“Of course it’s still closed,” she muttered to herself. “Deven would have told you if there was a problem up here.”
Not sure why she’d felt the need to come up here in the first place, Karissa turned and headed back down the stairs, her mind subconsciously drifting to her earlier conversation with Hale. It wasn’tthe first time she’d replayed it, and she doubted it would be the last.
Karissa had stood at the door of Hale’s apartment for what seemed like forever, continuously asking herself what she was even doing there. She’d come damn close to running away, until her hand had reached out and knocked—completely of its own accord, of course. Seeing Hale standing there in nothing but a pair of shorts and an old, worn T-shirt, she’d found herself too mesmerized to form words. Men that perfect shouldn’t be allowed.
Since she hadn’t completely thought the visit through, Karissa hadn’t been sure what to say. And it had shown. The conversation had gotten a little adversarial, sometimes verging on antagonistic. The disconcerting part of the entire confrontation was that she actually felt bad about some of the stuff that had come out of her mouth.
Which didn’t make a lot of sense. Given the way Hale Delaney had treated her all those years ago, Karissa had every right to talk to him any way she wanted.
“Why should I feel bad about anything I said to him?”
She’d kept repeating that sentiment to herself throughout the drive over to the police station until she was almost sure she believed it. But when she’d discovered Hale was some kind of supernatural, worries about what she’d said back at his apartmenthad immediately been moved to the back burner. There were much bigger issues to deal with at the moment.
“It can’t be a coincidence that there are so many supernaturals in Dallas at the same time,” she muttered as she stepped out of the stairwell and onto the floor the hotel kitchen was on. “Maybe Deven is right, and this is all connected somehow.”
Karissa considered that possibility from a dozen different angles, trying to make sense of how it might work. But by the time she’d made it to the kitchen area, she still couldn’t see how the hit man and those five killers could be working together. Her brother’s theory that they were nothing more than a distraction didn’t feel right.
“Hell, Hale is more of a distraction than they are,” she said out loud, relieved when she realized there was no one around to hear her. The kitchen staff must have finished cleaning up from dinner already and left for the night.
It was eerie walking through the deserted and dimly lit kitchen. Pots and pans hung from their overhead racks while cooking utensils were arranged in neat rows along the stainless-steel prep tables. Everything was perfect with no one around to use any of it.
She moved out of the kitchens, through several smaller conference rooms, and then into the main concourse, the muted glow of the parking lot lightscoming through the floor-to-ceiling windows the only illumination breaking up the heavy shadows that filled every corner.
Karissa was only a few steps into the concourse when she felt a prickling sensation. It quickly built until it seemed like her insides were twisting themselves in knots as feelings of dread and horror threatened to overwhelm her. Knees trembling, she fought the urge to drop to the floor and curl into a tiny ball.
“Oh, crud.”
She’d experienced this before. Not as strongly, but it was definitely the same thing she’d sensed in Patterson’s mansion outside Cincinnati.
Fighting through the creeping fear threatening to debilitate her, Karissa reached down, feeling the solid, comfortable hilt of her double-edged short sword materialize out of nowhere to suddenly fill her grip.
She turned slowly, letting her instincts guide her, stopping when she spotted a patch of darkness where there should have been light. The edges of the blade in her hand glowed white-hot as she took a step forward, like the sword sensed the evil producing that darkness.
She lifted her hand toward the threat, xiphos blade held high behind her. “No need to keep hiding in the dark. I know you’re there.”
As if it heard her, the shadow began to churn,coming alive as something inside pushed its way out. Karissa refused to let it show, but between the swirling darkness and the feeling of dread filling the air around her, she was more than a little off-balance. When a man finally stepped out of the darkness, her hand tightened more on the hilt of her sword, and she had to fight the urge to take a step back.
The man was well over six feet, with broad shoulders and a heavily muscled chest evident under the dark, expensive suit he was wearing. She lifted her gaze, taking in the mane of dark hair framing an angular face with pitch-black eyes.
“Oh, I wasn’t hiding,” he said in a low, sibilant voice, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. He took another step toward her, his smile freezing her heart in her chest. “I was simply taking the opportunity to watch you and determine if you’re truly the young, immature Paladin I suspect you are.”
“How could you know I’m a Paladin?” she demanded, not sure she’d actually intended to say that out loud.
“Because you aren’t the first Paladin I’ve faced.” He smirked. “In fact, you aren’t even the third, fourth, or fifth. Though you are by far the youngest I’ve encountered in many, many decades.”
Karissa started to ask what all that meant, especially the part about him facing other Paladins,which implied he was much older than he appeared. But before she had the chance, the man took another step forward. As he moved, his clothing began to shimmer and shift, like thick ink flowing over glass. Before her eyes, the suit he wore transformed, replaced with multiple layers of gleaming leather armor. A thud on the floor drew her attention to a pair of scuffed boots covered with dark stains that could only be blood.
The man reached behind his back with both hands, slowly coming out with two single-edged swords. Karissa immediately recognized the wickedly curved style of the Greek kopis blades as cousins to the weapon she carried.
“It’s unfortunate to see how young you really are,” he said as he approached her, the two blades twirling in front of his emotionless face in a blur of motion. “I was looking forward to a true challenge.”
Karissa barely had time to get her weapon up to stop the blade coming toward her neck. The impact of steel on steel vibrated through her arm all the way down to her toes, numbing her fingers so much she could barely feel the leather-wrapped hilt under her palm.
She had to stagger backward to avoid the next sword swing. Whatever the man was, he was stronger and faster than she would ever be. Before she could even finish the thought, she was on the vergeof falling, and doing everything she could to keep those blades away from her.
“Yes, you’re definitely a new Paladin,” the man said, coming after her relentlessly. “Or maybe Athena made a mistake choosing you. She does that every time, making her decision based on her champion’s heart instead of their fighting ability. I keep hoping that will change someday. But it hasn’t happened yet in hundreds of years.”
Karissa was too busy avoiding his vicious attack to pay much attention to what he was saying. Finally giving in to the inevitable, she threw herself to the carpet-covered floor and then rolled several feet to the side to get a moment to catch her breath. When she came to her feet, she banished her sword, reaching for one of the throwing knives hidden under the bolero jacket she’d worn to help blend in with the rich crowd.
