Blood Hunt by Lucienne Diver Read Free Book Online

crime scene. Maybe even walking in on the perp. If I let someone split my head open, I’d be in no condition to weather one of Jesus’s lectures. Or Armani’s, for that matter.
    Reluctantly, I added that if I didn’t check in after twenty minutes that he should call Nick.
    I didn’t wait for his response before I was out of the car and headed for the house. I reached over the gate and let myself in. The walkway beyond was paved unevenly, probably years ago before the ground had settled or the latest quake had shifted the earth, but the path was short and I was at the door before I’d finished the thought. Then I listened. Inside, as far as I could tell, was silence. The fact that the front door was ajar was worrisome, but also made it easier to listen in.
    My precog jumped and fluttered in my gut like…something that jumps and flutters. A flying grasshopper, maybe. But I couldn’t hear a thing inside. It was deadly silent.
    In case I was in for an ambush, I gave the door a good swift kick to knock it into anyone who might be hiding behind it, but all it did was bounce loudly against the wall, probably leaving a mark, before coming back at me. I stopped it with a hand.
    As usual, my gun was elsewhere. Anything that couldn’t be stopped by my gorgon glare was only going to be seriously pissed off by a bullet wound.
    So I entered the house with nothing drawn but my nerves. The foyer was nothing special. It opened almost immediately into a large living room with the focal point a large wood-burning fireplace. Not a television? I wondered, but then I spotted it just above, a huge flatscreen hanging on the wall in place of a painting or fancy family photo above the mantel. The coffee table was entirely obscured by used cups, dishes, two pizza boxes, a round of empty beer bottles and a humungous work boot, which I realized after a second was still occupied. I traced it to the body around the other side of the coffee table, worried I’d find the rest bloody and brainless, but the man’s chest rose and fell as I approached. He didn’t so much as bat an eye or turn in his sleep. There seemed to be a coin resting in the center of his forehead. Or…I leaned in closer…a round metal disk, anyway. Not gold but maybe bronze, pressed with some kind of symbols but worn to the point where they were barely readable, at least to me.
    I took out my phone, clicked on the camera and snapped a close-up. For now I left the disk in place and moved on from the body, needing to be sure I was in the clear before I took things any further. I could see the dining area beyond the living room. Just a simple dark wood table and chairs with a buffet behind it and a hutch off to the side holding an alpine designed set that looked more Yosemite than L.A.
    That was as far as the open concept went. The kitchen was its own contained space with two entryways—one leading toward the dining room along one wall, the other leading to the living room/foyer on the other. I wouldn’t be able to see in without exposing some part of myself in the doorway.
    My precog didn’t like that idea one bit, by which I knew that whatever waited for me, waited there. But in poker terms, I was all in.
    I jumped into the doorway, glaring around to catch the eye of whoever waited for me. Before I could, my head was grabbed and wrenched around so that I was propelled toward the wall. Just as quickly, one of my arms was yanked and twisted up behind me. I bit my cheek and as blood flooded my mouth, I muttered the ancient Greek words I’d been given to recall my wings. They flared out with the force of a parachute opening, and my attacker howled in surprise as she was thrown back. I heard her impact with the kitchen cabinetry and whirled to meet her.
    She recovered quickly. A booted foot was already headed my way. I blocked with an arm, countered with a kick of my own. She grabbed my foot in mid-air, lightning fast, and