Who knows? But I’m going to find out.”

I turned to Chase, who was gazing at me, looking . . . somewhere between lost and angry. “Looks like we’re done here,” I said. Then, because I couldn’t stop myself, I added, “Won’t you come back home with me? It’s been so long . . .”

He chewed on his lip, which was looking terribly chapped. After a moment, he shrugged. “I suppose we should talk.” He didn’t look overjoyed.

Keeping my hurt feelings to myself, I forced a smile.
Enthusiastic much. Not.
But best to keep my mouth shut. I glanced over at the others. They were trundling the demon out to Menolly’s car. I turned back to Chase. “Are you going to ride with me or—”

“I’ll follow in my car,” he said abruptly. “Just in case . . . you know, I get a call or need to leave or something.”

“Yeah, fine.” Again, I forced a smile and leaned in for a kiss, but he turned his head, and my lips slid off his cheek. I headed out to my Jeep.

 

 

Menolly took the demon down to the Wayfarer. She, Vanzir, and Rozurial told the rest of us to go straight home.

“We’ll find out anything he has to say. Don’t wait up.” Her eyes were frosty gray, and I took one look at her set jaw and nodded.

I knew that no sounds would penetrate out of that little safe room we had hidden there, and no magic could make it in or out, no demon or anything else could teleport through the barriers. It was our end-of-the-world room, essentially. And once in there, with Menolly and Vanzir especially, the Tregart would give up his secrets.

I arrived home before Chase and rushed up to my room, where I swept all the dirty laundry into the closet, made sure my kitty box was clean so it didn’t stink up the place, and stripped off the bloody clothes. I tossed them. Blood and skunk pretty much guaranteed their demise.

Hopping in the shower, I hosed myself off and then decided to sacrifice a Victoria’s secret forest green chemise. It had lace around the bust, and even though I wasn’t anywhere near Camille’s size, I filled it out nicely.

I wandered over to the window, staring out into the blustery night. Maybe once we were alone, in bed, Chase would loosen up, lose some of the worry that had been plaguing him. Maybe he’d reach out to me. Or let me reach out to him.

Leaning back against the headboard, I pulled the blanket up to my neck. The room was chilly, but I loved it. My bedroom was normally a mess—I fully admitted to being a slob—but it had charm. I’d filled it with cat toys and Hello Kitty posters and stacks of magazines and my computer desk where I spent a lot of my time poring over the Net. I’d bought a personal TV but still preferred watching my shows downstairs where I usually could snag Menolly or Camille into joining me.