Chapter Sixteen

After Razor had left Sasha’s apartment, it had taken several hours (and several handjobs) to completely calm down. The tingling in his hand from the hits he’d delivered to her ass had lasted nearly an hour. Which hadn’t been long enough, if you asked him.

Even now, as his hand tingled for a completely different reason, the memory of the warm stinging on his palm made his dick twitch.

Razor had never spanked a woman before. Playful swats on the rear, certainly, but a spanking like the one he’d given Sasha? Never. Gods, and now he couldn’t get it out his mind. Sasha wasn’t helping the matter, either. She’d sent him a text not minutes after he’d left her, and the words still elicited a groan from him. He’d had to force himself not to reply, otherwise he would have told her he could be there in ten. And there’d be no chance of stopping anything else at that point.

Even though he wanted nothing more than a repeat—and by her text, Sasha did, too—he wasn’t ready to face her just yet. His head was still spinning from the change in direction they seemed to be taking. Hence, his mind was a bigger mess than usual.

Ducking under a doorway of a vacant building, Razor shook off his thoughts. As frustrating as the situation with Sasha remained, it was neither here nor there. He needed to concentrate on his current situation; any wrong move could get him killed. He’d already fucked up enough during this hunt; he couldn’t afford any more.

Lifting his nose in the air, he inhaled deeply, sorting through the various scents. He caught that of the Vampire he was chasing and frowned. The Vamp’s smell had altered. He was no longer just irritated that Razor was on his tail; he was now enraged.

You aren’t the only one having a bad day, asshole.

Letting his fangs drop, he moved forward. He’d have to be extra cautious. An angry Vampire was never a good one to have on his hands, let alone in Razor’s state of mind. Having Sasha on the brain while hunting a nearly immortal being wasn’t one of his smartest moves, that was for sure.

It’d been an hour since this whole Vamp fiasco had started. He had been called in on the hunt by Aleksandra, co-commander of Sector Two, who’d informed him that (and this was a direct quote) a “freaky-looking Vampire” had taken two females hostage and was now holed up in an abandoned tire shop. She and her twin, Bek, had been on his heels, and with the evidence hard to dispute, they’d called Razor for the execution. His brain had instantly latched onto the “freaky-looking” part. Sounded like the words Archer had used to describe the creature he’d encountered. So it hadn’t taken much to consider the possibility that this could be connected to the missing souls and the young females.

Crouching low, Razor slinked his way into another abandoned building. He moved through machinery, his instincts screaming at him that danger was near. It didn’t feel like it was coming from just one source…it was almost as if it were coming from everywhere. Which made it hard to decide where to aim his rifle. That being the case, it was natural for him to place one hand on the butt of his rifle and his other close to his blades.

The pure Kremortium bullets in his rifle would kill just about anything—as would the sabers made of the same stuff. All except Vampires. Using either of them would slow the Vamps down most of the time, at least enough to save his life. He wasn’t sure why Kremortium or gold didn’t work on them, something about their chemistry…or maybe it was their blood. Or something. He wasn’t even sure. Sin would probably know.

What Razor knew right now was that this Vamp was pissed off, trapped, and, based on the new scent he’d just caught, high as a fucking kite.

Cursing, he finally came face to face with him.

When Razor looked down, he realized with a sad sigh that he wouldn’t have to do much deliberating to issue the death warrant. The victims, or pieces of them, were scattered in a pile of blood at the Vampire’s feet.

The Vamp roared, and his nostrils flared as he took in Razor’s scent. He had obviously registered as a threat because the Vamp’s eyes turned deadly as he bared his fangs in warning.

Baring his own fangs, Razor flipped him off before pulling up his rifle and firing a warning shot. You’re not the only deadly one, asshole. I might not be able to kill you with my weapons, but my fangs can.

Plaster flew off the wall an inch to the left to the Vamp’s forehead. “Jasic Ronson, you piece of shit motherfucker, get your ass—”

He never finished the words. The Vampire flew off the ground and, teeth bared, launched himself towards Razor.

Fucker was fast, he would give him that. But Razor was faster. The Vamp sailed through the air, and a heartbeat before he would have crashed against him, Razor kicked out his foot. His shit-kickers made contact with the Vampire’s chest and sent him flying backwards.

Wasting no time, Razor barreled towards the fallen guy, already drawing his black saber claws from their sheaths at his back. Before he could reach him, the Vampire jumped up and landed on his feet, snarling, blood and saliva spraying a little too close to Razor’s face for his comfort.

“Not cool, Jasic,” he said as he spit out the blood that had landed in his mouth, wiping at his face with his forearm.

The Vampire Jasic kept hissing, but then his blood-stained mouth opened and closed a few times as if trying to get something out that was lodged in his throat. He even heaved a few times.

Razor narrowed his eyes, taking a step back in case the dude hurled.

“The…Judge…the Judge…needs to…die,” the guy finally choked out.

Razor’s brows drew together. What was this? What was this guy saying?

“Judge…must…die.”

While some of the people of Shadow Realm said Judge with affection, there were others that saw him as an enemy, which, again, didn’t really faze him. Razor and his brothers led a territory. No one’s hands could remain clean and expect to keep ruling. Pissing people off came with the job, and sometimes one of those pissed off people came up with brilliant as fuck plans to assassinate the Hellhound brothers.

So he certainly wasn’t surprised at hearing that someone wanted him dead.

What did shock the piss out of him was what happened after the Vampire delivered the words a third time.

“Die…Judge.”

In all the years of his life, Razor had never seen a Vampire shapeshift. Vampires were Vampires. Shifters were Shifters. Period.

Apparently this guy hadn’t gotten the memo, because right before his eyes, the Vampire began to change. He grew until he was well over seven feet tall. Then it was no longer a Vampire, but a creature he had never seen before. Its skin was a leathery gray, and its fingers changed to double-claws. Each claw split into two sharp points. Eyes no longer humanoid—now green orbs with no eyelids—regarded Razor like they’d just spotted the biggest, juiciest, double cheeseburger the world had ever known.

This had to be the creature Archer had seen. A screech left its piranha-like mouth. Razor cursed loud and hard as the beast tore in his direction.

As the creature came at him, he charged at him with equal speed. And as the Vampire-Shifter came close, stirring the air, Razor caught a whiff of unnatural magic. It wasn’t strong, and he didn’t know much about magic, but it was there. It was pungent and smelled of wrongness and death.

Gripping his saber claws tightly, he braced his feet as the creature dove for him. Right before it reached him, Razor spun and crouched, his saber catching the shifted Vamp across the back of both feet, severing the Achilles tendons. The creature shrieked as its body landed hard on the cement floor, black blood flowing freely onto the ground.

What in the hell… Black blood? He wasn’t a breed expert like Sin, but he’d never heard of a creature that bled black.

Almost as soon as Razor had straightened from his crouch, the Vamp-Shifter was up again and snarling, its tendons now regenerated. He ground his teeth. Goddess, he fucking hated creatures that regenerated.

Fuck this noise. The only way he was taking his fucker down was by fighting freaky with freaky.

Strange-shouldn’t-exist Vampire-Shifter, meet even-stranger-shouldn’t-exist Hellhound.

In less time than it took to inhale his next breath, Razor shifted into his Hellhound form.

They crashed together in a heap of muscles and fangs and claws, both grappling for the upper hand. Razor let the creature land a few blows, needing him close enough so he could inhale the creature’s smell. He needed to commit the magic’s scent to memory for future reference.

Satisfied he’d done just that, he clawed at the creature several times across the torso, then along the side of the neck. The creature stumbled back, giving him a chance to move on him again. Before the creature could recover, Razor swung his tail with its spear-like end at the creature and separated its head from its body.

Snarling at the falling creature, he watched it for a few seconds. He had to make sure the bastard wasn’t going to grow another head.

When he was satisfied that the Vamp-Shifter wasn’t going to come back to life, like the melted body in that alley—

His eyes widened. Could this creature, the missing girls, the souls, and the melted bodies be linked? Maybe the melting was like a stage before turning into this creature. What if the melted bodies were first, then they turned into zombies, and then into these creatures?

No, that didn’t exactly make sense, because this Jasic guy hadn’t looked zombie-ish. But that didn’t mean all the events couldn’t be related.

Standing over the dead beast, its black blood oozing from the stump that used to be its neck, he walked in a circle. The clothes the Vampire had been wearing before he’d Hulked out were barely hanging off the creature’s body. And on closer inspection, he noticed that part of the pants were still intact. Crouching down, he checked the pockets, his fingers making contact with something inside.

Pulling out the item, he blew out an aggravated breath. He turned the small plastic packet in his fingers.

It was time for a formal meeting with everyone. Pulling out his cell phone, he took a few photos and then dialed without looking away from the creature.

The call connected. “What’s up, Raz?”

“Night, we need to have a meeting with everyone. I just met Archer’s creature, and it isn’t looking good. You’re going to blow a fucking gasket, brother.”

A few hours later, Razor was finally back at the Night House. And knowing it would take several hours for everyone to make it down to the club, he’d taken care of a few street issues and disputes. He should have called Sasha, he knew. Yet he hadn’t. Dealing with the consequences of leaving her out of this had sounded better than facing her while his brain was trying to work through the growing list of what-the-fucks happening right now.

Everyone was already seated when he entered the war room—granted, it hadn’t been called the war room in over one hundred and fifty years, but it was still way cooler than conference room, which was what Night was calling it these days. Sin was going over something on the huge monitor that dominated practically an entire wall.

All eyes turned to Razor as he closed the door behind him, a restless sort of energy swirling in the room.

“Let’s take a small break while I set up the next part,” Sin addressed them. At everyone’s nod, he went to work.

Edge, as was tradition, sat at the head of the long rectangular table. Razor nodded to his eldest brother and then greeted everyone else.

Choosing the seat next to Sin, he grinned at the trio sitting off to his left, Romina, Ruby, and Rosalyn—the leader sisters of the House of Witches. According to Night, they knew everything there was to know about magic. Since magic was obviously involved in the Vamp’s transformation, the Rs would be a good resource.

Right about now, though, he really wished the three women still had their clairvoyance. Now that would be a big fucking help.

According to rumors, hundreds of years ago the sisters not only practiced magic, but prophesies, too. Years and many readings later, it was said they discovered with each prophesy that came to pass, the sisters aged another year. It had been a big predicament for the most powerful Witches in existence, since they were supposed to be nearly immortal. The women sitting in the room, who should have looked around fifteen in human years forever, now looked more like sixty-something.

“Ladies.” He gave them a gallant bow with his head. They smiled in unison.

Across from the Rs was Gabriel Valencia, Vampire clan leader. He was in his usual suit. Black today, with a white button-down opened at the collar. He was tall and slim, his skin a tawny brown, and very similar in build to Night, who got his physique from swimming daily. Now that he was noticing, Razor wondered with a grin if those two had the same fashion stylist. Gabriel’s hair was up in its usual man-bun, as Night had jokingly called it once. It’d stuck. The Vampire leader also sported a full beard, neatly trimmed and long enough that he could probably make a short braid out of it. The look suited him.

“Gabriel, you jerk. Where the hell have you been? Haven’t seen you in ages.”

Gabriel grunted, but amusement touched his brown eyes. “Unlike some of the spoiled fuckers in Shadow Realm, I actually have to work, Raz. Plus, we’ve had some…” He paused as if looking for the right word. “…discord within the clan.”

“Fuck you, I work,” Razor said, then added, “and what kind of discord? Need help?”

“Nah, nothing that I can’t solve with a little death. Or ass kickings, if I’m feeling nice.”

Edge made a noise of agreement. Figured Edge would be all for that.

“You catch more flies with honey than you do vinegar,” Razor reminded the Vampire leader.

“Or with wine,” Night supplied.

“Not these bastards,” said Anila, who was sitting next to Gabriel. She was Gabriel’s second-in-command. “They’re flies all right, but not the kind you’d offer honey to. They’d take your honey, plus your beehive, your tree, your mate, and then your life.”

“Anila, pleasure to see you.” Razor inclined his head.

“Likewise, Razor,” she replied, her hazel eyes always sharp and seeming to miss nothing.

As she did at every formal gathering, Anila wore the clothing of her ancestors: an intricately embroidered and embellished sari. Normally, she opted for the fashion of Shadow Realm with a hint of her own style.

After the Great Fires, many of the cultural traditions kept by humans and Others changed, or died altogether. But many people, like Anila—who wasn’t human, but a Vampire-human hybrid—incorporated the style of post-GF fashions and her traditions.

She was also an aggressive little thing, and a badass fighter. He’d sparred with her several times, and, just like Sasha, Anila would be deadly to any Other.

At the opposite end of Edge, to Razor’s left, sat Luka, the alpha of all the Shifters in Shadow Realm. He was a bear Shifter, and Sin’s main squeeze. The man had dark blond hair, and a neatly trimmed full beard. Whereas the other Alpha leader, Gabriel, was more fancy-suit-meets-grunge, Luka was lumberjack-meets-rockabilly. His deep blue eyes watched Sin intensely, and Razor almost laughed when he saw Sin blush at the intense regard.

So Razor, being Razor, decided to fuck with them.

“Hey, brother-in-law, stop shooting I-want-to-fuck-you eyes at my baby brother. We’re sorta in the middle of a very important meeting here.”

Luka dragged his gaze away from Sin and bared his teeth in a grin, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Mind your own fucking business, pup.”

Razor laughed while Luka returned his gaze to Sin. He’d never envied Sin his long-term relationships. Until now.

Shaking off those thoughts, he recalled that Edge had suggested that both Luka and Gabriel be in on the meeting because of the Vampire’s shift. The creature could be both, he guessed. They needed all the input they could get.

Once they knew more information and how to deal with the situation, they would call another meeting with all of the Sector leaders.

“Sin and I have somewhat filled everyone in on why we’re here, Razor,” Edge said, making a motion with his hand for Razor to proceed. Break over.

Razor leaned back in his chair. “Okay, well, let me start from the beginning—”

He was cut short when there was a knock on the door. It swung open not a heartbeat later, Sasha walking in. He froze, then instantly straightened from his lazy sprawl.

Shit.

Her eyes scanned everyone around the table, landing on Razor last and burning a hole through his skull. If looks could kill, Razor would be sitting at the bottom of the sea in very small pieces, his balls and heart turned into a mantelpiece.

The tension in the room was palpable. No one dared speak. But he could feel their gazes moving from him to Sasha.

“What in the bloody fuck, Razor? You’re fucking Sasha?” Night’s shocked voice rang around the room.

...

Whoever said Night had class was fucking fooling themselves. Sasha cut her glare over to the club owner. She didn’t say that she was going to cut his dick off for making such a stupid comment, but he apparently got the message, because he shifted a bit in his seat.

She’d had to find out through Edge that a meeting had been called without her. Edge, who’d said more to her on their short phone call than he’d said to her, ever. Razor found something. Meeting in an hour on the third floor.

Pissed off didn’t even begin to cover her reaction upon hanging up with him. But not at Edge. At Razor. Pissed off, and surprisingly really hurt. Which didn’t make any sense. If she and Razor were just having fun, why did she have a moment of betrayal that he hadn’t told her immediately? Or was he that much of a coward that he couldn’t call her to tell her something so simple, just so they could avoid whatever the hell was actually going on between them?

Maybe it was more than his own stupidity. Anger ebbed away, and shame washed over her, her mind taking her back to the experiences she’d had in Russia while she’d still believed she could live a human life. Where her gender, combined with how dark her skin was and how light her eyes were, gave people the right to treat her like shit under their boots. But these were the Hellhounds, the outcasts of the Underworld. Yet, no matter how long she’d lived in Shadow Realm, Sasha had moments of crippling fear and overwhelming anger. Living for a century or so of being told she was inferior, and worse, believing it was a simple matter of fact, it was hard to just brush away that fear. Even after all this time, and even now that the world had changed so much. Shadow Realm was a place where everyone was treated fairly and equally, so long as they didn’t cause problems.

And so because of that knowledge, Sasha fought back her automatic reaction. She wanted to bitch Razor out, but she was above that. She respected everyone in this room too much to turn this into a public show of her flaws.

Biting back her emotions, and making sure none of them were visible, she forced herself to take a breath and close the door with a quiet click.

“Glad you could make it,” Edge said from the head of the table on the far end of the room, again surprising Sasha. She may have been a Reaper there for as long as it had been called Shadow Realm, but they worked in two different circles. Edge was a leader she respected and looked up to without expecting him to acknowledge her. Even though it was a business matter, it was still unfamiliar.

She bowed her head to Edge. “Thank you.” She walked forward, seeing two empty seats on either side of the table: one next to Anila, the Vampire, and the other next to one of the infamous head Witches. She felt more comfortable sitting next to a Vampire—and another badass woman—so she silently took a seat next to Anila. Plus, she knew enough about Anila to know how not piss her off. Witches were a whole other beast.

Sasha sat back and looked around the table, her gaze sliding right past Razor. He’d ignored her, so she thought it was only fitting that she ignore him now. As if he hadn’t torn down some of her defenses and stomped all over them in one night. She wouldn’t give him that kind of power over her.

After clearing his throat, Razor picked up from where she had heard him stop when she’d entered the room. “Anyway…Aleks called me to report this weird-looking Vampire going after women, and—”

“You have something to show us.” One of the three Rs suddenly interrupted him.

“Um, yeah, I do,” he said.

“We can feel the magic,” the Witch responded.

“What kind of magic, Romina?” Luka asked. Sasha still couldn’t really tell which sister corresponded to which name. She didn’t have a reason to interact with them much, and she always got weird vibes from them, so she kept her distance.

The oldest-looking sister, apparently Romina, turned to face Luka. “I need to look at the item the third Hellhound brought us.”

“It’s in the hall,” Razor said. He stood up, and Sasha felt rather than saw his gaze slide to her, seeking. Seeking what? Acknowledgment? Acceptance? He wasn’t getting either from her. She crossed her legs under the table, continuing to watch the three Witches across from her as they shared some kind of silent communication.

Razor hesitated for another moment—she could see as much from her periphery—then walked out into the hall.

Sending that last text—hell, letting Razor into her apartment and spanking her—was showing Razor a side of her she never shared with anyone. Ever. She’d put herself out there, for who knew what reason. Shown a little vulnerability. And she’d been burned.

He quietly returned to his seat, placing a metal box down on the table. The three Witch sisters gasped in unison.

“Black magic. We don’t need to see it to know,” Romina said, the other two nodding gravely.

“So could black magic make a Vampire shift into another form?” Gabriel inquired, his brows drawn together. He was quite the looker, handsome, though not pretty. Very arresting with his intense brown eyes and regal bearing. “I looked him up, and he wasn’t a young Vampire. He was well over two hundred. He shouldn’t have been easy to trap. At that age, it’s rare that something can hold a Vampire.”

“But there is something?” Sin asked, ever curious.

Gabriel’s lips quirked, and he raised an eyebrow. “I’m saying there isn’t anything publically known. Nothing easy to find, either.”

“For the right price, you’d be surprised what you can do with black magic,” Romina answered.

So that was a yes.

“Lovely. What’s in the box?” Night put out his hand.

There was another quiet moment of a curious tension as Night opened the box, staring at whatever was inside.

Sasha could only be so patient. She directed her comment to Night, not Razor. “Would you like to share with the rest of the class?”

Night shook his head slightly at her voice and frowned, lifting his gaze to Razor. “The fuck?”

Razor nodded. “Oh yeah, brother. Someone is trying to either frame you for something, or take over your business. One of those was in the Vamp creature’s pocket.”

Night took something out of the box and threw it down on the table in disgust. Sasha leaned forward to get a closer look, but immediately knew what it was.

The small plastic baggie was full of what looked like heroin and had Nightlife stamped in fluorescent purple across the front. Everyone, even Sasha, knew Night didn’t sell heroin in his club. Cocaine, marijuana, some prescription drugs, and a few varieties of pills his own crew made, sure, but not heroin. He’d made that very much known.

“Those are my theories, anyway,” Razor continued. “The question is, could it be related to this Vampire’s shift, or is it just a coincidence?”

“I can find out who’s behind it,” Sasha said, interrupting the mutters and speculations going throughout the room. She glanced up at Night again. “Is there anyone involved with drugs who particularly hates you?”

The club owner barked a laugh. “I’ve got a list about a mile long. When you’re top dog, no one likes you.” He folded his hands behind his head and leaned back in a studied show of calm. Once, Sasha would have believed it. But there was no way he was so blasé about this.

Sasha rolled her eyes, hesitated, then finally acknowledged Razor and met his gaze. He’d already been looking right at her. “We’ve got a lot of work to do, then. Luckily for us, we’ve got another meeting in my neck of the woods in two hours. Let’s get to it.”

But purely business. Nothing more.

Sasha wasn’t sure she could handle anything else again.