Fallen. Michele Hauf
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with thick fox fur. Along the sleeves the fabric was tugged together military-style with gold buttons and chains. She’d exchanged her male jeans for some skin-hugging black leather pants. The sales clerk had tried to convince her a corset would look stunning on her but Pyx had opted for a comfortable gray T-shirt. High heels had looked a bit dangerous, so she’d opted for a two-inch heel on some pointy-toed black crocodile ankle boots.
She could have easily assumed the costume with a thought, but the shopping part had been—fun. And it had given her clues to what women wore.
She wasn’t sure about the makeup thing, but the sales clerk had directed her to the cosmetics department where a commando clerk had attacked her with a free makeover, brushing, spraying and stroking on various types of smelly products. Now Pyx toted a bag full of more smelly stuff with the promise it would enhance her ability to attract a man.
“As long as the man is Fallen,” she muttered. “And not a bloodsucker.”
She veered down a street before a grand railway station and read the name of the building. “The Gare du Nord.” Hundreds of people filed in and out, destined for other cities, or returning from trips.
“Try Germany,” she called to a passing family of five lugging suitcases. “The schnitzel is awesome.”
The father shuffled his kids away from her as if she’d said something obscene. Pyx just smiled. She nicked a wallet from the back pocket of a man arguing with his girlfriend and inspected the contents as her path led her away from the busy area.
A hundred euros and a bunch of credit cards. She picked out the gold credit card because she liked it best, then tossed the wallet into a nearby trash can.
Eyeing a restaurant across the street that advertised wine from the Rhône river valley and fresh scallops, Pyx was distracted by a shadow moving across the street. It had been a blur, a person moving much more swiftly than mortals were capable of doing.
Feeling a twinge of instinct, Pyx decided food could wait. Striding onward, bag full of makeup banging against her hip, she angled toward the alley where she’d seen the blur go.
At the end of the alley she noticed it again. It stopped long enough so she could plainly see it was a man. He exposed fangs and chuckled, then took off to the right.
Stuffing the credit card in a back pocket, she took off after him. He moved in a zigzag pattern farther away from the city center. Eventually he blurred into a brick building where all the lower windows had been broken out.
Pyx stomped across broken glass and debris of boards into the darkness. “Here, bloody vampire. Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
She shoved off her jacket and tossed it aside, dropping her bag of makeup on top. Cracking her knuckles, she strode to the center of the empty three-story room. “You wanted me to follow? Well, here I am!”
Slammed bodily from the side, Pyx took the brunt force of the vampire’s hefty frame with ease. She twisted at the waist and pushed him away from her. The vampire stepped through the shove, circling toward her and chuckling maniacally. His blue eyes were bloodshot, and his thin lips curled.
Did he think a little flash of fang was going to intimidate her?
Pyx didn’t have to touch him; she had a few tricks up her sleeve.
She made a shoving-away gesture through the air before her. The vampire gasped and went flying, his shoulders hitting the wall, but he landed on both feet and immediately marked a determined stride toward her.
“You’re strong for a girl,” he said.
“Yeah? You’re an idiot for a vampire. Oh, wait. All vampires are idiots. My bad.”
She waited for him to charge and took the impact full force, his shoulders barreling into her chest. Okay, that one hurt. Felt like something broke, but her insides were metal so that couldn’t be. Still, this mortal flesh was too damned tender.
The two of them stumbled, Pyx backward, the vampire pushing her. They landed on the concrete floor in a grappling roll. He managed to kick her in the gut, which hurt even more. She punched his jaw, which sent spittle of crimson puddling across the floor.
“Don’t you know what I am?” she demanded, furious this insolent creature dared not show her the reverence she deserved.
“Sinistari.” He jumped up and brushed the dust from his leather coat sleeves. “I’m not much for demons. You do not deserve the respect you demand.”
“We are the kings of the demon realm,” she stated, defying him with the entitlement. She snatched Joe from the sheath under her arm—no matter the new clothing, she never went anywhere without Joe. “You will die for your insolence.”
“Whatever. You look more a princess than a king. Your lipstick is smeared.”
Pyx touched her mouth. Really? But the color she’d chosen was so pretty….
The vampire pulled out a gun and fired.
Pyx took the bullet in her shoulder. It burned like hell’s fire, but it was not going to kill her.
And if the vampire didn’t watch it, he’d piss her off. And she did not play well when pissed. She swiped at the corner of her mouth, frustrated more by the greasy smear of red.
Screw the lipstick.
“Why are you playing with me? Got an itch you need to scratch, buddy? Just to let you know, I don’t do bloodsuckers.”
“I wouldn’t touch your damned ass with haz-mat gloves on,” the vampire replied.
Pyx lifted a brow, fighting a wince from the pain. “Anyone ever tell you that charm will get you a stake in the heart?” Not that she’d remembered to bring along a stake …
“It’s my business to keep an eye on you, Sinistari.” He waved the gun menacingly. “Keep you away from the Fallen one.”
“So it was me those idiot vamps were after last night?” And here she’d been sure it was Cooper.
“You and the Fallen. You catch sight of the muse yet?” he asked as he paced before her. A swipe of his sleeve wiped the blood from his mouth, leaving a smear she figured resembled her mouth.
“If I had seen a muse, I wouldn’t tell you. I’m tired of this conversation. You need to be gone.”
She flung out her hand, directing her energy toward the vamp, but he ducked and managed to fire the gun again. This time the bullet pierced her outstretched hand.
Pyx gripped the searing pain. “Now you’ve pissed me off.”
Letting out a throaty growl, she began to shed her mortal costume with a shake of her shoulders. The Sinistari were forged from fluid metal as sinuous as flesh but stronger than any known mortal substance. They were virtually indestructible, unless a stronger opponent faced them down.
Vampires were not stronger.
The shift complete, she stood a head higher than when in mortal costume. Her black metal body pulsed with the vicious desire to do some damage. Tightening her fists and twisting her horned head, Pyx eyed the vampire.
The bastard didn’t even flinch. In fact, he smiled and tore open his shirt to reveal a tattoo emblazoned across his abdomen. From waist to under his nipples a bizarre sketch of ancient sigils covered every inch of flesh.
Demon wards. And it looked as if he wore a sigil for every demon that stalked this realm and all the other realms.
The vampire wasn’t an idiot after all.
“Points for you,” Pyx growled.
She felt the ward’s repulsive force scream out toward her and shiver within her metallic frame. It squealed, high-pitched and sharp. The noise was unbearable.
Clamping a hand over one ear, she struggled to face her opponent, but knew it was fruitless. Pyx turned, snatched her coat