Hunted (Dark Protectors) (11 page)

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Authors: Rebecca Zanetti

BOOK: Hunted (Dark Protectors)
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She didn’t see any weapons. But a demon didn’t need weapons. She opened her senses. Nothing. Whoever he was, he wasn’t trying to mess with their heads. At least not right at that moment.
Simone straightened to her nearly six feet of height. Fire flashed bright and explosive in her eyes. “What the hell do you want?”
The demon’s smile held a hard edge. “It’s nice to see you too,
Zaychik moy
.”
Moira gaped at her cousin.
My bunny?
The Russian endearment spoke of a history. “Who’s your friend?”
He smiled perfect white teeth. “Nikolaj Veis. Nick, if you wish.”
“How modern of you,” Simone muttered. “I believe I asked you a question.”
“I wanted to talk,” Nick said, frowning at Conn. “Though I hadn’t realized you’d acquired a ... vampire.”
“Yeah, we’re at war now, aren’t we?” Conn’s fangs dropped low.
“Indeed we are.” Anticipation lit the demon’s face. “About time, too. Peace was getting so boring.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Conn stepped into the demon’s space. The air crackled with a tension-filled energy.
Simone cleared her throat. “What did you want to discuss ?”
Nick sighed. “I’m not talking in front of a vampire.”
Trevan rose gracefully to his feet, sidling to Simone to grasp her arm. “We are not meeting with a demon alone. This is full council business.”
Simone scowled. “We’re on the council, Trevan. At least hear what he has to say.”
Moira shook her head. “Simone, this is a bad idea. We’re not leaving you alone with a demon.” As an enforcer, her vow dictated she remain in place. There was no way Conn would excuse himself, either.
Simone focused on Nick. “You’ll give your word not to attack? That you’re here just to talk?”
“Of course.” Nick gave a slight bow. “You have my word.”
“He’ll honor his word.” Simone glanced at Moira, her face still pale. “Your mate needs to leave.”
Oh, they were so going to have a talk and soon. Moira shook her head.
Simone’s phone pealed from her pocket. She answered it and listened for a moment. “Are you serious? When in the world—” Then she put a hand to her forehead. “Ah, Trevan is here. Yes.” She shook her head. “Mother, we’ll talk about that later.”
Nostrils flaring, Simone hung up to glare at the demon. “You spoke with my mother.” Anger rolled her vowels into an Irish brogue.
Nick smiled. “It was wonderful to speak with good ole Viv. I think she’s mellowed through the years.”
Trevan frowned, glancing from Simone to Nick and then back.
“She wants to call a meeting with you.” Simone hissed, grabbing a remote and pointing it toward Brenna’s painting. A screen dropped from the ceiling. The chambers of the Coven Nine took shape.
Viv stood from the center of the dais. “Good. There you are. I’d like to call this special meeting of the Coven Nine to order. We must deal with the problem in Russia.” Her voice came through the screen loud and clear.
She squinted. “Oh. Yes. I’d forgotten Moira would be there. Well, change of plans. Moira, Conn, would you please excuse us?”
Surprise and unease battled for dominance inside Moira. Change of plans? She eyed her mother, whose expression had smoothed to diplomatic lines. “As an enforcer, surely you don’t want me to leave two members of our council with a demon.”
Viv cleared her throat. “Yes, well. The council has known Nikolaj Veis for a significant amount of time. We are confident in his assurance of safety today.”
“But you’re going to talk about Russia ...” There was no way a demon knew of the mines the witches had destroyed so many years ago. Or of the mineral buried in the land that could annihilate a witch.
The harsh lines in Viv’s face guaranteed someone had discovered the mines and found a way to the mineral, even after the witches had demolished the region, basically burying the mines.
Who was this guy everyone seemed to know so well?
Trevan cleared his throat. “Maybe the enforcer should stay. I mean, the Seventh.”
Simone cut him a glare. “We’ll be fine.” Taking a deep breath, she nodded at Moira. “Trust me. We’re in no danger.” She lifted her head, eyes focusing on the ceiling. Her features wrinkled in puzzlement. “Oh no. That’s unfortunate.” She turned to face Moira fully. “Do you feel that?”
Sharp nails pricked under Moira’s skin. Damn it all to hell. “Yes.” Somewhere near, a witch had just screwed up. Air turned to sandpaper along her arms, scraping and demanding. She eyed Conn. “We need to go.” Even if the council hadn’t ordered that very thing, she needed to go—though she would’ve left Conn to guard Simone.
Simone rubbed her arms. “Do you need backup, Moira?”
Moira started in surprise. While Simone wasn’t an enforcer, she’d probably gained some skills during her long life. The offer though, was unexpected. “No. I appreciate the thought, but Conn should suffice.”
Her mate growled, his focus still on the demon.
Moira rolled her eyes. Maybe suffice was a bit of an understatement.
Her boots echoing on the thick tiles, Moira walked toward Conn and grabbed his arm. That close to the demon, a tingle set up along the center of her brain. Just a mild zap. But enough to show serious power—a force being ruthlessly contained.
Nick stepped back.
Moira lifted an eyebrow, tugging Conn out of the penthouse.
The demon strode inside and shut the door.
Conn rubbed his chin. “I don’t like this.” A scowl turned down his mouth. “Why the hell is the skin on my arms screaming?”
They were in sync.
Moira pulled him down the walkway. “We have a problem.”
“Another one?”
Chapter 12
 
A
n unnatural silence settled over the Port of New York, devoid of wind or churn of sea. Cargo containers rusted in regimented order. Moira rested her hand against chinked steel. “We’re close.”
Conn cracked his neck. “I left you in silence the entire drive here so you could meditate. Now you tell me what’s going on.”
She needed Kell or Daire for backup, that’s what was going on. This was her first solo mission as an enforcer, and if the magic sparking through the air provided any indication, she might be out of her league.
“I appreciate the time to meditate.” She needed more time. “Basically, there’s someone here abusing magic.” A whole potful of it.
Conn frowned. “That explains the inactivity on the docks. Why does my skin burn?”
“Because my powers are yours.” She shoved back curls from her face. “When someone manipulates subatomic particles to a dramatic degree, the atmosphere changes enough that those of us with the correct genes can feel it like a magnet’s pull.”
“How do you know they’re abusing magic?”
She shrugged. “Sometimes they’re not. But to this degree, on the docks of New York, without any prior warning? They don’t want us to know something.”
“My backup is at least an hour away. How soon did Daire say he could get here?”
Moira drew in a deep breath. “Fifteen minutes. We can wait.”
Conn nodded, then lifted his head like a lion catching a scent. He gave a low growl—then a snarl. “We’re dealing with more than witches.”
An irritant pricked the back of her neck—awareness of a sort. “Kurjans.” A witch was working with the Kurjans? So much for waiting for Daire.
“Yes. I sense at least three.” Conn leaned closer. “You up to another fight?”
He truly had no idea. “Yes.”
Conn reached for his gun at the back of his waist. “Why is a witch messing around on the docks, Moira?”
Unease kept her still. “Ah, I don’t know.”
Irritation swirled through his dark eyes. “Let’s look at this rationally, shall we?”
“I’d rather not.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Something mined in Russia has the enforcers scrambling. And a witch is abusing magic at the
Port of New York.
Now, I’m no Kane Kayrs, but I have to wonder ... is this witch awaiting a cargo container with something from Russia, maybe shipped from Northern Europe?”
The vamp had a brain. “Quite possibly.”
“What’s in it?”
“I’m not sure.” The lie rolled off her tongue. “We harvest many minerals to use with the elements and practice witchcraft.”
“Bullshit.” Conn glanced behind him. “The Kurjans are moving in fast.”
“Do you think they sense you, too?”
“Probably.” He glanced up the twenty-five feet of stacked cargo containers. “They’re heading for the dock. Is that where your witch is working?”
“Yes.” Working seemed an apt description. “There’s a blanket shield over this part of the port.” Moira raised her palms to the sky. “Let’s put a dent in it, shall we? Get the witch focused on protecting the shield for now.” She rearranged oxygen molecules to electricity, shooting up toward the shield.
A pop sounded, and the pounding of the sea became clear. Lightning flashed. Rain began to batter their heads. The witch at the dock held enough power to keep a storm away from the area.
Moira needed help.
Conn placed both hands on the lowest container. “Jump on my back and we’ll climb to the top to surprise the Kurjans.”
Moira leaped onto his back, tucking her head into his neck and her legs around his hips. Air rushed through her hair. A whisper of thought later, she stood on the top of the three containers. “Vampire speed is so cool.”
“They’re coming from the north.” Gone was her mate. A warrior, all business, all purpose stood in his place. Hard lines cut into the sharp angles of his face, his eyes a dangerous emerald. He grabbed her hand, stalking gracefully across the container to the far edge. “There’s your witch.”
Salt from the sea coated Moira’s face. She peered over the edge to see a woman with long red hair standing next to a twenty-something man with a goatee. Both were witches, but the woman had the power. They waited at the edge of an open berth next to a rumbling semitruck.
Moira squinted her eyes at the dark ocean. Far in the distance a light flickered. “There’s the ship.”
The witch below swirled her head around, obviously looking for the threat.
Moira smiled. “She knows we’re here.” Smashing a hole in the shield had been a decent calling card.
Conn stiffened, then pointed to three shadows moving rapidly. “The Kurjans are closing in on the witch.” He rubbed his chin. “Either they’re too focused to sense a vampire, or they’re assuming we’re with the witch. Maybe we should wait a minute and see what happens.”
The witch below was going to pay. But Moira couldn’t allow the Kurjans to take her.
Just then, the witch pivoted, her gaze slamming up. Flashing an angry smile, she formed a green plasma ball.
“Get down,” Moira hissed, yanking Conn flat. The ball impacted the side of the top container. Sparks rained into the air and metal scraped against metal as it skidded across the lower container. Halting, the massive load teetered precariously on the edge. Gravity was about to win.
“Damn it.” Conn grabbed her, throwing them backwards into the air to flip several times before landing on his feet, yards from the witch. Solid ground. The massive container behind them smashed into the ground with a loud
boom!
He shoved Moira behind him just as the redheaded witch threw another plasma ball.
Moira pushed him to the side. The ball smashed into a crane, sending the metal beast sliding several feet along the wet pavement. High pitched, the screech tortured her eardrums. She swirled air into a ball, throwing it as another glowing weapon was volleyed in their direction. Moira’s ball sizzled, then captured the green glow. The energy spit like water being poured over fire. Steam rose and both energies puffed out.
The Kurjans leaped into the clearing, purple gazes taking in the scene.
For a moment, no one moved. Time stopped. Moira panted and blinked the rain out of her eyes. The three groups eyed each other, angled like points of a triangle. Thunder bellowed from over the sea. Lightning flashed in response.
She centered herself. “I’ll take the witches.” A tiny part of her didn’t want Conn to see her in action. The man would want to jump in. She could handle herself. And if the big men in her life didn’t stop trying to shield her, she’d never have any authority—on the council or as an enforcer.
She widened her stance. “By the power of the Coven Nine, you’re found guilty of violating Canon 34a and are sentenced accordingly.”
The female witch smiled. “My name is Gena McMurphy.” A light smattering of greenish electricity began to dance across her arms.
“So?” Moira glanced at the younger male witch. He’d gone pale. Scattered freckles stood out in disarray across his pasty skin. His gaze swiveled between Moira and his friend.
“So, I thought you should know the name of the witch about to harness your power, Seventh.” Gena jerked her head at the Kurjans. “We should let the vampire and Kurjans take care of each other.”
“Of course.” So the witch had heard of Moira. Being the Seventh made her almost royalty.
Lighting zigzagged from high above.
The Kurjan sporting the most medals on his shoulder cleared his throat. “We’re just here for the witch.” His smile flashed sharp yellow canines. “But we’ll take two for the price of one.”
Thunder ripped across the sky.
Conn exhaled slowly. Time to even the odds. Why the hell did everyone feel the need to chat? In a rush of speed, he grabbed his gun from his waist and shot the closest Kurjan in the neck. The guy went down.
The second Kurjan bunched and leaped in a fierce tackle before Conn could get off another shot. They hit the pavement with a boom as loud as the thunder, leaving a vampire-sized dent in the asphalt. Pain cascaded across his shoulders. His gun skidded out of reach. Levering his legs around the Kurjan, Conn swung and reversed their positions. Grabbing his knife from an ankle holster, he cut off the guy’s head in one clean slice.
The remaining Kurjan leaped onto Conn’s back, knife aimed for the jugular. The guy weighed a ton. Fury rumbled through Conn’s chest. He grabbed the soldier’s hand, fighting to keep the blade from piercing his skin. From the corner of his eye, he could see Moira battling Gena. Hand to hand. Gena had some moves, but Moira had speed and agility. The male witch angled around behind Moira.
Conn threw an elbow back, connecting with cartilage. Blood spurted, burning his cheek. The Kurjan growled, sinking a fang into Conn’s earlobe and yanking.
Pain slashed through his head. The asshole had bitten his earlobe off. Conn snarled, throwing the Kurjan off and jumping to his feet. “You prick.” He ignored the blood washing down his neck as he circled the soldier.
Red stained the monster’s incisors when he smiled. “I came for a witch and killed a Kayrs. A good day, I think.”
Did the Kurjans pass pictures of Conn’s family around for fun? How the hell did these guys always identify him? Rain splattered against his face, cooling the blood. “You’ll be just another random kill for me. A typical Tuesday, if you will.”
The Kurjan charged. Conn grabbed the soldier by the ribs, allowing the momentum to throw them back. Landing hard, he swept his arm out, grabbing his gun. The monster’s eyes widened just as Conn swung back and shot him in the ear. “Yeah. Payback’s a bitch.” He rolled the unconscious enemy off.
Flipping to his feet, he whirled in time to see the male witch grab Moira from behind. The female witch shot forward, slamming her hand against Moira’s chest. His mate shrieked. Her entire body went rigid. Rage beat through him harder than the pounding rain. Two strides had him across the asphalt and grabbing the male witch in a headlock. The jerk struggled, then slowly gave in as Conn increased his hold.
“Thanks,” Moira muttered as she hit Gena’s hand away.
“You got this?” Conn asked.
“Yep.”
A groan sounded from behind him. The Kurjan he’d shot was gaining consciousness. “Good. I have two down but not completely.” Dragging the male witch, Conn angled his knife and decapitated first one and then the other still breathing Kurjans.
Then he turned to watch his mate.
Moira moved faster than a whisper, leaping forward and taking Gena to the ground. Gena howled in protest. The male witch trembled against him.
The tackled woman fought back, throwing punches. Moira batted the fists out of the way. Then her jaw tightened, and she thrust her palm against the witch’s chest.
Conn had taken hearts that way but doubted Moira had the strength to get past the rib cage. The man in his grasp went limp, giving up any pretense of fight.
The witch on the ground shrieked, both hands grabbing Moira’s arm. Her eyes went wide in panic. His mate held tight, throwing her head back, closing her eyes. Oxygen popped around them like balloons too full of air. A green glow traveled from the downed witch, up Moira’s arms to her chest. Then it disappeared. Inside her?
The wind swept the area, scattering pebbles and the scent of burnt wire. Green mist smoked along the witch’s skin, dying out with a whisper. The witch struggled, her body convulsing, then stilling. Her head dropped back to the ground and she went limp.
Moira stood. Green energy flitted along her skin, slowly shifting to electric blue. She turned toward Conn, her eyes deep and fathomless. Jesus. Two steps closer and she placed her hand against the skinny guy’s chest. He cried out, his body shuddering. Seconds later, his body sagged and Conn let him fall.
He eyed his mate. “You took their power.”
She nodded, shoving curls off her face, sucking in air. Her chest panted with the effort. The line of her neck throbbed. “Yes. Absorbed it.” For a witch, losing powers was worse than death.
“Could she have taken yours?”
Moira gave a tired smile, her small body still vibrating. “Maybe.” She eyed the young man on the ground. “He’ll have at least a century to learn from this mistake. Hopefully he won’t make it again.”
Conn surveyed the two unconscious witches. “The power can develop again? Someday?”
“Yes.”
Conn reached out and grabbed Moira’s hand, needing to feel her. Static electricity raced up his arm. “Are you all right?” Taking someone else’s power had to hurt, at least a little. Yet another gift the witches had failed to share with the world. Though Moira’s ability to fight and adapt impressed him once again.
“Yes.” She leaned into him. “Sometimes I need to work off the energy.” The words came in short gasps. “Too much power can burn.” Her eyelashes fluttered against her skin. Then she was out.

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