Crawling toward him, Julian looked up at a noise. In the corner of the room, a thing lurked. It was on two legs, its massive head bent forward as it scraped the ceiling.
Four bulging eyes glowed in its scaly head. It was so grotesque, it was almost comical. Except for the stench of death permeating the room.
Julian moved slowly, still edging toward Ramon. As soon as he touched him, he knew he was dead. He grabbed Ramon’s wrist and scrabbled for the door. Keeping an eye on the creature in the corner.
Suddenly the monster’s big hand gripped the top of the woman’s head and twisted. A sickening crunch of bone andcartilage signaled her death. She crumpled to the floor as the glowing eyes focused their deadly gaze on Julian.
He heaved and cursed as he tried to drag Ramon through the door. Preparing himself to die a horrible death, Julian was almost glad it was over. It hadn’t been a happy life. Not for a long time.
Over the monster’s roar, he heard footsteps. A man in a bathrobe leaped over Ramon’s body, sword raised. He stabbed the beast’s leg, shouting something. The thing went up in flames. Heat blasted the room. Julian wasted no time—he grabbed Ramon and ran.
It was the next morning when Julian realized three things—monsters were real, his dead boss was in a freezer, and he had no idea what to do.
Now he sat in his ergonomic, designer chair, leaning back to study the old guy on his couch. Julian’s eyes closed. He was so tired.
Last week, he’d lied to the men about Ramon and searched Ramon’s house alone. He’d found Ramon’s notes claiming the old guy with the sword was a necromancer. Working from memory, Julian researched everything he’d seen in that hotel room. The candles, the symbols on the carpet, even the chanting. Julian cursed Ramon’s stupidity. But then he set about doing the same thing. In less than a week, he’d gone from skeptic to desperate believer. The more he thought about it, the more insane it sounded.
He was jolted out of his thoughts by a knock at the door—Shorty’s voice on the other side. “Ah, Boss?”
Sighing at the light coming in from his east window, he roused himself. He must have fallen asleep. “Shorty, you can—”
Pulling the door open, he saw dark skin, gold eyes, and then pain burst from his nose. He stumbled back into the apartment.
Blood spurting over his hand, he flailed a fist toward his attacker. It went wide. Another punch clocked him under the chin, knocking him to the floor.
His eyes streamed, his hands groped at his nose to stanch the blood. It was a wise decision to stay on the floor. Though he did look longingly at his gun several feet away. “What the fuck do you want?”
The man leaned down and picked him up like a toy, setting him on his feet. Viselike fingers gripped his throat, the nails—claws?—gouging his skin. Julian blinked into golden eyes. Was that a tail swishing behind him?
The thing holding him smiled. A beautiful smile. Straight white teeth, wide lips. Julian’s vision started to gray out. Behind them, a distinctly British voice. “Abraham, we do need him alive. At least for now.”
Chapter Fourteen
Julian succeeds in finding more monsters
He almost collapsed as he was let go. The man called Abraham grinned again as Julian gulped air into his lungs.
The blond Brit picked up Julian’s gun and shoved it into his back waistband. Frog-marched and pushed into a chair, Julian went down like a deflated balloon, wheezing and huffing.
The Brit raced to the sectional, kneeling beside the old man, checking for a pulse. “He’s alive, barely.”
Julian noticed a third man with crazy eyes and a wiry build enter the room. This guy dragged an unconscious Shorty through the door and propped him up against the wall. He pulled out some zip ties and bound his hands and feet.
The Brit turned to the golden-eyed man. “Abraham, maybe you could stow the otherness?” A smirk crossed his face. “That tail is slashing up the furniture.”
“Bullshit,” Abraham said, but the tail and golden glint in his eyes disappeared. Transformed, he looked as human as Julian did. Though in better shape. A big guy, African American, handsome face, strange eyes.
“Pery, keep an eye on the door, would you?” Abraham moved to stand beside the blond, both of them frowning over the man on his couch.
Julian pushed himself up in his chair, thinking if he could get to his office, he kept another gun there. Suddenly there was the tip of a sword angled under his chin. A freakin’ sword? The tip dropped into the hollow at his throat. Julian didn’t movehis head, but his eyes shifted. “Calm down, D’Artagnan, I’m not going anywhere, okay?”
“What the fuck did you do to him?” the younger man countered. The Brit’s eyes were emerald shards as he pressed the sword ever so slightly—just enough to get a trickle of blood going down Julian’s chest. If looks could kill, he’d be dead.
“Nothing.” His heart thundered in his chest. Any more pressure and the sword would slip into his trachea. “I swear. I need him.”
“Regge,” Abraham said softly, his big fists at his sides. “Remember? We need him. Don’t slip up and kill him.”
Thoughts circled. Julian noted the name.Reggae, like Bob Marley tunes. The sword moved aside. Julian relaxed but only for a second.
