As she entered an empty elevator, a sense of isolation engulfed her. Of course, she felt isolated every second of every day, even when surrounded by hundreds of people. Except...
Standing here, she thought she detected a lingering hint of William’s scent, causing the memory of his kiss to surface, eclipsing the sense of isolation. Her tremors started up again. The man had focused every bit of his intense masculinity on her. When he’d thrust his thigh between her legs, taking her on one hellebore of a carnival ride, his blue, blue eyes had lit with sizzling arousal.
Her blood heated and her belly quivered, just as before.
What are you doing? Stop! Why torture herself with feelings she could never explore? Not with William, not with anyone. Her trust issues wouldn’t let her. Too many beings hoped to steal her horn, a conduit and siphon for mystical power. Aka a magic wand.
The elevators doors closed, and she realized she hadn’t pressed a button. Thinking to start her search at the bottom and work her way up, she selected the first-floor.
A jostle. A ride. Then a ding. The elevator doors opened, and Sunny rushed out as fast as her feet could carry her, eager to escape the site of her undoing. She hurried through the lobby, the bar, her gaze constantly darting. Before coming to the convention, she’d studied a map of the hotel and memorized every exit and possible escape route. She’d check each one. If Sable had been chased, she would have left a warning for Sunny. Surely!
In the distance, a man shouted her name. He sprinted over, and she moaned. Harry, the one who’d requested a demonstration of her abilities earlier.
Lest he draw more attention her way, she stopped in her tracks, awaiting him. He halted a few feet away, his lips pulled back in a toothy, goofy grin. Close to her age—appearance-wise—he was handsome, with dark brown hair, darker eyes and tan skin.
“Hi,” he said, only to add, “I’m not creepy or anything, I promise.”
The words pinged her inner lie detector, a vibration speeding along her spine. Okay, yeah, he absolutely considered himself a creep. Since she hadn’t reloaded the gun-ring, she slid her hand in her pocket to grip the hilt of the dagger hidden there.
He continued, saying, “I’m Anomaly. No, sorry. That’s my screen name. I don’t know if you remember, but I’m Harry Shorts. I just, I know you’re Sunny Lane, and I’m totally starstruck right now. You’re, like, my hero, and I’d love to buy you a drink.”
“No, thank you.” She tried to go around him, but he moved with her, blocking her path. “I’m busy.”
“Just one drink.” He pushed his palms together, creating a steeple. “Pretty please. I’ll make sure you have a good time.”
He was too eager. Could he be a poacher? He was human, yes, and he wasn’t on her list of suspects, but the longer they stood together, the more reddish gray his aura became, tendrils of evil spilled from his heart.
He was a bad man, who liked to do bad things.
Self-preservation instincts demanded she take him out now, now, now. Sunny resisted—for the moment. Tomorrow, she would shadow him and maybe he’d incriminate himself. But here, now? Precious time ticked away.
“Have you seen my friend?” she asked, watching his face for any hint of his emotions. “Female. Six feet tall. Black. Gorgeous.”
“No, sorry. So about that drink...”
No change in his emotions or aura. He hadn’t seen Sable. “No, thank you,” she repeated, then faked left and spun right, darting away.
Harry got the hint and didn’t bother chasing after her, saving his life.
Guard up, she scanned the area. No sign of Sable.
No sign of Sable on the first eight...ten...seventeen floors, either.
Dread coiled around her throat and squeezed. By the time she reached her room, perspiration dampened her skin. Still, no policemen, thank goodness.
Shaking now, she keyed inside and kicked the door shut. The scent of roses greeted her. Roses? Had Sable returned with flowers, maybe? She inhaled deeply, just to be sure she’d scented what she’d scented. Yep. Roses. Curious, she tripped forward and—
No flowers. And no body. Her heart and stomach traded places, her head spinning. William and the pool of blood were gone. He—or whoever had carried him away and cleaned the room—had left a note on the mirror. In still-dripping blood.
What. The. Hellebore? Her tremors amplified as she read, You were wrong. If I were a pizza topping, I’d be a double order of smoked sausage. I’ll see you soon, duna. Very soon...
Duna, meaning “little dark one”? Eyes wide, she tore through the room, but found no trace of William. If he were alive...
No, no. He was dead. Had to be. No one could survive the magic bullet. But...
If he wasn’t dead, he would return for vengeance.
She gulped. She needed to be ready.
5
“Fate is a bitch, but she favors the bold. If ever she closes a door, kick it down.”
The next morning, William stood outside a hotel ballroom. One of his sons stood at his left, and Hades’s newest adoptee stood at his right. The pair remained impassive, while William vibrated with a tantalizing mix of fury, satisfaction and anticipation.
Sunny had entered the ballroom ten minutes and twenty-nine...thirty...thirty-one seconds ago to attend a workshop called “The Voynich Manuscript: Too Difficult to Crack, or a Hoax?” Now only a set of double doors separated him from his prey.
Funny how fate worked. Of all the codes in all the worlds, William considered the Voynich manuscript most like his book. Two hundred and forty-six calfskin pages, written in an unknown script. The author had used a twenty-eight-character alphabet, with zero punctuation. As the workshop name suggested, the code had yet to be solved.
Popping the bones in his neck, he asked his companions, “You remember your job?”
“Yep. Thanks to Hades, I’ve now done dozens of these. Got the process memorized.” Pandora rubbed her hands together, a bit gleeful. “This is a basic snatch and go. So, enough chitchat, yeah? Let’s get it done.”
So impatient, his new sister. A dark-haired, pale-skinned beauty, and, yes, the woman behind the infamous legend. The one Zeus, former king of the Greeks, had once commanded to guard a mysterious box. According to legend, curiosity had driven her to open it, unleashing all the world’s evil, or demons.
Truth was, fourteen others had been jealous of her military success. Thirteen men, and one woman. Hoping to prove Pandora unworthy of her special assignment, they stole and opened the box. As punishment, they were each forced to house one of the demons—inside their bodies.
Within minutes of their possession, one newly possessed warrior had murdered Pandora. Then, last year, Hades brought her back from the dead—resurrection was a specialty of his.
Those fourteen soldiers had gone on to become William’s closest friends. They were irreverent assholes, sure, but they were his irreverent assholes. He trusted them with his life.
Green, William’s son, happened to be a horseman of the apocalypse. One of one set of four, anyway. Green was an ambassador of Death. He possessed dark hair, dark skin and eyes like an abyss; he loved poker, cigars and women, in that order. Loyal only to his brothers and William, Green had little tolerance for anyone else.
Red and Black, William’s only other sons, were the same. At the moment, they were out spying for him. White, his only daughter, had been murdered a few years back, her loss a thorn in his heart and a white-hot poker in his soul.
He curled his hands into fists. One day, I’ll have her back. Not through traditional means. No, oh, no. His children had no mother. William had made them all on his own. Well, not on his own exactly. Magic had helped.
The first magic he’d ever absorbed had mated with the vengeance, greed, envy and wickedness in his soul. He hadn’t known until months later, when black mist had seeped from his pores, four adults s
tanding in its midst.
“And you?” he demanded of Green. “What aren’t you to do?”
His son rolled his eyes. “I’m not to kill the attendees, even if they try to kill us.”
“And?” William prompted.
Pandora heaved a sigh. “We do not touch the blue-haired one. She’s yours, only yours, and if we dare make a move on her, you’ll shove a metal hook down our throats, and fish out our organs.”
“Exactly right.” After Sunny had bolted, he’d cleaned the hotel room with magic, written her a message in blood and opened a portal to his home in Hell. He’d had to use magic to see, too, his eyes decimated by the bullet, along with his nose, mouth and parts of his brain. Good times. Payback would be fun—for him.
Eager and impatient to get started, he waved, placing a magical barrier around the room, ensuring no one outside it would hear what happened inside.
“Let’s go,” he said. “Let’s get this done.”
Instinct whispered, If she leaves this room without you, you will never see her again. Impatience welled.
“Now,” he insisted when his companions failed to act.
Pandora flipped him off. “I need a minute. I’m pondering why a man known as the Ever Randy is going batshit crazy over a woman who pureed his face.”
Green cracked a grin; no doubt he enjoyed seeing his unflappable father so...flapped. Over a female no less.
“Ponder on your own time,” William snapped. Ready to see Sunny, he kicked open the double doors and prowled into the ballroom. His companions flanked his sides.