Wicked Bite (Night Rebel #2)(5)

Maybe that’s why she’d been spotted running into this dismal part of the desert. It was a wasteland now, but a few millennia ago, it had been part of a prosperous city, and when people were frightened, they tended to run home.

I sat back with a frustrated sigh. Had Dagon murdered her because she was one of the newly resurrected people who had been freed when the souls Dagon hoarded inside himself had been released? Dagon was spiteful, but there was one thing demons valued even more than payback: power.

I traced the markings again. A lot of power had been siphoned from this woman with her gruesome death. From the look and scent of her body, I’d only missed saving her by hours. Earlier this evening, Dagon might have been right where I now knelt, weakened, unsuspecting and oh-so killable, if I’d only been a little faster getting here . . .

But Dagon had gotten away. The other demons with him almost had, too. If I hadn’t had a birds-eye view of the Jeep while flying over the desert tonight, I never would have found her, and I’d been tasked with finding all of the newly resurrected souls . . . except the one I most wanted.

Pain rolled through me, familiar and relentless. It burned until I looked at the slain woman with the darkest kind of envy. She was out of reach of the pain I couldn’t escape from. It made me actually glad I was now as mortal as any other vampire. It meant this awful ache would end when a lucky stab through my heart with silver finally killed me.

But before that day came, I had a vow to fulfill.

I hadn’t been able to save this woman, but I wouldn’t leave her where she’d been murdered. I picked her up and flew her out of the tomb. Then I dug a new grave using my hands since I’d brought weapons with me, not a shovel. Still, with the soft sand and my supernatural strength, it didn’t take long.

Once she was properly buried, I said a prayer asking the gods to show her mercy. Then I stared at her makeshift grave, that aching part of me wondering if I’d soon be like her: dead and rotting in an unmarked grave somewhere.

If so, I hoped my last thoughts were of Ian. I wanted to remember his cocky grin, his quick wit, his bone-deep loyalty and his ferocious courage. Most of all, I wanted to relive what I’d felt when I was in his arms. I’d never before felt so completely exposed yet wholly accepted. Cherished. Maybe even loved, if we’d had more time . . .

With a hard swipe, I dashed away the tears that snuck down my cheeks. I couldn’t let myself dwell on Ian. If I did, I’d run back to him no matter that my presence would draw all the demons after me right to his side. I’d already gotten Ian killed once. I wouldn’t let that happen again.

Yes, I might end up dead and in an unmarked grave before this was over, but there were benefits to being over four-and-a-half-thousand years old. If I didn’t explode the way I normally did when I was killed, I was still so old that my body would probably turn straight to dust. No rotting in a grave for me.

As the modern saying went, I just had to look on the bright side.





Chapter 2


I spent the night in the desert on the off chance that Dagon might come back to the tomb. He couldn’t teleport anymore. My father, the former Warden of the Gateway to the Netherworld, had removed that ability from him, so Dagon would have to walk up or drive up like everyone else.

He did neither. In the end, I drove the Jeep far away from the tomb and left an anonymous call about it to the Egyptian Ministry of Antiquities. They’d make sure the relics were properly cared for. Dawn ensured that no demons would be around since they couldn’t tolerate the sun, and I went back to my hotel.

I opened my door and was immediately mobbed by a flying gray bundle. I caught Silver, hugging the Simargl to my chest. He made happy yipping sounds despite being a supernatural creation instead of a canine. Still, Silver resembled a gray Samoyed, if you didn’t look close enough to realize he was covered in downy feathers instead of fur. And, of course, there was the very un-doglike aspect of his wings.

“I missed you, too,” I told Silver, giving him another hug before setting him on the floor. Silver looked expectantly behind me at the closed door, his wings wiggling with hope.

“No,” I told him, fighting the new crack in my voice. Seeing Silver still waiting for Ian to come through the door was another kick to my heart.

“No,” I said again, more firmly this time. Silver’s wings drooped as he walked away, giving the door a last glance before he resigned himself to it staying closed.

“Hungry?” I asked to distract him.

It worked. He followed me, wings wiggling happily again. I ordered room service as I took off my ripped, bloody clothes and wadded them into a plastic bag. I’d throw them away where they wouldn’t be found later. For now, I put on a robe and waited. Silver wasn’t the only one who was hungry.

Twenty minutes later, Silver was devouring his plate of sautéed vegetables and I was wiping a stray drop of blood from my mouth. The room service attendant had no memory of feeding me, of course. He’d only remember that I was a good tipper.

I was on my way to the shower when my mobile chimed, indicating a new text. I ignored it, anxious to get the stench of death, blood, and dark magic off me. My phone chimed a few more times. I continued to the bathroom. I had taken a leave of absence from my job as Law Guardian, so it couldn’t be work related, and most of my closest friends were dead. If I were looking on the bright side of being a currently-on-leave workaholic who’d outlived nearly everyone I cared about, I’d say that meant I could get back to whoever was texting me when I was damn good and ready.