"Get out of here," he said. "This place is too dangerous for a woman. I'll keep it occupied."
"It's not alone," she retorted. "And this place is just as dangerous for a man who has no idea what he's up against."
"Listen lady — "
"No."
Tendrils of smoke formed behind the shifter's solid presence, ready to caress and kill. She hit the soul sucker kinetically, dissipating it yet again, then was flung sideways by the shifter.
She flailed her arms, battling to keep her balance. Heard a grunt as the shifter was hit by the vampire. Blue fire flickered across the deep darkness, evidence that the stake was still buried deep in the vampire's flesh. So why didn't he damn well die, like all bad little vampires should?
She dragged free the second stake and clenched it tight. The two men were slugging it out, the shifter apparently giving as good as he got. She wondered if he had any idea it was a vampire he fought — and that the only reason he could even hit the vampire was the stake holding him in human form.
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and fought the need to move. She didn't dare attack until the shifter was clear. The stake she held was just as deadly to him as the vampire, and the slightest mistake could prove costly.
The mist began forming again. She swore and slashed it with the stake. The air howled, an inhuman sound that sent a chill down her spine. The vapor disappeared, and the sense of old evil retreated, flowing up the stairs and out the door.
If she didn't follow it, she'd lose it. But she couldn't leave the shifter here alone, either. Not when he appeared to have no idea what it was he faced.
"Back off, shifter, and let me at it," she said.
"Like ... hell." His words were punctured with the smack of flesh against flesh.
"Hitting it is not going to damage it." Exasperation edged her voice. If she lost the soul sucker's trail because of this man's stubbornness...
"He's injured. Bleeding."
"And already dead," the vampire snarled. "As you and the bitch will be by the time I'm finished with you both."
"As I said to the lady, like hell."
His words were emphasized by a grunt of effort and another smack of flesh. The vampire made an odd sound deep in his throat and staggered backwards. It was the break she'd been waiting for. She reached deep, drawing on all her remaining kinetic strength, and flung the shapeshifter back — far back, across the warehouse. Surprise whisked around her a moment before he smacked against the wall, then all emotion died. Hit his head. At least she didn't have to worry about him getting in the way.
She raised the stake and ran at the vampire. He snarled and tried to dodge, but his quicksilver movements were slowing, and he was nowhere near fast enough. She drove the stake through his chest into his black heart, then leapt sideways as he lashed at her with clawed hands. His fingers slithered down her leg, tearing through her jeans and into flesh. She cursed and kicked him, shoving him backwards.
He hit the ground with a splat and didn't do anything more than writhe. Blue fire encased his torso, and the smell of burning meat churned her stomach. She climbed to her feet, brushed the dirt from her hands and watched the vampire incinerate. She felt no elation at her victory. Couldn't. Not when there was one more horror still running free.
When there was nothing left but ash, she turned and ran for the stairs. The shifter was safe enough now that the vampire was dead, and with any luck, Gran and she would be well gone by the time he woke. Because if the hostility he'd projected was anything to go by, it wouldn't be pleasant to be within a ten-mile radius of the man when he eventually stirred. Especially after she'd knocked him cold.
The moonlight seemed abnormally bright after the shuttered darkness within the warehouse. She blinked and hesitated, searching for some sign of the soul sucker. Evil was a distant echo moving away fast.
She shifted shape and flew down the alley, skimming past the cops who raced toward the warehouse. This time the creature headed for the main street. Perhaps it hoped the noise and motion might loosen any psychic hold she had on it, which was a definite possibility after all she'd been through tonight.
The bitterness of the night chilled the moisture dripping down her leg. Each breath was a puff of white that hung in the air, oddly resembling the thing she chased. Goose bumps fled across her skin. Perhaps a premonition of what might be if she wasn't very careful over the next few days.
The soul sucker hit the street, its ethereal form getting lost in the warm glow of lights. It whisked away to the right, and the psychic leash she had on it snapped with a suddenness that had her plummeting to the ground.
She hit with a grunt, then shifted shape and rolled onto her back, staring up at the moon.
She'd lost the damn thing.
Chapter Two
Ethan impatiently thrust the paramedic's hand away. "Enough, already. The cut is not that bad."
"Sir, the wound needs stitches — "
"It's stopped bleeding, hasn't it?"