The Betrayer (Crossing Realms Series Book 3)

by Rebecca E. Neely

  Mommy!

  The girl’s cries escalated into wails, piercing her soul.

  Thump.

  Was that a tiny foot, kicking the seat?

  Panic sliced at Jordan. No one was coming. No one could hear her pleas.

  Except me. Jordan knew all too well what it felt like to be abandoned. Terrified.

  She opened her eyes. If she was indeed a Keeper, through and through—and it seemed circumstances were forcing her to accept that as fact—and if she was to think and behave as one, then she would do everything in her power to help the girl. And in doing so, she would keep herself alive.

  Hating herself instantly for having the thought, guilt pricked her conscience. Her motivations ran deeper, didn’t they? If even a fraction of the dark energy she’d experienced at the reno could harm this human girl, then she would do her part. And the gods help her, she wanted to erase the hurt and disappointment from Curtis’ expression.

  “She’s in a car seat,” Jordan murmured.

  “Yes. Probably too young to know how to undo the straps. Can you hear her mother? I assume she’s the woman I saw in the front seat.”

  Jordan shook her head. “No. I can’t.”

  “She might be unconscious. Or dead.” Curtis lifted a brow. “So. I can see her. And you can hear her. Looks like we need each other to get this done.”

  That single word, ‘we,’ struck twin chords of fear and longing in her. “You’re putting an awful lot of stock in my ‘gift.’ Having even some control over it is still new to me.” Fear for herself, for the girl, ripped her in two. “What if it’s unreliable? What if it doesn’t work?”

  “What if it does? You might wind up being a team player and helping a human.” He sneered. “That ought to be something new for you, huh?”

  Was he goading her? Her insides churned in turmoil. She had no clever response. “Screw you.”

  To her dismay, he grinned, etching a tiny, sexy curve into either side of his mouth. “Hmm. I’d have thought you could come up with something more original. How about this? You do the best you can. That’s all I ask. If we can locate her using your ability, without me having to connect to her energy, so much the better for us. It’ll keep us off the Betrayers’ radar for a little longer, hopefully, and it’ll conserve precious energy resources. For both of us.”

  Gritting her teeth, she said nothing, recognizing the logic of what he was saying. He had no short supply, did he? His specialty. And, she was forced to admit, it would help them survive.

  “I’ll take your silence as your agreement. Now. Tell me the truth. Can you get the car started? Or do you really need me to look under the hood?”

  She avoided his eyes. “Let’s get going.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Still gripping her arm, he stood and yanked her to her feet. In one swift motion he closed the hood, marched her to the driver side door, opened it, and none too gently pushed her inside. Keeping the door open, he knelt in the street beside her. “Fire it up.”

  With quick, efficient movements, she twisted wires together as her father had taught her, and the motor sparked to life.

  “Move aside,” he ordered. “Did you think I was going to let you drive? Crawl into the passenger seat or I’ll haul you over there myself. And don’t even think about jumping out. It’s anyone’s guess what other hidden talents you’ve got.”

  Fuming, Jordan did as he said. Curtis shut the driver side door. The interior reeked. She wrinkled her nose. The windshield was cracked in two places. But the heap ran.

  She scanned the gauges. “Half tank of gas.”

  “Hopefully that’s all we’ll need.” Without further comment, he eased the Taurus from the curb and drove through the city in the direction of the Fort Duquesne bridge.

  Keeping their speed at about twenty-five miles per hour, the headlights extinguished, silence stretched out between them, as desolate as the city’s streets. Occasionally, faces appeared in the windows of houses and storefronts and just as quickly, disappeared. Automatically, she assumed the role of lookout since he was the driver. Craning her neck, she eyed the buildings, the corners, the alleys for unseen hazards, for crazed humans. Or bodies.

  Or Betrayers.

  For reasons she didn’t care to examine, Jordan longed to apologize for trying to steal his stones, for lying to him. For trying to physically hurt him and for even thinking of leaving him alone, defenseless. But she kept silent. What words would be adequate? Besides, no matter what she said, he wouldn’t believe her anyway.

  Betrayers are masters of opportunity. How many times had that maxim been drummed into her? She sighed. Other opportunities to steal his stones and escape might present themselves, but she wouldn’t take them, for her brain accepted what her traitorous heart already embraced. As much as she told herself she wanted to be rid of him and on her way, she couldn’t bring herself to leave him. Just as she hadn’t been able to bring herself to attack and rob him. Dammit. She’d hesitated an extra fraction of a second and it cost her.

  That moment of discovery, when he’d realized what she’d been about to do, played over and over in her mind. His stunned, hurt expression obliterated her. But his possession of her—for there was no other way to describe it—had enthralled her. His lips seared hers and his voice dominated her senses, tumbling her walls and scouring her defenses. She desperately wanted to belong to him. To possess and be possessed. And it went against every fiber of her being, leaving her naked and vulnerable in a way she’d never experienced.

  Her world had shifted again. And again, she had no control over it. She wanted to scream, to rail against it. Him. Everything. Instead, she clung to years of training, of readying for the next battle. Digging her fingernails into the worn seat, she compartmentalized, shoving down emotion so violently her stomach churned. Their survival depended on it.

  If she longed for his touch, for him, that was her problem.

  So far, they’d stuck to side streets. Now, they crept along the entrance to the parkway. PNC Park, normally ablaze with light, sat empty and preternaturally dark. Not until they’d almost passed the ball field, did they get their first clear view of the bridge and the interstate.

  Curtis slowed to a crawl. “What the hell?”

  Fear congealed in her veins at what lay before them. And at another realization. “We haven’t seen a single Betrayer, felt a single pulse of dark energy since we left the reno,” she observed. She checked the digital clock on the dashboard. “It’s been forty-five minutes.” It hadn’t been long, but it felt like an eternity. “They have to know we’re here. It’s almost like they’re picking their moment.”

  His eyes cut to hers in the darkness. “The only thing I’m certain of right now is every minute we spend out here increases our chances of attack.” Curtis angled around a snarl of abandoned vehicles. Finally, they reached the Parkway’s merge point, but could go no further for the wreckage blocking their way.

  Curtis pulled over and left the motor running. Together they scanned the carnage. Turning to her, he shot her a pointed look. “We’ll have to walk from here, and there’s no telling what we might run into. Betrayers. Similitude. Even humans, high on dark energy. That means I’ve got another problem. I don’t have time for bullshit games or tricks. Or deception.” He glared, the whites of his eyes and his teeth a stark contrast to the mud smeared on his face. “I know you don’t trust me. And I sure as hell don’t trust you. I can’t monitor every move you make. But I need you, to help my clan. And I’ll stop at nothing to drag you back to the network with me. I also need to save this girl’s life.” He leveled her with his stare. “Don’t make me choose.”

  Hurt swamped Jordan, then anger for being hurt at all, and for knowing she couldn’t in good conscience slip away. That she didn’t want to. The way the Jordan of a week ago would have, without a second t
hought.

  With the girl’s cries echoing in her mind, her eyes connected with his. She too wanted to save her. Her actions would have to prove it.

  “I won’t,” she said simply. With that, she stepped out of the car and forged into the sea of destruction stretching across the bridge.

  Chapter 14

  Bristling, Curtis jumped from the car, stalked after her. “Hold on,” he growled.

  She swung around, her features austere beneath a pole light’s blaring illumination.

  “I’ll go first,” he informed her.

  “I’m perfectly capable of handling it.”

  “Nonetheless.” At the far end of the bridge, multiple vehicles burned. Toxic fumes stung the air. Quickly, he assessed the string of cars, pickups, and what remained of a black Escalade blocking their path. Blood spattered the inside of its splintered windshield. He grimaced. To the left of its twisted bumper a narrow passage existed, enough to fit one of them at a time.

  “This way.” Like a shadow, she slipped through the space.

  Wordlessly, he followed, scanning ahead and behind for hazards and gritting his teeth.

  Why the hell did he still feel the need to protect her after she’d tried attacking him? She was no longer the baby bird fallen from her nest, nor the woman he’d found in the warehouse. She was a fighter. A Keeper who’d lived and trained as a Betrayer. A double threat.

  And she was a deceitful, miserable, back stabbing alley cat—with the gift of uber hearing, no less—who’d sooner bash him over the head with his laptop and steal his stones than trust him. But when a child’s welfare was at stake, she rallied. Or so he desperately wanted to believe. How the hell was he supposed to make sense of it? And be as equally appalled by her shortcomings as he was awed? Shortcomings that could, the way he saw it, very well save their hides.

  No matter how he analyzed it, she added up to one fascinating, if not elusive, package.

  Curtis’ thoughts flopped around in his brain like fish out of water, begging to be ordered, and returning, like an endless programming loop, to where they’d been since she’d told him about her ability . . . the uncanny similarity to Libby and Meda. Mysterious ways aside, that was no coincidence.

  Despite it, he’d meant what he said. He prayed she didn’t make him choose between his Compulsion and her. In the darkest part of his heart, he knew it’d be impossible, for she’d become more than a mission to him against his better judgment, his logic. And, he believed, against his will. He’d had no choice, courtesy of the Watchers and said mysterious ways.

  How would it affect his objectivity? His ability to protect her? He sighed heavily. The fact she was this connected to the Compulsion—though she hadn’t received it the same way he did—underscored what he’d only begun to comprehend at the reno.

  Jordan stopped, knelt beside an overturned Nissan Pathfinder, and surveyed the wreckage like a general would a battlefield. She pointed to her right. He nodded, understanding she saw an easier way around the next crush of vehicles. They picked their way around an axle snapped in two, tires shredded like tissue, and a pile of cardboard boxes, decimated when they’d been thrown to the highway from a Goodway Foods delivery truck. Curtis surveyed its doors, one open, one hanging by a hinge. The truck and several other cars formed a twisted wall of metal. Rapidly defrosting fish fillets littered the concrete.

  “Give me a boost,” she suggested. “I’ll crawl over.”

  Cupping his hands to form a step, Curtis held steady as she placed her foot in and climbed, gaining leverage from a side view mirror. Her ass strained against the denim of her jeans and molded to her curves. Thoughts of her body writhing beneath his earlier, of claiming her mouth and more, blasted his brain, along with fury and gratitude for what she’d done.

  Forcefully, he yanked his thoughts to the situation at hand, and what the Compulsion had shown him. They’d only progressed about fifty yards from the car. At this rate, they wouldn’t make it across the bridge for hours, and that didn’t factor in finding the car where the girl was trapped. Focusing on the image burned in his brain, of the car, the girl, he trusted it to guide them. To help him believe they hadn’t missed it in this nightmare.

  Could Jordan’s ability enable them to find her faster? Was he risking the Compulsion this way, with her untested talent? Maybe. And maybe he had no choice. If she could find the little girl, it would gauge the range and reliability of her uber hearing, which could enable him to determine how they could use it to help his clan. It would also be a test for her, and him, personally.

  Thirty yards ahead of them, a vehicle erupted. The ground quaked beneath their feet. Sucking in a breath, Curtis pushed Jordan to the ground, shielding her head with his hands, her body with his. Flames spiraled into the air, followed by twisted hunks of metal that crashed to the concrete seconds later. Waves of heat and black smoke maligned the already abused night air.

  “Are you okay?” he panted against her cheek.

  Her muscles tensed beneath him, but she nodded against his chest.

  The smoke thickened, rapidly decreasing their visibility. Coughing, he rose. “How the hell are we going to find a dark green car in this?”

  She turned to him. “I can still hear her, but I think I can pinpoint her location more easily if I tune into her, using your Vitality stone. I already did it once.” She bit her lip. “Betrayers will be able to detect the energy.”

  “It’s not the same, as if I was trying to find my clan. Telegraphing my location is stronger. But yes, it’s still a use of resources. Still a risk.” He hesitated for only a second. “Do it.”

  Her gaze sawed back and forth between his eyes and his Vitality. Gripping the stone in her hands, her brows knit, and he knew she focused. He also knew he’d never forget the way she looked in that moment. Beautiful. Powerful. A woman and a warrior.

  Seconds later, her eyes opened, and in them he read her alarm. “We’re getting closer,” she verified. “I can hear the hiss of the engine.”

  Adrenaline pumped through his system as they continued their painstaking trek across the bridge. Smoke and chaos ruled. The Second Rebellion had reduced the normally vibrant city, teeming with humans and commerce, to a war zone. Large sections of the interstate had been reduced to chunks of asphalt. Debris of every description littered the highway. Broken glass. Plastic grocery bags. A smashed container of milk. Eggs. A pair of jeans. A worn baby blanket. Something backed up in his throat. Beside it, abandoned, lay a teddy bear, small and brown, its fur worn. Black button eyes stared glassily up at him. A faded blue tie hung from its neck. Curtis bent to retrieve it. It had to be a child’s most cherished possession. What hellish circumstances had led to it lying on the interstate? He stowed it in the back pack, thinking it might come in handy if they found the girl. Hastily, he corrected himself-when they found her.

  Doggedly, they continued clambering through the wreckage.

  Fifteen minutes later, sweat soaked his brow. He wiped his face with the hem of his already grimy shirt. He knew Jordan must be equally miserable, but she’d said nothing. Pausing, they eyed a massive metal road sign proclaiming THIS LANE STRIP DISTRICT, dangling overhead like a macabre earring.

  What might’ve been a muffled cry reached them, faintly.

  Their eyes met and held. Jordan’s mouth fell open. “It’s her,” she managed.

  We found her. Using Jordan’s ability. But Curtis’ triumph warred with dread. As quickly as possible, they plowed their way around the wreckage.

  “Mommy!”

  The wail punctured the air. They raced the last ten feet to the car. A pickup truck had rear ended it, crumpling the passenger door and smashing the window. The other side of the car butted up against the bridge.

  “Mooommmy!” In the backseat, a tow-headed girl howled, kicking her legs and pounding her tiny fists against the
car seat restraining her.

  A woman slumped against the wheel, her forehead gashed and bleeding. Either the car didn’t have air bags, or they didn’t deploy. Quickly, Curtis pressed two fingers into the soft groove on one side of her windpipe and met Jordan’s eyes. “Pulse is weak. But she’s alive.”

  Frowning in concentration, he knocked out the remaining shards of the passenger window glass and assessed the toddler. Miraculously, she appeared unharmed, aside from a few scratches. He started to lean into the opening.

  “Wait.” Jordan laid a hand on his forearm. “Let me. I might do better at calming her since I’m a woman.”

  He stepped back. “Go for it.”

  Jordan leaned in, patted the girl’s head and smiled, nearly stopping Curtis’ heart. “Hi!”

  “I want my mommy!”

  “I know you do,” Jordan murmured. “Can you tell me your name?”

  The girl rubbed a fist across one sweaty, tear stained cheek. “Megan,” she sobbed.

  “Megan. That’s a pretty name. We’re going to get you out of here, okay? How old are you?”

  She held up four fingers.

  Curtis unzipped the backpack and produced the teddy bear. Leaning into the opening beside Jordan, he offered it to the child. “Can you hold on to this little guy? He needs a good home, and he’s scared too. Can you hug him tight, make him feel safe?”

  Clutching the bear in her arms, Megan nodded tearfully.

  “Good. Hang on, just a few minutes.”

  “Mommy! Out!”

  “I can heal her mother,” he told Jordan in a low voice. “It’ll require energy we don’t have to spare and it’ll draw the Betrayers. But if I don’t, she won’t be able to take care of the girl. I need for them to be able to get out of here.”

  “Back the way we came,” she murmured. “We’ll give them the car.”