There'll be Hell to Pay (Hellcat Series Book 6) (2 page)

A low growl cut the warm night air and Caspian realised it had
come from his own throat. He drew a deep breath, forcibly calming
himself. The médico had informed him that in only five or six weeks
the bebès would be old enough to survive an early arrival. He was
months, if not weeks, away from potentially having his own pair of
Dhampirs. No, not potentially, he refused to entertain that
thought; the twins
were
Dhampirs. He’d heard what Gabrielle had told the
others that night: Mariska had been drinking Vampire blood for
weeks, right at the time when she would’ve been impregnated by the
Gemini Twins, at the same stage of pregnancy Gabi’s mother had been
at. She had been performing Sex and Blood Magic rituals to bring
down the Castius Magi and Julius’s Clan.

Her failure
would be his victory.

Bebès or not,
they were the key to his next power level. He would do anything and
everything to ensure they were born safe and healthy. Even if that
meant keeping their Magus mother sedated, force-fed and under guard
until their arrival. They were his.

CHAPTER
1

Gabi climbed
from the air-conditioned comfort of the McLaren 12C onto the
central City street. The car drew attention everywhere it went, and
today was no different. She ignored the craned necks, open mouths
and nudging of companions as the door slid closed with a quiet
thunk. It was the car they were interested in, not her.

She grimaced as
sweat immediately beaded on her forehead. Today was a day for Daisy
Dukes, flip-flops and sunglasses. The sturdy, dark pants suit she
wore was far too hot for comfort, and the insides of her boots had
become warm enough to roast her toes, but there was no other way to
conceal the two pairs of finely crafted butterfly swords nestled in
discreet sheaths on each of her calves.

It was the
perfect day for a barely there, midriff-baring tank top or a
chiffon vest with spaghetti straps, but Gabi needed the
loose-fitting, button-down shirt and lightweight jacket to conceal
the sheath and short sword secured snugly down her spine. And while
it would’ve been utter bliss to pin her unruly, auburn curls up on
top of her head, that would’ve exposed the top inch of Nex’s hilt
to the unsuspecting public.

Yes, the
unsuspecting public, Gabi thought with a sigh as she crossed the
busy street. Though it might appear to everyone around her that she
was haughtily unaware of them, she had, in fact, catalogued and
assessed every single one of them. The group of forty-something men
having a beer and telling crude jokes at the table outside the
upmarket bar and pizzeria; the harassed mother struggling to get
two young children to sit quietly and eat their
tomato-sauce-drenched lunch while discreetly trying to breastfeed a
baby at the small coffee shop next door; the young street sweeper
leaning on his broom, looking her car over with wide eyes and an
open mouth. She knew his next movement would be his hand to his
rear, right pocket. He didn’t disappoint her as he pulled a phone
out and held it aimed towards the McLaren, turning it sideways to
get a better angle for a photo. Several others were pointing,
taking pictures or simply staring. If she’d known the underground
carpark would be full, she would’ve brought the BMW. She threw a
discreet glance in the direction of her bodyguards, who cruised by
in a dark SUV, searching for a parking bay.

Dismissing
everyone in the vicinity as human, and therefore non-threats, she
glanced up at the signboard of the trendy restaurant she was about
to enter. She paused for a brief second and pretended to look over
the menu pinned to a lectern outside while she adjusted her
clothing, double-checked her weapons and took a deep inward breath
to calm herself. Ross and Rory, her Werewolf bodyguards, had found
a parking spot just a few bays up from the restaurant’s front door;
she wondered which of them had drawn the short straw and would have
to take up position at the rear exit in the relentless summer heat.
She blew out the breath through clenched teeth, accepting that
nothing was going to ease her stress levels; what lay before her
was a battle she was utterly ill-equipped to fight. And no one else
could fight it for her; this one was hers alone.

Berating
herself for being a coward, she reached for the door handle only to
have it swing inward before her fingers could make contact.

“
Good afternoon, please come in,” said a pleasant male voice.
“We won’t bite and we do have air-conditioning.” The owner of the
voice was tall and slightly gangly and so freshly out of puberty
that he still sported a few pimples, but his grin was infectious
and his eyes sparkled with suppressed mischief. Gabi found herself
smiling in return as she stepped into the cool, bright foyer of the
restaurant. She’d bet Nex that this young man pulled in more tips
than any other staff member there. “Do you have a reservation, or
can I get you a table?” the young man asked, polite with an edge of
flirtation. He could consider himself lucky that Julius was safely
tucked up in bed, as dead to the world as a corpse, but far sexier.
Her Master Vampire Consort wasn’t the openly jealous sort, but the
sheer power of his presence was enough to cow even the most
confident, outgoing human. His simple dislike of the guy’s audacity
would have sent the youngster running for cover.

“
I have a reservation for two under the name Gabi,” she told
him. He turned with a flourish to retrieve a booking register from
the standing desk behind him. He ran his finger over the smattering
of bookings and paused at the name Gabi Bradford. His body
instantly stiffened and his heartbeat doubled in pace. His eyes
flicked nervously back to hers, widening in obvious
recognition.

Well, damn
, she thought, narrowing
her own gaze as she quickly reassessed the situation. Her
supernatural-sensing ESP hadn’t picked up anything unusual as she
approached the building. She hated being caught off guard,
especially when she was already on edge.

The waiter
swallowed and cleared his throat. “Ah, Miss Bradford.” The smile
was back in place, surprising her with the speed of his recovery.
He glanced around very quickly as though checking whether they
could be overheard. “It’s an honour to meet you,” he told her in a
quiet voice. Then he held up his free hand in an age-old
‘I-mean-no-harm’ gesture, the other still holding the booking
register. “Sorry, I’ve just heard so many stories…” He shook his
head, looking abashed. “I’m one of Margaret’s grandsons. I don’t
shift,” he broke off, his eyes re-scanning the open double doors
leading to the restaurant itself, “but I’m part of the
Community.”

Gabi relaxed,
breathing out the sudden bite of adrenalin. Margaret was a
Shape-shifter, one of their Elders, in fact, and someone Gabi
considered a friend. Her grandson’s Shape-shifter bloodline
explained why she hadn’t sensed him with her ESP. Though she still
habitually thought of it as her Vamp-sense, she could actually
sense Vampires, Werewolves, demons and even some of the stronger
Magi, but she didn’t sense the average Magus and she didn’t pick up
Shape-shifters. Or Ghouls, she reminded herself with a slight
shudder. The leading, late-night theory was that those she couldn’t
sense were all closer to human than to supernatural, and it was the
supernatural element that pinged her radar. It was as good a theory
as any. At this moment in time, the truth of her heritage relied as
much on theory as it did on fact.

“
My name is Christopher…Chris,” he continued. “Uh, wow, I never
thought I’d actually get to meet you in person.” The onslaught of
star-struck awe made Gabi distinctly uncomfortable; she knew some
of the stories that still circulated through the supernatural
grapevine known as the Community, and while many were close to the
truth, some had been blown wildly out of proportion. She was
beginning to tire of the notoriety she’d garnered as a vicious,
she-devil, supernatural rogue Hunter. In the past she’d played up
to the reputation, keeping inquisitive invitations at bay with a
facade of bitchy disdain. That mask had grown as tiresome as the
one she wore to appear fully human, now she simply wanted to be
herself without any need for charades. It was never going to
happen, but a girl could always have a wish list, right?

“
It’s nice to meet you, Chris,” she said, injecting her voice
with friendly professionalism. “I hope Margaret is well. I haven’t
seen her for a couple of months.”

“
Oh yes,” he told her, his grin once again reaching his eyes.
Gabi mentally high-fived herself for her deft redirection of the
conversation. “She’s healthy enough to keep us all jumping to her
every command.” His expression turned wry, and Gabi had no trouble
believing that her elderly friend kept everyone around her on their
toes. It hadn’t been an easy time for Shape-shifters since the SMV,
the society her father and his best friend had formed to police the
supernatural element of the City, had been disbanded. Of all the
supernatural groups, the Shape-shifters were the most peace-loving
and the most vulnerable to attack or persecution. As an Elder, it
would’ve fallen to Margaret to reassure her people on one hand and
on the other, secure ties to the ever-strengthening Werewolf
Alliance to ensure the protection of her race. Gabi had no doubt
the soft-spoken but steel-spined lady would accomplish it all, but
she worried about the toll it could take on Margaret’s
health.

“
That’s good to hear. Please send her my love,” she told him,
meaning every word.

“
I definitely will.” He nodded and then glanced down at the
register in his hands as though he’d forgotten he was holding it.
With a slight shake of his head, he remembered that he had a job to
do. “Your plus one is already here, Ms Bradford. I’ll take you
through.” He held out his free hand with a flourish, waiting for
her to precede him into the cool airiness of the main
restaurant.

Gabi steeled
herself, resisting the urge to clench her fists and roll her head
across her shoulders. She didn’t want to scare Chris or the other
patrons into fleeing. She needed the witnesses. Witnesses might
just be enough to keep things civil. She didn’t miss the bemused
look Christopher shot her before she finally strode ahead to meet
her lunch date. She didn’t need his discreet verbal directions to
find her table, she’d booked the table quite specifically for her
needs and, as he’d said, her lunch guest was already there.

The attractive,
middle-aged woman sipped from a tall glass of ice water with a
small wedge of lemon and a sprig of mint. Her chic, feathered bob
was a few shades darker than Gabi’s own fiery auburn and recently
coloured, if the lack of greys was anything to go by. She was
wearing dove-grey linen pants and a turquoise chiffon top that
showed off her slender frame and toned arms, and her make-up was
light but expertly applied. Her gaze was drawn to Gabi’s approach,
and she immediately set down the glass and came to her feet, a
happy smile lighting her face.

“
Gabi, sweetheart,” the woman exclaimed, stretching out her
arms for a hug and enveloping Gabi in a cloud of Christian Dior.
From the corner of her eye Gabi saw Chris’s surprise turn to
amusement and she scowled at him. He held up his hands in mock
supplication and began to back away. “Whiskey. On the rocks,” she
mouthed at him as she awkwardly returned the woman’s embrace and
tried not to choke on the powerful perfume.

Christopher
gave her a snappy salute and left.

“
Hi, Mom,” she finally managed to choke out, gently
disentangling herself from the hug. Her mother noticed her
discomfort and quickly backed off a small step.

“
Sorry, sweetheart, I forgot about your reaction to perfumes.”
She sat back down and immediately reached into her voluminous
shoulder bag on the chair to her right and, like an illusionist,
produced a small package of wet wipes with a flourish. “It’s just
that I see you so seldom these days, I forget.”

“
Don’t worry about it, Mom, it’s fine,” Gabi said as she took
the opportunity to move to the seat on the opposite side of the
small table and sit. Her mother ignored her protests and deftly
scrubbed her wrists, neck and décolletage before tucking the wipe
back into the depths of her bag. The pungent smell ebbed enough for
Gabi to breathe comfortably again.

“
You look great, Mom. Have you been working out?” In Gabi’s
world, the best form of defence was offense, and that could be
applied to lunch with her mother as well as it could in any other
instance. She wouldn’t be able to keep her mother’s questions at
bay forever, but hopefully long enough to get some food and strong
alcohol into her before the onslaught began. Her mother didn’t
disappoint, immediately launching into a thorough description of
her new workout routine and diet as well as her efforts to get her
husband, Evan, to go speed-walking with her in the
evenings.

Gabi liked her
mother’s husband of five years, though she saw him even less than
she saw her mother. He was mild-mannered and even-tempered and he
was good for her mother, building her confidence and her
self-esteem while tempering her more childlike tendencies and
gently encouraging her to take charge of her own life. The
shocking, if not surprising, death of her father when Gabi was just
ten years old had hit her mother harder than anyone could’ve
predicted. Her father had left them well-provided for financially
but had clearly never quite understood the depth of his wife’s
dependence on him. If he had, perhaps he wouldn’t have put himself
in harm’s way so regularly.

No, Gabi
corrected herself as she fidgeted with her silverware, his altruism
was an integral part of his DNA. He simply couldn’t stand on the
sidelines while evil stalked the streets.