“Ow! Hey! Why is everybody grabbing at my arm? I can walk on my—”
“Docia,” Ram hushed her fiercely.
“Marissa!”
The way her brother shouted for Marissa sent a cold shiver of awareness creeping like icy dribbles down the length of Docia’s spine. Jackson had broken into a dead run, everything about him screaming with fear.
CHAPTER TWO
Leo heard Jackson yell and immediately knew something was very wrong. He moved quickly to the nearest window, ignoring the fierce pain that came with moving too fast. There would be time later for muscle and sinew to repair, at that moment it was nothing but a minor inconvenience to him. Even as he visually tried to discern what was happening, his mind was mapping out the fastest route to the gun case in the parlor. Actually, he didn’t need to map it. He’d been obsessing over getting hold of one of those guns. With that supernatural prick in the same house as he was? He’d be damned if he was going to walk around unarmed. Given their strength, their power, and their speed, it was not exactly what you would call an even match, but Leo would feel better armed than not. He’d gotten the drop on one of them before, and that was before he had even known what they were, so he’d damn well prefer the ability to do it again.
Jackson was running hell-bent for leather across the front yard, his boots kicking up a dotted line of dust clouds, his speed everything unnatural. It was the first time he was seeing Jackson use some of his new ability but he didn’t have time to indulge in the crawling distaste the image evoked within him. Jackson was heading up the drive, toward the good doctor and her garden spot.
That was when a ragged stream of energy seared across Jackson’s path, like a lightning strike from an ominous thundercloud. Dirt and rock and carefully cultivated landscaping spewed everywhere, bringing Jackson up short with a skid of his boots. Leo and Jackson looked up simultaneously. The next instant Leo bolted for the parlor, grabbing up a heavy iron bust of the god Anubis from one of the end tables as he went. He reached the case, hauled back and smashed the glass with the statue. To his consternation it didn’t break. The only hint he had even hit it was from an impact fracture in a white spiderweb shape. But there was a small hole in the center of that web and that told him the glass was reinforced, but not unbreakable.
It took three more smashes with the statue before the glass gave up the ghost and created a hole large enough for him to thrust his hand through. He grabbed for the nearest gun, a black Berretta, .45 caliber with a laser sight mounted along its spine. Something that would come in handy in the dark. He checked the chamber and the clip, finding them loaded and ready. He didn’t come across any more ammunition, so what he had was going to have to do and he would have to make every shot count.
As he ran to the front door, he almost collided with Docia, leaping over Sargent as it was, and exploded onto the porch. All of which cost him a great deal, making him clench his teeth in agony and wonder if he’d just reinjured things that weren’t healed as yet. He flipped on the laser sighting with his thumb and with two hands pointed it into the sky. There was another belch of severe energy, the white of it blinding him and seemingly coming out of nowhere. But there was no way that was natural, and he knew that because it struck right at Jackson’s feet again, forcing him back, his leap covering enormous amounts of ground. The air between him and the dirt was incomprehensible to a man who had not seen any other displays of a Bodywalker’s power other than those of Kamenwati and Chatha, and those encounters had not been anything like this at all.
No, theirs had been a very special brand of psychopathic supernaturalism.
Ram was off the deck already and the savage, ominous rumble of natural thunder filled the air. Right before Leo’s eyes the sky blossomed with thick black thunderheads, whereas it had been a perfectly clear night beforehand. He knew this was Ram’s doing. Leo had been told Ram could control the weather, although he had no idea what a few rainclouds were going to do to help the situation.
Another bolt of white energy burst out of the sky, the beam of it scorching past Jackson’s back. The intent was clear. Jackson would be hit if he moved forward, and hit if he moved backward. He was trapped out there in the open, like a frog on a lily pad in the center of a vast lake and nowhere to jump for safety.
Leo’s lack of a target frustrated him. He rapidly cleared the stairs to shorten his distance to Jackson, all the while keeping his weapon trained on that empty sky. Something was there. They couldn’t see it, but all three men knew something was there.
And it was toying with Jackson.
That, more than anything, told Leo he was dealing with another sick paranormal psychopath.
Just as Ram was closing in on Jackson, a new bolt of energy lashed out of the night sky, but this one hit Ramses square in the chest and literally blew him off his feet. The impact sent him backward by at least thirty feet, the impression of his body tearing up the earth, kicking up dirt and dust. Then the Bodywalker was still. The hit was horrifying and Docia’s scream came from the house behind him. Leo turned from the empty sky and tracked his aim back toward the house. There was a potted cactus, quite thick in circumference, to the right of the door. Two bullets into one side of the ceramic pot holding it made it explode and the heavy cactus within toppled over in front of the door, effectively blocking it shut, its spiny skin a natural deterrent to anyone thinking of touching it and shoving it out of the way. He saw Docia hit the door and was satisfied when he saw that she was unable to open it. That wasn’t to say she wouldn’t find another way out and into the fray, but it would take her more time…maybe enough time for them to deal with this…whatever “this” was.
He tracked his aim back up to the sky, hurrying over to the very still form of Ram. He bent in order to touch fingers to the fallen man’s carotid artery, trying to detect a pulse while keeping his full attention trained upward. Whatever it was would show itself eventually, and he would be ready for it when it did. Leo exhaled with relief when he felt the awkward thrum of Ram’s pulse. For all their power and longevity, and as amazing as their ability to rapidly heal was, these people were more than capable of dying. And while he mistrusted the bastard, Docia loved him. It shone from every bright smile and warm cuddle he had seen her give him. It would break her heart if something were to snatch him away from her.
“C’mon, c’mon,” he muttered under his breath as he aimed up at the sky, “do it again. Show us what a badass you are. You can do it.”
That was when a furious Gargoyle blasted up from the ground in the garden, enormous wings spread wide, skin turned to heavy stone and a face as grotesque and frightening as any gargoyle on top of a church might be. Ahnvil was a thing of power, as were Stohn and Diahmond, two other Gargoyles that had launched into the air from the direction of the house. Jackson had told Leo that these were their bodyguards, their supernatural protectors. They were strong and nearly impossible to kill and would never stop in their endeavors to protect the Bodywalkers they were pledged to.
There was nothing for them to attack, that they could see, but they all knew the general area to aim for. And then, like ducks in a shooting gallery, those massive beams of energy shot out of the sky and picked the Gargoyles off, one by one, sending them thundering back down to the earth, deadweights of stone.
But it was enough. Enough for Leo to see that the energy beam remained solid, from inception point to end point, for the beat of a few seconds, telling him exactly where the attacker might be. He blew off four shots, the recoil from the Beretta jolting through him.
Like a magician yanking a cloth away to reveal the lady or the tiger beneath it, the thing in the air winked into view. It wobbled around, and Leo was sure he had hit it.
“Leo, no!” Jackson shouted, much too late. The woman…and it was a woman…attacking from the night sky whirled to face Leo’s direction. She was wearing white from head to toe, long auburn hair streaming in blowing wisps around her head, like some kind of Clairoled medusa. A stain of blood spread across the white of her clothing.
Right over her heart.
Lucky shot that, Leo thought. Right before he realized he’d shot her in the heart and she was still floating up there in midair as if it meant nothing to her at all. She lowered herself closer to the ground and Leo readied himself to fire another volley of bullets. She had to have a vulnerability somewhere, and he…
He recognized that face. He didn’t know how, but it was like a barely remembered snatch of a dream. A dream where he had…
Cut her throat.
This was the woman he had killed, slitting her throat, dropping her down on the floor to bleed out. This was the woman who was the catalyst behind Kamenwati sending Chatha to find Leo and capture him so that the Templar could deliver vengeance on him in her name.
Odjit.
The name came to him about two seconds before her laughter filled the night air.
“Very well,” she said, her voice echoing and powerfully loud all around him. “If you wish to die first, I can oblige you.”
“No!” Jackson shouted the word and suddenly Leo was shoved back by a powerful force, as though a linebacker had rammed into him, sending him sprawling into the dirt. His gun flew out of his hands as he gathered a faceful of dirt and excruciating pain hit him everywhere at once. He could swear he’d heard something snap, some bone in his body no doubt. But he was too stunned to feel anything in specific right then.
But he saw how Jackson’s shout drew Odjit’s attention and she lowered herself even farther and faced him.
“You,” she said, “are dangerous.”
Jackson’s response was to throw out both hands and shove, as if he were pushing her off himself, had she been anywhere near close enough for it, which she wasn’t. But just the same she was sent backward, much in the same way Leo had been sent flying. That was when it really sank in that Jackson had been the one to shove Leo out of the way of Odjit’s attention. But unlike Leo, she didn’t even come close to hitting the ground, and, outside of a midair tumble, she was almost completely unaffected by his attack.
“You,” she said again, “might be troublesome, given enough time. That thought makes us most unhappy.”
Us? Like, the royal Us? Jeez, who was this lady anyway? What was she? Leo was in too much pain to give it much thought. There were details, bits of conversation he’d been half listening to, that he couldn’t force into sense enough to answer his own questions at the moment. His world was suddenly overrun with these kinds of creatures and he had known right from the first moment he’d become aware of them that there was nothing good about them. And he was just as certain there was almost nothing he could do to protect himself and the things he deemed important in the face of this kind of power.
But he could damn well try and do some damage at the very least. To that end, he scrambled for his gun.
“We know what you are,” Jackson said with virulent anger. “A two-bit monster calling itself a god. If you think we’re going to let you run amok in this world you have another—”
“Silence!” Jackson’s adversary hissed. She flicked her hand, a discus of energy suddenly appearing in her fingers, right before she flung the thing at Jackson. It all happened so quickly, the move lightning fast, the distance between her hand and Jackson’s throat far too short. Jackson threw up his hands in defense, but the disc whipped right through them and then straight through his neck.
Jackson crumpled to the ground, as if something had yanked his skeletal structure cleanly from his body.
“No!” Leo shouted as he choked on fear and rage. He emptied his entire clip into the woman, the satisfaction of seeing her jerk from the impact of each bullet too small and too short-lived. Bloodstains spread over the pure white of her clothing, and she turned back to Leo. Weaponless, useless, all he could do was hurl insults at her in a jumbled mix of Spanish and English. “You f**king puta bitch whore!”
Leo wished he could say he had never felt so helpless in all of his life, but he was definitely more than acquainted with the feeling. The thought clawed up through him, clenching around his throat. But he fought it back viciously. This was Jackson’s life or death hanging in balance. Bodywalker or not, it was still Jackson. Or maybe it wasn’t. Damn it, he didn’t know, but he deserved the chance to find out! After all I have been through, I deserve that f**king chance!
“You are insignificant,” she said in that odd, echoing tone, the sound large and overwhelming. “But you have damaged our fleshly confines.” She pulled at her white dress as if she might sketch a curtsey. There was a metallic gleam over her left eye where he could see a bullet had lodged itself in her skull. Correction. A grouping of bullets. He was nothing if not a deadeye.
“Yeah, well come and get me, puta,” he invited with a forward flicking of his cupped fingers. “Why don’t you throw your little energy beams at me, huh?”
“Docia,” Ram hushed her fiercely.
“Marissa!”
The way her brother shouted for Marissa sent a cold shiver of awareness creeping like icy dribbles down the length of Docia’s spine. Jackson had broken into a dead run, everything about him screaming with fear.
CHAPTER TWO
Leo heard Jackson yell and immediately knew something was very wrong. He moved quickly to the nearest window, ignoring the fierce pain that came with moving too fast. There would be time later for muscle and sinew to repair, at that moment it was nothing but a minor inconvenience to him. Even as he visually tried to discern what was happening, his mind was mapping out the fastest route to the gun case in the parlor. Actually, he didn’t need to map it. He’d been obsessing over getting hold of one of those guns. With that supernatural prick in the same house as he was? He’d be damned if he was going to walk around unarmed. Given their strength, their power, and their speed, it was not exactly what you would call an even match, but Leo would feel better armed than not. He’d gotten the drop on one of them before, and that was before he had even known what they were, so he’d damn well prefer the ability to do it again.
Jackson was running hell-bent for leather across the front yard, his boots kicking up a dotted line of dust clouds, his speed everything unnatural. It was the first time he was seeing Jackson use some of his new ability but he didn’t have time to indulge in the crawling distaste the image evoked within him. Jackson was heading up the drive, toward the good doctor and her garden spot.
That was when a ragged stream of energy seared across Jackson’s path, like a lightning strike from an ominous thundercloud. Dirt and rock and carefully cultivated landscaping spewed everywhere, bringing Jackson up short with a skid of his boots. Leo and Jackson looked up simultaneously. The next instant Leo bolted for the parlor, grabbing up a heavy iron bust of the god Anubis from one of the end tables as he went. He reached the case, hauled back and smashed the glass with the statue. To his consternation it didn’t break. The only hint he had even hit it was from an impact fracture in a white spiderweb shape. But there was a small hole in the center of that web and that told him the glass was reinforced, but not unbreakable.
It took three more smashes with the statue before the glass gave up the ghost and created a hole large enough for him to thrust his hand through. He grabbed for the nearest gun, a black Berretta, .45 caliber with a laser sight mounted along its spine. Something that would come in handy in the dark. He checked the chamber and the clip, finding them loaded and ready. He didn’t come across any more ammunition, so what he had was going to have to do and he would have to make every shot count.
As he ran to the front door, he almost collided with Docia, leaping over Sargent as it was, and exploded onto the porch. All of which cost him a great deal, making him clench his teeth in agony and wonder if he’d just reinjured things that weren’t healed as yet. He flipped on the laser sighting with his thumb and with two hands pointed it into the sky. There was another belch of severe energy, the white of it blinding him and seemingly coming out of nowhere. But there was no way that was natural, and he knew that because it struck right at Jackson’s feet again, forcing him back, his leap covering enormous amounts of ground. The air between him and the dirt was incomprehensible to a man who had not seen any other displays of a Bodywalker’s power other than those of Kamenwati and Chatha, and those encounters had not been anything like this at all.
No, theirs had been a very special brand of psychopathic supernaturalism.
Ram was off the deck already and the savage, ominous rumble of natural thunder filled the air. Right before Leo’s eyes the sky blossomed with thick black thunderheads, whereas it had been a perfectly clear night beforehand. He knew this was Ram’s doing. Leo had been told Ram could control the weather, although he had no idea what a few rainclouds were going to do to help the situation.
Another bolt of white energy burst out of the sky, the beam of it scorching past Jackson’s back. The intent was clear. Jackson would be hit if he moved forward, and hit if he moved backward. He was trapped out there in the open, like a frog on a lily pad in the center of a vast lake and nowhere to jump for safety.
Leo’s lack of a target frustrated him. He rapidly cleared the stairs to shorten his distance to Jackson, all the while keeping his weapon trained on that empty sky. Something was there. They couldn’t see it, but all three men knew something was there.
And it was toying with Jackson.
That, more than anything, told Leo he was dealing with another sick paranormal psychopath.
Just as Ram was closing in on Jackson, a new bolt of energy lashed out of the night sky, but this one hit Ramses square in the chest and literally blew him off his feet. The impact sent him backward by at least thirty feet, the impression of his body tearing up the earth, kicking up dirt and dust. Then the Bodywalker was still. The hit was horrifying and Docia’s scream came from the house behind him. Leo turned from the empty sky and tracked his aim back toward the house. There was a potted cactus, quite thick in circumference, to the right of the door. Two bullets into one side of the ceramic pot holding it made it explode and the heavy cactus within toppled over in front of the door, effectively blocking it shut, its spiny skin a natural deterrent to anyone thinking of touching it and shoving it out of the way. He saw Docia hit the door and was satisfied when he saw that she was unable to open it. That wasn’t to say she wouldn’t find another way out and into the fray, but it would take her more time…maybe enough time for them to deal with this…whatever “this” was.
He tracked his aim back up to the sky, hurrying over to the very still form of Ram. He bent in order to touch fingers to the fallen man’s carotid artery, trying to detect a pulse while keeping his full attention trained upward. Whatever it was would show itself eventually, and he would be ready for it when it did. Leo exhaled with relief when he felt the awkward thrum of Ram’s pulse. For all their power and longevity, and as amazing as their ability to rapidly heal was, these people were more than capable of dying. And while he mistrusted the bastard, Docia loved him. It shone from every bright smile and warm cuddle he had seen her give him. It would break her heart if something were to snatch him away from her.
“C’mon, c’mon,” he muttered under his breath as he aimed up at the sky, “do it again. Show us what a badass you are. You can do it.”
That was when a furious Gargoyle blasted up from the ground in the garden, enormous wings spread wide, skin turned to heavy stone and a face as grotesque and frightening as any gargoyle on top of a church might be. Ahnvil was a thing of power, as were Stohn and Diahmond, two other Gargoyles that had launched into the air from the direction of the house. Jackson had told Leo that these were their bodyguards, their supernatural protectors. They were strong and nearly impossible to kill and would never stop in their endeavors to protect the Bodywalkers they were pledged to.
There was nothing for them to attack, that they could see, but they all knew the general area to aim for. And then, like ducks in a shooting gallery, those massive beams of energy shot out of the sky and picked the Gargoyles off, one by one, sending them thundering back down to the earth, deadweights of stone.
But it was enough. Enough for Leo to see that the energy beam remained solid, from inception point to end point, for the beat of a few seconds, telling him exactly where the attacker might be. He blew off four shots, the recoil from the Beretta jolting through him.
Like a magician yanking a cloth away to reveal the lady or the tiger beneath it, the thing in the air winked into view. It wobbled around, and Leo was sure he had hit it.
“Leo, no!” Jackson shouted, much too late. The woman…and it was a woman…attacking from the night sky whirled to face Leo’s direction. She was wearing white from head to toe, long auburn hair streaming in blowing wisps around her head, like some kind of Clairoled medusa. A stain of blood spread across the white of her clothing.
Right over her heart.
Lucky shot that, Leo thought. Right before he realized he’d shot her in the heart and she was still floating up there in midair as if it meant nothing to her at all. She lowered herself closer to the ground and Leo readied himself to fire another volley of bullets. She had to have a vulnerability somewhere, and he…
He recognized that face. He didn’t know how, but it was like a barely remembered snatch of a dream. A dream where he had…
Cut her throat.
This was the woman he had killed, slitting her throat, dropping her down on the floor to bleed out. This was the woman who was the catalyst behind Kamenwati sending Chatha to find Leo and capture him so that the Templar could deliver vengeance on him in her name.
Odjit.
The name came to him about two seconds before her laughter filled the night air.
“Very well,” she said, her voice echoing and powerfully loud all around him. “If you wish to die first, I can oblige you.”
“No!” Jackson shouted the word and suddenly Leo was shoved back by a powerful force, as though a linebacker had rammed into him, sending him sprawling into the dirt. His gun flew out of his hands as he gathered a faceful of dirt and excruciating pain hit him everywhere at once. He could swear he’d heard something snap, some bone in his body no doubt. But he was too stunned to feel anything in specific right then.
But he saw how Jackson’s shout drew Odjit’s attention and she lowered herself even farther and faced him.
“You,” she said, “are dangerous.”
Jackson’s response was to throw out both hands and shove, as if he were pushing her off himself, had she been anywhere near close enough for it, which she wasn’t. But just the same she was sent backward, much in the same way Leo had been sent flying. That was when it really sank in that Jackson had been the one to shove Leo out of the way of Odjit’s attention. But unlike Leo, she didn’t even come close to hitting the ground, and, outside of a midair tumble, she was almost completely unaffected by his attack.
“You,” she said again, “might be troublesome, given enough time. That thought makes us most unhappy.”
Us? Like, the royal Us? Jeez, who was this lady anyway? What was she? Leo was in too much pain to give it much thought. There were details, bits of conversation he’d been half listening to, that he couldn’t force into sense enough to answer his own questions at the moment. His world was suddenly overrun with these kinds of creatures and he had known right from the first moment he’d become aware of them that there was nothing good about them. And he was just as certain there was almost nothing he could do to protect himself and the things he deemed important in the face of this kind of power.
But he could damn well try and do some damage at the very least. To that end, he scrambled for his gun.
“We know what you are,” Jackson said with virulent anger. “A two-bit monster calling itself a god. If you think we’re going to let you run amok in this world you have another—”
“Silence!” Jackson’s adversary hissed. She flicked her hand, a discus of energy suddenly appearing in her fingers, right before she flung the thing at Jackson. It all happened so quickly, the move lightning fast, the distance between her hand and Jackson’s throat far too short. Jackson threw up his hands in defense, but the disc whipped right through them and then straight through his neck.
Jackson crumpled to the ground, as if something had yanked his skeletal structure cleanly from his body.
“No!” Leo shouted as he choked on fear and rage. He emptied his entire clip into the woman, the satisfaction of seeing her jerk from the impact of each bullet too small and too short-lived. Bloodstains spread over the pure white of her clothing, and she turned back to Leo. Weaponless, useless, all he could do was hurl insults at her in a jumbled mix of Spanish and English. “You f**king puta bitch whore!”
Leo wished he could say he had never felt so helpless in all of his life, but he was definitely more than acquainted with the feeling. The thought clawed up through him, clenching around his throat. But he fought it back viciously. This was Jackson’s life or death hanging in balance. Bodywalker or not, it was still Jackson. Or maybe it wasn’t. Damn it, he didn’t know, but he deserved the chance to find out! After all I have been through, I deserve that f**king chance!
“You are insignificant,” she said in that odd, echoing tone, the sound large and overwhelming. “But you have damaged our fleshly confines.” She pulled at her white dress as if she might sketch a curtsey. There was a metallic gleam over her left eye where he could see a bullet had lodged itself in her skull. Correction. A grouping of bullets. He was nothing if not a deadeye.
“Yeah, well come and get me, puta,” he invited with a forward flicking of his cupped fingers. “Why don’t you throw your little energy beams at me, huh?”
