Chapter 5

Zach let go of Helen's wrist and stood up. She should have pulled away and headed for the door, but something stopped her. Something was happening beneath her hand. Drake's skin heated and she was flooded with that odd rush of energy she'd felt before. It filled her up inside, like a warm light, finding all the cold, dark little cracks and holes inside her. There was a faint buzzing sensation and the taste of honey in her mouth, the smell of rain in her nose. She felt light. Buoyant.

This wasn't right. It felt incredibly good, but it wasn't right. This wasn't supposed to happen. Couldn't be real.

She started to pull her fingers away, but Drake's hand caught hers before she finished lifting them from his skin. His fingers wrapped around her wrist and she could feel that disturbing hum of energy sinking into her where each of his lean fingers met her skin.

He sat up, looking alert and coherent, and she felt the soft knit of his shirt pool against her wrist. He held her hand in place and leaned forward until there was barely two inches between them. "I'm not letting you get away again. Not until we figure out what this thing between us is."

It was a vow. She could feel the power of it settle around the two of them, shutting out the rest of the world.

This wasn't real. This wasn't happening. A lot of strange things had happened to her throughout her life, but this was way off the weird chart. "There is no thing between us."

He gave her that half smile from her vision. "There is now."

Behind him, just inside the window that led to the diner's kitchen, orange flames erupted, spewing up like a geyser.

Fire. The smell of burning skin.

Helen's world collapsed down to a pinpoint of panic she couldn't escape. It sucked her in and robbed her of oxygen. She couldn't even remember how to breathe.

Zach liked a little spice in his women, but this was ridiculous. He'd seen the sexy little waitress sneak around the counter with that knife. After the stunt she'd pulled with that damn skewer, Zach didn't doubt for a second that she'd use it. He knew she would. The trickle of blood running down his arm was proof of that.

"You wanna play, little girl?" Zach asked her, stalking closer. She was so damn beautiful he just wanted to eat her up. Her big brown eyes were dark, like bittersweet chocolate, which he guessed fit her personality well. She'd been all sugar and smiles when she'd taken their order and brought them their dinner, but as soon as she thought her friends were in danger, all that sugar had blown away, leaving the real woman behind. Ferocious. Lovely. That dainty pointed chin of hers wasn't fooling him. She was all spirit and backbone and he loved it.

Lexi wasn't very big, but that wasn't her fault. She was built with quality in mind, not quantity, and that spiky, bad-girl hair and the brief flash of the tattoo she had spiraling down from the small of her back was really working for him. Zach wasn't sure exactly what the image was—he just had an impression of sinuous curves—but it didn't matter. He liked that she was tough enough to take the pain, that she was willing to make that small sacrifice for something she found beautiful. This vicious streak she was showing now was just an added bonus.

Now, if he could get her to put down the knife, they could have a nice, long talk, and maybe after his work was done, she'd let him see just how far below her low-rise jeans that tattoo went.

From the corner of his eye, Zach saw the little old lady had recovered her walker and was headed for the telephone. The last thing they needed was for her to call in a bunch of human police to muck things up. The seizure thing Drake had done was enough fun for one night.

Drake was sitting up now, which was a good sign, but sunset was in less than a minute, and once that happened, things could go from ugly to fucking ugly in a heartbeat. Those demons were likely champing at the bit to get out of their dank hidey-holes and start hunting. The scent of blood running down Zach's arm was going to ensure that this was one of the first places they stopped.

Lexi was circling to his left, toward the old woman—likely to protect her. As if any of the Sentinels would ever hurt some old lady. Of course, she couldn't know that.

"Put down the knife, honey. There's been enough bloodshed for tonight."

"I'll tell you when I've shed enough blood," she spat.

Zach wanted to kiss that violent mouth of hers. He'd thought she was pretty before when she'd been Lexi the Waitress, but now that she was Lexi the Avenger, she was glorious. Stunning.

He moved forward, keeping his eye on the knife as he gathered up small specks of energy from the air. The added power hurt like hell, but he needed it to mark her. He couldn't let her go, not without being sure he had a way to keep tabs on her. One little touch and he'd leave behind a tag that he'd be able to follow anywhere. All he had to do was get close enough to touch her without getting sliced open. Logan wouldn't appreciate having to patch him up before the night had really even started.

Lexi didn't back up. Didn't give an inch. The knife gleamed in her grip and Zach felt himself smile. What a woman.

He stepped closer, counting the seconds it would take the old lady to reach the phone. Maybe fifteen. It was plenty to disarm Lexi and leave his mark.

Zack lunged toward her, ducking her knife as it sliced at him a split second too late to do any damage. He grabbed her wrist to keep the knife at bay, and pinned her body against his, her back to his chest. Under the arm he had braced across her body to hold her still, he could feel the rapid rise and fall of her chest and the frantic pounding of her heart.

For a brief second, Zach hesitated. She was afraid of him. She didn't want this.

He let go of the energy he'd gathered and felt a searing rush of power jolt through his hand into the tip of his forefinger, which was pressed tight against Lexi's upper arm.

She sucked in a terrified breath and went still.

Zach opened his mouth to reassure her, but before he could get a single word out, a giant column of fire blasted up out of the kitchen and barreled through the ceiling, blowing a hole in the roof.

They were out of time. The demons were here, and they were pissed.

"Change of plans," shouted Thomas. Drake could barely hear him over the sound of dishes exploding from the heat of the fire in the diner's kitchen. As fast as the fire was spreading, there was no way it was natural fire.

Some of the demons they hunted had the power to call fire. They used it to create panic, make their prey run so they could herd them into clusters or ambush them as they fled.

The Synestryn that had caused this fire would be closing in on them, maybe even lurking outside, waiting for the last sliver of sunlight to fade.

Drake had to get the women to safety. Especially Helen.

He pulled Helen tight against him, making sure her head was down to protect her from flying debris. Once she'd seen the fire, she'd frozen up with a look of stark terror on her face. She was pale, shaking, and no longer resisting him. Not a good sign.

Thomas was still by Drake's side even though Lexi was waving a knife around, looking like some sort of tiny commando, and Miss Mabel was inching toward the telephone.

"We're getting out of here," yelled Thomas. "Logan will have to catch up. Can you walk?"

"No problem," said Drake. Whatever had happened when his internal lights went out had been bad, he was fine now. Better than fine. He was ready to take on the whole freaking nest of Synestryn by himself and recover Kevin's sword single-handedly if necessary.

Helen's wrist was still in his grip and he sure as hell wasn't letting go. That tidal wave of agony that had washed over him when she pushed him away had been an efficient teacher. It was not a lesson he needed to learn a second time.

"You take her," said Thomas. "I'll get the old lady and we'll let Zach deal with Rambette."

Drake nodded and pushed himself to his feet, pulling Helen up with him. She was still unresponsive, her eyes glued to the fire.

She'd dropped her purse at some point, which he stopped to grab along with Miss Mabel's. No sense in leaving behind obvious traces of the women at the scene of what might well be ruled arson. Fires like this one were often mistakenly reported as arson because no one could figure out how they started. He guessed there probably wasn't a little box to check beside the word magic on most fire inspectors' reports.

Drake lifted Helen's compliant body up into his arms and headed for their Chevy Tahoe.

The last rays of sunlight flickered between long shadows, preventing the demons that had started the fire from attacking for a few more seconds.

It took several of those seconds to get her loaded into the far backseat of the SUV and fasten a seat belt around her middle. Never once did he stop touching her skin, which was no hardship at all.

By the time he was done with that, Thomas had packed Miss Mabel into the front seat and her walker in back, but Zach was nowhere to be found.

Flames had already broken through the roof and the back wall of the diner. A small crowd of onlookers was forming across the street.

Sirens whined in the distance, and when they got here, Drake and his buddies needed to be long gone. Dealing with the authorities was not something they had time for tonight. Kevin's sword was still out there, able to do serious harm if any humans stumbled across it—able to do a hell of a lot more harm in the hands of one of the Synestryn.

"Where's Zach?" asked Thomas, scanning the small parking lot.

Tires squealed on the asphalt and Drake saw Zach running after an old Honda with Lexi behind the wheel. Zach was fast, but not that fast, and he didn't stand a chance of catching up with her bat-out-of-hell routine. It took Zach about ten more seconds to realize he wasn't going to catch her and he changed paths and sprinted back toward the SUV.