Darkness Unleashed (Guardians of Eternity #5)(64)

Preparing to bolt at the first hint of danger, Regan scanned the shadowed interior, not surprised to find a handful of rusting tools collecting cobwebs in the corners, or the wooden barrel that had been overturned to play table for a kerosene lamp.

The whip and numerous daggers, swords, and handguns placed on a rickety shelf were a bit more unexpected.

It was the bedraggled, nearly unrecognizable imp chained to the wall, however, that was the real showstopper.

Culligan.

Chapter 15

Just for a moment, Regan remained frozen in the doorway.

After days of endless, grueling, relentless searching, she’d stumbled over her damned prey when she wasn’t even looking for him.

How was that for irony?

She clenched the dagger, studying the imp who’d made her life a living hell.

He looked…ghastly.

Blindfolded and leaning heavily against the chains, as if he couldn’t hold his own weight, his red hair was matted into disgusting clumps, and his white skin was marred with dirt and dried blood.

Gone was the brash, conceited demon who had taken such delight in tormenting her, and in its place was a sad, pathetic waste of a creature wearing nothing more than a red thong.

A smile of absolute pleasure curled her lips as he weakly attempted to lift his head, clearly sensing someone had entered the shed, but too disoriented to recognize her scent.

“Who’s there?” he croaked. “Please, help me. I’m being held against my will. Please…” His plea was cut short as she crossed the narrow space to rip off the blindfold. He blinked against the sunlight that spilled into the room, then his eyes widened in horror as he recognized his rescuer. “Oh, shit.”

“Hello, Culligan,” she purred, her gaze lowering to the small medallion tied around his neck. The witch’s amulet. And the reason she hadn’t sensed the bastard when she’d first approached the cabin.

“You,” he rasped, struggling against the heavy chains that held him.

“Surprise.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I told you that you couldn’t escape me.” Reaching out, Regan ripped the amulet from the leather thong around Culligan’s neck and tucked it into her pocket. Immediately the shed was filled with the overpowering smell of plums, while her scent disappeared. Well, well. Wasn’t that convenient? Her smile widened with wicked pleasure. “Of course, at the time I didn’t expect the curs to be so rude as to steal my toy and hide him from me. I hope they didn’t break you.”

Sweat bloomed on his forehead, visions of his death dancing in his head.

“There are curs crawling all over the place,” he desperately attempted to frighten her away. “Are you trying to get caught?”

He did have a point.

A smart Were would cut out Culligan’s heart and escape before the curs returned.

Unfortunately, her mission was no longer one of simple revenge. Jagr needed her. And if it meant keeping this bastard alive and risking her neck…then so be it.

Of course, that didn’t mean she couldn’t have some fun with the jackass.

Lifting the dagger, she drew a thin line over his heart, watching the blood drip down his chest.

“Actually, there’s not a cur to be found,” she mocked.

He shuddered, although she hadn’t truly hurt him. Yet.

“It’s a trap. They’ll be here any minute.”

She pressed the dagger deeper. “Not in time to keep me from carving out your heart.”

“Wait.” He struggled to breathe, his eyes wild with delicious fear. “Let’s not be hasty, Regan.”

“Hasty?” Fury made her blood boil. “I’ve waited thirty years to kill you. It’s all I dreamed of night after night.”

“How can you say that? I’ve been like a father to you.” He squealed as the dagger slid deeper. “Okay, maybe not a father, but don’t forget I saved you from that ditch. You could have died if it weren’t for me.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Ditch, eh?”

“Maybe it was more of a culvert.”

“You worthless piece of shit, I’ve talked to Gaynor,” she hissed. “I know the curs gave me to you in Chicago.”

Terror flashed through the pale green eyes before Culligan was frantically attempting to cover his ass.

“Gaynor? You can’t believe a word he says. He deliberately tricked me into coming to Hannibal.” His face tightened. “Treacherous bastard.”

“I’d believe that treacherous bastard if he told me the sky was green before I would believe a word that came from your filthy mouth.”

He glanced down at the dagger stuck directly over his heart, licking his lips.

“Right, I get it. You’re angry. I didn’t treat you as well as I should have. That doesn’t mean we can’t come to an…understanding.”

Her sharp laugh echoed through the small shed. “Understanding?”

“Anything. Just tell me what you want.”

A few days ago what she wanted was this imp dead. Slowly, painfully, and by her hand.

Now she had to accept that there were more important things.

Jagr.

And the truth of her past.

“What I want is answers,” she rasped.

“Fine. Whatever.”