His boots echoed dully on the cement steps, and even though he was the only one in the entire high-rise crazy enough to climb thirty stories, the walls still pressed in too closely. But it wasn’t nearly as bad as an elevator, which he’d avoid at all cost.
He’d had to walk all the way from the accident, having lost his fledgling ability to teleport the second he’d been injured. Being temporarily fragile sucked. He shoved open the door to the top floor and eyed the sheen from the white and gray tiles forming a sophisticated design down the long hallway. Beige-gray slabs of tile, thick and luxurious, made up the walls until the office opened into a center reception area surrounded by glass—one whole wall of it windows to the outside.
All glass and chrome and soothing materials.
He fucking hated this penthouse office space. It even smelled like recycled air and environmentally friendly cleanser.
Keeping his head down, he maneuvered through the hallway and past the deserted reception area to one of the many conference rooms down yet another hallway. The lights were too bright, the air too relaxed, and the height from sea level too damn far.
Banishing any hint of the pain still attacking him, he strode into the room and waited for the explosion to come.
None arrived. Instead, Ronan Kayrs looked up from a stack of maps that had been spread across the inviting and perfectly smooth light tan conference table, where he was apparently working alone at the moment. “Hello, Viking. The local news has already reported the attempted kidnapping. You had to go after her.”
A familiar slash of guilt cut into Ivar. He barely kept his hand from trembling as he drew out an environmentally friendly chair to sit. “I didn’t intend to take her.” Sometimes his instincts still overruled his brain.
Ronan’s eyes flashed a deeper aqua than usual. The vampire-demon had odd eyes, even for a hybrid. “You were on a reconnaissance mission. To watch and learn. She might be the exact wrong physicist based on the opinions expressed in some of her articles.”
Ivar nodded. “I’m aware.” The burn scars marring his neck went much deeper into his tissue than merely marring the skin outside, and his voice would always remain hoarse. Not as mangled as a purebred demon’s, but close. Considering he was half demon, he really didn’t give a shit. But right now, he couldn’t let that hoarseness be gauged as weakness. “I saw an opening, and I took it.”
“You failed,” Ronan said simply, his eco-friendly chair squeaking as he leaned his impressive bulk back. The hybrid crossed muscled arms, looking just as deadly as the entire Kayrs vampire family was known to be, even with the recent cut to his black hair, which made him look more like a businessperson for this mission.
Ivar flushed, and his damaged skin ached. It was rare for a vampire-demon hybrid to scar, and when it happened, it hurt. Most of his burns had healed, but his neck and larynx still retained their rough texture. The inside of his throat was ribbed and uneven and annoying. Maybe hell wanted to stay with him as long as it could. “I made a mistake.” One of many. When would he return to a thinking being instead of one propelled by survival instinct? He’d been trying so hard.
Ronan nodded, his mouth in a pinched line, which only accented the ones by his eyes. “She’s going to be more difficult to get to now.”
Ivar nodded. Taking him by surprise, a lightness caught in his chest. Nowhere near what humor had felt like years ago, but something different from pain and guilt. “She is smarter than I’d thought. Better thinking on her feet, anyway.” He’d studied Dr. Promise Williams for months while he regained his sanity—somewhat—and she was obviously intelligent. But he hadn’t expected her to ram her vehicle into a police cruiser. “She is in danger and needs to be locked down.”
Ronan pinched the bridge of his nose. “We have got to quit kidnapping people,” he muttered.
Ivar shrugged. “I don’t know. It worked out well for you.” Ronan had kidnapped a neurologist he’d ended up mating and adoring like a puppy that had found its place. “Where is your mate?” She was a doctor—maybe she could stem the blood Ivar still felt dripping beneath his dark T-shirt.
“Back computer room with her sister, researching that list of human physicists most likely to be targeted next,” Ronan said.
“Promise Williams is next,” Ivar said flatly. A couple of her academic papers had held cautions about messing with the universe, which might cause him problems. But there had been something about her. A tingling that had attacked him right before she’d tried to kill him. “And she’s Enhanced.” It had been the first time any of them had been close enough to her to sense her gifts, whatever they might be.
“Ah, fuck.” Ronan shook his head. “I’d say the Kurjans wouldn’t kill her if she’s Enhanced, but now we know better.” Their enemy, another immortal species, needed Enhanced human females as mates just like the vampires did.
“The Kurjans have lost their minds,” Ivar muttered. The woman who’d been buried earlier that day had been Enhanced, and the Kurjans had torn her apart. Or rather, their Cyst faction, their religious soldiers, had done so. Ivar’s duty began to yank him in opposite directions once again. “We have to get to her before they do.”
“She might not have been on their radar until now,” Ronan said.
Ivar’s chest heated. “Bullshit. She’s one of the best in her field, maybe the best, and she’s next. We will get to her first.” When he’d seen the crime pictures after the Kurjans had finished with Dr. Victory Rashad, even he had felt sickened. And he’d suffered through more hell worlds than he could count. They often blurred together in his nightmares. “This is as important to you as it is to me. This is our only way to save Quade. He’s your blood brother.”
Ronan sighed, the sound tortured. “So are you. Blood and bone, brother.”
Ivar slowly nodded. Seven of them, all vampire-demon hybrids, had been bonded together in a ceremony of blood and bone that went beyond mere genetics or ancestry. “We have to free Quade, and I’m done waiting. I have a feeling this woman will get us what we need.” The obsession to free Quade from a bubble world dimensions away pricked beneath his skin like live wires. His leg trembled, and he slapped a hand on his thigh to stop it. Calm. Stay calm, damn it. Desperation was the only emotion, the only feeling, he could truly identify these days. So he held on to it with both hands.
An elevator door in the distance dinged, and power immediately swam through the oxygen.
Ivar started to rise, and Ronan shook his head. “Logan and Garrett are finally back. Stay for their debriefing.”
It was about time the two youngest members of the Seven returned from their missions. Ivar had actually missed them during the last month; they were his brothers now too. Logan had probably saved his life, and Ivar would do anything for that demon. He regained his seat. Five of his brothers, those created by the painful ritual of the Seven, had hidden him, protected him, and helped him for the three months he’d been back from hell. “You want me in a meeting? With other people?”
“I’d hardly call them people,” Ronan drawled, looking up as two males entered the room. “Family doesn’t count.”
Ivar partially turned. “Welcome back.”
Logan Kyllwood flashed a smart-ass grin. “You still batshit crazy, Viking?” He drew out a chair and lowered his muscled body into it.
“Yes,” Ivar said shortly, missing his days as an actual Viking before the world had changed. Out of habit, he shared Logan’s grin, even though he didn’t feel what a smile was supposed to feel like. Not anymore. He’d do anything for the young warrior. He owed him. “Unlike your mate. Now that’s a sane female.” There was no doubt Mercy O’Malley was crazier than the rest of them put together. Most fairies were. As was Logan’s mum. Maybe that was his type.
Logan snorted. “She’s not crazy. Just high energy.”
Fair enough.
Garrett sank into a seat with a sigh of relief.
He’d been dealing with the Realm, the coalition of immortal species run by his family. His genetic family. The youngest Kayrs soldier glanced at Ronan. “Hello, Great-Uncle.”
“I thought we’d finished with that nonsense.” Ronan rolled his eyes. “You didn’t realize I existed until three months ago, so shut up.”
Garrett chuckled. “I know, but it makes you feel old and me delighted. I must be an imp.”
Ivar zeroed in on the seriousness lurking in Garrett’s eyes. The kid was supposed to smooth things over with the vampire king and the Realm in general. The Seven had kept their existence a secret for a thousand years, until they’d lost members and had to recruit, which had ended up outing them. Well, to nation leaders, anyway. “I take it your mission to smooth things over with the Realm wasn’t roses and hugs?”
Garrett lost the grin. “Nope. The King of the Realm is a little pissed that he’s still dealing with the, ah—”
“Cluster fuck,” Logan said helpfully.
Garrett cleared his throat, his metallic gray eyes sizzling with intelligence. “Yes. In his words, with the mess we all have created by, ah—”
“Just existing,” Logan added. “Or rather, perverting the laws of nature and the witch nation, binding our torsos into impenetrable shields, and creating a force called the Seven.”
Garrett cut his best friend a look. “You are not helping.”
“Not trying to help,” Logan drawled.
Garrett grimaced. “I just spent the better part of a month being yelled at by several uncles, several aunts, and my mother. It was a shitstorm, and not all of us have a new mate who’s happy to see us, like you do, Logan. Some of us are mateless, you know.”
Logan rolled his eyes. “I know for a fact that you spent last weekend with a couple of feline shifters. Not one, but two. Female shifters are very bendy. So don’t tell me you’re pent up.”
Garrett’s lips twitched into a smile.
Logan cleared his throat. “I’ve been dealing with the Fae nation and trying to glean as much information about teleporting as they have learned. Unfortunately, they haven’t actually studied the ability any more than we have.” He leaned forward. “I’ve been talking to Kane Kayrs a lot, and he’s getting caught up on the science behind teleporting.”
Ivar glanced at Garrett. “Your uncle is willing to help us?”
Garrett nodded. “Yeah. Kane is intrigued by the whole notion, and since he’s the smartest being on the entire planet, I say we tell him everything. We need to find the best human physicists and get them working with him. It’s a good plan, Ivar.”
Ivar nodded. “Agreed.” He had to get back to that one hell world and save Quade Kayrs. His eyes met Ronan’s, which all but glowed with guilt and pain. Ronan had escaped the bubble world where he’d been trapped, but Quade was still stuck in his. “We’ll get him out, Ronan.” It was a vow, and Ivar meant every word.
Garrett scrubbed both hands down his face. “I don’t think I’m a good diplomat. It’s so much easier to just hit people.”
“The kid reminds me of his father.” Ivar glanced at Ronan. “Though I agree. I liked it so much better when we were a secret.”
Ronan nodded. “Yeah. It was easier to maneuver, but now at least we have more people working on the problems.”
Garrett held up a hand. “Only the leaders of the nations know about the Seven. They’re not making our existence public, by any means. At least not yet.”
Ivar cocked his head. “What else did Kane say?” If the brilliant Kayrs brother was on the problem of finding Quade, then maybe they wouldn’t even need to use humans.
Garrett tapped his fingers on the table. “He’s been studying the cosmology of extra dimensions, cosmological inflation, baryogenesis, and dark matter. Everything every species has learned, including the humans, who actually have put a hell of a lot more time into these subjects than we immortals.”
Ivar’s breath caught. “Has he figured out how to get to Quade?”
“No,” Garrett said shortly. “Even the Fae don’t know how to find his world. The Viking here is the only one who has actually been there. When we messed with the universe to create those bubble worlds, we apparently created new rules that not even those who can teleport can follow.”
Ronan leaned forward. “We did what we thought was necessary at the time.”
Garrett slowly nodded. “I get that. Fourteen hundred years ago, you didn’t know what we do now, and even though Logan and I are new members of the Seven, we take responsibility as if we were there and took part in the initial rituals. That might be what’s pissing my uncle the king off.”
Ivar could understand the king’s irritation. The original Seven had created three worlds—far away from this one—with the ultimate evil, a Kurjan Cyst named Ulric, in the middle, while Ronan and Quade had manned the outside worlds as guards to keep him contained. Recently, Ronan’s bubble had burst, and he was home now. It was time to bring Quade home as well. Ivar cleared his throat. “We all know that Quade’s bubble will burst, or Ulric’s will. So let’s make it happen on our time.”
Garrett lifted his chin. “Kane said that there’s a chance we’ll destroy this world if we blast open the ones created for Ulric and Quade. It’s not like we understand dimensions or parallel universes or whatever the hell we created.”
Ivar flattened his hands on the table, and the pace of his heart picked up. There was a piece of him, one he’d never admit to, that thought the risk of ending the world was worth it if it gave Quade a chance at survival. Yeah, that probably made him a sociopathic bastard. “Then let’s get the experts in here and find out. We need to bring in Dr. Promise Williams immediately.”
Ronan sighed. “You’re right.” He glanced at his watch and then looked back at Ivar. “She’ll be here tomorrow at 9:00 a.m.”
Chapter Three
The darkness of night carried additional rain. Mature trees scented the air with pine as drops drizzled from rolling clouds and splattered up from the leaf-covered ground. Thick branches protected Ivar as he leaned against a tree trunk, munching on peanuts, watching the quiet bungalow at the end of a private street. He ducked to the other side as a police cruiser drove by and turned around in the cul-de-sac, apparently conducting an hourly check of Promise’s home. Either the local police force lacked manpower, which was likely, or they thought his stupid kidnapping attempt earlier that day had been random.
Promise slid open filmy curtains at the front of her house and waved at the officer. He waved back and drove away.
Leaving her alone.
It was near midnight, and she had changed into soft-looking gray yoga pants with a matching top. Her thick hair was pulled up on her head, and her hand trembled slightly on the curtain. She had long, very curly black hair, high cheekbones, and caramel-colored skin. Her ancestry wasn’t obvious, but her beauty certainly was.
Relief had soothed some of his guilt earlier as he’d watched her walk from a different police car to her front door without a hitch in her stride. So he hadn’t hurt her. Good. The curtain fell, and she disappeared from sight.
A loneliness drifted through him that caught him up short.
Her home was perched on cliffs overlooking the Pacific Ocean, and the water crashed loudly against rocks below. Trees and branches blocked his view of the water, which was fine, because his interest lay in the woman. If he had found her, his enemies soon would as well. He slid down onto his butt and extended his legs, resting his head on the rough bark. Protecting her from afar should’ve been his default position.
Yet there had been something about her at the funeral. Something sad and solitary that had called to him. So he’d tried to kidnap her. He banged his head against the tree, enduring the pain as bark dug into his skull. Being half-crazed didn’t give him the excuse to be a moron.
He closed his eyes and let the sound of rain, wind, and waves gro
und him in this moment and in this world. He was home, and for the time being, he was safe. His mind drifted, and he returned to hell.
He’d been forced into world after world through a portal, and somehow in this loop, he could escape by imagining other portals that soon appeared. Most led to worse places, so he’d try to jump again. Time moved differently—one minute felt like a hundred years of torture and pain. His spirit hung in tatters by the time he reached his brother’s world. Quade was one of the Seven bonded in blood and bone, which made them family.
Quade had pulled him out of the fire and secured them both in a dirty cave littered with crumbled leaves and discarded bones. Fire and glass-filled wind roared in a maelstrom outside. The other male had scar upon scar upon scar on his body, but his nose was Ronan’s. Exactly the same.
Even though pain had engulfed Ivar, he finally knew why he’d been through so many hells. “Ronan’s world exploded, and he’s home now. It’s time for you to go home too. I’ll take your place,” he said.
Quade’s dark aqua eyes barely showed the existence of his pupils in the dingy cave. “It’s almost over, brother.”
Ivar eyed the sharp rock. “Just tell me what to do.” His memories were already dim, but hadn’t Ronan said he’d needed to move rocks and balance the magnetic poles in his world to keep Ulric trapped? If so, what was Quade doing every day besides being tortured by an environment too horrible to believe?
Quade’s torn lips twisted in a parody of a smile. “I feed the dragon, Viking. Not you.”
“Dragon?” Ivar asked. They existed other places as well as back home?
“No,” Quade said, his voice raw. “It’s getting harder, and soon it’ll end. Everything will. Me.” He grunted the last, sounding more hopeful than resigned.
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