Beyond the Darkness (4 page)

She opened the door. The sound of claws scratching the wall electrified her spine. With a grimace, she pushed on, down the hall and to the kitchen. She yanked a knife from her butcher block set and followed the sound of a dog’s high-pitched yelp of pain. Dog, not cat.

She slid along the wall to the entrance of the stairwell and peered around. Blood smeared the walls of the stairwell. Her Wizard of Oz memorabilia littered the stairs, picture glass in shards, a porcelain sculpture broken. Whatever Cheveyo had done to hurt the dog hadn’t deterred it. Beast and beast crouched face-to-face, poised to kill, Cheveyo three stairs higher. His sleek black body was coiled tight, muscles defined beneath the shiny fur. Faint spots stood out in the blackness. His tail twitched.

Baal looked at her, its pointed ears flicking. Cheveyo took a second to look back, and that’s when Baal moved. It flew past Cheveyo in a dark gray blur—right at her.

Cheveyo clawed the dog as it passed, a roar splitting the air. Blood and fur flew, but that didn’t stop Baal. She gripped the knife in her hand and thrust it out. Baal ducked to the right, averting the knife and knocking her shoulder so hard she fell to the floor. The knife bounced on the carpet.

The hell dog leaped at her. She groped blindly for the knife. A black blur slammed the dog from the side, shooting it across the living room. It bounced against the wall and fell to the floor. Cheveyo flew through the air at it like a thrown knife. Baal rolled out of the way with a half second to spare.

Her fingers felt like an empty rubber glove, trying to grip the handle. She finally grabbed the knife and moved toward Baal, who was facing off with Cheveyo. It felt like slow motion, the blade coming down,
I’m about to stab a living creature, oh, God
, Baal snarling at Cheveyo, his back to her. The blade sank into the flesh of Baal’s thigh and hit bone with a jarring thud. Blood squirted over her hand, stinging her nostrils with its coppery smell. Baal howled, and she screamed, jerking the knife out. A maw full of fangs slashed forward, closing in on her throat.

A second before those fangs would tear at her skin, Baal jerked back, its bloodred eyes wide in surprise. The panther’s fangs clamped onto the back of its neck, pulling it back. Baal threw himself backward into Cheveyo. The two beasts rolled across the floor in a flurry of claws. The heavy white chair tipped to the side, blood smearing the leather.

She watched, breathless, frozen. She was in hell with two demons.

The dog broke free, gasping for breath, and tore toward her—too fast to pull up the knife she gripped so hard her knuckles hurt. It knocked her to the side and ran down the stairs. The door flew open. The panther followed, pausing three steps down. She ran to the top of the stairs, breaths heaving from her chest, staring at the open door. No dog.

The panther shimmered. In a surreal moment the man stood before her again, though his eyes were still black for a few more seconds. He only looked at her when they were blue-gray again. With the heat, the adrenaline, the blood zinging through her body, she felt the oddest sensation: arousal.
Are you flippin’ crazy?

“You’re bleeding,” she said, the only words she could manage to utter.

His arms were scratched, skin torn. Their gazes locked, and she swore she saw a flare of the same desire in his eyes.

“We go. Now,” he said.

She nodded, only just then realizing she still held the knife. She stared at the blood sliding down the blade, gathering in a drop at the tip.

“Petra!”

The knife fell with a soft thud. She grabbed her bag and purse and followed him down the stairs. On the way she scooped up the stuffed Toto that had somehow ended up halfway down the stairs.

We’re not in the real world anymore, Toto. God help me.

Cheveyo stepped out the door, looking both ways and even up before looking at her. She followed him to the bike, grabbed the helmet, and straddled the seat. He strapped the bag to the bike, made sure the helmet was snug, then got on. The sound of the engine exploded in the alleyway, and they were off. She held on tight to him. He was all man now, the only wild thing about him his loose hair in the wind.

He
was
different. Deadly. As much as she had longed to see him again, now . . . she wasn’t so sure.

Y
urek had used logic to track the woman to her abode, and he now stood in the narrow passage outside her open door. He sensed the lingering energy of conflict, though the blood splashed on the stairs and bricks would have clued him in that something violent had occurred here. Who was the man who had barged in and taken her from the restaurant? She had gone willingly with him.

He sensed a presence nearby, the Essence of a being from his own dimension. He followed a trail of blood toward where the alley came to a dead end. Something furry crouched behind a large urn where the light didn’t quite reach. The dog rose to its paws and shuddered at the sight of him. In a blur, it became a man, lean and wiry, hair ragged and coarse. Blood glistened on his arm, and he held it tight against his side.

“You’re a Glouk,” Yurek said.

The man’s eyes widened. “And you . . . you are not human either.” He sniffed, his nostrils flaring. “Callorian.” Fear darkened his eyes, especially when his gaze dropped to the diamond-shaped ring on Yurek’s finger. His authority. Pride. And for the Glouk, a reason to fear, since the creature was there illegally. “I have no quarrel with you. Are you after the woman?”

“No, the hunter. I tracked him here. I have not seen the woman until today.” He flicked his glance to the door. “He was protective of her. But she fought with him, even as I sensed her fear. He had no fear.”

“Who is he? What is he?” Yurek didn’t like surprises, and the hunter, as this creature called him, was an unpleasant one. He sensed Callorian Essence in him, but like the girl, not wholly.

“I do not know. He tracked me in the woods north of here a few days ago. We have been hunter and prey since. I decided I must switch roles. I picked up his scent and followed him here, intending to put an end to his tyranny.” A string of saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth. He swiped it away. “I would eat him. He is mine.” His humanistic eyes, brown as dirt, glowed briefly.

Glouks were territorial, vicious, adept hunters. And perhaps useful. “As long as the hunter dies. And the woman. You can eat them both, for all I care. My prey is a Callorian named Pope. Do you know of him?”

“No.”

“He was once an Extractor, someone who would have hunted you down.” With three adversaries, Yurek was outnumbered. Not outpowered, but outnumbered. “We can help each other. You can track, yes?”

The man’s nostrils flared again. “It is my nature.”

Yurek nodded. “I will help you kill the hunter. And you can help me with my prey. Does this partnership interest you?”

His eyes glittered. “Yes.”

“This hunter . . . why does he want to kill you?”

“I eat humans. The hunter does not seem to like that.”

Chapter 4

“Y
ou okay back there?” Cheveyo called as they rode west.

“Fine.”

She reached up to brush a piece of hair that was tickling her chin but pulled back at the sight of blood crusted in the creases of her hands and nails. Her stomach lurched and she stared at the back of his head again. He’d secured his hair into a low ponytail when they stopped at a light.

Twenty minutes into the ride her body started shaking. She wanted to cry and scream. She held those back but couldn’t stop the shaking.

“Do you need to stop for a minute?” He obviously felt her.

“No.”

His body, solid and real, made her feel safe while they flew down the highway at speeds she didn’t want to contemplate. She’d tucked her hair beneath the leather jacket he insisted she wear. It smelled of him, a sweet smell she couldn’t place, and his own essence, and that made her feel safe, too. Saf
er
, anyway. Questions and fears buffeted her more than the wind did.

He pulled down a gravel road that led into the woods, and a couple of minutes later they came upon an RV sitting in a small clearing. The back door flipped down to become a ramp that he rode up on and into a space that looked like a trailer. Tools, cabinets, and another helmet hung on the walls.

They got off, and he took her helmet and hung it on a hook. His expression was grim, his eyes still that smoky color that spoke to how close he was to his cat. Or at least she guessed that’s what it meant. Even scarier was the fact that the edge was somehow arousing.

He turned the bike to face the rear door, ready for a quick exit, all in a practiced way. He unhooked her bag and speared her with those spooky eyes. “What the hell were you thinking back there, jumping into the fight? You could have been killed.”

His sharp words were like a slap in the face. “What, I was supposed to hide in my room while you got chewed to death?”

He made a grunting sound as he secured the bike. “You were supposed to keep yourself safe. I have no intention of dying.” He pulled the leather holder out of his hair and shook out dark waves that fell just past his shoulders. Like the way he’d positioned his bike for escape, it was a gesture so practiced, he probably did it without thinking.

“Good to know. But in my group, when one of us is in trouble, we help each other.”

“I’m not part of your group.”

“Believe me, you’ve made that perfectly clear.”

He hit a button and the door slid closed, pitching them into darkness. She could smell the heat of him and something faintly musky. Cat.

“There’s one thing you need to know when you pick up a knife: you’re in it to kill, not fight.”

“I was in it to disable that thing.”

A door opened, sending light slicing into the space. He held it open for her.

“I’ve never seen an RV with a garage before.” She ducked past him into what looked more like a normal RV: a narrow hallway, and two captains’ seats at the front.

“It’s called a toy hauler. The only downfall is that the bedroom doesn’t have a lot of head room.”

He took a few steps up and set her bag on the floor of a loft area above the garage. The mattress was on the floor, bed rumpled. She shrugged out of his jacket, and he took it from her and hung it over the short railing that separated the loft from the rest of the area. She passed a small bathroom and walked into the combined living area and kitchen, which was impeccably neat. He came up beside her and made to pass by.

She touched his arm, and he turned so fast, she instinctively snatched her hand back. “You’re jumpy.”

“I’m alert. On edge.”

She put her hand on his arm again, only an inch from several gashes. “Let me heal these.”

He pulled away. “I don’t want you using your energy to heal superficial abrasions. Or anything more. I warned you about healing mortal wounds for awhile.”

“I couldn’t let Lucas or my brother die.”

“Or Nicholas. Don’t forget about him.”

“If you’d seen him . . .” She shuddered at the memory, then narrowed her eyes. “I guess you did see him. A vision?”

He nodded. “You nearly died that time. I could barely feel your essence.” His mouth tightened. “No more, at least a year.”

She crossed her arms in front of her. “And you’re my boss now?”

His gaze sharpened, but at least his eyes didn’t go dark. “Yes, I am, when it comes to this stuff. It’s simple, Petra. Heal another mortal wound, your soul will fizzle out.” He snapped his finger in front of her face.

“How do you know?”

“You’re going to have to trust me. And obey me. I can’t have you flying off the edge of your emotions. That will get you killed, too.”

“And will you use that influence thing on me if I don’t ‘obey’ you?”

His eyes sparked at her insolence. “If I have to.”

“But you said it wouldn’t work if you wanted me to do something that was against my will.”

His eyebrow rose the slightest bit. “Maybe I was lying.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, hoping he was bluffing. “Even though Eric was my younger brother, he bossed me around. And I let him. That was my bad. But I’m not letting anyone boss me anymore.” She pressed her finger to his chest, which left her only inches from his face. She felt something hard beneath his loose shirt. “Especially some guy who flashes in and out of my life with no intention of staying in it.”

He leaned a hair closer. “I admire your spunk, but you’re in way over your head here, princess, and that ‘guy’ who flashes . . . is the only one who can save your life right now. So I suggest you save your spunk for your boyfriend and do what I say.”

She huffed out a breath, because he was right, of course. “I need chocolate.” She glanced at the cabinets. “I don’t suppose you have any in here.”

He paused for a moment, but she wasn’t sure he recognized her retreat for what it was. Well, that was as good as he was going to get.

He turned and opened a cabinet. “I’ve got raw cocoa powder.” He set a bag on the counter. “I mix it with maca, milk, and protein powder for a power shake. You didn’t get to eat dinner. I’ll make up one to tide you over.”

“How do you know that?”

“No dirty dishes, and you were still eating chips. I make it a point to be observant,” he added at her surprised look.

She liked watching his hands as they scooped out the powders, pouring in milk, all without measuring. Maca was some kind of Incan super food, according to the package. The blender whirred for a few seconds, and then he poured the light brown mixture into two glasses. She took the one he handed her, and he tipped his glass toward hers. “Cheers.” He chugged it down in one gulp.

She tasted hers. Not bad. Her throat was so tight, though, that it felt like the liquid was squeezing down a straw. “Tell me what I’m involved in? What was that . . . beast dog thing?”

“That was a Glouk, an odd life-form from Surfacia.” His expression darkened. “I’ve fought them before.”

She leaned against the counter. “Surfacia? That’s where Pope is from. The other dimension.”

His eyebrows lifted. “You know about Surfacia?”

“Pope told us how the humans on the surface of the planet destroyed themselves, and that the Callorians—Pope’s species—came up from their underground labyrinth to live there. But he never mentioned Glouks. You said they were an odd life-form?”

“Dogs in the other dimension are bigger and used in the way horses are here, and they had a special property: like a chameleon, they could change their appearance, only they changed their whole form. Callorians discovered that a human scientist had the warped idea of making the dogs more intelligent and less aggressive by inserting human DNA into them. The enhanced dogs, called Glouks, were employed for search and rescue missions and other high risk situations. There was an interesting side effect: the dogs could change into humans, though only for brief periods of time.

“Glouks survived the human decimation, maybe because there wasn’t enough human DNA in their brains. The Callorians came to the surface many years later and didn’t know what to do with these hybrid creatures. They tried to control them, using them like the humans had. Sometimes the Glouks reverted to their animal nature and attacked, the way so-called ‘tamed’ wild animals will sometimes attack their keepers. They are put to death then. Some escape to this dimension.”

He leaned against the refrigerator across from her, hooking his fingers in the cabinet handles above his head, like a prisoner chained to the wall. The movement stretched his shirt tight across his chest, but she could see the faint indent of the hard thing she’d felt a few inches below the hollow of his throat. Not a gun. It was long, straight.

He set the glass in the sink. “Coyote attacks, wild dogs found in suburban areas—usually a Glouk. The wolf attacks northwest of Baltimore . . . Baal.”

“That thing is what’s been on the news, those horrible maulings?” Two hikers had been found, their bodies shredded. “But why?”

His expression turned grim, and she knew she wasn’t going to like this. “They crave human flesh. The more they eat, the more it feeds the DNA they already have in them. It makes them more human and able to maintain the form longer.”

She put her hand over her mouth, her stomach turning.

He ran his fingers through his hair, snagging on a couple of knots. His narrowed gaze was aimed just past her, his mind working. “Now Baal knows about you. How the hell did it track me so fast?”

“So you’re, what, in a battle with this thing?”

He met her gaze. “I’m hunting it. But the thing about hunting prey—it sometimes hunts you back. Baal’s the reason I told you that now wasn’t a good time to meet. We’d better get moving.”

He dropped into the driver’s seat while pulling the keys out of his pocket.

She sat in the passenger seat, which was more like a chair with a high back. “You hunt these things.”

He backed up at an angle without giving the surrounding trees much notice. Like he’d already calculated what it would take to leave quickly. She watched his hands, strong and capable, maneuvering the wheel. They were the hands of a man who used them. She could easily conjure the memory of how they felt on her arm, rough and firm. Unfortunately she could imagine how they’d feel on other parts of her body, too.

He didn’t answer, and she realized she hadn’t actually asked a question.

“Okay, so you hunt Glouks,” she said again. “For fun?”

He slid her a
Are you kidding me?
glance, but focused on what he was doing. Since he was, after all, driving a large vehicle out of a forest, she supposed she’d let him concentrate on that.

As soon as they were on the highway, though, she continued. “You don’t get paid for it, do you? Unless you’re a secret government agent or something?”

Still, he only gave her a look that she supposed was an answer in the negative.

“Do you have a job?” she asked.

“I don’t need a job.”

He hunted Glouks, creatures that liked to kill humans and livestock. Then it hit her. Her eyes widened. “That’s why you can’t be around me—us. You said it was to protect us.”

He kept his gaze on the road, his voice devoid of emotion. “Kind of hard to have a life when you’re all over the country dealing with killer vermin.”

Her body melted into the soft leather chair, the relief at finally knowing the truth softening her bones. It wasn’t that he couldn’t stand the sight of her, thought she was too flaky, or any other reason she’d thrown at the wall to see if it would stick.

It would be especially hard to have a woman with him who was a scaredy-cat. That he could turn into a panther scared the hell out of her, and he was the good guy. Now she’d seen the other side.

“So you think this Glouk will hurt me?”

“Yurek is the bigger problem. He’s targeting you on purpose. Baal would only kill you because you’re with me or in the way.” He slid her a dark look. “Which you were.”

“Well, excuse me for trying to help.”

“You have no idea what you’re dealing with. You don’t have the skills or experience to throw yourself into my battles. Just because you survived Darkwell doesn’t make you capable of handling either of these enemies.”

“You told me I was stronger than I thought.”

“You are. But you’re not strong enough for this.” He looked at her. “Have you ever killed someone? Something?”

“Flies.” She shrugged. “I put out mousetraps last year when I found droppings.” She wasn’t about to tell him she’d begged Eric to take away the snapped traps.

Cheveyo chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, you’ve got a real killer instinct.”

“I didn’t think about how it would feel to stab a living creature. I just didn’t want that thing to win.” She pulled her legs close to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “What now? You said we were going to your place to meet up with Pope. Where is your place?”

“Arizona.”

That surprised her into silence for a moment. “How long will that take?”

“Day and a half.”