Crave

With a curse, Jim reached up and rubbed his nape. The sensation had graduated from tingle to roar, and he bowed under the agony now that his adrenaline ebbed a little. God, it just got worse . . . to the point where he couldn’t handle it and sank down on his knees.

Putting his palm on the ground and bracing himself, it dawned on him what was doing. In a case of perfectly bad timing, Matthias had acted on the spell he’d put on his corpse back in Caldwell—

“Go!” Eddie hissed as he slashed and retracted. “We’ve got this! You get to Matthias.”

At that moment, Adrian offed one of his pair, his crystal dagger going deep into the thing’s chest before he jumped up onto the stoop to avoid the spray. The sprinkle of buckshot hit the other demon he was fighting—

Oh, shit. The black oily bastard absorbed the spray—and doubled in size.

Jim glanced back Eddie, but the angel barked, “Go! I’m telling—” Eddie dodged a strike and threw one of his own with his free fist. “You can’t fight like this!”

Jim didn’t want to leave them, but he was quickly becoming worse than useless—his buddies were going to have to defend him if this ringy-ding-ding got any more acute.

“Go!” Eddie shouted.

Jim cursed, but stood up, unfurled his wings, and took off in a shimmer . . .

Caldwell, New York, was more than two hundred miles west—assuming you were a human on foot, bike, horse-back, or in a car. Angel Airlines covered the distance in the blink of an eye.

As he touched down on the front lawn of McCready’s joint, he saw the unmarked parked at the curb . . . and the fact that an entire block was without electricity . . . and knew he was right.

Matthias had come calling.

Just the man’s style.

Jim headed across the grass, and felt like he was going back in time . . . to that night in the desert that had changed everything for him and Matthias.

Yeah, his summoning spell had worked.

The question was what to do with his prey.

CHAPTER 24

Standing in Grier’s kitchen, Isaac totally approved of the way she took care of business. In the midst of the chaos, she was calm as she worked the phone and the security system: A quick one, two, three, and she had cut off the fire alarm, called in a false report, and reset the system. And she did it all crouched behind the counters, protected and hidden.

Definitely his kind of woman.

With her on top of things, he was free to try to figure out what the hell was doing in her backyard. Twisting around so that his body remained tucked away, he searched through the glass . . . but all he got was just the wind and a whole lot of shadows.

Yet his instincts were screaming.

What was Jimmy doing back there with his buddies? Who had shown up? Matthias’s crew usually rolled up in unlicensed unmarkeds. They didn’t hop on broomsticks and dive-bomb from out of a stormy sky. Besides, there was no one out there anymore that he could see.

As time dragged and a whole lot of nothing-but-wind went on, he thought maybe he’d lost his mind altogether.

“You okay?” he whispered without turning around.

There was a rustling and then Grier was shoulder-to-shoulder beside him on the floor. “What’s going on? Can you see anything?”

He noted she didn’t answer the question—but come on, like she had to? “It’s nothing we need to be a part of.”

Nothing, period, it seemed. Although . . . well, actually, if he squinted, the shadows did seem to form patterns consistent with fighters engaging in hand-to-hand combat. Except, of course, there was nobody out there—and he was seeing logic to the way things moved. To get the effect he was seeing, a legion of lights would have had to be shining in from all different directions to get even close to the optics.

“This doesn’t feel right to me,” Grier said.

“I agree.” He looked over at her. “But I’m going to take care of you.”

“I thought you were going to leave.”

“I didn’t.” The couldn’t part was something he kept to himself. “I’m not going to let anything hurt you.”

Her head tilted to the side as she stared at him. “You know . . . I believe you.”

“You can bet your life on it.”

In a quick move, he put his mouth to hers on a hard kiss to seal the deal. And then just as he was pulling back, the wind stopped—sure as if the industrial fan causing all the blowing had been unplugged: In the back forty, there was nothing but utter silence.

What the hell was going on?

“Stay here,” he said as he stood up.

Naturally, she didn’t take the order, but rose to her feet, her hands resting on his shoulder as if she were prepared to tail him. He didn’t like it, but he knew arguing wasn’t going to get him anywhere—the best he could do was keep his chest and shoulders front and center to block any shot at her.

He inched forward until he could see outside better. The shadows had disappeared and the tree limbs and bushes were still. Distant sounds of traffic and the far-off wail of an ambulance were once again an ambient city song playing like Muzak all around the neighborhood.

He glanced over at her. “I’m going out there. Can you handle a firearm?” When she nodded, he took out one of his two guns. “Have this.”

She didn’t hesitate, but man, he hated the sight of her pale, elegant hands on his weapon.

He nodded down at the thing. “Point and shoot using both palms. Safety’s off. We clear?”

When she nodded, he kissed her again because he just had to; then he moved her back into position in the shelter of the floor cabinets. From that vantage point, she could see anyone coming in from the front or the rear, but also cover the interior door that he had a feeling led to the basement stairs.

Palming his other gun, he exited in a quick shift—

His first breath brought an unholy stench into his sinuses and down the back of his throat. What the . . . ? It was like a chemical spill—

From out of nowhere, one of the pair who’d been with Jim appeared. It was the guy with the braid and he looked like he’d been spray-painted with WD-40—and had dry ice shoved in all his pockets: Tendrils of smoke were steaming up from his leather jacket, and shit . . . the smell.

Before Isaac could what-the-fuck him, Jim’s boy cut the question off. “Do us a favor and stay put. Coast is clear for now, though. If you understand what I’m saying.”

As Isaac met the man’s eyes, there was no question that even though they were strangers, they spoke the same language: The guy was a soldier.

“You want to tell me what the hell just happened out here?”

“Nope. But I wouldn’t mind some white vinegar if she has it?”

Isaac frowned. “No offense, but I think making salad dressing is the least of your concerns, buddy. Your jacket needs a hose-down.”

“I’ve got burns to take care of.”

Sure enough, on the side of his neck and on his hands there were raw, red patches on his skin. As if he’d been hit with some kind of acid.

Hard to argue with the steaming bastard, considering he was injured. “Give me a sec.”

Ducking back in the house, Isaac cleared his throat. “Ah . . . do you have any white vinegar?”

Grier blinked and then pointed with the gun muzzle to the sink. “I use it to clean the hardwood. But why?”