Just get out of there. I will be there when I dispose of this one. I cannot leave these humans to face the danger this thing poses. I do not want you to face such a powerful being, either.
I’m a police officer, Lucian. I don’t run away because something gets dangerous. There are prisoners down here and another officer. I have to get them to safety.
I have no time to argue, angel. The killer is striking as we speak. I am going to the aid of the human, and it would put you in danger if I forced your compliance. Stay merged with me at all times so I can give you any help you need. Lucian’s soft voice held more than his usual gentle command; it held a compulsion to force his will upon her, to ensure she would do as he said.
It was weird to be in two places at once. If she wished, she could “see” through Lucian’s eyes as he glided silently through the building, unseen by humans. She watched two uniformed men pass right by him and not even notice he was there. He was a blur, really, using his ability to move with impossible speed. The door burst open for him with one blow from the flat of his palm. Lucian was facing a being that looked exactly like Tyler Drake.
Jaxon’s breath caught in her throat. It’s him. That’s Drake!
Drake’s arm was on a downward swing, a bloody knife clutched in his fist. Lucian’s mind placed a barrier between the knife and Drake’s intended target. The knife fell harmlessly to the floor. Jaxon caught a brief glimpse of Barry Radcliff as Lucian glanced at him in passing.
Barry’s hands were slashed, as if he had attempted to ward off the attack. There was a streak of crimson across his right biceps arid a spreading stain on the right side of his shirt.
Even as Lucian was leaping toward Drake, something distracted Jaxon—not a sound really, more a movement of air. She whirled around, bringing up her gun as she did so. Drake was almost on top her, his eyes gloating and mad. He had a knife in his hand. Jaxon could see the blood on it, the blood staining his hands. She fired three quick shots, straight at his heart, as she flung her body to one side, rolling under a desk and coming to her feet on the other side.
All three bullets had struck him in a small pattern over his heart. He seemed to hesitate and swayed for a moment, a sickly, taunting grin pasted on his face. Then he began to come toward her again. She fired off two more rounds, this time going for his forehead, dead center, afraid he was wearing a bulletproof vest. Two red holes blossomed in the middle of his forehead. Again he paused. Blood trickled down, then gushed in a steady stream, running down his face, into his eyes. But he continued to smile at her, his expression never changing, and he started toward her again.
“Kitter? You in here somewhere? It’s Jaxon Montgomery. Halibut’s dead. Drake killed him. Answer if you’re alive,” Jaxon called out. She was moving to keep furniture between Drake’s advance and herself. She was trying to maneuver him away from the cages holding the prisoners.
“I’ve got you covered,” Kitter yelled back. “Freeze, Drake! You take one more step toward her, and I’ll blow you away.”
Drake didn’t act as if he heard. His eyes never wavered from Jaxon. He didn’t blink or attempt to wipe the blood away. He kept moving forward. Kitter fired his weapon, the shots so close together they sounded simultaneous. He swore as he saw the back of Drake’s head disintegrate but the man kept moving forward. “What the hell? Jaxx? What’s going on?”
“Get the prisoners out of here, Kitter. Take Stevens out first. I think he’s in more danger than the others. Go on, hurry up.”
“He must be on something…” Kitter muttered, confused.
“Do what I say. Get the prisoners out.” Jaxon gave the order in her no-nonsense voice, snapping Kitter back to the reality of their problem. It was easier to deal with moving the prisoners than with the impossibility of a man with half of his head blasted away, stalking another officer.