Page 69 of Protector Unmatched

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As was to be expected well after midnight, all rooms in the big mansion were dark. Zoltan closed the vortex with which he and three of his demons had arrived in the garden. Though he’d never been at this address, a satellite image of the property had helped him direct his vortex to the correct place.

Zoltan motioned his three underlings to following him quietly onto the deck, where large French doors led into the house. He peered through the glass and could make out the interior, a living room. Aware of the alarm the house was protected with, and not having found anybody on such short notice who could successfully circumvent it, he’d decided to enter the property in a way that wouldn’t trigger the sensors on the doors or windows, nor alert the residents to their presence too early by the sound of breaking glass.

With a swift motion of his arm, he cast a vortex on the deck. The swirling mass of dark fog and mist was ready to receive him. Zoltan stepped into it with one foot, then cast a look over his shoulder for the three demons to follow him. Inside, he visualized a spot in the living room, and a second later, he felt a different kind of floor beneath his boots, a thick rug. He stepped clear of the vortex, his demons on his heels, and found himself in the mansion’s interior. With a quick hand movement, he made the vortex shrink and disappear.

Careful not to make any noise, Zoltan walked into the hallway, and from there, found his way into the study Vasili had talked about, while the demons followed him. A loud thud made him whirl and glare at his companions. The last demon to enter the study, Simon, lowered his head in shame. The bag he carried had hit a sideboard and knocked a heavy book off it. It had landed on the wooden floor, sliding until it bumped into a chair.

Everybody froze and listened for a few seconds, but nothing happened. It appeared the residents, if they were indeed home, were deep sleepers. When Simon let out a relieved sigh, Zoltan shot him a disapproving look. The bastard would die right now if Zoltan didn’t need his particular expertise. But letting him live now didn’t mean he’d survive the night. Punishment was simply delayed for a while.

Quickly, so as not to lose any more time, Zoltan walked behind the desk to an abstract painting that hung on the wall there. He ran his hands around the edge of it, testing if any wires could trip another alarm, but found nothing. Satisfied, he tilted the painting away from the wall and exposed the safe. He turned and pointed to Simon, who still had the large bag slung across his torso. He approached and started unpacking the things he’d brought: everything necessary to blow open a safe.

Using explosives to open the safe hadn’t been Zoltan’s first choice, given that the noise would carry far. In addition, if they were unlucky and used too much explosive material, the contents of the safe could be destroyed completely. If they used too little, the safe wouldn’t open. The noise was the least of his concerns. By the time somebody made it to the study, he and his underlings would already have left through the vortex. His chief concern remained the possibility of destroying the dagger inside.

Simon started assembling his supplies. Zoltan put a hand on his bicep and made him turn his face to look at him.

“If you damage what’s inside,” Zoltan whispered, “it’ll be the last thing you do.”

Fear shone from Simon’s green eyes. “There will be no damage.”

Zoltan let go of his arm, then took a step back and watched him work. The creaking of a door made him spin around. The beam of a flashlight hit him in the face, blinding him for a moment, before he could duck away and make out who was holding it: a human in a nightgown, most likely a woman.

“Get the bitch!” Zoltan ordered the two demons who should have stood guard at the door and window in the first place, but instead were watching their comrade tinker with the explosives.

Finally, the two idiots went into action and charged toward the intruder. A shot rang out. One of the demons stumbled and fell forward, while the other reached the woman and pounced on her. The flashlight went flying, and a struggle for the weapon in the woman’s hands began—a very short struggle Zoltan’s underling won without contest. The woman screamed, kicked at the demon, and tried to punch him, but he subdued her quickly, slamming her to the ground.

By the time Zoltan was by their side, his subject had the woman pinned down. Zoltan snatched the flashlight and shined it into her face. The older black woman ripped her arm free from her demon aggressor and tried to reach for the flashlight as if she wanted to use it as a weapon.

Zoltan hit her chin with it instead. “Should’ve stayed in bed, lady. But since you’re up, you might as well give us a hand.”

“Let me go!” she ground out. She made no attempt at yelling, at alerting anybody else in the house, making it obvious to Zoltan that she was the only person here.

“Later,” he promised. He turned to Simon. “Hold off on it.” Then he looked at the old woman again. “I need the code for the safe.”

“I don’t know it! And even if I did, I wouldn’t give it to you!” She spat at him, her face a mask of defiance. He liked humans with guts, with courage. This one would make a good demon, but unfortunately, he didn’t have the time to convince her to join his side. For all he knew, she could already have triggered an alarm or called the police from upstairs.

“The code, lady, or you’ll die!” To underscore his demand, he pulled his dagger from his jacket and put the blade to her throat. “I’m not a patient man. The code!”

She swallowed hard. Then her lips moved. “I don’t know it.”

“Bullshit!”

“I’m only the housekeeper. I swear!”

Zoltan pressed the blade harder against her skin. “Don’t lie to me!”

Tears started welling up in the woman’s eyes. “I don’t know it. I’m just the housekeeper.”

Narrowing his eyes, Zoltan gripped one of her hands and looked at it. They weren’t the hands of a woman of leisure, a woman who sat in a mansion all day, doing nothing. They were the hands of a working woman: short fingernails, no polish, an odd cut or burn here or there, just like one would expect from a woman who cleaned and cooked. The woman spoke the truth.

“Then you’re no use to me.” He rose and told the demon pinning her down, “Make sure she’s no danger to us.” He walked toward the safe again.

Behind him, the woman screamed, the sound so bloodcurdling that Zoltan whipped his head back. Her demon captor drove a dagger deep into her chest.

“Fuck!” Zoltan cursed. “I meant for you to tie and gag her, you idiot!” The woman’s bravery had gained Zoltan’s respect, but it was too late now. Her head rolled to the side. She was dead.

“But you said…” The demon jumped up and cast him a fearful look.

“Shut up!” Annoyed, Zoltan turned back to the explosives expert, who was showing initiative and working on affixing the plastique around the safe’s edges. Zoltan watched him closely. He hoped this guy was sharper than the demon who’d just killed the old woman for no good reason. Why it upset him, Zoltan wasn’t sure. He should feel no compassion for any human, but he’d seen something in this woman, a strength, a courage he admired.

“I’m ready, oh Great One,” Simon finally said. “We need to get out of the room, in case…” He made a sign with both hands, indicating a big explosion.

“How’re you gonna trigger it?”

The demon pointed to a timer attached to a wire that was connected to the plastique. “I’ll set it to sixty seconds.”

Zoltan nodded. “Do it!” Then he told the other two, “Out into the hallway. Now.”

As the two demons charged out of the room, Zoltan followed. Seconds later, Simon joined them in the hallway, where they hovered to one side of a heavy armoire that would protect them in case anything went wrong.

But everything had better go exactly like he’d planned it.