then she must be here for the Darkling. His ego was large enough not to even consider that the council would send someone else on his mission. His curiosity was piqued. He had heard talk of a group of women who lived in the mountains outside of Lviv and were trained to hunt and kill the rogue Darklings. He was aware now that a former lover of his had been one, though he hadn’t known at the time.
Not that it would have changed anything between them.
The reams of information swirling in his busy mind told him that this must be who this woman was—an Amazon warrior. But under his intense scrutiny he saw that she shifted slightly in her crouch, clearly uncomfortable from holding the posture. Her hand lifted to tuck an errant strand of liquorice-black hair behind her ear before darting back down to her lap, as if someone has verbally reminded her not to fidget.
She was either very new at this job, or not very good at it—Amazons were rumoured to possess a fierceness to rival that of his own species. This was the being that had been sent to take care of the Darkling? His brow furrowed as he tried to work through the puzzle.
The tinkle of a light as fairy dust bell rang out across the breeze, followed by the distinct sound of a heavy door opening and closing. A very human woman with long scraggly hair that belonged in another decade, and floral printed clothing to match, exited the magic store and walked away down the street, her unseasonal sandals slapping against the soles of her feet as she moved.
The noise jolted Jasper out of his reverie. He was here to gather information. The shop was now empty, the Darkling alone inside. The workday was drawing to a close, and Jasper suspected that the Witchling would come for his woman soon.
His suspicions were usually on the right.
Keeping himself wrapped in shadows, he jumped from the tree, landing on his feet like an animal. Though he forced himself to keep his eyes from the woman across the parking lot, he saw in his peripheral vision that she started when he landed, a wicked-looking blade appearing suddenly in her right hand.
So he had been right—she had some powers that were more than human. She would never have heard his descent otherwise.
Closing his eyes and inhaling air that he no longer needed to breathe, he told himself for the third time since discovering the woman to focus.
No matter how much she intrigued him, for he had always loved a puzzle, he had a job to do.
* * *
Anastasia shifted uneasily in her crouch, trying to ignore the fact that she could no longer feel the tips of her fingers.
Minutes earlier she had heard a noise that sounded like a footfall—a creature landing on the ground. Though her eyes, her ears, her every sense failed to detect anything, she knew that she hadn’t imagined it.
Squinting, straining, she scanned the empty lot and once again saw nothing. But…was that.... yes! There was a low murmur of voices, barely audible through the back door of the shop. But they were there, she was sure of it.
Cursing, Anastasia made her way carefully to that closed door. Pressing her ear to the cool steel, the voices became louder—one male, one female.
Furious with herself, she fumbled for the blade that she had replaced in its worn sheath only moments before. The Witchling, Gavin Thibodeau, must have gotten past her somehow. How was she going to assassinate the female Darkling now? She should have just gone in and done the job straightaway, instead of waiting, hiding, gaining her bearings.
Lesson learned. But she still hadn’t accomplished what she had come here to do. Inhaling deeply, she backed up, then sprang at the door with her black-booted foot outstretched.
She was gratified when it flew open beneath her kick, though the resultant shock was felt all the way up into her torso. But at least she had done it right.
Two startled and wary faces greeted her as she burst forth into the cluttered room. Aubrey Hart, the former doctor turned newly made Darkling, stood with her palms planted on the ornately carved wooden counter. She displayed the innate stillness of her kind. Anastasia had seen photos of the woman, but she hadn’t been prepared for the innocence that the creature displayed. With her cascade of honeyed hair and wide azure eyes she looked nothing like the evil rogue that Anastasia had expected.
This was who she was supposed to kill?
Stalling for time as her mind sorted that one out, Anastasia shifted her stare to the other being in the room. She pegged him instantly as another Darkling, but he was a stranger to her. With his head cocked slightly to one side, he studied her as if she were a bug under a microscope…or as if he were taking her clothing off, piece by piece.
He was hot. She noted this as completely as she had noted Aubrey’s unease, but she tried to shove that thought right out of her head.
It had no bearing on her mission.
Instead she focused on his special skills. Did he have more speed than the average Darkling? She hadn’t learned of anything of the kind.
From the corner of her eye Anastasia saw Aubrey lick her lips once, slowly, and saw the woman’s blue eyes fasten on the pulse throbbing, slow and steady, in Anastasia’s neck.
Shit. She was in way over her head. Her only hope was to catch Aubrey by surprise, and damn whatever the other Darkling was here for. Not ideal circumstances, but she would have to work with what she could.
Before she could over think it, Anastasia launched herself across the room, landing on the counter in a crouch. Aubrey hissed in surprise, baring her fangs, a show that Anastasia knew was bravado.
She could see the fear reflected in the sea-blue depths of the newborn’s eyes.
Instead of making her feel powerful, in control, it made her sick to her stomach. Every fiber in her being screamed that this woman was not the evil being that her nastavnyk—her mentor— had insisted that she was, nor was she a threat to humankind.
Biting down on her lip hard, Anastasia choked those feelings back. She was a Carpathian Amazon, sworn ally to the Darklings.
She had a job to do.
Catching the other woman’s long flaxen hair in her fist, she yanked her close, turning her at the same time. The best way to kill a Darkling was to burn them to ash. Since that wasn’t an option at the moment, she went with option number two.
Slit the throat, deep and hard.
Anastasia caught the other woman around the throat with the arm that had been woven in her hair. Aubrey struggled against the strong arm that held her captive, and Anastasia held on tightly until her muscles screamed for release.
“Why…why are you so strong?” Aubrey didn’t need to breathe, Anastasia knew, but she panted regardless.
She hadn’t been a vampire for very long, and Anastasia knew that habits were hard to break for those recently turned.
Anastasia didn’t answer Aubrey’s question. She couldn’t let herself think of this woman like the living—well, sort of—being that she was.
The Amazon closed her eyes and pressed the blade to the tissue-thin skin at Aubrey’s neck. Gritting her teeth together, she dug in, just the slightest bit. Darklings were heavily allergic to silver, though it could not kill them, and she heard the sizzle as the metal of her blade burned the Darkling’s flesh. The bittersweet tang of crimson blood, vampire blood, hit Anastasia’s nose and caused nausea to roil through her belly.
Then she was on her back on the floor, the wind knocked out of her, stars dancing in a multicolored conga above her head. As she wheezed, trying to kick her way up off of the ground, she saw a stream of blond hair waving in a sudden breeze as her target ran away at full vamp speed. Pressing a hand to her head in an attempt to stop the throbbing, she tried to get her leaden limbs to cooperate, but they wouldn’t listen to the signals that her brain was screaming at them.
Whatever had hit her, it had hit her hard. She might be inexperienced, but she was strong—one of the strongest Amazons in the compound.