Demon Huntress

Shu lan grasped the woman's wrists, bloody stumps with no hands, and dragged her inside. The smell of vampire blood, pungent and metallic, clogged her nose and throat until she nearly gagged.

"Hellboy!"

Hui yin curled in on herself with a whimper. Shu lan's heart had hardened a long time ago, but now the shell around it cracked at the sight of the undead nurse's suffering. Who would do this, even to a vampire? Who would disembowel her, and sever hands from limbs? Even her teeth . . . the vampire canines had been removed.

Ming jie burst into the kitchen. He came to a sudden halt, as though he couldn't process what he was seeing. A heartbeat later, his expression became a savage, hardcore mask of everything she'd ever associated with hell. Death, pain, rage. This was the demon behind the man.

"Get away from her."

TShu lan bristled at the snarled command, but yeah, she got it; she was the enemy even if she hadn't been the one to hurt hui yin.

He crouched beside the vampire, spoke in some language she didn't know but understood nevertheless. The words were urgent, guttural, straight out of the Demon Dictionary of Cuss. The vamp m.o.a.n.e.d when he lifted her, carried her to the living room and laid her gently on the Barney pelt.

"Hey, Hui yin," he said, his voice no longer a nasty growl but deep and soothing, the one he'd used on Shu lan when she first woke up at the hospital. An appreciation for his dedication and skill had her inching forward to watch as he framed the vampire's face with his hands to keep her from thrashing. "It's Ming jie. You're safe now."

shu lan thought she had long ago lost the ability to feel pity for the monsters she hunted, but this . . . this threatened to shatter her defenses. The oddness of the emotion and what it meant didn't have time to register before hui yin's lips moved, spilling blood down her chin. Ming jie put his ear to her mouth.

The muscles in his back grew more and more rigid the longer he listened. "I'm going to help you, Hui. Hold on." He rapidly ran his hands over her body with gentle efficiency, pausing to probe the edges of the smooth gash in her belly. When she cried out, he drew back.

"I need my medical kit, but I'll be right back," he said to her, and she shook her head, her eyes going wide with panic. "It's all right. I'm not going anywhere. Just a few feet, okay?"

Wondering what he was up to, because he hadn't brought a medical bag inside, Shu lan watched him fetch a cleaver from the kitchen. He shot her a keep-your-mouth-shut look as he knelt beside Hui yin once more, the wicked blade concealed at his t.h.i.g.h.

He tenderly ran a finger across her cheek and then bent, brushed his lips across hers in a gesture so touching that Shu lan swallowed a lump of emotion. "I'm going to make it better, Close your eyes."

Hui yin relaxed, utter trust softening her expression, and for a moment, her pain seemed to melt away. She did as he'd asked.

The realization of what Ming jie was about to do struck Shu lan like a roundhouse kick to the gut, knocking the air from her lungs. "No," she gasped, without even knowing why.

In a blur of motion, he brought the knife down on Hui yin's throat. Blood exploded in a fine mist as her head separated from her neck. Her entire body flamed and burst into ash. The burning hot dog odor of vamp flambé swamped the room like invisible smoke.

Shoulders slumped, Ming jie hung his head and remained so still Shu lan wondered if he breathed. And for a moment, she could almost pretend he was human, mourning over the loss of a loved one. It didn't seem possible that he could love, but there it was, and something inside her wanted to reach out to him. The need to do so, the warm, subtle glow of it, bloomed like a poisonous flower, a terrifying yet beautiful weed to be destroyed before it spread. She'd never reached out to anyone either for help or to offer comfort. Doing so exposed weakness, got people killed.

Ming jie's head snapped up, eyes glowing gold. Silver flashed; he launched the cleaver, impaling it in the wall. Forget surgery. The guy wielded a knife with deadlier skill than any OR required.

Still on his knees, he threw back his head and roared, a furious, raw sound that drove her backward until the backs of her knees struck the couch. Rage and danger emanated from him in scorching waves she could feel on her skin, and the hair on the back of her neck stood up.

Her gaze cut to the knife. Just a few steps . . .

Her hand closed on the hilt; his hand closed on her arm.

"Sonofa—" In an instant, her spine cracked against the wall and his forearm crushed her throat.

"What do you know about this?" She couldn't speak, could barely breathe thanks to his choke hold. "Tell me!"

He emphasized his last words with more pressure against her windpipe. Fury burned her blood as badly as the lack of oxygen burned her lungs. He'd caught her off-guard, but it wouldn't happen again.

She struck. Hard, fast, in the ribs. A hook to the leg knocked him to the ground. He was up in a flash, and she had to hand it to Hellboy, he had moves.

He swung. She blocked, buried her fist in his gut.

"I do this for a living, asshole, so you don't have a chance."

As though he hadn't heard, or didn't care, he lunged, and she flew back against the wall again. The whole wall thing was getting old.

"Is The berus responsible?" He spun her, took her to the floor. The impact rattled her teeth and made her abdomen throb at the site of her stitches.