Page 53 of Caretaker

“You sure of that?”

“Yes,” I replied firmly. Then, a little softer and a lot less sure, I repeated my answer. “Yes.”

“Watch your back until I’m there to watch it for you.” He hung up.

For a second I hated the daylight. I wanted night to fall so I could hunt. So I could kill the remaining infecteds. I couldn’t do any of that when the sun shone down like a beacon of joy and happiness, covering the dark reality of the city with a blanket of bright, warm lies.

I wanted the darkness.

For reasons unknown to me, the ancient man had decided it should be dark when I returned to the island. Perhaps because things would be calmer on the island at night. Maybe there’d be fewer humans there. Fewer guards.

I stared into the distance, waiting for the light to turn green, when something crashed into the side of my car. I yelped and instinctively released my seatbelt, then jerked around in my seat, but I saw nothing.

I opened my door and stepped out, leaving the engine running. One never knew when a quick exit might be needed. I hurried around to the back of the car, though the thump had been on my side, to peer down at the street. Nothing on that side, either.

No blood, no body…

What the hell had hit my car?

Whatever it had been, it was gone now. Maybe a huge bird. I shrugged and jogged back around to the driver’s side, and found a rather large man leaning against my car.

Mystery solved.

“You hit my car,” I said.

He didn’t waste time with small talk. “I’ve come for my demon. You know where he is.”

I gaped. “Your demon?”

“Seth Damon. I’ve come to take him home.” He paused and sniffed the air, frowning. “Why do you smell like vampire?”

Cars whizzed down the highway, but not one of them made the turn into Bay Town. A couple of them honked, a few slowed down out of nosiness, but no one stopped—I couldn’t decide whether that was surprising or completely understandable, seeing as how the man standing in front of me was completely naked.

He didn’t seem to notice that he was naked, however. He straightened, crossed his arms, and spread his bare feet, staring down at me with a haughty, impatient expression.

I tried to keep my gaze from dropping to the huge appendage between his legs, and I succeeded. Mostly.

“You’re an incubus,” I said.

He lifted an eyebrow. “Thank you for telling me. I’ve often wondered.”

I said nothing, but I inched my fingers to the shrunken blade sheathed at my hip.

“All I need is the demon who calls himself Seth Damon. He was summoned home and failed to appear. He’s not dead, and I’ve tracked him here. To you.” He stepped toward me and his presence was suddenly so large and looming and powerful that I stumbled back, ripping Silverlight from her sheath.

She screamed to life, attaching so violently to my arm that I screamed with her as agony spread like fire through my arm before blessed numbness descended. She was attaching for a demon—and that shocked the hell out of me. Silverlight usually came to life only for vampires. She didn’t spread her light for other creatures. She didn’t attach when a demon was in the vicinity. At times she would expand when I felt a threat, but very rarely did that happen.

Yet there she was, brighter, longer, and angrier than I’d ever seen her.

Her silver halo was brighter than the sun, and its forceful power caused the demon to halt, finally something other than dark disinterest in his stare.

He fell back against the car, his hand to his chest. “Silverlight,” he roared.

Expressions he couldn’t hide chased each other across his face—recognition, awe, fear, pain, and finally, complete and utter rage.

And suddenly I knew from whom Amias had stolen the sword. He had stolen her from the demons. From that demon.

“I walked through hell to steal her for you…”