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  Axel finished off his beer. All they wanted to do was keep their souls. They had been born witch hunters, a breed of men with a centuries-long and honorable history of protection and justice. They'd been immortal and unstoppable guardians of the earth witches, highly evolved women with powers drawn from the earth's elements to protect, heal, and assist mortals while hunting down and killing demon witches. Now, thanks to a thirty-year-old blood-and-sex curse, Axel and Sutton fought a dark, soul-destroying compulsion for witch blood. “But more to the point, what do the rogues care if I have a hawk tat?”

  “If the Wing Slayer is alive, then they are royally fucked. Your hawk tat indicates the Wing Slayer is alive. They come to the club to keep an eye on you and figure out what you're going to do. Something changed that tat and it wasn't Key.”

  “Sucks to be soulless rogues.” Without their souls, when they died, they would become shades banished to walk the between-worlds in endless agony.

  “Quinn Young has convinced the rogues that if they kill all the witches, the curse will break and their souls will return.”

  Axel snorted. “Young is the one who should be afraid of the Wing Slayer.” He turned and fixed his eyes on Sutton. “That bastard renounced Him.” And that renouncement combined with the curse of the demon witches caused the break between the Wing Slayer and his witch hunters.

  “So you do believe the Wing Slayer is alive?”

  Axel nodded. “I believe it, but what the hell I'm supposed to do about it is another thing. Why would he tag me to lead the Wing Slayer Witch Hunters? We can't protect earth witches, we can't even get within smelling distance or we risk losing control and killing the witches ourselves.”

  Sutton studied him, his teal-blue eyes thoughtful. “Bad tonight?”

  When wasn't it? Sometimes he dreamed of sliding his knife into a witch and feeling the bliss of her power-laced blood coating his skin and sinking into him, then he woke in sheer, sweat-popping terror that he might really have done it. Or would do it. “Bad enough.”

  “Go. Get relief. I'll keep an eye on the rogues.”

  He nodded once and said, “Give Phoenix, Key, and Ram the heads-up that we have company.” The other Wing Slayer Hunters were all somewhere in the club.

  “On it,” Sutton said and strode off.

  Relief for witch hunters came from fulfilling the sex part of the curse. Sex eased back the craving for witch blood. He headed toward one of the bars where several women gathered, and zeroed in on one wearing a short tan skirt that revealed miles of leg. She had short black hair and was wearing a tiny green top, and flashed a dome smile when she saw him looking at her.

  “Hi, I'm Tina.”

  Axel turned. Up close, he could smell the sweet tang of rum and coke, and see the pain in her eyes. Join the club, babe. We all got problems. “You got an itch, Tina?”

  She moved up to him, settling her body over his thigh so that he could feel her heat. It went straight to his groin. “You got a place?”

  He looked down into her face. “Yeah, upstairs.”

  She looked up at him and he saw a second of hesitation. He could guess what she was thinking. There were rumors about the men in the club. They were big men and they could hurt a woman if they weren't careful. He was always careful. Reaching out, he slid his hands around her hips, pulling her higher up his thigh. “I won't hurt you. I just need you.”

  She ran her hand up his arm. “Same goes for me.”

  Women who came to the club knew they were dealing with dangerous men. Some liked the danger, some had their own demons to fight, and a few were related to witch hunters and had the same sense of not belonging. He stood up. It didn't matter why she was there. It only mattered that she could give him what he needed.

  Relief from the craving.

  He took her hand, realizing she was only about five-foot-six. He'd been looking at her endless legs and hadn't thought about her size, or how much of him she'd be able to take. How much he'd have to hold on to his control. For a few seconds, he wondered if it was worth it. If he gave in to his animal side, he'd be able to let go and bury himself hard and deep in a woman, right up to the balls, without a thought for her comfort. Lust flamed lightning-hot through his gut and groin with the desire to give a woman everything he had.

  Someone bumped into him, jerking him from his fantasy. He clenched his jaw. Self-control was what separated the man from the animal, and the witch hunter from the rogue. He let go of the woman's hand so that she could move in front of him as they made their way through the crowd.

  He focused on her long legs and sexy ass. She'd bring him moderate relief from his cravings, and he'd make damn sure she had a good time.

  Putting his hand on the small of her back, he guided her toward the staircase. He stopped short when he saw the man standing at the bottom of the stairs.

  Before he could fully react, he felt Sutton move up behind him. He didn't need to look to know that Phoenix, Key, and Ram were on alert, spreading out to be ready for trouble.

  He needed to get the girl out of the way. She had taken a step farther before she realized his hand wasn't on her back. She turned to look at him.

  Axel gently took her arm, pulling her toward him then turning to hand her off to Sutton. “Take Tina up to my condo the back way and get her whatever she wants.” Then he looked at her. “I'll be up as soon as I take care of something here.”

  She looked a little confused, but she nodded and followed Sutton.

  Then he turned back to the man. Without looking, he knew the four rogue hunters that had been hanging out by the fire pit had closed in. But Axel focused on the man in front of him. “What are you doing here?”

  The man held out a sheet of paper, revealing his smooth palm as he did. “You have one chance to prove your loyalty. Take care of this witch or you will be terminated.”

  He snorted. “Christ, Dad, that sounds like a bad movie line.” At fifty-two, Myles Locke looked thirty. The blood of murdered witches kept him looking young. His eyes were the same green color as Axel's, but his father's eyes looked flat and dead. Merciless.

  His dad took a step toward him. “You dumb shit coward. The Wing Slayer is dead. The witches killed him with their curse. Everyone is laughing at you hiding behind a dead, useless god, because you're too cowardly to man up and kill the bitches who cursed us.”

  He got a whiff of copper from his dad, the result of absorbing witch blood through the skin. Mortals usually couldn't smell it, but witches and witch hunters could. “Man up? You calling killing earth witches who can't defend themselves being a man?” It made him sick, but not as sick as the dark desire running through his veins. The craving to sink his blade into a witch and feel the kick of her power-laced blood covering his skin. Furious, he growled, “Get out of my club.”

  The two rogue hunters behind his father pulled out their knives.

  Axel reacted, pulling his knife from the holster at the small of his back. Lifting his gaze to the two rogue hunters, he glared a challenge at them. He wanted the fight.

  They sheathed their knives.

  Disappointed, Axel struggled to get himself under control. Cowards. They never liked a fair fight, one where they ran the risk of dying without their souls and spending eternity as formless, empty shades. He knew that Key, Phoenix, and Ram were watching and, like him, they would protect everyone in the club. They might not choose to start a fight, but they'd sure as hell finish it. He hated days like this. All he'd wanted to do was sink himself between a willing woman's legs and give them both pleasure, and now he was dealing with rogue hunters led by his dad. And he didn't have anyone to kill to take the edge off.

  The music stopped and restless murmurs arose. The tension thickened.

  His dad dropped his gaze to the knife Axel held. The hilt was silver. “I don't see any wings magically impressed on there. The Wing Slayer can't return your immortality to you if he's dead. Stop being a sniveling coward and kill the witches.”

  Smiling coldly, Axel
said, “I like my lifeline.”

  Myles flinched, then his face hardened. “We will be immortal once we kill all the witches and break the curse, then we'll have the immortal lifeline.”

  “Interesting logic,” Axel said dryly. “Earth witches had nothing to do with the curse. It was demon witches.”

  “They were there, they didn't stop the curse. You're out of excuses and out of time. You have twenty-four hours to do your duty by killing this witch. If you don't, you're dead.” He dropped the sheet of paper in his hand. It was still floating to the floor when the doors closed behind the hunters.

  Axel snatched the paper before it touched the ground and looked down. He stared at the picture for a long moment. Her brown eyes were slightly tilted like those of most witches. Hunters couldn't always tell a witch by the way she looked, but they could always smell the power in her blood. This witch was an attractive woman. Vibrant. On the back side of the sheet was the target info he'd need to hunt and kill her. He searched for her name and found it.

  Darcy MacAlister.

  It wasn't his fight. All he wanted to do was keep his soul. He wouldn't kill her, he'd vowed he would never give in to the curse and kill an earth witch.

  He crumpled the paper and stuffed it into his pocket.

  SUNDAY: DAY TWO OF THE DEATH MARK

  She was still asleep Sunday morning when the phone rang. Rolling over, she grabbed the handset off her nightstand. “Hello?”

  “Hey, woke you?”

  “Carla, yeah,” Darcy sat up. “I was dreaming of a hawk. Weird, I haven't dreamed of him in a long time.” She'd dreamed of him when she'd been scared as a little girl.

  “Your safety hawk?”

  Darcy laughed, clearing away the remnants of sleep. “Your psych PhD is showing again.” Carla always referred to the hawk in Darcy's childhood dreams as her safety hawk. Just like her dreams then, this one had seemed so vivid and real. Back then, the hawk had come to comfort her when she'd been alone and in the dark. This time, he'd come to ease her grief.

  “It's not surprising you'd dream of something comforting, you just buried your mom yesterday. And now I feel like a rotten friend because I have to cancel on you today, Darcy. I'm so sorry. An emergency came up,” Carla said.

  They'd planned to have breakfast and start going through her mom's stuff at the house. She pushed herself up in her bed. “Is it a problem with one of your clients?”

  “Not exactly.”

  When she was this vague, Darcy left it alone. Her hypnosis clients had a range of problems, but she also worked with people who had been indoctrinated into cults and other forms of brainwashing. It was sometimes dangerous and Carla was cautious with both her clients’ privacy and their safety.

  “Let's do it tomorrow after work. I have to fly out for a consult on Tuesday, but I'm free all Monday night.”

  “You're working too hard,” Darcy said. “As a doctor, you should know better.”

  “That's what your mom always told me,” Carla said fondly.

  Darcy smiled, running her hand over her jewel green comforter. Carla had been wonderful with her mom, going over and cooking dinner for her when Darcy was tied up with work, dropping in with herbal teas to ease her breathing, just being there. “She really liked you.”

  “Nah, she was just pumping me for information on you.”

  She laughed. “Probably. Off you go, we'll talk tomorrow. I'll tell you the story about how I freaked out on one of the mourners.”

  “When was this? I didn't see anything happen.”

  She felt stupid all over again just thinking about it. “I was by myself at the gravesite when it happened. You and Morgan were setting up for the reception.”

  “What freaked you out?”

  That's what bothered her; she still didn't know. “Looking back, I'm sure it was the stress of the day, but at the time, it seemed like this man just suddenly appeared out of nowhere. And he looked odd. Anyway, I'll tell you about it tomorrow.”

  “Darcy, be careful. If this guy gave you the creeps, trust that feeling. Come to my house tomorrow. I have something important to talk to you about. We can start on your mom's house later in the week or this weekend.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Not wrong, but I want to talk to you. And please, be careful. I have to run.”

  “Nice way to build the suspense. See you tomorrow night.”

  Axel leaned in and sank the eight ball. Three Days Grace bemoaned “The Animal I Have Become” over the speaker system.

  “I can't work with Phoenix's chomping,” Kieran DeMicca snarled over the whir of the tattoo needle. Key had been working on the multicolored dragon that spread across his own chest for months.

  “Christ, that's just sick.” Phoenix Torq shoved another handful of Fritos in his mouth and chewed loudly, managing to compete with the pounding music. He had a single wing of the mythical phoenix tattooed on each massive bicep. Since he wore a leather vest and no shirt, the wings were plainly visible. He had his leather-clad legs stretched out in front of him, ending in specially made leather motorcycle boots.

  Phoenix and Key had been bickering for a half hour. They always argued. Phoenix was a mean bounty hunter who enjoyed bringing back human scum alive. Just barely alive. And Key was an artist whose dark drawings writhed with evil.

  Key said, “Chicks liked my tat last night. Both of them.”

  Phoenix sat up. “Fuck me, you had two chicks? At the same time?”

  Axel rolled his eyes and racked the balls for another game.

  Key laughed. “Fuck me, that's what they both said. How'd you know, Phoenix? You watching? Looking for sloppy seconds?”

  Phoenix dropped the bag of chips then reached down to pull his knife from his boot. He caressed the blade with one long finger. At six-foot-four, he was two hundred and forty pounds of I-don't-give-a-shit-if-I-die menace. But right now, he was mellow. “Wonder how many chicks you'll get without a tongue.”

  Key held up the vibrating tattoo needle. “Probably more chicks than you can find to pull this out of your ass.”

  “Ouch,” Ram muttered.

  Axel made the break, then stood up and faced Ram. “My money's on the tattoo needle.” They all had gone under Key's needle. Personally, Axel would rather face a couple of knife-wielding rogue hunters than a vibrating needle again.

  Ramsey Virtos studied the position of the balls with his usual military precision, then made his shot. “That dragon is spooky as hell.” Ram had chosen the wings of a mythical thunderbird for his tattoo.

  Axel looked over at Key. He was the smallest of the five of them, but he had the biggest tattoo. The dragon had started out as a set of wings over Key's muscular chest. But he'd been adding a body, face, tail, and who knew what else would come. Yeah, Key might be the smallest, but he was both talented and deadly. “Wonder when he'll add flames to the dragon's mouth.”

  Ram laughed, the sound as measured and controlled as everything else about the man.

  Key answered, “She'll tell me when she wants flames.”

  Axel left that one alone, noticing that Phoenix had lost interest in Key. He watched as Phoenix sheathed his knife, got up, and headed toward the monitor at which Sutton was staring. Sutton usually manned the security sytem's monitors that showed various angles of the warehouse and Axel's club next door. Since it was midafternoon, and the club wouldn't be open for hours, it was strange that he had seen something. Axel put his stick down. “What?”

  Ram and Key also turned their attention to the monitors.

  Sutton looked over at Axel. “Your mom and sister are on their way in.”

  “Are they alone?” He strode over to see for himself. Sure enough, his mom had his four-year-old sister in her arms, and she was heading up to the back door of the warehouse. It was unusual for them to do that. “Unlock the door.”

  “Done,” Sutton said.

  The music cut off and they all turned toward the door. Axel walked by the pool table in the middle of
the cavernous room, past Key's tattoo station next to his drafting table, and headed to the door to open it for his mom and sister.

  Eve Locke looked a little bit like a fifty-something, dark blond Catherine Zeta Jones. But today, there were lines of strain around her mouth and eyes, and her skin was pale.

  Little Hannah saw him and immediately held out her arms.

  Axel took her from his mom. His little sister, smelling like baby shampoo, put her soft arms around his neck and squeezed. “Hi Axel. Mommy said I could color with Key. Can I? Please?” She leaned back and looked at him. Her dark brown eyes sparkled with happiness. She had no idea what he and the other men were. She loved them all. And the men—witch hunters with a killer dark side they barely controlled—melted like ice cream around Hannah.

  He looked at his mom.

  She nodded.

  Axel set Hannah on the ground. “Go ask Key if he wants to color.” God, it sounded so ridiculous. Kieran had grown up on the streets and killed to stay alive. On top of that, Key had a dark comic series that made him wealthy. But he and Hannah would spend hours coloring. Key always had time for her. He saw exactly what Hannah's little stick figures and squiggles were supposed to be.

  He watched Hannah run over to Key. Then he turned back. “Mom, what's wrong?”

  She hadn't moved. She stood stiff and tense inside the door of the garage and workout area of the warehouse. She had to be the toughest, smartest woman he knew, but right now, she looked … fragile.

  Phoenix, Sutton, and Ram gathered behind him. He could feel the tension building in the silence.

  Eve looked at the men grouped behind Axel, then shifted her gaze to him. She took a shaky breath and said, “She has the mark. Hannah. She has the death mark.”

  He jerked like she'd hit him. The dreaded words pounded in his brain. His blood surged into a throbbing rage. Not Hannah. Sweet God, not her. He heard himself ask, “Are you sure?”

  She nodded. “I'm sure. It's a death curse.” She shivered, wrapping her arms around her waist.

  Axel wanted to tell her she was wrong, but while Eve Locke was mortal, she wasn't ignorant about the other beings that lived alongside of them. She'd traveled the world as a flight attendant, then met and fell in love with his dad—and had accepted that he was an immortal witch hunter. That meant Eve would age and die while Myles lived, but Eve thought she could handle that. She wanted to believe the man she loved was doing something big and important. They'd married and had Axel. Then the curse happened and Eve had believed that her love would keep his dad from going rogue, and since Myles was no longer immortal, they'd grow old together.