The tall creature hissed loudly and rushed him, its long arms outstretched, the claws deadly sharp. They could cut out his entrails in one swipe. He’d seen it up close and personal on several occasions.
Declan ran toward the beast, his hand outstretched, and blasted as much energy as he could, aiming dead center for its chest. He managed to knock the bastard off its feet, but wasn’t certain if it was from the strength of his hit or the fact he’d surprised the crap out of him. Of course the demon would assume he was still powerless.
An agonized roar fell from its lips and it flailed madly in an effort to gain its footing. The beast was massive, clumsy. Declan leapt over it, barely managing to avoid a swipe of its claws, when a shadow moved to his left and caught his eye.
Declan tucked his body into a roll and hit the stone floor hard, yet still the heat of a bullet cut through the air where his body had just been. He called the shadows to his form, knowing it wasn’t foolproof.
He moved with stealth, tapping into the preternatural speed he wasn’t yet used to. In less time than it took to blink, he was behind the second creature. This one was demon, not nearly as large or as fierce as the two-headed bastard on the floor.
Declan’s hands went around its neck in one swift move and he snapped it, then threw the demon to the floor. He needed to move quickly. Nothing died down here and he knew it would be on its feet in no time. Its neck would still be broken, bent at an unnatural angle, but it would be mobile, therefore dangerous.
He grabbed the weapon from its hands and stalked over to the two-headed creature. It was up, both heads frothing at the mouth, spittle flying in all directions.
“We will kill you,” it shouted like a petulant child, its body trembling with anger.
Declan shook his head. “You could try, douche bags, but the only one who can do the killing would be your queen, and she’s busy having sex with a goat in the garden.”
The creature bellowed in rage. “Do not speak of her.” It rushed him, a blur of madness. Declan aimed his weapon and fired off two shots in rapid succession, planting two bullets right where they mattered most, between the beast’s eyes.
It kept on, but he held out his hand and as the creature began to wobble, Declan’s magick held it aloft. He increased his hold and watched as the creature trembled and struggled to breathe. Shock and surprise appeared within the depths of its eyes.
“Not so much fun when the playing field is even,” Declan growled.
“We will kill you.” It managed to squeeze the words out though they were weak.
Declan snorted. “I don’t think so, ass wipe.” He turned, smiling as he heard it fall to the ground. He had mere minutes before it, too, would be up and about, gunning for his ass. He heaved the weapon over his shoulder and slid deeper into the fog.
The enemy he sought was still here, hiding from him. Other than Lilith, this was the one piece-of-shit entity he dreamed of nightly. Was it man or woman? He had no clue. The bastard changed skins as easily as a snake.
Declan had no more time to play games. He snarled into the gray mist. “Show yourself, dickhead. I know you’re here.”
A tingle of energy slithered along his skin and then the air rippled, creating a swirl of mist that evaporated into nothing. A space opened up, like a black hole, and a shape materialized.
He saw a face he’d thought never to look upon again, but really, should he be surprised?
Father.
Declan stared into the cold, dark eyes of Cormac O’Hara and smiled as the energy inside him stirred hot.
Was it really his father? Or the skin shifter demon he’d come to know so well during his stay here? Did it matter?
The familiar face cracked as a stiff smile swept over his features. He saw the nostrils flare as he gazed behind Declan. White teeth showed brigh
tly as he smiled in wonder. They were serrated. It was definitely not his father, but he’d play along.
“I smell Ana DeLacrux. I thought I nailed that bitch cold. How in the hell did your vampire come back from the dead?”
Declan glared at him, his face darkened with anger. He knew the skin shifter showed itself in any form it thought would bring mental pain. Hell, how many times had it appeared as Ana? How many times had he been forced to watch the woman he loved engage in all sorts of sordid acts?
“This must be my lucky day,” Declan said, his voice deadly as a sneer lifted the corners of his mouth. His father held no sway where he was concerned.
Cormac O’Hara’s frosty eyes narrowed into twin slits of blackness. “How so?” the shifter asked, his voice silky smooth.
Declan took a step forward and glowered. “Because I get to kick my father’s ass again and then I’ll have the pleasure of blasting him into tiny little pieces.” He flexed his fingers and growled, “Again.”
“Come now. Is that any way to speak to dear old dad? The man responsible for giving you life?” The skin shifter’s eyes narrowed. “For giving you power?”
Declan snarled. “He was nothing more than a sperm donor.”