Chapter 113

113

He was dying. Daniel was certain of it. This was hell.

And he was surrounded by demons. Monstrous, evil creatures capable of destroying an unsuspecting man's soul with a single touch.

That wasn't in any doubt at all.

It was almost pitch black where he was, but he could hear them talking in very low whispers. All around him.

Demons. At least six dozen of them. Everywhere.

One patted his hand. Whispered. Right next to his face. "Commander Butthead, you need to open your eyes right now. We can't just leave you here in this stream, you understand. You'll drown. In two inches of water. It is possible, you know. Technically, one can drown in a soda cup. But, well, we don't have time for this, for you. I'm sorry. We just don't. We are on a rescue mission here. We were not anticipating rescuing you first, though. Wake up. I am not telling you again!"

Daniel thought he recognized that voice. It was feminine, almost lilting. Sweet. Usually, it had been filled with mischief and taunting—at his expense. The hand touching his was delicate and soft and feminine—but firm. Very firm. Demanding.

"Come on, you ridiculously stubborn male creature. Open your damned eyes. We just don't have time for this."

The little beast pinched him.

Right on the back of his hand.

Daniel bit back a curse and forced his eyes open. Ignoring the pain scorching through him. The fire.

There was a dim streetlight right above where he was.

Those bastards had dragged him off the damned walking path and dumped him in the creek. Probably to hide his damned body.

But there was a streetlight.

It was enough light.

For him to recognize Heather Coleson's demon niece Cashlyn leaning over him. "Cashlyn…"

"Yes, good. Good puppy. You recognize me. That's a good sign. Good boy."

There were two others. He looked at them. Colesons . Heather's nieces were rather distinctive beautiful little beasts. The smallest one, he thought she was Samia, pushed on his upper chest. Stabbing him.

She was stabbing him. He was sure of it.

Daniel bit back a curse. She didn't have fingers on that little hand—she had icy-cold daggers capable of slicing through a man in an instant.

"Yes, I know it hurts. I'm sorry about that," she said almost clinically. Of course—she was an ER doctor, wasn't she? Hopefully, her bedside manner was better than her roadside manner. "The bullet is still in there and has definitely done some damage. It's in a similar location as Hope's was, but we're going to get you to where we can take care of that—before the trekking through the Finley Creek wilderness portion of the evening commences, and ends with the whole heart-attack part of things. You are not allowed to copy Hope tonight. You just are not, understand? But you are going to have to help us a bit. You are quite a bit bigger than the average man. We can't just carry you."

"What are you three doing out here?" Daniel asked. The other woman was that one. The extra-hot one. Summer.

The one who reminded him the most of Heather.

Shit. Heather.

If there were Colesons out here…

Heather was out here somewhere. Probably getting herself into trouble somehow. She was the damned ringleader of these beasts, after all.

There was a handgun in Summer's left hand now.