breath. I popped a shot that landed in her right hip and the curse died behind her gasp. Real pain filled her expression.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I said, walking toward the bed.
“You’re going to kill me either way.” She laughed bitterly. Painfully. “I won’t talk.”
“If you know that, then you have a decent understanding of why I’m here, yes?”
Her lips pursed. She knew.
“You won’t find him,” she said. “Not through me.”
I tilted my head. “You already know you’re going to die. Your silence only drags it out, Greta. Better to speak, and I’ll make it quick.”
She looked at me, her skin colored in crimson. Blood splattered her thighs, her face, her arms, and stomach. The wound at her side bubbled and moving even an inch solicited a harsh hiss from her lips. I got the impression she wanted to fight. She clung to life even though she knew this was death.
Most did. When they realized there was a real chance of dying, people got desperate. Her being one of the weaker supes, at least in body, all it would take was a shot to the head or enough blood loss and she’d be gone.
“Even if I wanted to, I can’t.”
“He put a blocker on you?” I asked, suspecting that might be the case. A blocker would make it complicated, but certainly not impossible.
“Yes,” she spat. “You won’t find Kenneth. Not before he finds you.”
Her second sentence made me still. “He?” I asked softly. My heart started to beat faster, anticipating her answer.
She grinned maniacally. “The one looking for you.”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Who put a blocker on you?” I demanded.
When she smiled again, my heart drummed harder.
“You might be looking for Kenneth, but he found us first. I talk, I die.”
“You’re dying either way,” I snapped.
“Maybe,” she said, looking away. “If I’m good, I might not.”
“What’s she talking about?” Nathalie said in a rush of breath.
“The demon,” I murmured. “He’s coming for me.”
Nathalie visibly paled in the low light. “But that’s not—”
“Possible?” I said. “A great many things are possible for demons.” It was cryptic, but I wasn’t saying more. Not in front of Greta, who seemed to think there might be a chance she could survive this.
Which meant . . . she was expecting backup.
This was a trap. This whole fucking thing was a trap.
Somehow, in the few short days he’d been on earth, the demon had tracked down the coven—but he didn’t care about them. For some odd reason, he wanted me.
Now the people I had to find and kill were the traps meant to lure me to him.
I could not go. I could choose to hide. But Anders knew my location. Picking up and moving wouldn’t be so easy. Not with the reason I was hunting them to begin with.
“How long do we have?” I demanded.
The door to the room opened, but Nathalie was standing at my side.
Greta smiled.
It was too late. He’d found me.
11
My heart rate kicked up another notch. After undergoing the crash so recently, I was dangerously close to slipping back into my other form. I couldn’t allow that to happen.
Not if I was planning to leave Nathalie alive after all this.
I turned and fired, shooting Greta in the head.
The smile on her face had only slightly dimmed when her body slumped back against the bed.
Magic brushed against my skin. A tingling awareness shot up my spine, making the hairs on my neck stand to attention. A sensual exhale left my lips, more akin to a moan as the smoking aphrodisiac pulled me under.
At least that’s what I told myself. The alternate possibility was harder to accept.
I felt it the moment he stepped into the room. While I didn’t turn to look at him, I sensed his eyes on me. Watching.
“Leave us,” he commanded.
Nathalie’s eyes widened. She looked from me to the man standing over my shoulder, and she swallowed hard.
“No,” her voice quaked. That single word earned her more respect than anything she’d said or done before this moment.
“You defy me?” he asked, seeming as surprised as I that she didn’t turn and run when given the chance.
“I won’t leave her,” Nathalie answered with steel behind her voice that she hadn’t used with me. I closed my eyes and shook my head. Stupid girl.
For as smart as she was, she should have taken his offer.
“Does she mean anything to you?” he asked, his tone changing. It was less demanding and more curious.
“She’s—” Nathalie started.
“Not you,” he said, cutting her off. “Piper.”
My