The demon was begging now. Crying. Pleading. That was the way it always was for them at the end.
No one wanted to die.
Too f**king bad.
Carlos smiled at the demon. “You really thought you could hunt here … that you could come after a coyote shifter—”
The demon’s head jerked up and horror filled his eyes. “II didn’t know—”
Didn’t really matter. The coyote shifters weren’t the bitches of the paranormal world, and it was time people started to learn that lesson.
The members of his pack—those still alive after that last slaughter by the wolves in LA—had come home to regroup. And to start hunting. They’d been busy killing anything and everything that came at them.
Proving our strength. They weren’t going to wait to be hunted. They were the hunters.
The demon’s hands dug into the dirt. They’d made him dig his own grave. Easier to clean up that way. “I didn’t want her!” The demon screamed out. “I was supposed to kill the f**king vampire!”
Carlos pulled back the shovel he’d been about to slam into the demon’s stomach. “What vampire?” An image flashed in his mind. The woman with the devil-black hair and the too-pale skin. The woman who’d whispered so temptingly in the bar, then taken him outside.
He’d known what she was, of course. And he’d been planning to rip her throat wide open …
Then her lover had arrived.
The demon—he’d said his name was Elijah—glanced up, blinking bleary eyes. Getting the demon to make sense was hard. He seemed more than half out of his head. Probably from drugs. Some demons screwed around too much with them. If he was lucky, they’d all OD and head straight back to hell one day soon.
If he was lucky.
Elijah’s jaw had gone slack.
“What. Vampire.” Carlos lifted the shovel to the demon’s throat. The weapon’s placement was just a threat. He wouldn’t make the killing blow this way. Carlos liked to be far more hands-on.
Behind him, his cousin whispered his name.
He ignored Julia. This wasn’t her call. She’d just been the bait.
“W-woman … with black hair …” Elijah’s body weaved. “Sh-she was h-here … before … supposed to kill her …”
Same vamp? Different? Did it even matter?
No.
Time was up for the demon.
“She took up with … f-fucking angel …” The demon laughed and blood dripped down his chin. “Angel and a bl-bloodsucker …”
Carlos dropped the shovel. “What?”
“He could see me,” Elijah muttered, scratching his eyes. “I knew it—one look … he could see everything … Can’t let ’em s-see …”
Fucking lunatic. “There’s no angel.” Mierda. If only there was … In LA, he’d stumbled onto an Other secret. A very, very powerful poison.
Angel’s Dust. A potent mix that, when ingested, destroyed demons. It didn’t matter how powerful the demons were. Even level tens would die when the poison worked through them. No cure—just death.
Only one problem … Angel’s Dust had to be made from pure angel blood, and there weren’t a whole hell lot of angels walking around these days.
Those smart bastards knew to stay to the skies.
His claws ripped through his fingertips as Carlos got ready to have his fun.
“Guardian …” Blood leaked from the cuts Elijah had made on his own face. “Said h-he was the bitch’s guardian …”
What if the demon was telling the truth?
“What did he look like?” Julia asked as she pressed closer. His cousin had always had trouble staying in the background.
At her voice, Elijah stilled. His head turned toward her, slowly, like a snake, and he smiled. “I see you.”
She tossed back her long hair and sauntered to the edge of the hole. Julia wouldn’t be scared of the demon. She’d just been pretending before—baiting their trap. Carlos had never seen her actually be scared of anything. “I see you, too, cabron,” she said.
Elijah’s smile grew.
“And you think you saw an angel, si?” Her claws were out.
The demon nodded as his gaze bored into her. His blond hair hung in thick chunks around his face.
“So this angel … what … he just flew down from cielo, from heaven?” Julia’s voice taunted him.
Elijah edged closer to the edge of his grave. “Black wings … like shadows behind him …”
Carlos tensed. Okay, this he had heard before. When angels fell, they lost their wings.
“Fell … bastard fell …” Elijah licked his lips. “So he could f**k a vampire …”
Julia laughed. “So angels are that hard up?”
“If an angel was walking around,” Carlos said, his voice cutting over her. “I think word would’ve spread by now.” But … what if? His heart thundered with rising excitement.
Angel blood. If he got hold of angel blood, he’d be able to wipe out the strongest demons who got in his way. He’d be able to use that blood to buy allegiance with any paranormal he wanted. Everyone always wanted to kill demons. He could just provide folks with the means, and in return, he’d get …
Power.
Finally, power would come back to the coyotes. No more getting screwed over for them. No more.
Elijah didn’t look away from Julia. “Most can’t … see him.” He spat out a mouthful of blood. “Can’t see his w-wings … only those with demon blood.”
Ah, now that was another story he’d heard. Legend or truth? “Describe him,” Carlos snapped.
“Big, blond bastard, tails her like a … second skin.”
Carlos remembered the fool who’d interrupted his games. The gringo who had struck out with too much power and killed his men. No, he hadn’t killed them …
He’d moved so fast the bullets hadn’t hit him. They’d hit Jo and Ruben.
And that man had been defending the vampire. No, surely it wouldn’t be that easy. “He’s f**king her?”
Elijah’s gaze swept down Julia’s body. “Her scent was … all over h-him.”
“Where are they now?”
The demon’s eyes were so big. The blood still dripped down his face. “Lost ’em … after they left Mexico.”
Unfortunate. But still … very, very interesting. Because if the angel had fallen—for a vampire, so sad—then he’d have a weakness.