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whispered. It was the only way. She couldn’t risk Nick hating her. If she could keep hatred out of his heart, he would stay as he was.
    A hero.
    Unlike Sraosha, she didn’t think that killing him would solve anything. Another Malachai would come forward to replace him, and if it was the one she suspected, it would be even worse. Currently, the next in line to replace Nick was a god in full right, with full powers. No one would be able to stop a Malachai like that.
    Ever.
    Not even the Chthonians.
    But Sraosha wouldn’t listen to her. He wanted Nick’s heart with a lust she didn’t understand. If anyone should want Nick dead, it was her.
    And part of her did. How could she not, given what all he’d taken from her. Over and over, she saw the demon Malachai—Nick’s true form—killing her brothers. Her entire family had been slaughtered because of him.
    Without reservation or hesitation, she had come back in time so that she could stop his metamorphosis. This was her one and only chance to save everyone.
    Even herself.
    “I can’t fail.”
    She would either save Nick from his true nature, or deliver his heart to Sraosha.

 
    CHAPTER 3
    “Dang, boy, you drag that tail any lower and you won’t be able to get across a parking lot.”
    Nick paused as he and Caleb entered the Triple B—the largest gun and computer store in the South, maybe even the world.
    The owner, Big Bubba Burdette, was one of Nick’s best friends and the closest thing to a father Nick had ever known. Standing over six feet tall, Bubba was well muscled and humongous—something that came from his days as an award-winning football player who would have gone pro had he not decided to give up glory to stay home with the wife and son he loved more than anything else.
    A wife and son who had died tragically a decade back in a home invasion that had devastated Bubba, and made him the kind of extreme survivalist they featured on Doomsday documentaries and in gun magazines.
    Not to mention, he was a firm believer that a zombie apocalypse was imminent. Hence the numerous zombie targets, undead paraphernalia, and the posters on the wall advertising his zombie survival classes he taught with his friend Mark. All over the store and shrunk down as small wallet-sized cards were tips on how to survive an attack.
    Nick’s personal favorite was the poster right behind the register that listed the number-one tip. Remember, you don’t have to outrun the zombie. You just have to outrun your friends.
    That didn’t exactly warm his heart and make him want to put Bubba at his back in a fight. But then again, Bubba didn’t really subscribe to that, and Nick had fought the undead, including zombies, enough with Bubba to know that in a fight, you could count on him and then some.
    Bubba left no man behind, and his real philosophy in a fight was shoot first, double-tap the head, and then let God sort it out.
    And since this was the anniversary week of his family’s deaths, Bubba’s mama was in town, visiting with him. Because of that, his dark hair was cut short and his beard had become a well-groomed goatee. He’d also dispensed with his ever-present zombie movie tees and red flannel shirts in favor of a black shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows. But his steel-toed combat boots were still his footwear of choice.
    Mama or no mama.
    Nick would tease him for his maternal fear, but given the fact that he towered over his own mother who kept him cowed and on a short leash, he had no room for mockery. He well understood the potent power of the mothership to quell even the fiercest opponent with nothing more than a glare and arched brow.
    But the one thing about Bubba, aside from the fact the man was a total unpredictable lunatic, was that he constantly used Southernisms even Nick had a hard time making out.
    “Do what?”
    Bubba locked the case where he’d been putting away inventory, then slid the key into his pocket. He stood up to face Nick and Caleb.