Page 41 of The Devil of London

“We’re going to end you, demoness.”

“I’m not a demon. I do not do that whole ‘feed from sex’ thing, asshole. But if you are looking for a witch? Then I am your girl. I’ve got some big witch energy, baby boy. I grew up in Witch-A-Bitch-Woods, and I am straight from the fucking hood of wish a motherfucker would. So, chop-chop, hand me the earpiece because you have friends to kill, and I have places to be tonight.” He dutifully handed over his earpiece, which I held to my ear as he ambled around the house.

“I have a small cock, friends!” he shouted, which startled most of them into silence. Then he raised his gun, only to be cut down by his friend before he could so much as pull the trigger.

“Good help is so hard to find when you need to murder people,” I muttered before static sounded on the earpiece.

“This bitch is going down! She murdered Hester and McMullen. The next motherfucker to aim his gun at us? Kill the asshole,” someone demanded. “Regroup at the front of the house. Five of us will go one way, five go the other way. We’ll surrounded this evil crone.”

Crone? I wasn’t that old. Who the hell did they think I was? Baba Yaga? Now, that witch was an actual crone. Well, she was most days, anyway. Maybe this was why Khaos demanded I steer clear of the club tonight. He had me thinking it was because he didn’t want me around his little plaything, but he maybe was just trying to torture me with hunters. Sounded like something he’d do.

A branch snapped beside me, and I moved from the shadows, calling up the magic I’d stored around my house. Then I strolled to the middle of the yard, right between both sets of assholes seeking to end me. Smiling as I ignored the stinging pain in my side, I twirled a strand of my hair.

“Trespassing on a witch’s land isn’t wise,” I announced in a singsong tone. “It’s actually really bad for your health.”

“Get on the ground, bitch. You’re surrounded!” the man in charge snarled.

“Is that how you speak to women nowadays? It explains the lack of sex you’ve had,” I snorted, turning toward him, giving the other faction my back.

“Get the fuck down!” he continued, as the people with him trained their weapons on me, only to then lower them when they realized what they had done.

Then I laughed.

“I imagine the idea of shooting me and killing them isn’t ideal, hmm?” Swaying my hips as I strolled closer, I cooed, “Don’t worry. You’re already dead. You just don’t realize it yet, sweet boy. Pity you’ll die a virgin, but what’s a bitch to do when you come fucking around her hood?” Shrugging, I tested the thread of magic that was woven throughout my yard. At first, they shifted to wide-eyed, pain-filled gazes. But then, I yanked a tad harder to ensure they felt genuine pain. “Do you feel that? That is death knocking at your fucking door,” I said as I pulled the fabric and had their heads twisting from their bodies. One by one, they popped from their necks. “Pop goes the weasel.”

I was turning to ensure there wasn’t anyone left standing when something hissed through the air and punched into my chest. Another jolt hit through my breast. Peering down, I gazed at the crossbolts protruding from my chest. Two had embedded deeply in my torso. One precariously close to my lungs, the other in the lower right flank. I snarled as darkness took hold and lashed out viciously at the woman who’d remained in the woods. Roots shot up from the ground to wrap around her ankles, holding her to the ground. Anger exploded from within me, causing the roots to pull, until slowly, it dragged her body beneath the soil. The crunching of bones combined with her screams was not nearly as satisfying as I wished it were.

“Fuck,” I growled as acid sizzled beneath my flesh.

Long ago, hunters had discovered a toxin that could render immortals mad. From the acid charring beneath my tissues, and the burning spreading under my skin, I was willing to bet I’d just been poisoned with the same shit.

Fumbling through my pocket, I withdrew my phone and hit the call symbol on Nasir’s number. They immediately sent the call to voicemail. Closing my eyes, I peered down at the headless body nearest to me, frowning at the shield and sword tattoo on his wrist.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I muttered. Kneeling beside it, I pushed his sleeve up to stare at the House of Herne family crest. “Aw, Maxwell. Your dad is relentless in his pursuit of justice, love.”

Chapter Eighteen

Ittookalmostanentire hour to collect the heads of the hunters. Once they were in garbage bags, I dragged them to my car, shoved them into the backseat, and then drove to The Sinner’s Den sideways in the seat, afraid of yanking the poisonous arrows free without Khaos’s help. By the time I reached his club, I’d only sideswiped three parked cars and narrowly missed hitting a poor pedestrian.

Sweat trickled down my face as I slid out of the front seat and collapsed to my knees on the hard pavement. Holding on to the vehicle, I climbed to my feet and swayed for a second before yanking open the back door. It was a workout to get the bag of bloodied, lifeless skulls from the back seat.

I approached the line carefully as I concealed the wounds from prying eyes. I staggered toward the front doors, then scanned the lively crowd, pushing the line forward as the doors opened. Everything hurt. I could feel the poison spreading in my system, inching toward my brain. Sweat dripped down my neck and then continued trickling its way between my breasts. Maybe it was blood? It didn’t really matter which one it was, right? I paused in front of a bouncer I hadn’t met before, who stared at me with hard, unfeeling eyes.

“Back of the line. Now,” he snapped.

Rune turned with wide, horrified eyes aimed at me. “Aderyn?” I must have looked worse than I thought for him to sound so concerned. “What the fuck happened?”

“I had an issue. It’s handled,” I informed, my voice thready, as I held the bag up. “He’ll want to know what happened.”

“He’s busy tonight,” he returned before shoving long, tapered fingers through his hair.

Slowly inching forward, I coughed. The blood splattered his face, which caused him to pale as I coughed toward him. He motioned to the door before issuing an order. “Open them.” His mouth tightened with worry as he stared at me. “You forced your way in. Go.” Removing the red rope for me to pass, he exhaled loudly. “Dalton, call security and have them clear a path to the elevators. Do it now.”

I didn’t wait to see if he changed his mind before moving through the doors. Music pounded, but the words eluded me. I righted myself as I stumbled toward the stairs and clutched the handrail, so I didn’t topple down them. Someone bumped into my side on the stairs, and I whimpered when it jostled the two arrows protruding from my back. Burning pain seared through my side as the shirt stuck to the gunshot wound, sticky with blood. Once I reached the main floor, two men sidled up beside me while another began clearing a path to the elevators across the room.

No one spoke to me as I forced my legs to move forward. The black bags I dragged behind me were getting heavier with every step I took. Holding my hand against the bullet hole, I had to swallow back bile when I felt the bullet rip deeper into my torso. It was moving. Those assholes had shot me with poisoned arrows and magical bullets. Bastards! Fuck. I didn’t have enough magic left to heal myself or prevent it from tearing its way to my vital organs. How the fuck was it even moving? Fucking hunters and their nifty shit.

The moment we reached the elevators, the man used his keycard to open them. People tried pushing their way toward the doors as they parted, but the security detail forced them back. I stepped into the elevator car, and the man followed. His soft gray eyes moved down my body with curiosity as we descended, and after a second, he cleared his throat.

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