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  I walked back, leaned over, and let her drool on me.

  It wasn’t so bad.

  CHAPTER 14

  How had Faith wormed her way into my life so damn fast? Was it because she was Sawyer’s, and Sawyer was gone?

  What would happen when she was old enough to ask where her father was? What happened when she asked how he’d died?

  I winced. I wasn’t going to think about that.

  Instead I drove northwest for nearly an hour then stopped at a café with a parking lot full of semis. Truck drivers knew the restaurants with good food and even better coffee. They had to.

  I was tired and hungry, and I needed to study the map. I wasn’t quite sure how to get to Inyan Kara from here.

  I ordered coffee, orange juice, eggs, sausage, and wheat toast, then I pored over the map. I should reach the mountain in two or three hours, depending on how decent the roads were and how good the map was.

  I could shape-shift and fly there. But that would leave me naked when I returned to human form. And returning was a given. No matter how special I might be, I wasn’t a talking phoenix.

  While naked might be a good way to convince a man, regardless how old, of anything, I’d rather try cool, calm, rational logic first.

  I stared at the map, experienced a few seconds of concern at the size of Inyan Kara. How would I find this guy?

  Truth was, I’d been in this situation before and the how always worked itself out. Take my trip to the Badlands to find Jimmy. They were huge but within minutes of seeing them, I’d known exactly where Sanducci was. I had no doubt the location of Sani would make itself known when I needed it to be.

  Worst-case scenario, once I got to the top of the mountain I would use my speed or my shape-shifting or even my psychometric talent, if I came across something the old man had touched, to find him.

  I finished my food, paid the bill, made use of the large, clean facilities—there was even a shower available for customer use; the number of female truck drivers on the road had increased greatly in the past few years—then took the “go” cup of coffee I’d ordered and got back into the Impala.

  The road went on and on, seeming to disappear into the flat land surrounding me, but every once in a while I could have sworn I saw the dark brush of mountains against the horizon.

  I’d just slowed to take a nearly hairpin turn around a small grove of trees and what appeared to be a cemetery in the middle of nowhere when something shot into the road.

  I slammed on the brakes; my coffee went flying, soaking me, the seat, the floor. I barely noticed. All my attention was riveted on the white face and terrified eyes of the young woman just inches from my bumper.

  She slammed scraped and bloodied hands onto the hood. “Help me!” she screamed, then glanced over her shoulder. Blood trickled from the fang marks in her neck.

  I closed my eyes for just an instant and caught the telltale buzz. When I opened them I knew even before I followed her gaze what I’d see.

  Vampires. A lot of them.

  However, the dozen or so figures moving in our direction resembled no vampires I’d ever seen. Covered in dirt, their clothes were torn, disintegrating into dust as I watched.

  The girl scrambled to the passenger door, yanked on the handle, began to beat on it, sobbing, when it wouldn’t open. I reached over, lifted the lock, and she tumbled inside. The scent of blood filled the enclosed space, and my demon murmured.

  I got out of the car, breathing deeply, and caught the distinct scent of rot. Were they zombies? I didn’t think so. I’d never felt the vampire buzz for a zombie. Of course I’d never seen a true zombie, either. Revenants were something else.

  Maybe these were zombie-vampires. And wouldn’t that just be special?

  “Hey! Come on!” The girl’s volume control seemed stuck on shriek. Understandable, but my ears. “Let’s get out of here!”

  I leaned down. “Tell me what happened.”

  “Fuck that!” She started to slide into the driver’s seat, and I flicked her back with a jerk of one wrist.

  “Tell me what happened,” I repeated.

  My magic hand twitch shocked the desire to scream right out of her, although now she looked at me with the same expression she’d looked at them.

  “I-I took flowers to my grandma’s grave. Then smoke b-b-began to rise.”

  “From where?”

  “The graves,” she said in the same tone she might have said freaking moron. “The smoke got thicker and—”

  She stopped, biting her lip, frowning, already doubting the truth of what her eyes had plainly seen.

  “Say it,” I ordered. “I’ll believe you.”

  “The smoke became them.” I nodded encouragingly. “One of them grabbed me and—” She shuddered. “He bit me, and I could feel his lips, his tongue, his teeth. Sucking. He got a—” She swallowed. “Hard-on.”

  Definitely vampires, not that I’d had much doubt.

  I cast a quick glimpse at the approaching horde. They weren’t moving very fast. I wasn’t sure why. But I was glad.

  “Stay here,” I ordered, and after grabbing my keys to make sure she did, I hurried to the trunk where I eyed the biggest knives I had. I possessed one sword, and I wished momentarily for two. I was going to have to do some beheading.

  I took the sword in my right hand and a bowie knife in my left then shut the trunk. The girl was gone. A quick glance across the road revealed her running across a recently shorn field of unidentifiable crops. She was making excellent time.

  Good. I wouldn’t need to worry about one or more of them flanking me and getting to her. I didn’t need to think up a plausible excuse for what she’d seen—not that there was one.

  I returned my attention to the problem far too close at hand. Beheading usually discouraged the most determined vampire, but I’d met things in the past that were capable of picking up their head and putting it back on. I hated when that happened.

  The vampires closed in, and the smell of death intensified. “What are you?” I asked.

  They were either smart enough not to answer me, or incapable of speech. I counted fourteen—all men, all blond, blue-eyed, offensive lineman–types—six-seven or more, no necks, huge biceps and legs like oak trees. They looked like Vikings.

  “I hate Vikings,” I muttered—both the NFLteam and the ruthless invaders from the north—then swung my sword at the nearest one.

  He grabbed the blade before I chopped off his head. I managed to slice several fingers, but that was nothing more than a shaving cut to a vampire. He reached for me with his uninjured hand; I ducked then rolled.

  I was back on my feet in an instant—a state champion gymnastics medal had turned out to be the most useful part of high school. Add to that supernatural speed and strength and I could hold my own.

  Sensing a vampire creep close, I spun; sweeping out with my sword, I managed to slice his neck. Blood sprayed, but he didn’t die. His damn head hung half on and half off.

  Three others were near enough that I could smell their rancid breath. I flicked a hand, and they bowled over two more who hovered behind, all five going down like pins on a lane. I finished off the wounded one just as he began to heal. The instant his head separated completely from his body, both halves burst into ashes.

  “Yes!”

  Whirling, I kicked another in the chest. He flew several feet and landed on the hood of the Impala. I winced at the resulting crunch. Summer was going to make me pay for that in ways that had nothing to do with money.

  I kept flicking, kicking, and beheading, but I didn’t seem to be making much progress. They were like the proverbial fishes. The more I killed, the more seemed to appear. I thought of the Iyas spilling over the horizon in a never-ending stream. Was this going to be the way every battle went from now on?

  I was beginning to tire, to wonder what I was going to do when I ran out of gas. Then I felt a ripple in the air around me. Not the wind. There wasn’t even a trace of a breeze.


  In that instant of distraction, a vampire slunk close enough to bear-hug me from behind. He tried to sink his teeth into my neck and got a mouthful of dog collar instead. The necklace was good for more than just demon containment.

  Howling—I think he lost a fang—he dropped me. I landed on my feet swinging and nearly took off the head of a man with a distinctly different appearance from all the others.

  Though blond, he was sun-burnished instead of winter-pale. His eyes, while blue, were more indigo than sky, and though he seemed short compared with the others, he was still several inches taller than me, which put him over six feet. Wiry and quick, he brandished a sword in each hand, and he knew exactly what to do with them.

  As I continued to gape at his sudden appearance, the man hacked off the heads of two vampires at once before moving on to two more.

  I couldn’t stop staring. Blood trailed over his bare chest and back. Copper armbands engraved with fleurs-de-lis cupped his biceps. He wore a necklace of silver charms, and something shiny hung from one ear, tangling with the golden length of his hair.

  Strands of white threaded the gold and fine lines of age creased his eyes, but his body was honed and hard. He might be anywhere from thirty to fifty.

  One of the half demons managed to grab him by the throat. The Nephilim’s hand got tangled in the necklace, and he screamed as first fire then smoke flared from his fingertips. I really wanted to know what that guy wore around his neck, and then I’d get me some.

  “Duck,” the man shouted, so I did. A vampire’s arms slapped together above my head. “If you can’t help, you’re hurting,” he snapped. “Run and hide.”

  “Like hell,” I muttered.

  Embarrassed to be caught losing a fight, I hacked my way through more than my share of what remained. Ten minutes later the only things still moving on the road were Blondie and me.

  Breathing heavily, covered in blood and ashes, I headed for the Impala, where I kept bottles of water in the trunk. We could both use a drink and a wash.

  As I came around the rear of the car, a vampire shot out of the backseat and buried my favorite silver knife in my kidney. Blood spurted, and the vampire got distracted, falling to his knees so he could place his mouth beneath the flow. I hacked off his head with a backhanded swat, not even taking a very good look where I was swinging. Practice makes perfect.

  I wiped off my bloody sword with an old towel before tossing it into the trunk along with the barely used bowie, then snatched up some water and shut the door. A flash of movement in the glass had me dropping to a crouch. A silver sword sliced off a big sheet of the Impala’s sky-blue paint.

  I reacted instinctively, ramming my elbow into the guy’s crotch, then snatching the sword that had nearly cleaved my head and yanking it from his now lax grip. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Recovering with admirable speed, he brought his remaining sword across in a smooth arc toward my neck. I tightened my grip and slammed the weapon in my hands against it. The shock reverberated all the way to my teeth.

  “No human could stay on their feet after a knife wound like that, let alone keep fighting.”

  “Damn straight,” I grunted, giving my sword a shove.

  He fell, hitting the ground hard and nearly doing a reverse somersault before nimbly flipping to a crouch, eyes narrowed. I’d not only admitted my lack of humanity but proved it by sending him flying. He lifted his weapon again.

  “I was killing them before you showed up,” I shouted. “Don’t I get points for that?”

  “Just because you were killing them doesn’t mean you aren’t a different type of ‘them.’ You hate one another. You fight among yourselves.” He frowned. “Though not so much lately.”

  Because lately we—I mean they—were too busy killing us.

  “Don’t you know who I am?” I asked.

  “No, but I’ll figure it out.” He came at me swinging; I lost patience and snatched the sword out of his hand with my super-speed then threw both weapons far, far away.

  The guy grabbed his necklace and held it up. The sun glanced off a crucifix. Now that I was closer I could see that all the charms around his neck were some form of a cross, as was the earring dangling from one ear. Which explained the fire and the smoke when the vampire had touched it. Not that any old cross would do. The piece had to be blessed.

  Reaching out, I pressed the tiny items flat against his chest. He flinched, obviously expecting to be burned by the flames that would soon incinerate me. Instead—

  Nothing happened.

  CHAPTER 15

  “I’m not a vampire,” I said.

  Liar.

  Okay, I wasn’t a vampire right now. But he didn’t need to know that.

  The man stepped away, leaving my hand hanging in the air between us, but not before I saw a few flashes in his head.

  A church. Candles. Crosses. Blood.

  “What were those?” I asked.

  “Vampires.”

  “That much I know.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “You believe me?”

  “You think it’s normal to carry a sword around in your trunk?”

  “Normal for me,” he muttered.

  “Me too.”

  His gaze held mine. “You’ve seen things like them before.”

  “More than you can imagine.”

  “I’ve never met anyone else who had.”

  He wasn’t one of us, didn’t have a clue about the federation, perhaps not even a clue as to exactly what he was fighting. He just knew they needed killing.

  In times past Sawyer had “recruited” new federation members, though as he told it no recruitment was required. Most, if not all, of those who fought for the light possessed a little something extra, and they’d been “seeing” monsters for years.

  That they were still alive was usually thanks to a paranormal ability they didn’t know they had—or pretended not to because they couldn’t explain it. Sawyer had been able to sense those abilities in others. He’d told me once he could feel a vibration from seers and DKs along his skin.

  I remembered the odd shimmy in the air when this man approached. Was that what Sawyer had meant?

  Sawyer had also been able to bring forth supernatural powers and teach the refinement and control necessary to use them as a weapon. Obviously I had those talents now, too.

  “Great,” I muttered. Just what I needed, more to do. “What’s your name?”

  “What’s yours?”

  He was starting to get on my nerves.

  “Elizabeth Phoenix.” I held out my hand.

  He put his behind his back. “Bram.”

  “Bram,” I repeated. “You expect me to believe that a guy I find dusting vampires is really named Bram? Like Stoker?”

  He lifted his chin, and the golden cross in his ear caught the sun, nearly blinding me. “My name’s Abraham.”

  “First name or last?”

  He just smiled. Guys with one name. Man, I hated that.

  “Well, Abraham, there’s gonna be trouble if you don’t tell me what those things were.” I held up a hand. “I know they were vampires. Be specific.”

  “Why would you cut off their heads if you didn’t know what they were?”

  “Beheading has always worked pretty well in the past.”

  “But—” Confusion spread over his face. “Not just anyone can behead a draugar and kill them.”

  Now we were getting somewhere.

  “What’s a draugar?”

  “Norse vampire,” Bram said, though he continued to stare into my face, searching my eyes, for what I wasn’t sure. “They rest in the graves of Vikings and inhabit the bodies of the dead.”

  Vikings. Right again. Sometimes I was so damn good at this I scared myself.

  Although I’d prefer to hear Ruthie’s voice instead of making psychic-boosted guesses, however spot-on they were. One of these days I was going to guess wrong, and then someone would die.

  Not me. But someone.

&
nbsp; “They rise as wisps of smoke,” Bram continued, “and prey on the blood of the living. To die they must be beheaded.” I nodded. “By a hero.”

  I stopped nodding. “Huh?”

  “Only the strength of a true hero will kill them.”

  “Oookay. How exactly is a hero defined?”

  “If they die when you behead them, hero.”

  “And if they don’t, you’re a dead loser.”

  He shrugged. “That’s a chance I was willing to take.”

  “Why?”

  Bram cocked his head, and that earring twinkled. “I’m sorry?”

  “Why would you take that chance?”

  “Why would you?”

  “It’s my job.”

  “You get paid for . . .” He motioned at the ashes swirling around our feet.

  “Not exactly.”

  “What exactly?”

  “We need to have a talk.”

  I didn’t like wasting time; I had to get to the top of Inyan Kara. But I couldn’t just leave this guy to run around chopping off heads because he thought he was a hero. The federation had several purposes, and this was one of them—bringing like-talented individuals into the fold.

  I moved the Impala off the road, then we sat on the dented hood sipping water.

  “What do you know?” I began. “About the—” I paused, uncertain what to call them in case Bram was more clueless than I thought.

  “Nephilim?” he asked.

  I lifted my eyebrows, and his lips curved, though he didn’t quite crack a smile. “The descendants of the fallen angels. Half demons masquerading as humans.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “I was a priest.”

  I blinked. Hadn’t seen that coming.

  “You aren’t anymore?”

  “Do I look like a priest?”

  “Appearances deceive.”

  “Touché,” he murmured, and took a sip of water.

  “What happened?”

  “They didn’t believe me.”

  “What, exactly, did you say?”

  His lips quirked again. “I went into the priesthood in the first place because my dreams often came true.”

  I didn’t comment. That happened to me all the time.