Eve of Destruction

The Mare reached the end of the downtown section of Pacific and rounded the corner, heading into a somewhat quieter area of town. The foot traffic began to subside and the businesses changed from high-end and trendy establishments to smaller, less affluent merchants. As the energy of the surrounding venue changed, a new atmosphere descended, swirling around Alec like an evening mist—damp and chilling. He hadn’t sensed it on the other side of town, but here it was prevalent.

Something wicked this way dwells.

Alec shot an accusing glance heavenward. It wasn’t a coincidence that he had exited the highway at this particular destination.

He watched the Mare turn into the delivery bay of a hotel. Unlike the serviceable but amenity-less lodging he was staying in, this was a full-service establishment with a dozen stories worth of rooms. He noted the gargoyles rimming the roof of the building and a grim smile curved his mouth. Ever since he and Eve had investigated a group of tengu demons masquerading as grotesques, he knew to be on his guard. As long as Infernals had a way to mask their scent and details, everything was suspect.

Increasing his gait to a lope, Alec reached the mouth of the alleyway. Beneath the smell of motor oil and rotting garbage in Dumpsters was the stench of Infernals. More than one. Rolling his shoulders, Alec limbered up for the battle ahead. The demons were desperate and frightened; he could smell their disquiet. That made them more dangerous. When you had nothing to lose, there was no reason to hold back for safety’s sake. He knew that from centuries of personal experience.

Alec walked into danger without preamble or stealth. There was no point. They smelled him coming.

There were a half dozen of them, four men and two women, one of whom was the Mare. They were a ragtag bunch, their clothes and hairstyles as varied as the downtown crowds. They faced him as a unit, arranged in a half-moon formation. And they all looked emaciated.

Their weakened states evened the odds considerably, but deepened the mystery.

“Are you hunting Giselle?” the other girl asked.

It was a reasonable question. If the Mare was an assigned target, nothing could save her. But if his pursuit was due to any other reason, they might be able to bargain her out of trouble.

“No.” Alec stepped forward. “I just didn’t want to miss the party.”

“Leave her in peace,” one of the men rumbled. He held a fat cigar between lips hidden by an unkempt beard. A kapre. He was a long way from his native home in the Philippines. The protective stance he adopted in front of the second girl—whose Baphomet amulet betrayed her as a witch—offered a possible reason why. Kapres followed their loves for the entirety of their lives.

“Make me,” Alec said.

“We’re no threat to you.” But the kapre’s voice lacked conviction and his eyes shifted nervously.

None of the Infernals would look Alec in the eye.

A frisson of warning skated down his spine. His Mark senses burst into full acuity in a brutal rush of power. Giselle’s gaze darted to a spot just over his left shoulder.

Confirmation of the impending ambush came with the whistle of a blade. Alec dropped to a crouch. As the katana sliced through the space where his neck had been a split second before, the kiss of a breeze told him how close he’d been to decapitation.

Twisting at the waist, Alec lunged at his attacker. His shoulder rammed into the Infernal’s diaphragm. They hit the ground with jarring force, Alec on top, the winded demon pinned beneath him.

In the blink of an eye, Alec noted the demon’s mask and head-to-toe black attire. He registered his assailant’s small stature, then the pillow of breasts against his chest.

A female.

For Alec, fatal battles were as familiar as sex and just as fluid. He was a creature of instinct and homicidal precision. He didn’t plan or panic, he didn’t flinch or hesitate. When his life was in danger, he didn’t think twice. And he loved the hunt. Every minute of it. Predation created a high that couldn’t be replicated. Only another hunter would understand the allure. The hunger. The dark need that was both savage and seductive.

Alec drew back his fist and swung. Two rapid blows to her covered face. The crush of bone echoed in the semienclosed loading bay, as did the clattering of her sword to the ground.

The Infernal grappled to regain her weapon. Her fingernails pierced through her gloves, shredding the skin on the back of his hands. She tried to knee him in the balls, but he shifted, absorbing the blow with his thigh. She lost necessary purchase with the miss, he took the advantage.

He wrestled the hilt free, then bit out, “It’s been fun.”

Aiming at the tender spot between throat and arm, Alec thrust the length of the two-foot blade diagonally into the demon’s body, bisecting her chest cavity from left shoulder to right hip. His aim was perfect, nicking the heart. Instantly she exploded into a pile of sulfuric dust, and Alec dropped to the ground, prone. He rolled to his back, then jumped to his feet, brandishing his new weapon with affected insouciance. The fact that none of the other Infernals had tried to join the fray while he was distracted was puzzling. Demons played dirty, always.

The witch standing beside Giselle crumpled to the ground, her multiplicity spell broken by the death of her warrior half. A moment later, she burst into ash, unable to survive without the part of herself Alec had killed.

The kapre bellowed in agony. It turned and leaped to the brick wall that enclosed the end of the bay. Punching through the facade with fingers and toes, he crawled halfway up the building. Then he threw himself from the sixth floor and hit the oil-stained cement in an explosion of ash.

“What the fuck?” Alec was stunned.

In centuries of hunting, he’d witnessed only a handful of suicides. Infernals would rather go down fighting. It was the best way to ensure Sammael didn’t hold their demise against them . . . too much.

But he quickly shook off his astonishment in favor of saving his own ass and getting what he needed from the remaining demons—blood and information.

“So . . .” The word was drawled, the mark regulating his breathing and heartbeat so that they remained as steady as a ticking clock. He brushed at the ash on his shirt and jeans with the back of his free hand. “Did you draw straws? Or should I just pick one of you to vanquish next?”

Someone was going to answer his questions and someone was going to give him some blood. The only question was: which one?

The male on the far right volunteered. With a roar that drowned out the sounds of the city around them, he leaped forward and bared his fangs. A vampyre.

“I just had a smoothie,” Alec said. “I should be extra sweet . . . if you can manage to get a bite.”

The demon withdrew a stake from the small of his back. Alec beckoned him closer with a wriggle of two fingers and a cocky smile.

“Servo vestri ex ruina!” the Infernal snarled.

Alec raised his sword. “Dei gratia.”

The vamp thrust his weapon deep into his own chest and exploded into dust.

Another Infernal pounced from the depths of the ashy haze that filled the air. The third male. This one tilted his leonine head back and howled at the moon. A werewolf.

“It’s my lucky night,” Alec muttered. “I got a mixed bag of nuts.”

The wolf was short and stocky. His barrel chest and thick forearms and thighs warned Alec that this particular tussle was going to take some effort.

Or it would have, if the wolf hadn’t put a gun to his temple and blown his brains out.

“Holy fucking shit.”

If Alec hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he wouldn’t have believed it. As the report of the shot reverberated around him, he wondered if his smoothie had been spiked. In his reality, mass suicides among Infernals were unheard of.

When the ash from the third Infernal took too long to clear, he widened his stance and adjusted his grip on his blade, prepared for a charge. But nothing rushed at him from the depths of the churning cloud. It only grew bigger, more opaque, as if being continuously fed.

Were the others checking out, too?

Alec’s gut knotted. The order of his existence—so damn repetitive he had begun to think he was living his life on a loop—had been thrown completely out of whack since Eve had been marked.

As the floating debris in the compact delivery area finally began to dissipate, his suspicions were confirmed. There was nothing left of the Infernals. No one remained to explain what the hell was going on.

Disturbed and disgusted by the waste, Alec tossed the katana into one of the Dumpsters and exited back out to the street. Every step he took away from the scene was heavy with reluctance. Leaving empty-handed went against his very nature, but what choice did he have? Without an Infernal to pursue, he had no leads to follow.

Raguel, he called out.

Yes? The archangel’s voice was as resonant in thought as it was in reality.

You need to send a team of Marks to Santa Cruz. In explanation, Alec relived his recent memories through his connection to Raguel.

There was a moment’s stillness, then, Call me.

What? Why?

A jolt caused Alec to stumble mid-stride, followed by the silence of a severed communication.

Raguel?

He reached into his rear pocket for his cell phone, cursing when he realized it was still in his backpack in the trunk of Eve’s car. He had tossed it there before they left Gadara Tower, figuring that the only person he was interested in talking to would be sitting right next to him. Now he’d have to wait until he reached his room to call Raguel, a delay that was too lengthy. What game was the archangel playing? Raguel needed to send a team of Marks out here immediately. Someone had to figure out what the hell was going on, and it couldn’t be Alec because he had places to go and a wolf to kill.

Two blocks away from his hotel, Alec knew he was being tracked. He veered off the sidewalk and entered a convenience store. Skirting his way past the public restrooms, he ducked into the employees-only area. Within moments, he was exiting out the rear service door and rounding the building to catch his shadow unaware.

But it was he who was caught by surprise.

She hid in an unlit corner of the lot, her shoulders hunched forward and her Nordic appearance hidden under the glamour of a dark-haired Latina beauty. The red dress, however, was unmistakable. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">