But Catalina’s spell held, and though smoke curled lightly from the shattered windows, no humans were near the bar. If a human came by and glanced at Delaney’s, they’d see no damage. No wreckage. Not while the spell was in place.
But Simon saw it all.
Catalina stood in front of the broken doors, her shoulders slumped, her clothes stained with soot.
The demon wasn’t near her. He’d positioned himself next to a parked truck. A beat-up, older, gray pickup. When he caught sight of them, his head jerked. “You get the bastard?”
“He’s dead.” Not by his hand. Tore. Who would have thought that vamp would come calling? Simon had known he was looking at the Viking, even before Tore had opened his mouth and started talking about Grim.
The guy’s reputation definitely proceeded him.
He jerked his thumb toward the truck. Even with the tinted windows, he could see the slumped figure of the woman. “She still out?”
“Yeah, Dee hits hard.”
Dee grunted at that. “When someone is trying to fry me, I do.” She stalked toward the bar. “Catalina?”
The witch didn’t turn.
Dee touched her shoulder. She flinched. “Catalina, I-I need your help.”
Finally, the woman turned. Her face had bleached of color, and her lips quivered when she asked, “Do I get to kill her?”
From the corner of his eye, Simon saw the sudden stiffness of Zane’s body. “Cat…”
“She would have killed me.”
“No.” Dee’s hand fell away. “She was looking for me. This wasn’t a hunt, Cat. She wasn’t here to bind or destroy you.”
A hunt. Simon’s brows rose. Witch hunts were supposed to be nightmares from the past. Burning and screaming and hell.
From the past.
Then why did they keep happening so often in the present?
“Doesn’t matter why.” Catalina’s chin lifted. “She would have burned us all.”
Simon remembered the tears he’d seen streaking down the woman’s cheeks. And she was right. The fire could have destroyed the building in one fast fury. But, lucky for them, they’d all had time to leave before the fire burned their flesh away.
With an Ignitor, they could have been destroyed in seconds. An Ignitor always had perfect control over the fire.
The woman had hesitated with her flames. Why? Slowly, he said, “I think there’s more going on here than we know.” Tell the Ignitor they’re dead. His gut knotted. Couldn’t be good. “Let her talk. Let’s find out what she knows.”
“I want her dead.” Fury and fear talking from Cat.
He knew ’em both when he heard ’em.
“Stand down, Cat. Stand. Down.” A demand from Zane. One that came just as—
The Ignitor blew out the back window of the truck. She hurled herself through the flames, crashed into the cement. Stumbled, but managed to get to her feet.
Zane took her down. Hard. “And don’t even think of burning me because, baby, I control the—”
“They’re dead,” Simon said, the words ripping from him. Probably the wrong time. Should have used some tact, but the witch was looking twitchy and with her magic—no way could they take chances. They needed someone left alive to question, and he didn’t want to lose another link to Grim.
“Simon!” Dee’s soft and shocked voice.
The Ignitor stopped thrashing beneath the demon. “Wh-what did you say?”
“They’re dead.” Who was he talking about? Didn’t know. Had to be someone close to her. “A vamp told us.”
A sob broke from her. Not one of those soft sniffles that some women could do, but a hard, chest-shaking eruption of agony. Pain.
Her face reddened and the tears leaked from her eyes. She tried to curl into herself, but Zane held her fast. “What the hell?”
Then Dee was there. Staring down at the other woman with recognition. Understanding. One who’d been there, and seen the darkness. “Her family. It’s…Christ. They’re gone.” She swallowed. “I-I cried like that, too. Zane, l-let her go.”
He stared down at the woman, the struggle on his face.
“She won’t hurt us,” Dee said.
The woman’s breath gasped out. She shuddered and cried as if the world were ending.
For her, maybe it was.
Simon’s hands clenched. What if the vampire was wrong? Lying wouldn’t be something new for his kind.
For any kind.
How many times had he lied? Tricked? To further his own plans—too many times to count. “We haven’t seen the bodies,” Simon said. The words slipped out, an effort to comfort. That agony—no, he couldn’t see it. Couldn’t hear it. Because when he looked at her, he saw Dee’s hell too easily.
And remembered his own.
No, Mom! Mom! Dad! So much blood.
Her watery eyes turned to him. Hope, faint, flickering, shined through the pain.
He locked his jaw and Simon gritted, “A Born vampire named Tore wanted us to deliver a message to you. He’s the one who said they were dead. We have no proof and—”
“Wh-what about Greg?”
Greg? “The vampire who brought you here to kill us?”
Zane’s hands were tight around her wrists. Too tight. When the demon suddenly freed her, Simon saw the red imprints on her flesh. Zane swore when he caught sight of the marks.
“Y-yes, h-he’s the one—” She pushed herself up.
“Greg’s dead.” Dee put her hands on her hips. “Very dead.”
Hope again, brighter this time. “Then there might be a-a chance. I-if we can get to the house before anyone else ch-checks in, I can get them out—”
They’re dead.
Simon shook his head. False hope, that’s all he’d given her. Freaking false—
“The vampires drained the man first. The one with streaks of silver in his hair.” Catalina’s voice. Calm and cool. Simon’s gaze found her huddled on the ground, leaning over a thick shard of broken glass.
Her eyes were fixed on that glass. No, on what she could see in the glass.
Scrying. A witch’s talent.
The human’s heartbeat raced in his ears. Pounding, fast, too fast. Dangerous that.
“They held the woman, made her watch. Then it was her turn.” Catalina picked up the glass and blood dripped from her fingertips when the sharp edges cut her. “Death waits in that house near the water. Only death.”
The Ignitor didn’t cry out again. The tears came silently, long, pouring streams, and Dee snarled.