I nod. “Yeah.”
“Forever may she rest,” Lou says, clanking the bottle against my glass.
“Forever may she rest,” I say, and we drink.
Lou spins, surveying his shelves. “I better make sure all the glassware is washed if you’ve got all of Central headed my way.”
“Thanks. My apologies for the last-minute intrusion,” I laugh.
He turns and points a knobby finger at me. “Whatever you need. Name it, boy.Always.”
“Don’t embarrass me in front of the outfit, Lou,” I tell him, suppressing a smirk and endlessly thankful for his presence after I lost my father over a decade ago.
He pats the bar. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he says and then fingers dirty glassware, dunking them into the wash basin below the bar. “The era of the Hunter is close, Kade. I feel it in my fucking bones.”
His words are music to my ears, and my magic twirls. “Forever may we reign.”
Lou grips my shoulder with his wet hand, his kind eyes connecting with mine. “Forever may we reign, Kade.”
“Aye,” I say with a nod, clutch my glass, and cross the bar to Grace and Sam, Riot’s arm slung over Mother Hollie.
Boisterous laughter rings out from our table, and my attention jerks to Sam. Rhett is now pinned under his arm in a headlock, blond hair flopping over his eyes, and Grace counts out the seconds.
“Time! You lose, Rhett. Drink!” Grace commands.
Sam releases his stationmate, and Rhett tips his shot into his mouth.
“Lawless. The lot of you,” I scold, forcing a scowl to hide my amusement.
“You just don’t want to risk losing, Captain,” Sam jabs.
My eyes land on Sam with a dare gleaming from my irises, and my brother-in-law clears his throat and pours out two shots.
“Challenge accepted,” I croon, stripping my knives and cloak.
“Heads or tail—”
A loud crash cuts Sam off as the bar door slams open. My magic races, sensing a threat, and before I can move, a bolt flies through the air from outside. My eyes widen as it sinks into Lou’s neck, blood spilling down his front, and his shocked eyes stare at his open bar door.
Lou clutches his neck, then collapses forward onto the bar and falls to the floor.
Dead.
My magic screams, curdling with the death of a Hunter, gold flooding with black. I can barely focus under the weight of it, and my anguish consumes me staring at Lou’s vacant eyes.
The Hunter within releases, and I leap from my chair, blades in my palms and dive for the door, ready to block whatever or whomever dares to pass the threshold next.
I take the first three vampires before they make it through the doorframe, swiping my blades in a cross at the front of their throats, then sidestepping to the left as Riot hurls stake after stake into each.
The next five snap into existence throughout the room. I spin and lunge for the closest one.
“Behind you,” Grace warns, suddenly in front of me and jabbing her stake through a heart. I turn, keeping her at my back, and stab a vampire snapping into existence in front of us, fangs yellowed and aged.
“Get your back against the wall in the corner,” I yell through my panic. Grace doesn’t have her knives, and this bar has no strategic position for her to perch in or protect herself.
My wife ignores me, face alight with anger, and challenges the next vampire, ducking and twirling as it chases her. She takes her opening and stabs its heart.
The bar swarms, filling with our enemy, and my mind and heart are torn between duty and protecting Grace. But a Hunter is supposed to protect without discrimination.
