Page 9 of Peacemaker

I heard sirens shrieking, drawing closer by the second. Crawford was coming. I wasn’t going to wait for him. He could have ordered his cops to interfere, but as I finally shoved my way to the fight, I saw the cops standing with their arms crossed, doing fuck-all to stop the attack.

One of the attackers leaned forward, dragged the supernatural from the pavement, then held him up so another human could punch him in the face.

The supernatural was Rhys Graver.

I screamed, almost mindless with fury as I witnessed the brutality.

God, I was so tired of it.

I felt Silverlight inside me. My flesh rippled—and it was painful, but I didn’t care—as she woke up and came to my call. I shot my hand out and the crowd screamed and recoiled as there was suddenly a huge, flashing, deadly sword in my grip.

Silverlight was part of me. An extension of me. We’d melded the night of the bonding in Willow-Wisp, and she had changed. No longer was she only a vampire killer.

No.

Now she was the killer of whatever the fuck I wanted her to kill.

And I wanted her to kill the humans. Silverlight had changed, and so had I.

She sliced through the air in a deadly silver arc, her halo sending those closest to her flying. I felt a grim satisfaction—joy, even—as I registered cries of pain.

Rhys’s attackers lost interest in him immediately. They dropped him and scattered.

And I went after them.

Perhaps I wasn’t myself.

Perhaps.

But someone grabbed me from behind and then Clayton was murmuring into my ear, forcing me calm, forcing me…normal.

“Control yourself, Trinity. They will lock you away if you kill the humans.”

I shuddered against him and allowed Silverlight to dim as he slid his arms around my waist. He talked quietly to me, soothing me, and held me until I regained control. I let Silverlight slip back inside me.

“Okay,” I whispered. “Okay.”

I rushed to Rhys and fell to my knees beside him, trying with everything inside me to force away my rage and put my attention on the fallen supernatural.

I wanted to be the protector—not the killer.

“Rhys,” I cried.

“Trinity,” he murmured. His eyes were swollen shut, and blood covered his face and throat like a scarlet mask. “Get me out of here, quickly.”

I didn’t question him. “Help me get him to my car,” I told Clayton.

Clayton glanced around. “I’ll be right back.”

He was back in seconds with one of the EMT’s cots, and Captain Crawford was at his side.

“How is he?” the captain asked.

I ignored him. I had plenty to say, but I didn’t want to fight with him in front of a crowd.

He didn’t press.

He helped Clayton lift Rhys onto the stretcher, and I led them toward my car.