The Betrayer (Crossing Realms Series Book 3)

by Rebecca E. Neely

  All her arguments were logical. But he wasn’t ready to play fast and loose with either of their lives. “How long is it going to take to find one to steal? Aren’t they harder than ever to break into these days, with all the sophisticated security systems?”

  “So we try for an older model. And if we can’t find one, there’s ways around it.” She sneered. “They’re not quite as sophisticated as you might think.”

  Curtis considered. “I don’t want to dial down my energy, because I’m going to need all I’ve got to protect us both.”

  “Agreed. You have to stay at full power.”

  Damned if they did, damned if they didn’t. “The Betrayers will be able to track us more easily. It’s taking a big risk.”

  “This whole thing is a big risk.”

  There was the unvarnished truth. He fully expected to do battle before they reached the network, but without any current intel, who knew? “All right. If we can find a car quickly, we go as far as we can, and be prepared to abandon it and walk the rest of the way if necessary.”

  “Let’s go.” Jordan’s eyes glittered with intent. Clearly, ‘survivor mode’ was her strong suit, as logic was his. They would need each other to make the trek to the network.

  What kind of city had the ‘Burgh become? Silent as a wraith, he padded down the stairs, his adrenaline pumping. Halting in the door way, he scanned left and right. In the backyard of the reno, a single maple tree afforded them cover. Hunkering into the shadows, he turned, assuring himself Jordan was next to him.

  Holding up an index finger, she halted their progress. She knelt in the miserly patch of grass bordering the reno. The recent storms had turned much of it to mud. Dipping her hands in it, she streaked her face and dreadlocks. He followed her example, the muck cool against his skin, the smell of earth ripe.

  Nearby brick buildings, their windows dark and empty, stared at them like blank faces. How many eyes were on them right now?

  Nixing his paranoia, he crept along the perimeter of the house, Jordan close behind, until they reached the corner, which bordered the street. The city scape came into full view. The half-moon hanging in the night sky backlit a motley assortment of buildings, their varying heights slashing the scene in a jagged line. Smoke rose in angry clouds. The recent storm had blown out the humidity. A chill permeated him.

  Shivering, Jordan turned to him, pointed at her ear and cocked her head in question.

  He tilted his gaze skyward, the pattern of stars eerily tranquil, mirroring the city itself. Dread pricked his skin in stark, swift realization. The ever-present chug of traffic was non-existent. No horns blared. No trucks braked. No rubber rushed over asphalt. Maybe two blocks away, voices raised in argument punctured the night, then ceased. A car door slammed. An engine rumbled to life, offering a shred of normalcy. But only a shred.

  Even more disturbing than the absence of regular city noise was the utter lack of sirens—a staple in any city. They should have heard them. Lots of them, following the dark energy bomb. His thoughts racing, his panic rising, Curtis struggled to remember when last he’d heard one. No ambulances. No police cars. No fire trucks.

  Next door, a bug light zapped an unsuspecting moth. They both flinched. Their eyes met and held in the darkness. What the hell were they walking into? He had no idea, but he still wasn’t convinced she wouldn’t try making a break for it.

  Except she didn’t know he’d never give her the chance.

  Like ninjas, they stole across the street, clinging to the shadows. There was no doubt Jordan was in her element. Her ability to blend in, to almost become a part of the night fascinated Curtis. She might be a Keeper, but her movements were those of a Betrayer. He’d encountered them in action many times and been trained how to defend himself.

  Never had he imagined he’d fight alongside one.

  Consciously, he mirrored her motions, matched her pace. He was no slouch when it came to subterfuge, but his talents centered on anything electronic, not in the trenches, much as he hated to admit it.

  Silently, they duck-walked along a row of parked cars hugging the curb. They passed one, two, a third. Curtis figured she rejected them based on their age, as all were relatively new. Skirting a corner, they trotted through an alley, the odor of garbage ripening the air. Her glance darting in all directions, she perused the next street’s inventory of vehicles.

  An aging Ford Taurus, its quarter panels blanketed with rust, sat five cars down. Jordan gave a curt nod. Following her hand signals, they approached the car. Ghostlike, she motioned for him to unzip the backpack. Sliding the wire out, she fashioned it into what appeared to be a small noose.

  How appropriate.

  Making a vee with her index and middle finger, she pointed to her eyes, then to him and the street, indicating he was to keep a lookout while she worked. Silently, she rose from a kneeling position to slide the wire noose inside the window, open a half an inch. It slipped up and out, missing its target, the door lock.

  Curtis saw no one, detected no movement, save for the wayward rattle of a discarded takeout container, scratching along the sidewalk. Again, she slid the wire inside the window. And again, it slipped out. On the third try, she looped it on the lock, and yanked it upward. A soft click heralded her success. She motioned for him to go to the passenger side door. Opening the driver side door a crack, she crept inside. In a millisecond, she extinguished the dome light and yanked the passenger door lock up.

  Curtis opened the door slowly, cringing when it groaned on its hinges. Cigarette butts, empty beer cans, and fast food wrappers littered the back seat, their odors permeating the car’s sun-bleached fabric and vinyl. He wrinkled his nose. Like a contortionist, Jordan curled into an impossible angle in the driver’s seat, her head beneath the steering column. She didn’t spare him a glance. “Screwdriver,” she said between clenched teeth.

  Marveling at her ability to fit into the cramped space, he handed her the requested tool.

  With practiced moves, she pried, jimmied, and jacked her way into the steering column, with him providing tools on her command, like a scrub nurse to a surgeon.

  Neither had uttered a word. “Thank you,” he whispered.

  Glancing at him, she repositioned herself in the seat. Even in the low light of the moon, her wounded expression was plain.

  “Don’t thank me,” she muttered fiercely, then paused, as if summoning strength, and shifted her position once more. “Go to the front of the car. I’m going to pop the hood. Prop it open. Slowly. If it creaks, crouch below the grill. Wait for my signal. I’ll tap on the front window twice. I need you to check the connections to the battery for me. And leave the passenger door open so you don’t have to waste time re-opening it. Got it?”

  “Got it.” Sliding from the car, he followed her instructions. And waited.

  Seconds passed. His gut tightened. Every one of his senses ratcheted up.

  Jumping away from the front fender, he barely avoided the crushing blow.

  From his own laptop.

  Anger, hurt, surprise, all morphed as one. He sprang to his feet. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Lunging out, he cuffed her wrist in his, forcing her to relinquish her grip on the laptop. He wrested it from her, and it landed on the sidewalk with a destructive crack. Her eyes went wild when he latched onto her other arm, immobilizing her.

  Like an animal in a cage.

  Wasn’t that how she’d described his clan’s treatment of her in the warehouse? The accuracy dealt him a blow, but he’d be damned if she’d outfox him.

  “What do you take me for? I might not be as street-smart as you, but I know you’ve been primed for escape. I’ve been waiting for you to make your move. Now I’m making mine.”

  Jamming his foot behind her ankle, he toppled her off balance and fell with her to the unforgiving
swath of pavement between the Taurus and a late model Jeep. Breath whooshed from her lungs. In one swift motion, he had her beneath him, pinning her body with the weight of his.

  Sheer admiration for her plan, foolish as it was, struck him. She had guts to even attempt to go out into the human realm, untested as a Keeper. Stupid, or brave?

  Maybe both.

  She bucked beneath him, making him painfully aware of each subtle, yet defined curve. And of his body’s reaction. He held her fast. “What were you going to do?” he demanded. “Knock me out and steal my stones? Then what? Leave me here to die?” The very idea she could be capable of it strangled him, cut him deep. “You couldn’t do it, could you?” he shouted, desperately wanting to believe it.

  “Shut up!” she ordered. “You’re going to get us both killed!”

  “That’s rich.” He gave a short, mirthless laugh. “Afraid someone will beat you to it?”

  Clamping a hand over her mouth, he wondered how many curses and oaths he cut off. She continued to struggle, further arousing him. The alley cat, scratching and clawing. Had he honestly felt pity for her? He forced himself to chuckle. “Going to take me out with my own laptop? Low. And inventive. I’ll give you points there.”

  She muttered, and the fury in her eyes lacerated him.

  He took long, slow measure of her. “You keep fighting me, all you’re going to do is hurt yourself.” In a flash, he removed his hand, and replaced it with his mouth, muffling her protests. And kissed her. Hard. As he plundered, he swilled down the textures and tastes of her, along with some of the dirt they’d smeared on their faces.

  Never had he treated a woman this way. He was predisposed to romance, candlelit dinners, long walks, not throwing down in the street.

  And he couldn’t get enough.

  Her lips assaulted his, their tongues and teeth clashing, mating, making a dozen torrid promises that, with his kiss alone, he greedily demanded she keep. His breath heaving, he eased his weight from her upper body a fraction of an inch. “Did you think it would be so easy to get away from me?” He brushed her mouth possessively with his. “You’re coming to the network with me. And that’s final. Do you hear me, Jordan? I’m not letting you go.”

  She stiffened beneath him. The glow bounced off the bumper of the Taurus. Reflected in her widened eyes, he saw the unmistakable green brilliance.

  Automatically, he gripped his Vitality stone. Grunting, the images swept through his mind, all-consuming and clarifying in seconds. In some part of his brain, he registered he’d been expecting this. Just not now.

  Curtis levered himself up a few inches but continued holding her hostage with his weight. And stared intently at her. “A Compulsion.”

  Her mouth fell open. “Oh, my gods. A little girl,” she whispered. “She’s trapped.”

  “In a car,” he said, incredulous. “How do you know?”

  Her breath was hot against his cheek. “I can hear her,” she gasped.

  Chapter 13

  A painful lump formed in Jordan’s throat. Too late, her hand flew to her mouth, a futile attempt to disavow what she’d revealed.

  My secret.

  After hiding it for a lifetime, she’d given it up in an instant, effectively betraying herself. Twisted irony? Or cruel fate? Curtis, a Keeper, had undone her in a matter of days. She grimaced.

  I’m not letting you go. Her head spinning, his words echoed in her brain, igniting emotions buried deep long ago for survival’s sake.

  The way he’d kissed her just now had nothing to do with garnering energy through intimate contact or furthering a mission. He’d branded her with his touch, his words. And she’d responded to him, helplessly, completely, making a liar of herself. She was supposed to be absconding with his stones. Not caving in to self-doubt and secret longings he’d unearthed, then pitted against her, courtesy of a life altering transformation and his silky soft voice.

  Curtis’ eyes widened, the way she imagined hers had only moments ago. “You can hear her? From what I saw, she’s clear on the other side of the Fort Duquesne bridge.” He clenched his jaw. “In the middle of what looks like a demolition derby.” He cocked his head. “Is it possible you received the Compulsion, like I did?”

  She struggled to focus, to form words. “No. At least, I don’t think I did. I felt a . . . burst of energy. I didn’t see anything.” Was it possible the energy from both the Compulsion and Curtis himself was intensifying her reactions? How strange it’d been, being buffeted by that force. Whatever had happened, it’d sharpened her ability to hear, more keenly than ever before.

  Shackling her bicep with his fingers, he sat, dragging her with him. “This is what you’ve been hiding,” he said grimly, slamming the door shut on any doubts she’d had about deceiving him. “What do you have, some kind of uber hearing?”

  Described that way and spoken aloud by him sparked new terror and made it impossible to deny. To her, lying was like breathing. And Curtis had seen through her with apparent ease, a fact that both chafed and frightened.

  “Yes.” Her voice rose, and she hated the way desperation now abraded it. “Magpie and my father are the only two who ever knew about it. If Abel had found out—”

  “He’d have used it against you,” Curtis finished for her. “Guess what?” He leaned in until his face was centimeters from hers. “He used you any way. He kept you down, all those years. Your brood, family, and friends. And you’re still letting him do it. I’m not him. My clan isn’t him.”

  The truth of those words speared her. The depth of his insight slapped her in the face with an undeniable awareness. He understood a great deal. Too much.

  “Why the hell do you care?” she managed.

  He leaned in even closer, and she watched, mesmerized, as his stubble of beard glinted in the moonlight. His scent mixed with the night air, and she breathed him in.

  “Because that’s what I do,” he said gruffly.

  His scruff grazing her chin, her blood pulsed in her veins and heat that had nothing to do with a summer night in the ‘Burgh filled her. “It’s hard for me to trust. Anyone.”

  “Even yourself, I imagine.” He heaved a sigh, and she felt strangely saddened he seemed not only angry with her, but deeply disappointed. “This is what the original Compulsion was about. What I was supposed to find out from you, and what can help my clan. Isn’t it?”

  Gulping in mouthfuls of night air, she flattened her palms against the asphalt, absorbing the heat the day had baked into it. “It’s dangerous to be out here, like this.”

  “Answer me,” he demanded.

  “Yes,” she said, gritting her teeth. “But I still don’t know how it can. And that’s the truth.”

  “I have some ideas, and I bet you do too. Guess we’ll have to figure it out together.” His eyes narrowed. “Oh, Jordan, with no last name, you and I are going to have a long talk once we get back to the network. Tell me this now. And don’t lie,” he ordered. “How does this ability of yours work, exactly?”

  “I don’t know!” she cried, forgetting about their precarious situation, the frustrations of a lifetime overflowing like a swollen creek. “I’ve never been able to control it, or tune into it at will. The things I hear, I just hear. Lots of times I don’t even know what, or who it is. With the Vitality, I feel like maybe I’m starting to gain some control. Maybe even some peace. I haven’t had constant noise in my head.”

  “Constant noise?” he echoed. For a moment, what might’ve been sympathy or worse, pity, seemed to flicker across his face. She wanted neither.

  “What have you heard since we’ve been at the reno?” he asked calmly. Too calmly.

  Fear of revealing the truth warred with the relief of unburdening herself. “When you dialed up your energy, the entire time I kept hearing sounds, loud, soft, near, far. But I felt d
isconnected from them. I didn’t know where they were coming from. Now I know it was this.” Her breath snagged in her throat. “The fallout from the dark energy bomb.”

  “Your ability. It’s how you were able to spy on Dev and Meda at the motel, and the warehouse.” He shot her a knowing look, as if puzzle pieces were falling into place. “Are you able to hear Keepers? My clan?”

  Recognizing his desperation, understanding it, she raised a hand in a helpless gesture. “I hear snatches of conversation. They’re not specific. I may have heard your clan. But I wouldn’t know it even if I did.”

  He studied her. “Can you still hear the girl?”

  How quickly he’d recognized the possibilities. Exactly as she’d feared. She jabbed a finger at him. “Didn’t I just get done telling you—”

  “Before you twist it around, I am not using you. I want you to use your gift to help save a life. Understand the difference?”

  She pursed her lips, rankled by the guilt seeping through the walls she’d erected over years. Never once had she thought of her ability as a gift.

  “Now, I’ll ask you again. Can you still hear her?”

  Trembling, she reached out to him, her fingers curling and uncurling nervously. Biting her lip, her gaze dropped to his stone, then met his eyes. They both knew she was asking for another chance. If he turned her away now, it would crush her.

  He bobbed his head, giving his permission. Slowly, some measure of relief filled her, and she clasped his Vitality stone. Closing her eyes, she focused as she had in the reno. Through the Vitality energy Curtis lent her—for there could be no other explanation—she tapped into her ability on command.