“Long story. When I called Eidolon a few minutes ago, he said you’d be here, so here I am.” He shoved the male forward. “Brought you something. This is Valko, if you don’t remember. He’s going to call off Lycus.” Con’s hand slammed into the warg’s throat. “Aren’t you?”
Valko grunted. “No, I’m not. And if you kill me without a formal challenge, you’ll face a death sentence, dhampire.”
“Vampire. And I’m not going to kill you.” Con smiled, flashing fangs that seemed a little larger than before. “I need you alive so you can take any punishment handed down to me, Wraith, and Eidolon for keeping Sin out of Carceris hands.” He glanced at Eidolon. “Volunteers are allowed to do that, right?”
Eidolon grinned. “Hell, yes.”
“I will never volunteer,” Valko snapped, and Eidolon shrugged.
“You will if you want your SF vaccination.”
“I already got it.”
“You got a B-12 shot. Con’s idea.” He slid Con an approving glance. “Good thinking, man.”
“Thank you.” Con’s voice was pleasant, as if he wasn’t gripping an enraged warg in the middle of a situation so tense the air seemed heavy. He shoved Valko to the ground and gestured to Raynor. “Release Sin. This is your last warning.”
“I will not. And if you slipped me a damned vitamin shot, your sister dies with me.”
“You, unfortunately, got the real thing.” Eidolon stepped forward with the green demons. “And I’d like you to meet my other sisters, Omira and Ravan.”
Right… Sin remembered something about Eidolon growing up with Omira, but Ravan had been born long after he left the fold.
Raynor snorted. “Do I look like Captain Kirk? Because I already told Sin I don’t do demons. Especially not ugly-ass green ones.”
Omira laughed, a curiously beautiful sound, given that, really, she wasn’t all that attractive. “My brother was right. I’m going to enjoy this.” She dug inside her leather satchel and drew out a thin, gold rope in the shape of a figure eight. “A charge has been brought against you by… well, all those present. The charge is conspiracy to commit genocide. I do find you guilty.”
“What?” Raynor’s voice was strangled. “You can’t do that! Who are you?”
Eidolon patted Omira on the shoulder. “She’s a Justice Dealer. She can definitely do it.”
Ray’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “No. The Carceris must jail me first, and then—”
“The Carceris is called in only to capture those who have charges pending, who are wanted for questioning, or who must be held during an investigation or trial.” She moved toward him. “Because I heard your plot, I have the authority to be judge, jury… and executioner.”
Someone must have given a silent signal, because her brothers and Kynan rushed Ray, and Con tore Sin from the warg’s grip. He held her so tightly she could hardly breathe, but she didn’t care. Didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he was alive.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured into her hair. “I’ll always get you.”
She’d have melted at his words, but Raynor was getting manhandled, and in response, her arms ached, the joints feeling stretched, her upper arms and legs bruised as the boys took Raynor to the ground. It was obvious that they were holding back, trying to be gentle, but Ray was fighting them.
“If you kill me, she dies,” he screamed, and yeah, that was a concern.
“Just watch,” Con said. “Every member of the Judicia uses restraints similar to what the Carceris has. They nullify all magic and all supernatural and natural abilities. As long as he’s wearing the rope—”
“The bond with him will be severed,” she finished on an excited breath. Somehow, Ray broke away and struggled to his feet, and okay, she was sick of this. “Guys? Hurt him! I can take it.”
Lore wrenched Ray’s arm behind him, and yep, that freaking hurt. Ray’s snarl was cut off, and for a split second, she thought one of her brothers had slammed a fist into his throat. But when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lycus retreating behind a crane and spurts of blood shooting out from Raynor’s ripped-out throat, her breath became a knot of fire in her own throat, and she realized what had happened.
She and Raynor had just been killed.
Twenty-seven
Con wasn’t sure what happened. All he knew was that Sin was dying, even as Eidolon and Shade tried to save Ray, their dermoiresglowing so brightly Con had to squint. Wraith, Lore, Tayla, and Kynan tore off, presumably after the assassin.
“Use the cuffs,” he yelled at Omira, who hastily looped one of Ray’s wrists with the gold twine. But it was too late. Sin convulsed, gave one last gurgled cry, and then went limp. Con’s vampire senses noted the sudden silence at the cessation of her heartbeat, the lack of vibration as her blood pooled in her veins, and terror obliterated everything but the need to save her life.
Gently, he lay her on the ground, and though he knew her fate was tied to Ray’s, he began CPR. Frantic curses and barked orders came from Shade and Eidolon as they worked on Ray, but even from where Con kneeled on the dirt, he could see that the warg was not coming back. Not with the way his head had been shorn nearly off his shoulders by something that looked like a razor-sharp boomerang.
The collar around Sin’s neck popped off, indicating a total disconnect from Ray, but the damage had been done.
Won’t give up. Will never give up.
“Con, we got it.” Eidolon’s glowing hand came down on Sin’s shoulder as Shade’s splayed on her belly.
Con felt Shade’s power going deep, grabbing at the organs and forcing them to work. “Fuck,” he muttered. “I can make them function, but if I stop…”
“They stop,” Con whispered. Sin’s heart was beating, her lungs were breathing, her liver was filtering. But not on their own. “Maybe I can turn her into a vampire. Maybe I can force her to drink.” Even as he said it, he knew he was grasping at straws. Demons couldn’t be turned, and even if her human half allowed for it, the chance of it working on someone who had died was practically zero.
At Sin’s feet, Lore hit his knees, a sob breaking from deep in his chest. “Sin, damn you.” He tore off his glove and gripped her ankle. “This works only if the death is natural, but since the warg’s death was, and with you guys helping…”
“Maybe,” Shade grunted.
Yeah, Ray’s death wasn’t exactly natural, but Con got what Lore was saying. The warg had been killed by a normal weapon. He hadn’t died of a curse or spell or mystical disease. Sin’s death had come via a mystical connection… to a natural death.
Son of a bitch. There were way too many ifs and variables here.
“Save her.” He gripped her hand so hard that if she could feel it, it would hurt. “Please.”
The “please” wasn’t necessary and he knew it. These guys would give their own lives if it meant saving hers. But Con would beg for anything right now.
Beneath his hand, the signs of life were there—she had a pulse, a heartbeat, and her chest rose and fell, but it was all artificial, forced by her brothers. Lore was panting, sweat running from his temples, teeth gnashed together.
“Come on, come on,” Eidolon muttered.
Lore groaned. “So… close…”
Impulsively, Con leaned over and kissed her. It was cliché and corny and Sleeping Beauty on crack, but he needed her to fight. To feel.
Tenderly, he closed his mouth over hers. Nothing happened, but he wasn’t about to give up. He nudged her lips with his tongue, stroked them gently at first, and then more urgently. Something burned in his eyes… tears? Yes, bloody hell, he was crying like a baby, and soon, the taste of Sin mingled with the salt of his tears.
Refusing to break contact, he pulled her into his arms and rocked her, even as he kissed her. Even as her brothers lit up the old junkyard with the power of their gifts.