Unleashed by the Defender (Brides of the Kindred #25) - Evangeline Anderson Page 0,19

traffic below illuminated huge, insectile eyes. She caught blurred impressions of snapping mandibles and multiple long limbs flashing in and out of the shadows. Whatever it was, she realized, it was trying to get to her. But J’are was holding it back.

The attacker—whoever or whatever it was—fought in perfect silence punctuated only by the occasional grunts and growls of effort and anger from the big Kindred. Suddenly he gave a roar and there was a wet ripping sound like thick flesh being torn.

The assailant finally made a sound—it let out a high-pitched, unearthly shriek which set Imani’s teeth on edge as a cold finger of fear skittered down her spine. Then, whatever it was, scrambled away into the darkness.

“J’are?” Imani got shakily to her feet. The big Nightwalker was standing there, breathing heavily and still growling fiercely under his breath. In one hand he was clutching something long and stiff which still twitched and jerked spasmodically.

“J’are? What’s that you have?” Imani heard the quiver in her own voice and she tried to make it sound steadier. “What is it?” she asked him again, coming closer.

In the dim light from the traffic below, she saw what he was holding was some kind of a leg—an insect leg—but a huge one. It had long, chitinous spines along its underside and wickedly sharp claws on one end. The other end was a bleeding stump, leaking black ichor.

“Ugh!” Imani took several big steps back in disgust. “Get rid of it, J’are!” The thing he was holding looked like it had been pulled off a giant roach!

Or maybe a giant praying mantis, whispered a little voice in her head. A praying mantis like the ones she kept seeing everywhere including her hotel, the ride services she’d tried to call, and in the courtroom besides Lady Bittlebum!

Something was going on here—but what?

“Wait,” she told J’are. “Wait, don’t—”

But it was too late—he had already tossed the grizzly souvenir of his battle off the bridge into the darkness below.

Luckily, it didn’t hit any of the cars that were whizzing by—or at least, Imani didn’t see any evidence that it had. But the evidence of J’are’s midnight battle had been lost and along with it, any chance she had to bring it before the court. Not that Imani knew what she would say even if she did.

“Excuse me, your honor, but ever since I got to Yonnie Six I’ve been seeing these giant pink praying mantises everywhere and one attacked me on my way home from court.”

What could Judge Thoughtgood do about that? And what did it even mean? Did it have anything to do with whoever had tried to frame J’are for the murder of his old Mistress?

Imani didn’t have any answers and suddenly she was bone weary. She’d had a long, long day which had started in a whole different part of the galaxy, light years away. Right now she just wanted to get back to the Luxx, kick back and relax.

“Come on, J’are,” she muttered, pulling at the leash which was still attached to his pain collar. “Is it safe to go now?”

He looked down at her and nodded once.

“Safe.”

“Okay, good.” Imani nodded wearily towards the end of the bridge. “Then come on—we have to go.”

She was just wondering if they would be able to catch a ride at the place she’d been dropped off that afternoon, when one of the flying shuttle-cars which normally flew high above the ground traffic swooped down and hovered alongside of the bridge.

The window slid down to reveal a round, curious face.

“Hello there, little Mistress,” the driver said, frowning. “And what might you and your bodyslave be doing out here so late at night?”

“Trying to get home—or at least, back to my hotel,” Imani said warily. “Are you a ride service?” she asked. She knew there were a few free males living and working on Yonnie Six, though not many of them.

“That I am, but I’m none too sure about taking on a fellow as big as that.” The man nodded at J’are who was standing protectively close to Imani, looking ready to fight if the other male tried to encroach on his territory.

“Who, J’are? He’s a sweetheart!” Imani said quickly. “He wouldn’t hurt a fly!”

“He wouldn’t, eh?” The cabbie—if that was what he was—didn’t look convinced. “Well what’s that black stuff all over his skin?”

“I don’t know,” Imani said desperately. “But it won’t rub off on your seats, I promise. See?” She rubbed her thumb over the big Kindred’s