I'll Be Slaying You(18)

But he didn’t flinch. Didn’t fall to his knees. Didn’t stumble. Just stared at her, and smiled. “You’ll wish I killed you, before it’s over.”

She still had more bullets. This time, Dee aimed for the head. “Promises, promises.” Her finger tightened around the trigger—and they attacked.

Five, no, six vamps jumped from the darkness, teeth and claws out and ready to kill. Dee didn’t waste breath on a scream. She fired, fired until the trigger just clicked. They took her down and her body hit the ground, hard. But, twisting like a snake beneath the fists and bodies, she managed to grab her stake—new weapon, new fight. Dee swiped out at them, too aware that she’d made a fatal mistake and walked right into their trap.

You’re dead, Dee. Sunshine’s voice rang in her head. No one will mourn. No one will even miss you when you’re rotting in the ground.



Simon had just walked into Onyx when he heard the distinct thunder of gunfire. Hell.

His gaze scanned the big room. Dee, be here.

A curvy redhead walked by him, a wide smile on her lips. “Hi there, handsome, I’m—”

“Not interested.” He brushed by her and cut a quick path to the bar. He slammed his hands down on the counter. “I’m looking for a woman.”

The bartender didn’t glance up. “Try looking behind you.”

Growling, Simon leaned over the counter and grabbed the idiot’s shirt. Whiskey spilled over his hand. “You remember the woman I was with last night.” Not a question.

The guy’s eyes bulged. “You kidding me? Do you know how many chicks come in here every night? No way do I—”

“Small. Blond hair she’d hacked to pieces. Tight ass and lips that—”

“Her.”

“Where is she?”

The bartender pointed one hand to the left. Exit.

Simon thrust him back. He spun around—

And came face to face with a demon.

Not just any demon. Her demon. Another Night Watch hunter. Zane Wynter. The guy looked like a human, but Simon knew he was far more monster than man. Simon snarled, “You’re supposed to be watching her ass.”

“Thought that was what you were doing last night.”

The music had kicked up. The band blasted some screaming shit and—was that another shot? “Out of my way,” Simon ordered.

The demon didn’t move. Fine.

Simon shoved the bastard back, a good three feet, and ran for the exit even as the demon shattered a table before he hit the floor.

A kick sent the door flying open. “Dee!” He could smell her, that wild scent drifting in the air.

Simon rushed forward and saw the gun tossed on the ground. Her gun. “Dee!”

But he couldn’t see his little hunter.

Gone.

Maybe dead.

Sonofabitch.

Growling, he took off into the night, following the scent of the blood trail as fast as he could. Dee had made her attackers bleed and that sweet scent would take him right to her.

If he could get there in time.



The wail of sirens woke her. A loud, hard scream she’d heard too many times before. Dee fought to open her eyes. A groan tore from her lips as pain wracked her body.

Vampires.

The breath she’d tried to suck in now choked out as realization crashed into her.

Had she taken them down? Or had they Taken her?

Please, no.

The stench hit her then. The coppery odor she’d first caught long ago and had never forgotten. Couldn’t.

No, not again.

Her lashes fluttered open. She squinted, trying to see. But it was so dark. Pitch black.

She shoved up and a blast of agony burned through her head at the move. Shit that hurt. Her hands slapped down as she struggled for balance, and something sticky and wet coated her fingertips.

No.

The scent hit her again, stronger now that she was aware, striking like a hard punch in the face. Bile rose and she choked, scared, sick.

Not again.

She scrambled back, but hit something. Something soft and still.

Her eyes narrowed as she strained to see but the darkness was too perfect. Her hands fumbled, reaching out.

Flesh.

An arm. Cold to the touch.

A hip.

Stomach.

Then—oh, God, no—

A loud boom blasted to her right and light exploded on her as—what? A door?—flew open.

“Dee!”

Her head jerked at the sound and the move sent fire burning through the base of her skull.

“Oh, damn, what the hell happened?”

That voice…Simon.

A crack of light shot in behind him, illuminating the sparse interior of her hell. She glanced away from him, following the horror in his eyes to see the body.

High-end clothes, soaked red. Long, tangled black hair covered half of the woman’s face. A face she knew. Little Miss Sunshine lay dead beneath her hands. Not a pretty death. Too brutal.