He looked from me to the spider, then to Azriel, and rose—and just about fell flat on his face again. I’d forgotten about the web wrapping his feet and lower legs.

“Fucking hell, it was trying to eat me!” His voice held edges of both anger and hysteria.

“But it didn’t!” I cut in harshly. “Just hop down the damn hall and open the door. We can’t hold this bitch much longer.” I paused. “We’ll explain everything later.”

He gave me a “you’d better” look, then hopped in a rather ungainly fashion down the hall and opened the front door. Two seconds later, Hunter was striding toward us. There was little emotion on her face, but her pupils had expanded to the point where there was little green left and the sheer depth of hunger that radiated off her stole my breath and had my gut churning. This was Hunter as I’d hoped I’d never see her—eager for her revenge, ravenous for the blood of her enemy.

Thank god I had Azriel with me.

I glanced back down the hall. The shifter was still standing by the open door, but his expression was slack.

“His expression is as empty as his mind,” she said, her low voice vibrating with anticipation. “Do you think I desire a witness to what I am about to do?”

I swallowed heavily. “We’re witnesses.”

She turned her black gaze on me, and I took an involuntary step back.

“Yes,” she murmured, voice silky. “But I have nothing to fear from you; do I, Risa dear?”

I felt like a rabbit caught in the spotlight, only this particular one shone with a dark, dark light and promised a bloody, brutal death.

“Your threats grow tedious, Hunter.” Azriel’s voice held little inflection and no doubt for good reason. It wouldn’t take much to set her off. “And you are here for the Jorõgumo, remember.”

“Yes.”

Hunter’s gaze returned to the caged spider, and the energy radiating off her suddenly spiked. Only it wasn’t aimed at any of us, but rather the Jorõgumo herself. Her form began to flicker, change, shrink, until what stood before us was once again a woman.

A woman who looked suddenly scared.

Just for a fraction of a second, I almost felt sorry for her. Then I remembered what she was and what she’d done. The death Hunter was about to give her was surely quicker than the one she’d given any of her victims.

“Lower the force of your flames and allow me access,” Hunter said.

Chills raced across my skin. There was nothing human behind those words.

Lower Amaya’s flames so they leash just her legs, Azriel said.

I echoed his words to my sword, and she obeyed. Hurry must, she said. Weak growing for both.

Yes, it was. I bit my lip and tried to ignore the fact that my head felt like it was about to explode.

Amaya’s flames followed Valdis’s down the Jorõgumo’s body until they encased just the lower half of her legs. The spider-spirit didn’t move. I suspected the energy radiating off Hunter had a whole lot to do with that.

“For the crime of killing four, you are sentenced to death,” Hunter said, stepping so close to the Jorõgumo that she was practically in her face. “But for the crime of killing one of those four, you are sentenced to death by me.”

And with that, she attacked.

But she didn’t just sink her teeth into the Jorõgumo’s neck and drink her blood. She rendered her apart and consumed everything.

Absolutely everything.

Even her soul.

Chapter 11

It was sheer survival mode that kept me rooted to the spot and watching, even though every instinct in my body was screaming to get the hell out of there—to get away from the monster that was consuming one of its own kind.

Hunter might not be a Jorõgumo, but given what I was witnessing, it was impossible to think of her as just another vampire—however powerful and old she was.

Normal vampires didn’t consume flesh and bone and brain matter. Normal vampires didn’t drink souls.

How I didn’t lose the entire contents of my stomach, I’ll never know.

Unbidden, Harry Stanford’s words came back into my mind. Oh, trust me, she long ago mastered the art of hiding what she truly is.

I guess the question that needed answering now was, what sort of monster had she become?

Unfortunately, it wasn’t a question I could exactly ask anyone in the know. I had a more than vague suspicion questioning Hunter herself would not be a good idea, and the only other people I could approach who might have some clue were Uncle Quinn and Harry Stanford himself. Both were out of the question, for very different reasons.

So I swallowed the bile backing up in my throat, kept my knees locked, and ignored the ever-increasing shuddering in both Amaya’s steel and my body. And found myself looking anywhere but at the scene in front of me.

But it seemed to take far too long for the Jorõgumo to meet her end.

My knees and Amaya’s flames gave out at the exact same time. I hit the floor with a grunt and drew in shuddery breaths, my head swimming and my body on fire.

A heartbeat later, Azriel knelt in front of me, his concern radiating through me like the wash of a warm summer breeze. He pressed his hand against the wound, my blood oozing up through his fingers as energy radiated from the epicenter of his touch. It flushed strength through my shaking muscles as it began to heal my leg, and, after a few seconds, I felt decidedly better.

My gaze met his. In the depths of his differently colored eyes, barely leashed fury burned.

If she but gives me the tiniest of excuses, he said, mind voice flat and in many ways scarier than even Hunter herself, she will be dead.

She won’t. I lightly brushed some spider goo from his cheek. His skin was far cooler than usual, and concern sharpened anew. Will you please shift into energy form and burn away the venom?

Your wound is not fully healed, and I am in no danger as yet—

I don’t care about my wound—

A continuing problem with you, he cut in. There was both amusement and frustration in his mental tones.

I smiled. I’m okay, so just humor me and heal yourself, will you?

If you insist.

He disappeared, leaving me once again staring at the scene in front of me. There actually wasn’t that much to see anymore. All that remained of the spider woman were the bits I’d sliced off—some leg pieces, her fang, and one of the spinnerets. Everything else—all the gore and other body parts—had been consumed.

Hunter turned and our gazes met. I froze again, pinned by the awful darkness of her eyes, and for a moment feared that I was about to become her second victim. Then she blinked, and the darkness retreated.

But the air still burned with the wrongness of her being. Worse still, blood and flesh covered the lower part of her face and dripped from her chin, and her shirt was soaked with gore.

My stomach once again threatened to rebel, but I had a feeling vomiting all over her no-longer-shiny shoes would be a sign of weakness I could not afford. I just wished I could control my pulse rate as easily, because right now it was through the roof.

“So,” she said, “have you got anything to say?”

Her voice was cool, unthreatening, but my skin crawled. “Absolutely nothing.”

She smiled, revealing razor-sharp, blood-stained canines. “Wise choice.”

I swallowed heavily and wished like hell I could take back the words that now bound me to this woman. But breaking our deal was an option I’d never really had, no matter how much I might have flirted with the idea. Yet I had no doubt those flirtations were the reason behind her revealing her true nature here today. She’d wanted to show me just what would happen to Ilianna and Tao if I ever stepped out of line.

It was my desperate need for revenge that had led them into this woman’s sights, and I hated myself for that.

But what was done was done, and regretting the path I’d chosen in a desperate moment of pain and anger didn’t help anyone, particularly them.

I licked dry lips and said, “Are you going to call in the Directorate, or do you want me to?”

“Oh, there’s no need for them to be advised of events here.” There was cold amusement in her voice. “The Jorõgumo is dead and I will erase the shifter’s memory. I’m afraid this is destined to become just another of the Directorate’s cold case files.”

And how many of those files, I wondered, were cold because of Hunter’s intervention?

“Then I can go?” I tried not to sound overly eager, but failed dismally, if the gleam in her eyes was anything to go by.

“You may. Just remember, I want to be advised if you do find the next gate key at that gun exhibition later today.”

“Given you have Cazadors following me about like trained puppies, that goes without saying,” I snapped, and regretted it almost instantly.

That darkness flared in her eyes again. My breath froze in my throat, and I took an involuntary step back. Even that one small movement had her half baring her teeth, and it wasn’t only Amaya who began screaming inside my head. I was at full voice, too.

Then Azriel appeared in front of me, providing a physical barrier against the wash of hunger and darkness coming from Hunter and allowing me to breathe normally again—although the fury and tension rolling off both him and his sword wasn’t any less breathtaking.

“Do it,” he said softly. “I will enjoy watching your soul be escorted through the gates of hell.”

For a moment, she didn’t move. Didn’t even blink. Then she smiled—still all teeth—and said, “Oh, I will give you your chance, reaper, but not now. Not yet. There is still much to be achieved.”

Yeah, first high council domination, next the world. Azriel reached back and caught my hand, squeezing it in either reassurance or in warning. Then his energy surged around us, tearing us apart swiftly, but he didn’t take his gaze off Hunter until the gray fields were around us.

“What the fuck,” I said, as we reappeared in the secure surrounds of my bedroom, “has she become?”