Extraits

CHAPTER 1

NEVADA DESERT, 1960

“How did you find me?” Malina couldn’t meet her brother’s gaze, but she felt Niall staring at her in disappointment from across the car as he drove her further and further away from Las Vegas. Eventually, the bright lights of the city faded in the rearview mirrors to an insignificant spot on the horizon. On any other night, the view might have been beautiful.

“Do ya really think you’re hard to track?” Niall gave a sarcastic laugh that held no humor. His Scottish accent was a stark contrast to her softer English one.

Malina tapped her fingers against the soda bottle on her lap not drinking it. Her eyes focused on the hem of his kilt. For once his clothes had blended in. When he came for her at the hotel, people assumed he was a performer, not the evil-hunting warlock he actually was. If there was an evil threat to be dealt with, there was no better man than Niall.

“The family always knows where ya are,” he continued. “Da sent me to bring ya home. Mobsters and degenerates are not the company for a lady to keep. I must say I’m disappointed in ya, Malina. A warlock of your abilities and ya squander it on booze and losers. Sometimes I think ma made a mistake sending ya away from the clan during the witch trials. Ya were a baby, so in some ways, it was not your fault that ya don’t fully understand the concept of family loyalty and duty. However, at over three hundred years old ya should know better.”

His words stung, but she had no defense. It’s not like she needed to be reminded that she was an outsider because of some humans in East Lothian, Scotland decided witches needed to be burned at the stake when she was born. One look at the birthmark on her ass and they would have declared her the child of Satan. Their beloved Aunt Elspeth had sacrificed herself so that Malina could live. The family liked to remind her of that fact as well.

“When are you going to give up these silly rebellions? I think ya get some sick pleasure in making us rescue ya. Is that it?” he demanded. “How many more will there be, Malina? How many bad decisions and stupid mistakes? Lord Barrison, the rogue—”

“That was the seventeen hundreds,” she protested.

“My point exactly. Barrison was trying to get ya to Gretna Green to elope for our family money. The cardsharp in London whose name we could never fully ascertain. George, the horse thief. Billy, the cattle rustler. Jack, the moonshiner. Your life has been a repeat of the same bad judgments. And now ya have graduated to mass murderers.” Niall jerked the car roughly to the right to avoid a cactus.

Malina slid on the seat and had to grab the door to right herself. The dots of blood on her hand reminded her of the casino shooting she’d just witnessed. The blood stained her fancy dress. Malina began picking at her hand to scrape it off. The agony was almost too much. “I didn’t know he…” She couldn’t say the words.

When Niall first came to her to tell her the man she was with was a demon, she hadn’t wanted to believe him. She’d demanded proof. It was because of her all those people had been hurt and probably killed. If she had let Niall stop the demon sooner, those innocent people would have been safe.

“That’s my point. Ya never know, and ya never think. Each and every time ya have called me to help ya, and each time ya didn’t know he was a bad guy. Tell me, how could ya not know that the man ya were with is a demon?” Niall took a deep breath. “Drink it.”

“His name is Dar,” she said, not liking the word demon.

“Drink it,” he repeated.

“I don’t want to,” Malina denied. Just hours before she had been so happy. Now the pain was unbearable. This was much worse than the time she’d ben duped by a gold digging rogue. Barrison had wanted her money. Dar wanted her family’s magick. Oh, and he had done such a great job making her fall for him so that the betrayal of who he was combined with the ache of loss in her chest. It had all been a lie—every single second.

The headlights revealed the long stretch of endless desert, a wasteland of cacti and sand. After they had passed a rundown service station, the road disappeared, and the ride became bumpy.

A tear slipped down her cheek. “What are you going to do, Niall?”

“Ya know what I have to do,” Niall answered. “Now drink it. We’re almost there. I don’t want the demon taking possession of ya. I would not be able to live with myself if I was forced to subdue ya.”

“Maybe we’re wrong,” she said, though the logic of what she’d seen contradicted her vain hope. “Maybe he can explain himself.”

“He’s a demon,” Niall stated as if that was all the proof he needed. “What other proof do ya need? If my word is not good enough, then ya saw what he did.”