Hot Blooded

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The knife pressed against my neck pissed me off. “You’re kidding me, right?” I couldn’t see what was behind me, but it smelled faintly of eggs. Half a beat later its Otherness began to slip along my skin like an unwanted caress. My fingers curled around the door handle of my car.

I didn’t have time for this.

It hissed a few inches from my ear. “Shut up, bitch. You’re going to pay for what you did—”

I brought my elbow up hard, faster than any human could track, and cracked my attacker neatly in the face as I spun around. Without hesitation, I grabbed him by the neck and slammed him onto the hood of the car next to me. Crap, that was going to leave a dent. I glanced around. Luckily there were no bystanders nearby. “What’s your problem?” I snarled. “Doesn’t look like you want a piece of me now.”

The rheumy eyes of a stunned imp stared back at me, blinking once. An imp, by definition, was half human, half demon—and this one was heavy on the human, which was why he hadn’t triggered any of my new senses. A supe this weak had to be in close proximity to give off any Otherness. He wasn’t a danger to me—more like a pesky mosquito—and to my credit he stank like a dirty bum more than any kind of demon. I examined him, not surprised to find he resembled the imp I’d killed last week. But this one was a lot weaker than Drake, so maybe a distant relation gunning for revenge?

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