Demon Dawn (Shadow Detective Book 4) Page 3

  “You break into every girl’s apartment when she refuses to return your calls?”

  “Listen, I’m sorry. I was worried about you. I heard about the vampire murders, and it didn’t take much for me to put two and two together.”

  “Good for you. And before you even start, I’m not interested in hearing what you’ve got to say. I’m not going to stop until this city has been cured of the vampire plague.”

  “I know you think you can handle this, but even I need a partner…”

  She glared at me and said mockingly, “Want to team up and go hunting together? Now that’s my idea of a hot date.”

  ”I know you hate me—”

  Her lips compressed into a thin line and her eyes sparkled dangerously. “I don’t hate you, Raven. I hate that every time I close my eyes, I can see an innocent man dying. I can still taste his blood.”

  “That wasn’t you, Archer.”

  “Tell that to Officer Hawkins’ wife. Tell that to his children when they go online and see me burying my teeth into their father’s throat.”

  Archer’s words hummed with a white-hot intensity that sent a chill down my back. I had never seen her like this before.

  So angry, yet still so calculated. So driven.

  So dangerous.

  “I’m sorry,” I said helplessly.

  “Sorry isn’t going cut it. Trust me, I know. No matter what I do, I can’t bring him back. All I can do is to make sure that no family ever goes through that again because a vampire wants a snack.”

  The worst part was that I understood how she felt. This was something Archer needed to do. If she wallowed in a destructive stew of self-pity and guilt, her demons would consume her. Hunting vampires was the only way she could cling to her sanity while she came to terms with what had happened. Who was I to try to take this way from her? I’d been a lot younger and more naive than Archer when I’d started hunting the demon that had killed my parents.

  Almost as if she’d read my thoughts, she said, “I need to do this. On my own. Do you understand?”

  “But there’s so much you don’t know,” I said. My protests suddenly sounded even half-hearted to myself.

  “Tell that to the vampire I sent to Hell last night.”

  “You’d been lucky so far. But luck has a way of running out.”

  She cocked a hip, resting the heavy leather case on it. “Plan on giving me a few pointers? Or are you going to let me borrow that funky gun of yours?”

  “Look, Jane, all I want is—” Her mocking mood turned deadly serious. She took a step forward and jabbed her finger at the apartment door. “Now get out. And never come back. Do you hear me?”

  I heard her. Loud and clear. I couldn’t blame her, either. I was the one responsible for this whole mess in the first place.

  “Just be careful,” I said lamely, unable to meet her eyes.

  Archer stepped aside, and I shuffled past her into the hallway. By the time, I made it back to my car, my sadness was turning into anger.

  I started the engine of my muscle car, and moments later, I was streaking down the rain-slicked streets. I barely paid attention to the road. It was around five a.m. and traffic was pretty much non-existent in this part of the Cursed City.

  I was so distracted by my grim thoughts that I didn’t notice the black BMW until it was too late. The vehicle drew up on me, moving way too fast.

  A tinted window slid open and a pistol equipped with a silencer emerged. There was no time to react before the hand holding the gun squeezed the trigger.

  5

  Silenced bullets cut through the air, and one of the Equus Bass’ rear tires ruptured. I wrestled with my wheel as the back of my ride whipped back and forth.

  It says something negative about my life that my first response to the attack was irritation instead of fear. Who the hell was trying to kill me now?

  I desperately struggled to maintain control of the vehicle but overcompensated. The Equus Bass swerved across the asphalt, out of control as two more tires blew out and bullets pockmarked the rear windows. Wards and protective glyphs had been engraved into the windows of my car, but the vehicle wasn’t bullet-proof, an oversight which was going to cost me dearly.

  I hardly ever got shot at. Cursed, haunted, and nearly eaten by monsters—but not shot. This new enemy was human.

  Tires spinning out, my car skipped the sidewalk and…

  WHAM!

  It slammed into a street light at forty-five miles per hour in an explosion of rending metal and shattering glass. My head smacked against the windshield. Smoke poured from the exposed metallic innards of my ride.

  The black BMW screeched to a halt, and three men jumped out. They all carried high-powered assault weapons, M16s from the look of it. A tall woman joined the trio; she appeared to be the leader of the group. She sported the silenced pistol, which meant she had to be the sharpshooter responsible for blowing out my muscle car’s tires. I peered through the cracked windshield, blinking away drops of blood, as the team advanced. They moved with military precision, and their faces were obscured by balaclava masks.

  My fingers tightened around Hellseeker. I doubted that these enemies were demons or vampires, but you never knew. Maybe the forces of darkness were freelancing these days. In any case, the gun’s blessed bullets would be equally effective against the living as the dead.

  My finger whitened on the trigger as laser dots danced around the cracked windshield and kissed my forehead right below the bleeding gash. The figures at the other end of the red beams barked orders at me.

  “Throw down your weapon and get out of the car now.”

  I felt my options shrinking. I might manage to squeeze off a few shots and even hit a few of my targets before they perforated the vehicle with their high-powered assault weapons. The idea of going down in a hail of lead held little appeal.

  Without any better ideas, I reluctantly obliged. I tossed Hellseeker out of the window and staggered from the smoking vehicle. Seeing my beloved ride in this condition pained me. I’d been through a lot with the Equus Bass, and I hoped with all my heart that the modern-day muscle car could be saved.

  Yes, I was more worried about my car’s well-being than my own. What can I say? I really love that car.

  One of the big, masked men grabbed me by the arm and brusquely led me toward the waiting BMW, the barrel of my attacker’s machine pistol painfully prodding my back.

  The woman popped open the black BMW’s trunk. “Get in! Now!”

  I was tempted to stand my ground and give them the finger but the guns in my abductors’ gloved hands told me that would be a foolish move. I reluctantly climbed into the trunk, contorting my six-foot frame to the best of my abilities into the tight space.

  The masked woman loomed over me. “That’s a good boy.”

  With these words, she slammed the trunk shut. Blackness engulfed me. Moments later, we were moving again. As I bumped up and down in the trunk, stifling one manly shriek after another, I made out the sound of distant sirens. By the time the authorities arrived at the accident scene, my abductors would be long gone--and me with them.

  Who were these masked kidnappers? Former cult members or some new group of occultists? I ran through a list of possible suspects, from surviving members of the Crimson Circle to the Guardians of Ozur which Skulick had been tracking as of late.

  I was furious with myself. I had let my guard down, allowed my own personal drama to distract me, and my enemies had taken advantage of my carelessness.

  I had no idea how much time passed before we finally stopped. I heard the door opening and closing, followed by footsteps. The trunk popped open, and blinding sunlight spilled into my prison. I blinked furiously as strong hands pulled me out of the trunk. My legs felt wobbly after the prolonged period of inactivity, and I had to lean against one of the goons.

  As my eyesight returned, details came into focus. I found myself on what appeared to be a private airstrip. Up ahead, a Lear jet was waiting, e
ngines humming. Whoever these people were, they were well funded.

  The woman was the first to roll the mask off her face. Model good looks greeted me. Perfect bone structure, flawless skin, a mane of dirty blond hair. The woman looked like a former runway model turned mercenary. Intelligent, cunning eyes regarded me with little warmth. She didn’t seem overly impressed.

  Better to have my enemies underestimate me. Or so I told myself.

  The three men whipped off their balaclavas too. I took in the ragtag group of mercs. One was Hispanic and handsome, with perfect teeth, hair and complexion. The other two sported military buzzcuts and looked like chiseled bruisers gearing up for a UFC tryout. They all carried themselves with the military bearing and cocky swagger of trained killers. They didn’t strike me like cult followers, lacking the strange, vacant expression I had encountered time and time again in most occultists. If I had to guess, the only God they worshipped was the almighty dollar.

  “My boss is eager to make your acquaintance, Raven,” the woman said, a faint hint of an Eastern European accent in her voice.

  The anger which had been building inside me since the kidnapping erupted. “Who the hell are you people? What the fuck is this about?”

  “You'll find out soon enough,” the woman said coolly. “Now we can do this the civilized way, or Dimitri and his friends will be forced to escort you onto the plane.”

  The second option sounded quite less appealing, and I reluctantly fell into step with my abductors. “Don’t try anything stupid,” one of the bruisers said. His Russian accent suggested he had to be Dimitri.

  They felt comfortable revealing their faces and even names. That wasn’t good. Most of the time, it meant there would be no return ticket for me once we boarded the private jet. Still, no one went through this much trouble if they simply wanted me dead. If this was a hit, I’d be a corpse in a ditch already. No, something else was going on here. Something bigger. My stomach churned with anxiety, but at the same time I was curious too.

  It took us less than five minutes to cross the airfield and board the Lear jet. As we climbed the stairs, I sneaked a good look at the plane’s insignia. I recognized the logo immediately. Unfortunately knowing who my abductors were working for seemed to raise more questions rather than answer them.

  The insides of the aircraft mirrored the exterior’s sleek design. The passenger cabin reminded me more of a luxurious hotel room than an aircraft. This was a big step up from first class.

  The woman nodded at me, indicating I should take a seat in one of the buttery leather seats. The plane had been subdivided into multiple sections with rows of three chairs facing each other, separated by sleek tables. I guess we could all play a game of cards while the pilot jetted us off to who knows where. Cozy.

  The woman stood before me while the rest of the team sat down in the next few rows. I saw the backs of heads and realized the private jet was fully occupied. Who were these other passengers? More mercenaries?

  Patience, I urged myself. The answers were coming. My eyes locked on the Nordic blonde. I studied her, looking for any signs as to what I was facing.

  Then I got my first clue that this kidnapping had a supernatural angle after all.

  “What are you looking at?” she asked.

  I shrugged as if I was as bored by the conversation as she seemed to be. “I appreciate beauty when I see it.”

  She didn’t seem amused by my words. “Don't waste your time flirting with me.”

  “I was talking about the medallion.”

  The woman took a double-take and a thin smile curled her lips. I pointed to the pendant shaped like a flaming serpent that hung around the woman’s neck. The exotic talisman radiated an undeniable power, and Morgal’s mark flared up slightly when I focused on it.

  The woman stalked away and disappeared inside the cockpit as the plane began to taxi down the runway. I fought back a wave of panic. Everything was happening so fast. I felt like I had been accidentally pulled into a James Bond movie. I exchanged a look with the goons who sat in the row across from me. Dimitri’s gaze met mine.

  I tried to ease the tension with some humor. “If I’d known we were going on an overnight field trip, I would've packed my toothbrush.”

  The Russian’s face remained masklike. Tough crowd.

  “You don't look like much to me,” Dimitri said after a long, awkward pause. “How good can you really be if you let us get the drop on you?”

  I was reminded of the bit of wisdom I’d shared with Archer earlier. “Everybody's luck runs out,” I said.

  “I'm Russian. We don't believe in luck.”

  “Really now? What do you believe in?”

  Dimitri's answer was to open his jacket, revealing a hunting knife with a twelve-inch serrated blade. The metal gleamed in the sunlight filtering through the private jet’s bubble windows.

  One thing was certain—this was not going to be a dull trip.

  6

  Thunder boomed outside the plane and a flash of lightning lit up the window next to my seat. Sickly yellow light slashed into the cabin and drenched my kidnappers’ faces with a grotesque glow. Dimitri and the other gorillas sat stoically across from me, their faces devoid of expression. I on the other hand was struggling to maintain my own version of a poker face as the Lear jet bounced up and down like a skipper at high seas. A wave of nausea clenched my stomach.

  I’d never been a fan of flying. Hurtling through the air in a hunk of steel filled with six thousand gallons of highly flammable fuel while the mother of all storms raged outside endeared me even less to the experience. I stole a quick glance outside the window as the turbulence quieted for a moment. We were flying above an oily black cloud bank, destination unknown. At least the pilot was putting some distance between us and the electrical storm raging below. Forks of lightning seemed to reach out for us, and I swallowed hard.

  A set of approaching footsteps made me turn my head away from the disturbing view outside my window. The blonde sauntered into our little circle of love, a drink in her hand. She nodded at Dimitri and his two goons and they got up, clearing this section of the plane. Apparently, she wanted some privacy. She took a seat in front of me and handed me the cocktail.

  “Jack on the rocks, just the way you like it.”

  She handed me the drink. I hesitated for a beat, wondering if it might be drugged. Screw it. I shrugged and took a deep sip, praying the booze would soothe my frayed nerves. I hated being at the mercy of forces beyond my control–give me a monster to battle any day. At least with demons and ghosts, I knew I stood a fighting chance. Another burst of turbulence racked the plane, and the ice cubes clacked against the glass.

  “I see you've done your homework,” I said.

  Vittoria offered me a cool smile. “My employer never pursues an investment unless he's certain to benefit from it.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “Your employer? You mean Vincent Taske.”

  It was Vittoria’s turn to look at me with surprise. Up until this point there had been no mention of her well-heeled boss.

  “How…?”

  “I recognized Taske's Corporate insignia on the plane. I do read the papers.”

  Well, at least from time to time, when I’m not busy dallying with demons and making headlines of my own.

  I leaned closer, the smile gone from my face. “So what does a man whose fortune rivals that of Bill Gates, who practically owns the world, want from me?”

  Instead of Vittoria’s icy tones, the raspy, gravelly voice of an old man answered. “Owning the world loses some of its appeal when you're about to leave it.”

  A TV screen had popped out of the ceiling above us. Taske's wizened features stared back at me from it. I tried to remember how old the billionaire was. The man had to be in his late seventies or early eighties. And from the looks of it, he was fast approaching the end of the road.

  Taske was propped up in his bed, a pillow framing tufts of snow-white hair. Breathing tubes and IVs sprouted f
rom his nostrils and bony arms like tentacles, and an unseen monitor beeped nearby, recording his weak yet steady life signs. His skin was a map of wrinkles and blotches and stretched like aged parchment across his bony visage. Nevertheless, his eyes glimmered with the fire of a much younger man. This wasn’t an individual to be trifled with. The body was failing the billionaire, but his spirit clearly still had some fight left.

  For the first time, I noticed the tiny cameras inside the plane. I had no doubt that they were recording and transmitting my image to the old man.

  “I apologize for having to resort to kidnapping, Mr. Raven. But I doubted you would come along voluntarily. I hope Vittoria has been as courteous as possible, given the circumstances.”

  I eyed the female who had spearheaded the kidnapping. So her name was Vittoria. There was some strangely familiar about her, a guarded quality that I’d encountered in another beautiful woman before. Then it hit me. Her icy, Nordic looks combined with an aloof, almost haunted quality reminded me of my first girlfriend, Isabel, who had met a tragic end. I pushed the disturbing thought aside and said, “Where the hell are you taking me? And what do you want from me?”

  Taske’s baleful eyes gazed at me through the monitor. “I need your help.”

  “What kind of help?” I asked.

  Taske took a deep, wheezing breath. “As you might’ve noticed, I’m not looking my best. The cancer has spread, and I have very little time left. Nevertheless, I refuse to go gentle into that good night.”

  My eyes narrowed. Taske wasn’t the first wealthy man who hoped to cheat death. Nor would he be the last.

  “In my quest to find a cure for my affliction, I’ve consulted with the best doctors money can buy, explored every alternative therapy. Every path, except one…”

  The occult, I mentally finished.

  “Are you expecting me to lead you the fountain of youth? No matter what you might’ve heard, Mr. Taske, I won’t be able to point the way.”