Demon Huntress

Victoria sighed. "More vampires are killed by The berus every day than are taken by the black market operators in an entire year. We don't care. Neither should you."

Idiots. Shrugging off his robe, he strode n.a.k.e.d to the platform without the aid of the enforcer thugs. He cleared his mind as he mounted the stone steps and stood beneath the reinforced wooden structure from which chains dangled. Numbing himself out was the only way to deal with this and, probably, the only way to survive.

A massive warrior vamp, whose name Ming jie didn't know, stood. "Your brother yuan has taken more than his limit of humans this month. Are you here to receive his punishment?"

"I am." Though he'd really like to know how they always knew when yuan killed a human. Thousands of vampires existed in the world, and they couldn't all be policed. Yet the Council seemed to keep a running tab of yuan's kills. Granted, yuan took p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e in flaunting them, but still . . .

"The incubus is ready." Komir's lip peeled back to reveal fangs as sharp as a 33 gauge hypodermic needle. "Let it begin."

***********

The twenty-four hours were up. More than up, and since Ming jie hadn't called, Ren fu was taking matters into her own hands. She'd have done it sooner, despite her promise to the other doctor, but she'd been stuck at the hospital on a sixteen-hour shift.

Shift over, and she was going to confront Shu lan, and she was going to do it now.

She took the stairs to Shu lan's apartment two at a time. As she topped the second-floor landing, the hair on the back of her neck stood up. She crept to the apartment door, listened.

No noise from inside.

Still feeling the tingle of goosebumps crawling over her skin, she turned the doorknob. Unlocked. The door creaked open.

The rich, fresh odors of blood and death swirled around her, soaking into the walls and becoming another layer of scent in the ancient apartment, which had been ransacked. She entered, noted the boxes in the corner. No, not ransacked. Packed. Someone was moving Shu lan's things out.

A bloodstain marred the floor near the godawful orange couch. Humans wouldn't see the soiled area, but it was there. Recent. It had been cleaned up within the last hour.

Where was Shu lan?

Voices in the stairwell jammed her heart up into her esophagus.

"Shit, man, did you leave the door open?"

"Don't think so."

The unmistakable sound of metal blades clearing weapons' housings echoed in the hallway.

Hunters.

A chill went through her, a bone-deep cold she hadn't felt since she was a child and her parents had shared Berus horror stories. The nightmares had plagued her into her teens, had come roaring back with a vengeance when she learned her own sister had become a Hunter. A butcher.

A monster.

Ren fu shot to the bedroom, which was empty. No furnishings, no boxes.

Nowhere to hide.

"Doesn't look like anyone's been here," a deep voice said.

"Who would steal anything from this shithole?"

Laughter belonging to several people filled the tiny apartment.

"Let's just get this done. We have demons to string up."

A wail of terror welled in Ren fu's throat. There were five of them, at least. She might feel comfortable going up against one, maybe two. But five trained killers? She was outnumbered, outgunned, and she definitely didn't have a death wish.

Quiet as a were-rat, she slipped into the closet. The restraining tats circling her neck, wrists, and ankles burned, making themselves known. Inside, her inner demon was clawing to get out.

She prayed it didn't get its wish.

************

Shu lan put her time alone in Ming jie's condo to good use. Mainly, she snooped, partly to learn more about him, and partly to keep from thinking about what had happened between them.

Because what had happened had shaken her to the core. She'd needed him. Wanted him. Had let her guard down and couldn't get it to come back up. He'd exposed every single one of her vulnerabilities, and somehow, she had to find a way to mash them back into the place she'd been keeping them.

Shaking off the thoughts she'd been trying to avoid, she went back to snooping while Mickey followed her, chattering endlessly as he explored every nook and cranny.

Ming jie's living room, decorated in masculine browns, greens, and leather, revealed nothing except that he had expensive tastes.

A search of the den turned up little more than what was on the surface—wall-to-wall bookshelves filled with medical titles and strangely bound texts, most of which she couldn't read.

Her stomach growled before she made it to either of the bedrooms, so she detoured to the kitchen. The contents of the fridge were a surprise; not that she'd expected quarts of blood and Tupperware containers full of brains, but the fresh fruits and veggies, lunch meats, and soy milk didn't match up to her expectations. Then again, mixed in with the ketchup, margarine, and jars of pickles were containers she didn't recognize, marked in languages she didn't know.

Probably the brains and blood.

She reached for a package of sliced ham, but a thumping noise drew her up short. She closed the fridge door, snagged a knife from the block on the counter, and slipped quietly into the hallway. Easing along the wall, she followed the sound of raspy breathing, her heart pounding painfully in her c.h.e.s.t.