“Since you’re no longer the conduit to Ruthie, I’m not sure how in charge you are.”
I frowned. “I’m the leader of the light.”
“Big fat hairy deal.”
“You have to listen to me.”
“I’m not compelled to follow orders; I choose to. Right now I choose to say—” She gave me the finger.
I jumped her. Couldn’t help myself. Summer had been begging for an ass-kicking from the moment I’d first seen her in Jimmy’s head. That I’d refrained this long was downright saintly.
Summer had supernatural powers. She could do magic, cast spells; she could fly without wings. She was one of the federation’s top DKs, with countless kills to her credit. But she’d never had to fight me in a bad mood.
We hit the ground hard. I got a pointy elbow in the throat. Coughing, I rolled free; as she started to get up, I decked her. She flew into the wall. Didn’t seem to hurt her any. She was on her feet again as quickly as I.
Blood trickled from her lip, which had started to swell. Fairies were pretty hard to kill—had to use cold steel or rowan—but they didn’t appear to heal as fast as a dhampir. Lucky me.
“I suppose you usually throw your damn fairy dust, order the Nephilim to stand still, and then you skewer them,” I said. “Must be nice.”
“It is.” She threw two knives at me with a quick flick of her slim wrists. Where they had come from I had no idea.
I caught one, but the other stuck in my chest with a sick thunk. I glanced from the knife to Summer’s face. “Are you kidding me with this?”
She lifted one shoulder. “Slowed you down.”
I yanked it out; the wound healed in seconds. I tossed both weapons over my shoulder. “Not really.”
“Freak,” she muttered.
“Jealous?”
Summer snarled, and for the first time I caught a glimpse of something other beneath the pretty face. Fairies could shape-shift, or so the legends said. Maybe Summer’s beauty wasn’t her true form.
She came at me like an animal—roaring in fury, pink-tipped claws outstretched, pearly white teeth bared. I grabbed her by the throat and smacked her head against the wall.
One tap and she stopped fighting. I had no more time to mess around—we were getting pretty loud. I was surprised someone hadn’t called the cops already. Not that Summer couldn’t toss magic dust into their faces and tell them to go away; she’d done it before. But police would bring attention, interruption. I didn’t want that. I wanted this done. I still had to find Sanducci.
I let her go. She slumped to the floor. For an instant I allowed her to think we were through; then I knelt. She looked up, her eyes dazed, pupils dilated.
“Who can reverse your spell?” I asked, and then I touched her.
Dagda.
“Where—,” I began, but the door flew open.
I spun around; it was Jimmy. For an instant joy bloomed. He hadn’t left me behind this time. He’d come back for me. Then he stepped inside, and the lamplight fell across his face.
Someone had beaten the crap out of him.
CHAPTER 5
Summer let out a little cry. I threw out an arm and said, “Wait.”
For us to still be able to see his injuries meant a Nephilim had made them—those took longer to heal than any wound made by a human—and not long ago. Whatever had hurt Jimmy could very well be right behind him.
I moved forward, yanked him in, glanced into the corridor—empty—then locked the door. A thud had me spinning around.
Jimmy had gone to his knees. Summer caught him before his face kissed carpet. She began to fuss over him, gentle touches, soothing murmurs. He laid his head in her lap; the bruises flared dark purple against his olive-toned skin, but even as I cataloged them, they began to fade.
“Back off,” I ordered Summer “He needs to talk.”
She ignored me, whispering into his hair, petting him like a child.
I shoved his leg with my foot. He didn’t open his eyes. Passed out. Fantastic.
Reaching down, I patted him myself—once, hard on the cheek.
“Don’t,” Summer ordered in a voice I’d never heard from her before—low, deadly, that of the demon killer she’d become and not the fairy she pretended to be.
I might have been scared, if I wasn’t already terrified. Something that could kick Sanducci’s ass like this was something we really needed to be prepared for.
“He can’t take a nap,” I snapped. “I need to know how many, of what and how soon they’re going to get here.”
“They’re all dead, or he wouldn’t be back.”
“What are they?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“I think it does. Why didn’t he wake me? Why didn’t they call me too?”
“He didn’t get a call. He just went hunting.”
“Excuse me?”
“He does that sometimes. When he’s . . .” She lifted one bare, perfect, white shoulder. “Upset.”