“My thoughts exactly. They can get out of the city and we can get another ride.” It made sense, but his gut twisted in shame. “What the hell kind of Keepers are we, sending a woman and child into a war zone? Alone?”
“We don’t have a choice.”
“No. But we’d better, and soon. It’s what we’re fighting for.” His determination renewed, he quickly surveyed the bridge. Neither seeing nor sensing anyone, he said, “Megan, I’m going to help your mother first, then we’ll get you out.”
Like an old hand, Jordan nodded. “I’ll distract her. Work fast.”
Curtis arched an eyebrow. Jordan had certainly risen to the challenge of behaving like a Keeper.
Opening the driver side door, he unbuckled the mother’s seat belt and took measure of her. Slim, athletic build. Mid-thirties. Young and strong. She was going to make it. Sliding one of his arms under her legs and one around her back, he lifted her from the car. Kneeling, he lowered her to the ground and continued holding her. Focusing, his Vitality stone glowed at the base of his neck. The energy pulsed through him, warm and familiar.
He pressed his palm against her forehead for several moments and channeled.
“Wow! Are you guys like some kind of doctors?” Megan asked.
“Yeah, something like that,” Jordan told her, exchanging a look with Curtis and continuing a running banter with the girl.
He wasn’t worried. The humans would forget them.
The woman’s bruises faded. The gash closed, leaving in its place smooth, healthy skin. Laying his hands on her chest, he felt the bones knit. The woman’s lungs filled with air as she once again drew breath. Helping humans never failed to amaze and satisfy him.
“Your turn,” Curtis told Jordan. “Her mother’s coming around.”
“Ready to get out of here?” she asked the child.
“Yes! Yes!” Megan’s curls bounced.
“You’ve been so brave, and your mom is going to be proud. You have to do exactly what I say, so you don’t get cut on the glass. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Jordan reached inside the car and undid the straps on the car seat. “Hold my hand. Swing your legs down, so you can stand on the floor of the car. You’re wearing tennis shoes, so you won’t cut your feet. That’s it. You’re doing great. Watch your head. Good. Now, stand on the backseat. I’m going to put my arms around you and lift you out. Be very still.”
Leaning in through the opening, Jordan cut the backs of her arms as she eased the toddler through the window.
Sobbing, the girl wrapped her arms around Jordan’s neck. Smiling, Jordan smoothed the girl’s bangs. Rummaging in the back pack for a bottle of water, she offered it to Megan.
Abruptly, the woman coughed, opened her eyes. “What happened? Where am I?”
Curtis passed easily into her Vista, impressed on her an image of the stolen Taurus, as well as the quickest, safest path through the rubble. He withdrew, but not without feeling the claws of her panic.
“You were in a car accident.” He helped her to her feet. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine.” Frantic, she grabbed his arm, trying to acclimate. “Megan. Where’s Megan?”
“Mommy! I’m here! Here!” The girl rushed her.
“Okay baby, okay. I’m right here.” In one swift motion, she swung her daughter onto her hip. Megan clung fast, wrapping her arms and legs around her mother.
“Who are you?” Dividing a look between Curtis and Jordan, tears choked the woman’s voice.
“Good Samaritans,” he offered.
“I’m Tracey.” Gratitude shone in her eyes. “How can I ever thank you? You saved our lives.”
“You can thank us by staying alive. There’s no time to explain. You have to get out of the city. A bomb went off. There’s a car waiting at the end of the bridge.” Curtis pointed. “The engine is still running. Don’t stop until you’re far away from the city, understand?”
“I understand. Thank you. Both of you.” Swiping back the hair falling loose from her ponytail, the woman clutched Megan in her arms and bolted.
“I think Tracey had the right idea. We have to go. Now.”
Seizing Jordan’s arm in his, together they darted around the boneyard of vehicles scattered across the bridge. How many humans did they leave behind, bereft of help? “We need to find cover. And we need to get out of the city.”
Jordan kept pace with him. “Fifty yards ahead, looks like the bridge is clear. Our best bet is to hook into the city on Grant Street, stick to side streets until we can hit Bigelow Boulevard.”
Panting, they veered off Liberty Avenue in favor of alleys and shadows, the rhythm of their shoes on the brick paved street a desolate tattoo. The moon retreated behind a cloud. A scattering of lampposts and traffic signals glowed neon, punctuating the scene in a random pattern. Darkness claimed entire blocks. Silence permeated the ‘Burgh’s infrastructure down to its mortar. And the absence of people and their energies gutted the very soul of the city.
By unspoken agreement, they slowed to a brisk walk, then took cover in a storefront entrance. “I know what you said before we left the reno, about not dialing down,” she whispered. From the backpack she snagged the lone bottle of water and drank, then handed it to him. “But I think you should. At least until we get out of the city.”
Tilting the bottle back, Curtis drained it. He’d wrestled with the idea too. They’d be off the Betrayers’ radar, but it would leave him at a severe disadvantage for protecting them.
“I know the risks,” she said, as if reading his mind.
He admired the way Jordan’s face seemed to glow, even in the shadows. “I know you do. What you did back there was pretty impressive. Amazing, actually.”
“You’re not so bad yourself.” She smiled, lighting up the dark.
Emotion filled him with urgency. “I know this isn’t the best time.” And the hell of it was, there would never be a good time. His pulse raced. His palms slicked. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
Shifting, her knees brushed his, and he felt her gaze resting on him.
Without warning, the dark energy slammed into him.
Jordan sucked in a breath. “Cobwebs,” she muttered.
Without her own stones, she was as helpless as a human. Prey.
Not on my watch. Gripping her arm, Curtis bulleted from the storefront, fairly dragging her along the sidewalk. No time to dial down. Barely time to run.
Drawing on the power harnessed in the Flint, he battled back the waves.
They receded slowly, like sandbagging a flood wall in a hurricane.
What the hell’s going on? It didn’t take this long in the warehouse.
He clutched the Flint in his palm, its edges digging into his skin.
And the stone that’d warded off the Similitude like a talisman sparked and died, useless.
Dark energy undulated, an unholy rhythm.
Like poison, dread leeched into his blood.
“Two of them,” Jordan managed, her breathing labored. “Their feet. Coming. Around corner.”
She hears them. Maybe we have a chance.
They needed cover. Most of all Jordan. Now. Frantically, he searched his surroundings, squinting into the play of light and shadow. Golden Triangle Credit Union’s front windows were smashed, but they’d hunker inside; figure the rest out later.
He steered her toward the bank, up to the doors. “I’ll dial down. We’ll ride this out,” he promised. And he’d protect them both.
“No. Too close,” she rasped. “We fight.”
“You’re in no shape.”
“If you fight, I fight.” She joined her hand with his, surprising him with her strength. Her eyes locked on his.
And his Vitalit
y stone glowed for a split second.
Two Betrayers turned the corner and raced across the street, closing the gap between them.
Ten yards away.
Five.
His heartbeat drummed in his skull. In seconds, he appraised their hunters. Men. Early twenties. One shorter, paunchy. The other tall, muscular. A shock of royal blue hair hung in his face. One had him on height, the other on weight.
The Similitude they wielded pulsed black, then clear, its ability to drain a promise.
“I’m going to take out Blue Hair,” Jordan mouthed in his ear.
Hell no. The oath died on his lips. Jordan stood her ground, using the wall for support, her skin pasty in the dim light. Like camouflage, her dreadlocks covered half her face.
Feet away, the Betrayers halted, then circled. “Well, well,” Paunchy jeered. “Look what the cat dragged in. Boss said you were dead.” He appraised her. “I don’t know how you’re still alive, or what the hell you’re doing with him.”
Paunchy jerked a nod toward Curtis as he slurped the last of his cigarette and flicked it aside. Exhaling, he shot a feral grin at Blue Hair. “When I deliver you to our Mas-tor, it’s going to earn us some major points.” He wagged a finger at Curtis’ Vitality. “And one more stone won’t hurt either.”
They don’t know she’s a Keeper.
Leaning heavily on the credit union wall, Jordan kept her head down. “Don’t hurt me.” Her voice wavered. “Please.”
Blue Hair advanced. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He leered. “Maybe have some fun with you.”
I can’t fail.
Curtis planted a hand on Blue’s chest and shoved.
Paunchy collared him from behind, leaving Jordan exposed.
What Curtis lacked in weight, he made up for in wiry. His arms trapped, he maneuvered one free and plowed an elbow into Paunchy’s soft belly flesh. The Betrayer’s grip loosened. Curtis rounded on him, drove a fist into his face, and broke his nose.
Screaming, lurching backward, the man covered his face with his hands. Blood slicked his fingers, staining his shirt.
Jordan.
Curtis whirled around.
Rearing up, Jordan parried with her leg, a mighty thrust that sliced the air. With a sickening thump, her foot connected with Blue’s groin. Howling, he fell to the ground, sputtering and clutching himself. “Son of a bitch,” he spat.
“You always were an asshole, Till.” Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Jordan collapsed against Curtis.
Hustling her into his arms, Curtis turned to run.
“Not so fast.” Paunchy stood, a cement wall between them and escape.
Biting back panic, Curtis’ eyes darted right. Left. Blue Hair was still out of commission. But not for long. Then it’d be two against one.
“I owe you one, Keeper,” Paunchy threatened, his voice slurred from the blow Curtis had landed. The Similitude shone, blasting him.
Curtis sank to his knees, cradling Jordan. His energy waning, he shoved her behind him, shielding her with his body.
Paunchy stormed him, landing a kick to his abdomen. Then his kneecap. Thigh.
Bottle rockets of pain exploded in Curtis’ body as his muscles tore and bones cracked. “Bastard!”
Another wave of dark energy lit into him. Breath heaving, Curtis staggered forward, his palms smacking the concrete. And a loose chunk of asphalt.
His vision graying, he curled it in his fist. Curtis raised his head.
“Gonna get me a trophy today,” Paunchy shouted triumphantly.
“Like hell.” His strength depleting by the second, Curtis heaved himself to his feet. Charging Paunchy, he raised the asphalt above his head and slammed it into the man’s skull. The Betrayer’s eyes glazed over, as if he couldn’t believe what’d happened. His lower lip drooped and hung motionless. Blood spurting from the gash Curtis had inflicted, he teetered and collapsed.
Spent, Curtis sagged to the ground in front of Jordan. From the corner of his eye, he watched Blue Hair struggle to stand.
“Roc, get up, man.” Till shouted. Drunkenly, he weaved his way across the street and crouched beside his fallen comrade. Shook him. “Roc?”
Paunchy, a.k.a. Roc, lay dead in a pool of his own blood.
Snarling, Till ripped the Similitude from Roc’s neck and clumsily launched himself at Curtis. “C’mon, fucker.” His fist bunched, then slammed into his jaw.
White hot pain seared his head, mouth, and teeth. Sweat soaked his skin. Rejuvenated by the Similitude, Till punished Curtis’ body with fists and feet, picking up where Roc left off.
Shielding Jordan, Curtis absorbed the blows, knowing each might be the last. In a distant corner of his mind, he was aware of her chest, rising and falling in a shallow rhythm, bolstering him somehow.
Hold on, Jordan.
A red haze coating his senses, Curtis drew on his Vitality. Not to fight the Betrayer. Not to restore himself, or Jordan.
As an S.O.S.
The Vitality pulsed at his throat.
Till laughed. “Not this time, Keeper.”
Mysterious ways. His body hemorrhaging energy, the thought lodged in Curtis’ mind like a dream. Where the hell were they when he needed them?
“You bastards killed me once, when I was alone. I’ll be damned if you’ll take another.”
The man’s voice cleaved the night and stirred Curtis’ memory.
Dev?
He was alive? Or was Curtis already dead?
“Ain’t no match for this, are ya?”
Shouts and oaths imbued his consciousness, stalling in Curtis’ ringing ears.
He pried his eyes open and gaped at Nick. Saxon and Dev flanked him. “Hey, little brother. Just in time.” They hauled him up by his arms, leaving Jordan unguarded.
“What the hell?” Dev exclaimed. “Dreadlocks?”
Weak, disoriented, Curtis worked himself free of Nick’s grip and tumbled to the ground. Wrapping leaden arms around Jordan, he fought the dizziness claiming him. “Don’t hurt her! She’s my mate!”
Chapter 15
“She’s your what?”
His arms folded across his barrel of a chest, his legs planted wide, Curtis’ father, Sean, a.k.a. the Great Geary, stood sentinel in the foyer of the old Victorian where Curtis had lived all his life. The grandfather clock chimed once, announcing a half-hour to midnight.
Ignoring his father, Curtis strode past him and the rest of his gawking clan into the living room, cradling Jordan in his arms. Carrying her to the couch, he transferred her gingerly, and covered her with a blanket. Kneeling, he monitored her pulse, then tilted his ear to her nose and listened to her breathe, reassuring himself both vitals were steadier. She’ll make a full recovery. Relief flooded him, weakening him.
Placing a hand firmly on her forearm to keep them connected, he turned, fortified by the sight of his clan, units within a larger unit. Nick and Libby, holding hands. His sister, Fiona, her arms looped around her husband Thad, her stomach growing rounder every day with his niece or nephew. Saxon stood between his parents, who shielded her as if she was their child. Dev hovered protectively at Meda’s side, along with Tan, her German Shepherd. Curtis’ heart soared and plummeted in a single beat.
One Keeper had returned, and one was missing.
Dev was here, in this realm. Alive.
Zane was dead.
Curtis’ throat tightened, but he met his father’s red rimmed eyes and responded to his accusation. “My mate,” he repeated, his tone daring anyone to argue with him.
His father crossed the room, the heels of his boots striking a menacing rhythm on the hardwood floor. “How can you say such a thing?” he roared, towering over him. “Believe it?” He carved his hands through his distinguishe
d silver mane, which enabled him to pass for biker or businessman, depending on the occasion. “In the midst of the Second Rebellion, and after losing one of our own.”
His father’s shouts roiled with his own messy emotions into one slick ball and lodged in his gut. How would he have felt, if it’d been any one of them? Sickened, Curtis’ hands shook. “I never once questioned Zane would return to the network.”
“Your brothers and Saxon have been looking for you for three days.” His father’s voice cracked. “We haven’t known if you were alive or dead.”
Curtis couldn’t conceive of the hell they’d been through, or the pain and terror Zane must’ve known. And he’d been unaware of all of it.
But he’d been through his own hell. Curtis studied his hands, appendages that normally worked with computers. Not caved in a Betrayer’s skull with a chunk of concrete. He’d killed, not only to save his own life, but to protect Jordan from a brood master who would hunt her down like an animal if he learned she was alive. Still he feared Jordan’s reaction. He’d ended the life of a brood member she’d known perhaps from childhood. Would she villainize, or thank him? Was it savage of him to know he’d do it again? Or a testament to the warrior within?
Nick stepped forward and divided a look between Curtis and their father. “I don’t know what’s happened in the last few days,” he said, his voice tight with emotion, “but I know you, Curtis. You never do anything without a damn good reason.”
Curtis silently thanked his brother for having his back. Gratitude welled in him. He was home, surrounded by his bewildered and angry yet loving clan. He rose. “I know this is hard for all of you to understand.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. Dried dirt crumbled onto his shirt and fell to the carpet. The image of Jordan, camouflaging her skin outside the reno hit him full force.
Turning abruptly, he assured himself she was still safe on the couch. He noted her mud streaked face and the slight rise and fall of the blanket with each breath she drew.
The Betrayer (Crossing Realms Series Book 3) Page 10