Eternal Flame

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It was a damn sorry night to die, but then, Zane Wynter didn’t plan on dying. Killing, yeah, that was a possibility, but not dying.

Fire exploded in the night. A white-hot mountain of flames burned right through the roof of the old three-story antebellum house on Francis Street and shot toward the sky, its greedy claws a bright orange in the darkness.

“Sonofabitch.” The breath of the flames scorched Zane’s skin. This was supposed to have been an easy collar. Go in, knock out the demon waiting inside, claim his bounty. A simple night’s work for a Night Watch hunter. After the collar, he’d planned to get a beer and maybe a fuck.

He took off his jacket and tossed it onto the ground. No sense getting ash on it.

A scream burst from inside the house. He stilled at the sound because that-that was a woman’s scream. And his prey was male.

Victim inside. Not just the killer he wanted, but maybe an innocent trapped in that inferno, too.

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