Midnight’s Master (Midnight #3)(63)
Author: Cynthia Eden

"Somebody needs help, Hol! We’ve got to get inside-"

Her stomach knotted. Something felt wrong.

It is wrong. Someone is inside, probably hurt, and you’re dawdling your ass out front. Get moving! She swallowed. "Right, let’s-"

He was gone. For a big guy, he sure could move fast.

God, please, don’t let me find another broken body.

She hurried after him, yanking her cell phone out.

He kicked the door open and ran inside, calling out, "Hey! Hey, we’re here! Where are you?

Where are-" He bounded down the hall.

"Nine-one-one operator. Please state your emergency." A polite female voice said in her ear.

"Ben, wait! Ah-I’m at 2809 Nemoy Road. Someone’s hurt-"

"What’s the nature of the injury?"

"It’s a-"

Thud.

Her fingers squeezed the phone. "Hold on," she whispered. Then, louder, "Ben?" He’d gone into the room up toward the right, but she didn’t hear him anymore. "Did you find someone? Ben?"

Oh, shit, this wasn’t good .

"Help me. "

Not Ben’s voice. The woman’s. But coming from the room Ben had just entered, she was sure of it.

Why wasn’t Ben talking?

What the hell was going on?

Run. Her instincts screamed at her but she couldn’t leave Ben behind.

"Send the cops." Her voice was so soft she was afraid the operator wouldn’t hear her. Holly stepped back, slowly.

I can’t leave him.

She needed a weapon. Something, anything, but the house was empty. No furniture anywhere.

Just red-paint-stained walls.

The paint reminded her way too much of blood right then.

She kept her phone on, just in case. She’d done a report once on tracking cell phones. Help could find her that way.

The operator kept talking. Asked how many people were hurt, but responding back to the woman right then was probably not the best idea ever.

The guards are outside. I can run out and get them-

And Ben could be dead before she got back.

Holly had seen how fast killers could work.

Fumbling, she slid the phone into her purse and managed to pull out her can of mace. Not much of a weapon. Damn little, but there was no choice.

The door to that room squeaked as it swung inward.

"Ben?" She raised her voice. Tried to sound in control. Answer me.

No answer.

Holly lifted the mace and her death grip tightened on it.

"The police are coming! They’ll be here any second-" More like in ten or fifteen minutes, but what the hell. She wasn’t-

A growl. A deep, inhuman sound of fury. Then a figure in black shot out of the room and ran toward her, with something glinting in his hand.

Holy shit-a knife!

Her finger jerked on the mace and a stream of liquid shot right toward the guy in the black ski mask.

A high-pitched scream.

The flash of the knife.

Holly jerked back and felt a burn on her side– No, no, no. The mace fell from her fingers as she kicked out. A long-delayed response that she still thanked God that her Tae Bo instructor had taught her years ago. Her foot caught the attacker’s stomach and shoved him back.

Then Holly ran as fast as she could. Because her Tae Bo skills were pretty poor.

The guards. Get to the guards. "Help!" Her scream was deafening. She was proud of that. And scared because her side throbbed with a burning pain.

The guards would have more acute senses than a human’s. Even as far away as they were, they’d be able to hear her-

"Holly! Holly Storm!"

She loved her some demons.

Two men stormed in the front door.

"Watch out! He’s got a knife-" Holly glanced back over her shoulder.

No one was there.

What?

One of the men, a big, burly, linebacker, I’ll-Break-You type shoved past her.

Wincing, Holly grabbed her side and wasn’t the least bit surprised to feel something wet and sticky touch her fingers.

Not now.

"My cameraman’s missing!" She yelled to the other guy, pressing down hard with her hand. "We have to find him and make sure he’s all right-" And they needed to find the psycho in black.

Oh, damn, but when had she ever been this glad to see a demon?

The guy-Burns something-hurried toward her. " You’re hurt-"

A door slammed. Had to be the back door. The linebacker was giving chase. Good.

"I’m okay-no, stop, I’m all right!" He was trying to pull her hand away, but she didn’t want to look at the wound then. Holly wrestled out of his hold and ran toward the end of the house.

I’m running, can’t be hurt too bad.

The demon reached the door before her. She took a deep breath, but could only smell her own blood. "Ben?"

Her guard went in first. Holly tailed right after him.

Ben was pushing himself up from the floor. An old board, looked like a two-by-four that had fallen from the ceiling, lay beside him. He blinked up at her. "Hol? Wh-what’s goin’ on?"

She could have kissed him then. "Take it easy, Ben."

He lifted his hand and touched the back of his head. "What the hell hit me?" His baseball cap lay on the stained floor beside him.

They already knew the what . Now they had to figure out who.

The thud of footsteps. Holly glanced over her shoulder, aware of a faint prickling in her face.

The linebacker shook his head. "Long gone."

Hell.

"Did we…stumble onto the v-vandals?" Ben’s voice drew her gaze back to him. He was on his feet now, swaying just a bit.

"I don’t…think so." No, not vandals. There was no spray paint around. The guy who’d come after her had been sporting a knife. He’d meant some serious business.

He’d been waiting for them. Hiding in the house and waiting for them to come inside.

How had he known they’d be there? Only Mac knew.

Mac.

"We are in such f**king trouble." The linebacker’s eyes were on her fingers-her bloody fingers.

"Hol?" Ben paled. "We’ve got to get you to a hospital, we’ve got-"

On perfect cue, the wail of a siren cut through the air.

Holly hoped, really hoped, that the dispatch lady had sent an ambulance because the world around her was starting to dim.

When Holly opened her eyes, a bright light shone right in her face. She winced and tried to turn away.

"Coming back, are you?" A woman’s voice. Dry.

Holly blinked and attempted to focus past the light.

"Hi, there." A face appeared before her. A woman with faint laugh lines around her eyes and a green hospital cap over her hair. A white mask was pulled low, dangling from her throat. "You’re all stitched up, hon. Should be good as new."