Sabrina's Clan (25 page)

She might have screamed. She didn’t know.

Every bone in her body melted. She felt as if she would never be able to move again.

As the after-effects fizzled and popped in her nerves and mind, Nyanther groaned beneath her.

“No, no, no….” Jake breathed, as his thrusts shortened and grew erratic. Then with a deep growl of his own, he came.

Nyanther kissed her, a hard press of his lips against hers. Then he fell back again, breathing heavily. “Gods and gremlins….”

Jake withdrew from her and dropped to the mattress beside Nyanther. He picked her up and put her between the two of them. He settled his hand on her waist and looked down at her. “We should have done this a long time ago.”

“We didn’t know. Any of us,” she said quietly.

Nyanther rested his hand on Jake’s shoulder. “Two smart people just taught me to stop regretting the loss of time. You should listen to them.”

Jake sighed. “Yes, dammit.”

Sabrina picked up Nyanther’s hand. “Then you’re going to stay?”

He let out a breath. “I’m still terrified,” he said, his voice low. His hand turned in hers, so their fingers twined.

“We can help,” Jake said. “You know we will.”

“That will make it bearable,” Nyanther admitted. “If it can be borne, it can be endured and perhaps that is enough for now.” He let out a breath that shuddered.

“Optimist,” Jake teased him.

Nyanther untangled his hand from Sabrina’s and slid it around her waist. “Perhaps I need help right now,” he said and kissed her shoulder. His lips moved softly down toward her breast, making her breath catch.

“All sorts of help,” Jake agreed and bent his head to her other breast.

Sabrina had never been in the basement workshop where Nyanther spent a lot of his time. She had never been directly invited and she got the feeling from the way Nyanther, Jake, Nick and Damian spoke about the work they did down there that it was a sacred male place. Jake was the only human and he had very modern attitudes, yet even he seemed to enjoy time to himself or with Nyanther alone.

It didn’t bother her in the slightest that Jake and Nyanther spent time together without her. She was too busy, anyway. Between her work for Wentworth Kumatsu, which she had started to think of as merely her day job, and running the business aspects of the hunters’ world, she had more than enough to do.

Then there were the long nights when it was just the three of them, when her life became one of peace, dizzy pleasure and contentment. Her lack of sleep grew chronic.

One or the other of them would often seek her out. Nyanther would sometimes pluck her from the bed in the middle of the night and carry her into the other room, where they wouldn’t wake Jake. There, he would kiss and caress her, stroke her into trembling anticipation, until he took her with hard strokes, his body working over hers, until he was as heated as she was.

Other times, he would find her at her laptop and would pluck the earbuds from her ears and close the laptop and draw her away. Sabrina was completely unable to protest over the interruptions. She would much rather spend time in Nyanther’s or Jake’s arms than do many other things, these days, including the sacred mission of making money.

Jake often surprised her by arriving at Wentworth Kumatsu unannounced, sending all the admins into a tizzy. He would take her out for lunch and sometimes they would stay in her office, with the blinds drawn. He would put her on the desk and play with her body until she was begging for release in a voice she barely recognized.

Cory Morse stopped protesting about professional conflicts of interest. They had removed her from the Summerfield account, so there was technically no more conflict to be had. He didn’t like it that Jake was in her life, though. His scowl increased every time he saw Jake in the building, or when she spoke of having to meet him for lunch or after work. He said nothing and Sabrina worked hard to make sure everything she was responsible for was done, so Cory really did have nothing to bitch about.

It was getting close to Valentine’s Day when Nyanther invited her to come down to the basement to see the workshop. He helped her down the rickety stairs and turned on the fluorescents.

She looked around with avid curiosity. In one respect, this was as unorganized and cluttered a workshop as any garage or backyard shed she had ever seen. It was so typical a male domain she was almost disappointed.

On the other hand, there was a metal forge in the corner and the littered benches didn’t hold up empty beer cans and spare car parts. Instead, she could see the naked hilt of a sword lying on the bench, with leather strips next to it. Nick was repairing that one—she had heard him talking about reworking the hilt to make it a better fit to his grip.

There were more than a dozen knife blades sitting in a row on an old piece of towel. They had no handles. There were spindly pieces of metal projecting from the top of them and she realized the metal would form the spine of the knife handle.

There were other weapons there, including a series of handguns mounted on the wall on pegs. No one in the hunting world liked using guns. They were hard to transport anywhere, especially across borders of any sort, they were noisy and they were a human tool used to kill other humans. Gargoyles were impervious to bullets and so were a great many other supernatural creatures. Blades were more certain, especially if the blades had some iron in them. Nick’s long sword, the one he had owned since he was human, was nearly a hundred percent iron.

With a start, Sabrina realized she had picked up more about the hunters’ work and methods than she might have thought. Just looking around the workshop, now, she could recognize a dozen different tools and weapons unique to hunters. The trackers they were now making were all built upstairs in the clean areas of the apartments. Here, there were piles of the sticky net Jake had invented, steel pins that looked like climbing pitons except they didn’t have the hole in the head, round blades used for throwing, that Sabrina had seen Damian demonstrate once, with scary efficiency, and more.

“You can come down off the stairs,” Nyanther told her. “Nothing will leap at you in here, except me.”

“I feel like I’ll need a shower if I do. It’s gross,” she said and stepped down onto the concrete. “How do guys put up with dirt like this? I’ve never understood it.”

Nyanther shrugged. “It’s clean, compared to what I grew up with.”

“That was your first life,” she said. “New standards, remember?”

He grinned. “Jake likes it here just fine.”

“Likes what?” Jake said, his voice coming from the top of the stairs.

Sabrina looked up. Jake was locking and dogging the door, just as Nyanther had done. It wouldn’t do to have anyone off the street or the building wander in here. Just the guns alone was reason enough to keep the basement securely off limits to everyone except hunters.

Jake had something in his left hand—a big tote bag, one of the recycled plastic and paper ones grocery stores gave out these days. He climbed down the stairs, sure-footed from practice. He didn’t clutch the rail the way she had. He also didn’t seem to mind the dirt, just as Nyanther had suggested, even though he was wearing one of his expensive suits. The tie was already loosened.

As Jake passed her, he kissed her, holding her head steady so he could plunge his tongue into her mouth.

Her body leapt to instant readiness. She seemed to move through her days half-aroused, anyway. Just remembering their lovemaking and the inventive things Jake and Nyanther did to her and each other could keep her pulse thready for hours.

Jake smiled down at her. “Evening, princess.”

Warmth flooded her. “Evening,” she murmured.

He moved on to Nyanther and kissed him just as thoroughly. Now she really
was
aroused. The two of them together never failed to bring her to a fever pitch between one heartbeat and the next.

“So what do I like?” Jake asked him.

“Redheads, isn’t it?” Nyanther teased.

Jake scowled. “Low blow,” he breathed.

Sabrina’s arousal congealed. Cold gripped her as she stared at Jake and she remembered something she had forgotten in all the weeks since she had met him. The woman in his life, the one who complicated it.

Did Nyanther know, or was he working on half-formed guesses like she was?

“Brandy, right?” Sabrina made herself say. “That’s her name, isn’t it?”

Jake whirled to look at her. Surprise skittered over his face. Then uneasiness. “It’s not what you think.”

It hurt to have him acknowledge it even in this indirect way. It hurt to know she had been right, way back then. There were secrets in Jake’s life he still wouldn’t share with her.

She looked at Nyanther, at the dark shadow in his eyes. Jake hadn’t shared with him, either.

Jake must have sensed Nyanther’s disapproval, too. “Don’t look at me like that,” he told him, over his shoulder.

“How
should
I look at you?” Nyanther asked mildly. “How should Sabrina look at you?”

“You’re involved with this woman?” Sabrina pressed. “This redhead called Brandy?”

Jake’s face tightened. She could see anger, bafflement, sadness and more. It all fought for expression. “No, I’m not involved with her,” he said, his voice even and very low. “It never really started at all.”

Sabrina pressed her hand to her chest, trying to ease the ache there.

Jake looked from her to Nyanther. “I’ve never said anything because there wasn’t anything to say. I wanted her in my life. It didn’t work out. End of story. Everyone has a past, Ny. You’re telling me you’ve never loved anyone, before now?”

“I have, but they are in my past,” Nyanther said. In the echoing basement, his voice seemed to roll grandly. “I do not carry them around with me as you are.”

“I don’t carry her around with me,” Jake said firmly. “If I did, I would never have fallen in love with you and Sabrina—” He bit off his words, as if he only just realized what he was saying and winced.

Sabrina’s insides jumped.

Nyanther’s smile was small. His eyes glowed with warmth.

Jake sighed and pushed his hand through his hair. “I was waiting for some really romantic moment to tell you.” He looked around. “Not here, damn it.”

“Then you
do
see the dirt,” Sabrina said, relieved. She moved over to him and looked up at him.

Jake cupped her face. “Not right now, I don’t.” He kissed her.

“My turn,” Nyanther said roughly. Jake was pulled away from her. She blinked and watched as Nyanther kissed him thoroughly, holding him still while he did it.

Jake sucked in a deep breath when he let him go. “Wow.” Then he stirred, as if he had just remembered something and lifted the bag he still held in his hand. “Here. It’s for you,” he told Nyanther.

Sabrina came closer to look. Nyanther dug into the bag and pulled out a hammer. It was chromed and the handle was wrapped leather. It looked like a slender, light-weight version of any other hammer Sabrina had ever seen. The head, though, was wide. Nearly two inches across.

“It’s made of one of the new magnesium-based alloys,” Jake said. “Very light, for a super-metal. It’s the toughest metal in the world. That’s just the first half.” He pointed to the bag.

Nyanther handed the hammer to Sabrina. It was surprisingly heavy, especially at the head. Nyanther had waved it around as though it had weighed nothing. She wasn’t certain she would be able to swing it without her wrist breaking.

Nyanther pulled out a short-handled axe. It was made of the same shiny metal, with a matching leather-wrapped handle. The blade side of the head was flat and broad and the edge looked wickedly sharp. He ran his thumb over it and held it up to look at the blood oozing from the nick. Then the nick healed itself. Nyanther wiped the blood off on his jeans, leaving a smear. He turned the axe over and over in his hands. The opposite side of the head from the blade was a peculiar shape. It mushroomed out from the shaft into a flat surface nearly four inches deep and three across.

“For the hammer,” Jake explained. “You said normal axes don’t do anything to gargoyles when they’re in their stone sleep. You need a thermal lance to crack the surface and you can’t lug one of those around in your pocket. I did some research—”

Nyanther rolled his eyes. Jake was always researching. Always innovating.

“—and the techies tell me using the hammer on the axe will drive it four inches into quartz-infused concrete. That’s concrete and that’s lab techs swinging the hammer. With your natural strength, Ny, what do you think the axe would do to a sleeping gargoyle?”

Nyanther reached out silently and plucked the hammer out of Sabrina’s hand. He moved over to the wall next to the bottom step and held the axe up so the blade was resting against it. The walls down here were concrete.

Then he swung the hammer over his head, aiming for the flat back of the axe. His aim was perfect. There was a grinding, shrieking sound and sparks flew. The axe and the hammer made a deep gonging sound that reverberated with a pure musical note.

Nyanther stepped away from the wall, considering the axe. It was buried, with nothing showing but the flat mushroom back and the handle.

Concrete dust dropped down to the floor beneath.

Nyanther nodded and tossed the hammer on to the bench. “It works,” he declared. Then he took Jake’s hand and looked at Sabrina. “We need to thank him.”

Her body grew warm once more. As Nyanther pulled Jake toward the stairs, she followed eagerly.

As he passed the axe buried in the wall, Jake grabbed the handle with his spare hand. “We should put this out of reach—” He yanked on the handle.

The axe didn’t move.

Sabrina ground her teeth together, to keep her face neutral and not laugh. For a human, Jake was strong, as she could personally attest. Yet he yanked and pulled at the handle, his sinews straining. The axe stayed where it was.

“Leave it,” Nyanther told him. “We have better things to do.”

* * * * *

Spring was in the air and still there had been no sign of the gargoyles and no word of them on the networks. As the gargoyles had fled to Scotland, thirty years ago, Sabrina made sure the hunters there were on extra alert for the smallest hint of their old enemy. Despite daily reports, no patterns emerged that said the gargoyles might have fled there.