No Mercy (Dark-Hunter 18)

Lazaros sneered at the shadow he deemed nothing more worrisome than a pebble in his shoe. "You don't give me orders, imisysmorfi."

Sam sucked her breath in at the ancient insult that meant the man was malformed or half-witted. Though the literal translation wasn't as foul as the meaning behind the word. In her time, men had killed each other over it. For the demon's sake, she hoped the man wasn't an ancient Greek. Otherwise there would be bloodletting aplenty.

The shadow vanished, then reappeared right behind them. "Boo."

Lazaros dropped her straight down and turned to fight. Ow! Big ow! She hit the ground so hard, it knocked the breath out of her. She would definitely feel that tomorrow.

If she didn't die tonight.

And it was yet another reason why she wanted to kill the bastard scum. If only she could move. Meanwhile the shadow and the demon tore into each other with a venom the Furies would envy. But at least they weren't stepping on her.

Yet.

Sam was still under his control, and honestly, she was getting tired of it. She wanted to fight, not lie in the street like a worthless lump. With every piece of iron will she had, she tried to inch away from them as they went at each other like Titans after Zeus. It was impressive and made her really want to take them down. The shadow cut and dodged, and hit the demon with enough power that it lifted him almost ten feet off the ground.

Don't pay attention to them. If she could just crawl into the alley next to her, she might be able to get free while the demon was distracted.

Come on, body, don't fail me now. You can do it.

But that was easier said than done. What had the demon done to her that she was so helpless? Worse, that feeling of being powerless was eking away at her Dark-Hunter powers as memories of her death surged.

Stay calm, Sam. Focus.

If only she could...

Another shadow fell over her.

Sam cringed as someone rolled her over, onto her back. She looked up and met the face of a perfect blond angel. Skinny as a rail and yet muscular, the woman should have been an Amazon. But the eeriest part was her eyes--dark brown with ribbons of bright yellow twisting through the iris.

Was she another demon?

She angled Sam's head until their gazes locked. Something inside Sam snapped like a pane of glass. One moment she was basically paralyzed. The next, she was free of what ever the demon had done to her.

Her blood rushing through her, Sam flipped up onto her feet and started for the demon only to have the woman grab her by the waist and stop her. "Cael has him."

Yeah, right. Like she was going to let this go after what he'd done to her? "Oh, like hell. This is a grudge match."

"More than you know, Sam. Stay back."

How did she know her name? That shock kept her still as Amaranda's past went through her. She saw Amaranda as a little girl in Seattle growing up in her family's business, playing with her sister. But what floored Sam wasn't Amaranda's family.

It was the fact that the woman was a Daimon....

And something more.

Something...

Sam tried to delve deeper into that, but Amaranda released her before she could get any more details from her. Lazaros turned toward them and realized she was on her feet. He ran for her then, but Cael grabbed him from behind and tackled him straight to the ground.

Lazaros tried to bite Cael, who quickly dodged him. "Don't need a DNA sample. Thanks for the offer though." He punched Lazaros hard in the side.

Howling, Lazaros hissed at Cael, then vanished into a foul-smelling cloud of sulphur.

"Gah! What did you eat?" Cael snarled. He fanned the cloud as he jumped back trying to escape it. "Coward! Get your ass back here and fight like a demon, you sniveling waste of a scary monster. C'mon, who trained you? Casper?"

The woman next to Sam laughed. "Quit taunting the weak, love. It's pointless."

Cael flashed a grin at her. "Yeah, but did I impress you with my fighting prowess?"

"You always impress me with your fighting prowess, baby. Ain't nobody better." Those words were said in an almost mocking tone.

Cael walked toward them with the deadly lope of a predator. His hair was a riot of loose black curls that framed a face chiseled out of stone. He was stunningly handsome. And one arm was covered with an intricate tribal tattoo.

Ignoring Sam, he slid up to the woman and pulled her into his arms to give her a kiss that was so hot, Sam felt awkward watching it. The two of them kissed like they hadn't seen each other for years and one of them had a terminal disease that would claim them in less than a minute. Any second she expected clothes to go flying.

Okay...

Sam stepped away from them. "Tell you what. You two get a room. I'm going back to--"

"No!" Cael pulled back from his kiss and grabbed her arm to keep her from leaving. "You can't go back there."

She shrugged his touch away but not before she saw a glimpse of him with Acheron.... a glimpse that told her he was a Dark-Hunter.

With those demonic eyes?

Something was wrong. None of this made sense. None of it.

And she wasn't going to stick around to sort it out. "Stop me, asshole."

That cockiness died as she took a step away from them and something hit her hard in the chest.

With a gasp, she crumpled to the street.

Sam woke up with her head splitting sideways. Front ways. All ways. Never in her life had she hurt so badly. She actually felt nauseated from the pain.

What had caused...

Suddenly, she remembered the demon taking her and then the weird couple who had "rescued" her. Anger and panic mixed as she opened her eyes to find herself alone in a small room. It strangely reminded her of something out of the Victorian era. What? Did all demons like that time period? The beige walls were stenciled with a dark brown scroll print and the bed she lay upon was Gothic black wrought iron. The headboard and footboard reminded her of spiraled cathedral windows.

Ah gah, I'm trapped in the Victorian Trading Company catalog. Not that their stuff wasn't beautiful, it just wasn't her cup of tea. And right now, she really wanted to know what was going on.

Danger didn't seem imminent, but then she'd been kidnapped, which tended to make her think she wasn't as safe as she appeared. She moved from the bed and realized someone had put her in a short pink gown.

Yeah, this was getting creepy and it was made creepier by the fact that she wasn't getting any vibes from the clothes or anything else. For that matter, she hadn't dreamed of other people.

It was like being with Dev, only without the warm comfort of his touch.

She went to the door and quickly learned it didn't have a doorknob. There was no way to open it.

Sam turned around slowly, looking for a window or some other means to leave, but there wasn't one. She was trapped here. Alone. There wasn't even a cockroach sending thoughts to her.

"Hello?"

Big surprise, no one answered. Oh, how she didn't like this.

Okay, girl. Don't panic. Not that she was particularly prone to panic, but...She wasn't used to being locked in rooms that looked like they'd been taken off a Hammer movie set either.

Great. I've been captured by Boris Karloff.