The Watcher

"SO, FOLEY?" I ASK. "DID YOU ARRANGE ALL THIS? You've been following me around for two days. If you wanted a date, all you had to do was ask."

Foley frowns. "Following you? What makes you think that?"

"Come on. Don't be coy. The telephone calls? The shooting in the canyon? I know it was you. Were you having fun?"

I remember what Frey said about Martinez having Max and wanting me. "Well, here we are." I turn to Burke and gesture to the unmoving, silent figures hanging from the cross. "Why not let them go? The demon is snacking on whatever they snack on in hell. You have no need to keep them."

Burke shrugs. "My followers will want to take their revenge on someone. It may as well be those two. Unless, of course, you are volunteering to take Culebra's place?"

I glance down at the mob. I sense only humans, full of venom and unrestrained fury, but no supernaturals among them. I know I'd have a better chance of surviving than a human or an injured or drugged shape-shifter. Culebra must be hurt or under the influence of a powerful spell. He has not reached out telepathically to me. And there is Frey. He is lying injured and bleeding at our feet, the arrow in his side rising and falling with each labored breath. He must get help soon. "Will you let the panther and the girl go, as well, if I agree?"

She frowns. "You aren't serious? Do you think you could survive against this crowd? Do you think they would allow your friends to walk away? Some of Aswah's followers have waited years for this night. You have ruined it. If I don't allow them their revenge here and now, they will not rest until they have tracked down the shape-shifters and the girl and destroyed them."

Foley interrupts with an abrupt guttural hiss. "I don't know what you two fruitcakes are talking about," he snaps. "But I've got what I want. I don't give a shit what happens to those two." He kicks at Frey. "And the panther? Isn't that overdoing it just a little, even for a drama queen like you?"

He's talking to Burke and I see her shoulders grow tight. But Frey makes a mewling noise at Foley's touch and that ignites a fire in my belly. "Don't touch him." It comes out in a growl.

Foley laughs. "Or you'll do what?" He centers the crossbow again, at my chest.

Burke stiffens beside him. "Be careful, Foley," she says. "Anna is ..."

She doesn't have a chance to finish the sentence. In the next instant Foley finds out exactly what I am.