“Uh-huh. Okay, why not tell you? I hold myself back from him because I know that soon you’ll come for me. Giving into my emotions where he is concerned would only be cruel to both of us. He and I suffer from a horrendous case of bad timing. There. Happy now? Just tell your future meal one thing. Thomas isn’t on your menu, right?”

“He doesn’t possess what I need. Only you and a few others have that.”

“Lucky us. Listen, you promise not to kill Thomas and I’ll come with you willingly when you need me.” Of course that doesn’t mean I won’t try and kill you before you kill me.

“You love him that much?”

“I care about him that much.”

“I agree. I have no specific quarrel with the head witch. I have no reason to kill him if he doesn’t get in my way where you are concerned. However, you would come with me willingly anyway because your alternate is your mother.”

Shock rippled through her. “My mother?”

“Genetically, your magick is very strong. You and your mother have the same kind of magick, same level, same consistency. Both are exactly what I need for that particular component of this spell. Your sister had a similar level and consistency and was perfect for the earlier portion of the spell.”

Rage rocketed through her. Her body shook from it. “You cannot have my whole family, you bastard!” she yelled.

She might have plenty of issues with her mother, but no way in hell would she allow her to become a victim to this monster the way her sister had. In the end, Catalina was her mother, dysfunctionality, selfishness, warts, and all. No matter what Isabelle may have said before about her, in this one moment that became crystal clear to her.

Isabelle couldn’t wait for a distraction. She couldn’t wait for anything.

Pulling the gun from the back of her waistband in one smooth move, she aimed and shot at Boyle. The sound ripped through her eardrums and echoed down the alley. With preter-natural speed and reflexes, the demon twisted to the side and the bullet nicked him in the thigh, making him howl in pain and rage.

So close. She’d been so close. And, damn it, she had been close. Point-blank range, in fact, and he’d still dodged the bullet.

Boyle was on her in a flash. His weight pressed her into the pavement, compressing her lungs until she gasped. His big hand closed around her wrist and squeezed, trying to make her relinquish the weapon. She gripped it until she lost feeling in her hand, her arm.

Fighting as hard as she could under the demon’s massive body, she kicked and clawed with her free hand like a feral cat. Boyle grunted and took the brutal treatment, pinning her to the ground with his tree-trunk-like legs.