Long fangs were exposed as the demon roared in terror, but the sound and his paltry life were instantly snuffed out by her assault. The blazing glory engulfed him instantaneously, and he dissolved before her eyes. Only the echo of his hoarse cries remained, and even that extinguished a moment later.
Sunny stood there, gasping for breath, and couldn't help smiling when she realized she was standing by the express checkout lane. That was exactly what she'd served that sinful creature: an immediate departure from the world. No more torturing of humans, no more stalking of vampires for their rare blood. She had the urge to don a cashier's apron. "Next!" she'd love to cry, and get some more vile beings dispatched. As it was, though, she had a brunch to attend. Which pretty much summed up her life here on earth; it was like being a supernatural double agent, where you pretended to be normal while kicking ass on the sly.
Summoning her power, she bounded back to the place where she'd stood in the aisle, released the mirage that she'd kept in place, and grabbed the gift bag.
One enemy down, all in a day's work for a vampire's guardian. Now to make sure that Kate didn't suspect a thing, which was always the trickiest part of the job.
"So let me get this straight. You want a vampire to spend New Year's at our house." Jamie Angel looked at his younger brother, Mason, who, just like Jamie, was committed to hunting and destroying all creatures of darkness. Vampires included. At least until very recently.
"That's the idea," Mason agreed, his expression pure innocence as he raised the newspaper just high enough to avoid Jamie's sharp gaze.
In a city the size of Savannah, the paper was still relevant, especially in their line of work.
Checking out the obits, reading about unsolved local crimes, even scanning the business section—all were important in pursuing leads regarding paranormal activity.
At the moment, however, Mace was using the newspaper as a shield, which pissed Jamie off, seeing as how he had every right to be worked up. The Angel family had spent generations battling demons and vampires, and now Mason's marine buddy, Dillon Fox, had gone and gotten engaged to one. A vampire. That was bad enough, especially since Dillon was part of the Shades, their elite paramilitary group of hunters. But no, apparently it wasn't bad enough: Now Mason had invited Dillon and his bloodsucking fiancee over to watch bowl games on New Year's Day.
Jamie took a long sip of sweet tea. "You know where I stand on Dillon's upcoming marriage to that . . . that . . . Oh, good God, I can't even say it, much less imagine her on our property. Daddy's probably rolling over in his grave as it is."
Mason lowered the paper just enough to give him a pointed look. "Don't be a vampist, Jamie."
"Political correctness doesn't extend to vampires, brother. Nor do social invitations, at least not from me. Isn't it enough that I've called off the hunt for the Rabineaus?"
Mason sighed. "It's a party. Everyone's coming."
"Everyone," Jamie repeated, and then cursed under his breath.
"Everyone who matters, at least to me. I'll have Nik. Shay'll have Ajax. The rest of the Spartan brothers are coming. And you can invite whichever skanky chick you're seeing right now. Who is it this week again? Tori? Tawny? Titty?"
Jamie flipped him off. "Her name is Terri Lynn Sweeney, and she's a nice girl."
"Just like all the women you date. Natch. Met her at a strip club, did you?" Mason snickered, his green eyes filled with mischief.
"I've only been out with her a few times," Jamie said. "And it was a bar, thank you very much."
"Okay, well, shit yeah, you bring your girl, I bring my guy, Shay brings her husband . . . and Dillon Fox brings his fiancee. No biggie at all." Mason resumed reading the paper as if they were discussing the latest shift in stock prices.
Jamie stepped forward and yanked the newspaper out of his brother's hands with an irritated gesture. "I'm not gonna sit back and let this house get desecrated by a vampire, not even a supposedly 'friendly' one. Not on my watch, bro."
Mason scowled at him. "This isn't a church, Jamie."
"No, but it's something just as sacred to me. My home. Our family's home for six generations."
Jamie stalked over to the credenza, where Shay had laid out Sunday brunch, and began loading a plate with biscuits and cheese-grits casserole and scrambled eggs. "Color me impolite, but I just don't like the idea of your pals eating hoppin' John and lounging around on Mama's favorite settee."
"Jesus, you're the one who recruited Dillon for the Shades. Hasn't he done good work since joining the team?"
"Of course," Jamie acknowledged softly. Blind or not, Dillon Fox had turned out to be one hell of a hunter, with an almost uncanny sixth sense for tracking demons. "But he loses points for his choice of spouse. He was supposed to investigate her, remember? Not fall in love and get engaged to her."
Mace sat back in his chair. "Kate Rabineau's a good woman. If you spent any time with her . . ."
"I've known her since I was eight years old!" Jamie bellowed. "And I've known she was a vampire and to be avoided at all costs since then, too. Your battle buddy's got some piss-poor judgment with his choice of a mate."
Mace leaned back in his seat and stared at Jamie for a long moment. "Do you even realize how many times Dillon had my back while we were in combat? He saved my life more than once, just so you know, and that means I give him the benefit of the f**king doubt. In all regards. If he's in love with Kate, if he says she's to be trusted, then that's good enough for me."
Their sister, Shay, whistled as she walked in the dining room. "Plus, he's hotter than Sunday pancakes."
Mason got a gleam in his eyes at that observation. "Yeah, well, there's a reason I nicknamed him Foxy."
Since Mace had come out to them two months earlier, he'd become more forward and vocal about his sexual orientation—including how hard he'd fallen for one of the Spartan immortals, Nikos Dounias. Lately Nik spent almost as much time at the plantation as he did over at the warriors' compound, and just as many nights in Mace's room.
No wonder Mason had so much sympathy for Dillon's falling in love with someone unexpected, someone otherworldly to the extreme. His own lover was a good twenty-five hundred years old, hardly the girl—or even boy—next-door type.
Jamie sank down into the chair again, spreading a starched napkin on his lap. Since their mother's death nine months earlier, Shay had worked hard to fill the void she'd left behind, and that included upholding their family traditions: Sunday brunch, fine linens, pimento-cheese sandwiches, antique china, the whole nine yards. This while she was emerging as one of the best demon fighters Jamie had ever seen. Which meant that Shay, in a very real sense, had become the lady of their family home, and if she wanted to entertain vampires, her vote carried more weight than his own.