By small degrees her vision cleared and the road came back into focus. Two repos in one night—almost unheard of—especially so close to each other. She’d popped the first mapinguari in a back alley not far from here. Maybe two or three miles.
Alarms sounded in her brain, caution flags flying high. The possibility for disaster imminent. But the power seeking her out was too great to ignore. No way could she turn her back. Not because she had any great sense of responsibility. But because if she ignored it, an innocent might be hurt. And no matter how divided her loyalty to her pod had been lately, she couldn’t allow another demon to be born of malicious magic tonight.
As soon as she was sure the cops couldn’t see her, Naya flipped the car around in the middle of the four-lane road. Right in front of a no U-turn sign. Heh. She retraced her route for a block and when her vision began to blur again she knew she was close. Pulling into an empty parking lot, she killed the engine and gripped the steering wheel while she took a few more deep breaths and centered her own energy. No use going out half-cocked. Trouble was, no matter how she focused, the meditation didn’t bring her an ounce of calm. She slipped out of the car, stumbling in the parking lot as she felt her way to the hatchback. As she pulled the latch, the door silently glided up and another wave of crippling sound caused her muscles to lock up. If she didn’t get to the abuser soon, the magic could level the entire block. Unchecked power had a way of backfiring in the wrong hands. Or causing a shit-ton of chaos in the right ones. Either way, it was a lose-lose situation.
She shook off the paralyzing effects of the magic’s influence and dug through the case she kept stashed in the cargo area. No way could she have hauled all of her gear in a little coupe. The case was more like a shallow trunk, with drawers and removable trays. At the very bottom of her arsenal, Naya found the ammo she’d been looking for. Though she wasn’t opposed to using real bullets when the situation called for it, the SIG had been modified to shoot rubber slugs. Great for stoppage. She didn’t shoot to kill, especially if she didn’t have a clean shot. That’s what the dagger was for.
The blade pre-dated history. Glowing citrine bright and ever sharp, it disappeared into an obsidian handle wrapped in old, oiled leather. Like an extension of her arm, the dagger was precisely balanced as if forged specifically for her height, weight, body construction. And when she held it in her hand, Naya felt a surge of power that nearly knocked her off her feet. It was a killing weapon, a ceremonial tool, and the only thing that could extract the magic from the heart of the thief. Magic was a fickle bitch, and if you didn’t follow every rule to the letter, well, you might as well kiss your ass good-bye.
She tucked the SIG into her waistband and held the dagger with a death grip. The target wasn’t far off. She sensed a wave of power from the far side of the parking lot toward the rear of the abandoned retail space. A row of floodlights had burned out, no doubt from the surge of magical energy. Perfect for a sneak attack. Not so great for the thief.
Water pooled in the uneven asphalt and soaked through her Nikes and the hems of her jeans. But she didn’t have time to worry about her soggy socks or the fact that she’d left her umbrella in the car. The notes drifting from the source of power pulled at her heart, no longer corrupt but almost pure. Why? How? She could think of nothing else, the melody urging her forward like a trail of bread crumbs. Looked like she wasn’t going to dodge the elders tonight. They’d see her at the banishing after all, perhaps with one more gold box to add to their collection.
Rainfall masked Naya’s approach in this asphalt and metal jungle. Her prey had no idea a hunter lurked in the shadows. Just the way she liked it. A surprise attack was so much more efficient than a mad rush. If the thief had already surrendered his humanity for magic, there was no question in her mind as to what had to be done. This would be a quick kill. A clean kill.
Disable. Disarm. Her instincts flared as she crept closer to the source of power. A steady beat, trilling, then deep, sang in the well of her soul, awakening her own seat of power that coursed through her veins like quicksilver. She’d never heard anything so … right. How could the music be so corrupt one minute and speak so strongly to her soul the next? Pulse racing, heart pounding, her body kept pace with the sound of the magic that increased in volume and tempo until it threatened to crash over her in a crescendo of raw energy.
Her prey was in sight.
As he leaned against a lamppost, his tawny hair fell gently across his brow, dripping with a steady stream of water. He was huge, with cords of bulky muscle that flexed with each shuddering breath he took. He ripped at his shirt, tearing the fabric from his body, and a feral growl echoed above the rush of rain. He kept his head bowed low over his upturned hands as shallow breaths caused his powerful shoulders to heave.