"I think it's worth exploring."
"Would you mind repeating that?"
"Try to hold off on the gloating until we find his sanctuary, okay?"
"Come on. I want to hear you say it." "Gillian." He heaved a tired sigh.
She stood her ground, refusing to budge.
"All right, all right. You're a good Synsar. The best."
"Thank you." She smiled smugly.
The gardener's house wasn't tall, only seven feet or so. But too tall for Nick to hoist himself up onto it without a boost.
There was no ladder inside. They did find two heavy-duty toolboxes, which they carried outside. Nick stacked them one on top of the other. It wasn't the steadiest of towers. Gillian acted as his spotter and, after one nearly disastrous attempt, Nick succeeded in dragging himself over the side of the building and onto the roof.
Gillian waited on the ground while he scanned the surrounding skyline and commented on what he saw. Without Nick by her side, her case of the willies returned, and she continually cast furtive glances at the headstones just over the nearby knoll.
If not for her unreasonable fear, she might not have noticed a flash of movement by one of the trees. A shiver skittered up her spine as she stared into the darkness.
Nothing stared back at her.
As a precaution, she switched on the flashlight Nick had given her when they started out, and panned the area. When no boogeyman materialized, she told herself it must have been a small animal or a trick of the eye.
Nick made another comment from the roof.
She looked up. "What was that?"
"The old office building on Second Avenue
. It's been abandoned for a few years now. You can just see it from here. I think we should check it out."
"Oh, okay." Gillian felt a strange tingle on the back of her head, like someone was watching her.
She turned around, aimed the flashlight, and saw it. No, not it. Him.
The young Hispanic boy. He stood half behind a tree, glaring at her, his expression challenging. How odd. Gillian forgot about her earlier fright.
"Nick," she said softly so as not to scare the boy away. She repeated his name a little louder when he didn't immediately respond.
Cadamus must be dead, she thought. Why else would the boy be here? Or, Cadamus wasn't dead and the boy had been sent to spy on them. But why then hadn't they seen any recent signs of the alpha male?
Suddenly, a jolt of excitement shot through Gillian.
What if they used the boy to lead them to Cadamus's sanctuary-and the proof she needed to free her father? This could be the break they'd-she'd-been waiting for.
Let the Ancients try to stop her.
"Nick," she said in a terse, singsong voice. "We have company."
She heard scuffling on the rooftop. "Who?"
Before she could answer, the boy took off, disappearing into the cluster of trees.
Gillian didn't stop to think. She chased after him, calling, "Wait! Come back."
He burst through the trees and ran in a straight line across the cemetery with Gillian in hot pursuit. She tried not to dwell on the graves or the dead people residing in them.
The boy was fast, having youth and agility on his side. Gillian fought to keep up. Soon, each breath became a struggle, and the muscles in her legs burned. She thought Nick might be behind her but couldn't be sure. The roaring in her ears blocked out all sound.
After another thirty seconds, she could take no more and slowed to a stop. Her chest heaving, her sides aching, she clutched her stomach and bent over, gasping for air.
And then she heard it. The unmistakable rustle of wings above her head. Large, leathery wings. Cadamus!
Oh, God, no! It couldn't be.
Gillian raised her head and gazed skyward just as he swooped down on her, his arm outstretched. "Nick!" she screamed and bolted.
She got no more than two steps before he grabbed her, his nails digging hard into her flesh. The ground abruptly fell away as Cadamus carried her high into the air.
"Nooooooo!"
He squeezed her chin and wrenched her head around, almost snapping her neck in half. "A mate for a mate," he hissed in her ear.
With sickening clarity, Gillian realized what she should have known all along.
Cadamus had set a trap, and she was to be his next victim.
Nick ran, keeping Cadamus and Gillian in constant sight-something he shouldn't have been able to do. Under normal circumstances, Cadamus could outfly him, even with the extra burden of Gillian's weight. Maybe the Dark Ancients he served had yet to heal his wing.
Wrong! The bastard was baiting him.
Nick wasn't the only one who witnessed Gillian being carried away or heard her screams. He doubted any of the individuals out on the street at that hour of the night understood what they saw or the implications.
Scaling the fence at the rear entrance of the cemetery, Nick raced down the service road. At the end, he paused to scour the sky, checking on Cadamus's location.
He was hovering, waiting for Nick to catch up. When he spotted Nick, he started flying again. East. Between buildings. Over rooftops. Darting in and out of shadows. One block. Two blocks.
Nick pushed himself as hard as he could, as fast as he could, as long as he could. His footsteps pounded on the concrete sidewalk, matching the thrumming in his temples. Gillian had stopped screaming, and her legs hung motionless. He couldn't tell if she was dead or possibly fainted.
Fainted. That was all. If she were dead, Nick's heart, unable to withstand the loss, would have stopped beating on the spot.
Suddenly, Cadamus ascended sharply and banked right, narrowly missing a flagpole atop the peaked roof of the historic Milford Hotel. Nick slowed his pace to a walk and stared, felt the pieces fall into place.
Yes, of course.
He knew Cadamus's destination then, should have known it all along.
The HansonBuilding.
The place where he and Gillian had eliminated the first female. Where Carl Salvador was murdered. Where Nick and Cadamus would at last face their ultimate destiny.
Nick's blood was on fire, molten silver flowing through his veins. He ceased moving and stood in the middle of the mostly deserted street, his hand resting on the ritual dagger in his waistband. There was no need to hurry now.
Breathing deeply, he cleared his mind and forced himself to relax. The Ancients spoke to him then for the first time in days. They said only three wordsthe ones he'd been waiting twenty-five years to hear.
It is time.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Cadamus walked upright like a man. He had legs and arms, hands, feet, and a face, frightening though it was.
Gillian had never thought of him as possessing human qualities. She, like the dozens of people she'd interviewed, like Nick and Charlie, referred to the alpha males as creatures or monsters or beasts of the night.
The females were animals. Vicious, territorial predators. They crawled rather than walked, had brains the size of peas, and relied solely on instinct to survive.
But Cadamus was human-ish, at least in some ways. Physically, mentally, and emotionally.
He talked. He thought. His logic was admittedly skewed, and he had no morals whatsoever. But, unlike the females and contrary to what Nick had claimed, he possessed more than a rudimentary intelligence-as proven by his carefully orchestrated and successfully executed plan to abduct her. He also felt.
At the moment, his range of emotions appeared limited to anger, frustration, and revenge-something that didn't bode well for Gillian.
She'd expected to be dead by now. Dismembered, her bones stripped of their flesh. Like her mother and the old woman from the cemetery and Carl Salvador. Instead, she was alive and huddled against the access door, watching Cadamus's every move with fearful anticipation and wondering what he was going to do next.
Why had he abducted her only to spare her? Did he intend to prolong her death? Torture her?
&n
bsp; To bait Nick, of course. There could be no other answer.
Dear God in heaven. This was all her fault. If she hadn't chased after the boy, she wouldn't now be on the roof, the cheese in the trap Cadamus set to lure Nick.
He would come, too, Gillian had no doubt. To rescue her and to battle Cadamus. Possibly to die.
Cadamus was more than intelligent; he was cunning and calculating. Like an idiot, she'd played right into his hands. He'd used her desire to obtain proof of his existence against her. Against Nick. And she'd let him.
Her fault. And there was nothing she could do to stop Nick from coming. Her cell phone was still attached to her belt. Even if she could call him and warn him about Cadamus's deception, he would still come.
The final battle. Nick and his goddamn destiny.
But hadn't she also embraced her destiny?
Looking back on her life, she realized Charlie was right. She'd been on the path leading to this moment ever since the day she decided to make a career of researching the urban myths surrounding the creatures. Maybe even since the night her mother was killed.
Guilt and despair welled up inside her, squeezing the air from her lungs until she choked.
She let out a sob-which she bit back when Cadamus wheeled around and scowled at her. Wings partially unfurled, he stood at the edge of the roof on a small ledge watching the street below. Watching for Nick.
"He's here," Cadamus said and stared at her with his cold, malevolent eyes. The red and yellow lights mounted on the huge satellite dish behind him turned his dark, scaly skin a strange shade of green. Not human-ish at all. Not like anything on this earth.
Gillian chomped down on the inside of her mouth to prevent herself from crying out.
Please Nick. Don't come for me. Stay far, far away.
She heard a click, and the door she leaned on suddenly opened. Letting out a small scream, she caught herself before she tumbled forward.
The young Hispanic boy appeared. He pocketed a key before stepping through the doorway, around her, and out onto the roof. Sparing her no more than a cursory look, he shut the door behind him but didn't lock it.
"The Huntsman is on the stairs," he said.
Cadamus grunted-with satisfaction?-and returned to his vigil at the roof's edge.
If only there were something Gillian could do. Some way she could alter the fate Nick and Cadamus were both convinced waited for them.
Contacting Nick was pointless. But what about the police? They had weapons that could destroy Cadamus. Long-range rifles. Helicopters to run him down. Gillian rested her hand on her cell phone. Her fingers toyed with the strap.
There can be no interference from outside sources.
Nick's warning, repeated to her over and over, rang in her ears. She let her hand slowly drop. What if it were true?
The boy scurried past Gillian to stand by a large air-conditioning unit. He was dirty, and he stank. His rumpled clothes were unwashed and his hair a tangled mess. If Cadamus were his protector, he didn't do a very good job of caring for the boy. Not like Nick cared for Stevie.
Gillian pressed a hand to her mouth, stifling another sob. If Nick died, what would happen to poor little Stevie?
To her?
Darkness crowded around the fringes of Gillian's mind, beckoning her to succumb. She resisted. She must not lose touch with reality. Not now. Nick might need her. Clasping her hands together and pressing them to her mouth, she willed herself to hang on.
A shadow crossed her line of vision.
She looked up to see Cadamus looming over her and started. Did he intend to devour her after all? Her heart beat so hard it slammed into her rib cage.
"It is time," he said and, grabbing her arm, hauled her to her feet. He dragged her away from the door, propped her up, and held her like a shield in front of him.
Terror seized her, spurring her into action. She screamed and kicked. Clawed at the arm he'd locked around her middle. Banged her heel into his shin.
"Let go of me!"
He groaned tiredly and whacked her on the side of the head.
Gillian yelped, slumped forward, and cradled her throbbing head with her free hand. Stars floated in front of her eyes.
Cadamus thrust his fingers into her hair and yanked, nearly ripping it out by the roots. He put his face next to hers. The stench of his putrid breath caused her to gag.
"Remember," he said in a low, guttural voice that sounded as if it came from inside her head and not his mouth.
An image of her parents' bedroom as it had been twenty-five years ago appeared to Gillian. She stood in the doorway, a teddy bear clutched in her arm, calling to her mommy. But her mommy didn't answer.
A monster, like the one in the cartoon she and her best friend Dorothy had watched the week before, stood by the foot of the bed, staring down at her mommy. Only this monster wasn't animated. It was real. And it had part of her mommy's leg in its hand.
"Leave her alone," Gillian had shouted.
The monster looked over at her, a grisly smile on its face, and said, "A mate for a mate," then threw her mommy's leg at her. It landed in the hallway.
"Remember well," Cadamus said from inside her head. "And know that the Huntsman will die as the one who bore you did."
In her mind's eye, Gillian walked toward her parents' bed, her legs moving of their own volition. Holding her breath, she looked down at the bloody remains of her mother. But it wasn't her mother's lifeless face that stared up at her.
It was Nick's.
The monster had grabbed for Gillian, and she'd begun to scream. She didn't stop until her father came running a few minutes later and gathered her in his arms. By then, the monster had flown out the window.
No! Not again. Don't let the creature kill someone I love.
The next thing Gillian knew, the access door burst open and banged into the wall with an earsplitting crash.
Nick stood in the doorway-very much alive, thank God-and filling it completely, his expression set in stone. In his hand he held the ritual dagger. Moonlight glinted off the blade.
His gaze went first to her, then Cadamus. "Let her go."
"As you wish."
Cadamus flung Gillian across the roof. She careened into the side of the metal air-conditioning unit, her back absorbing the brunt of the impact. Good thing. Had her head hit first, she might be dead.
Momentarily stunned, her legs buckled, and she slid to the floor like a marionette whose strings had been cut. Through a fog, she heard Nick.
"You'll pay for that."
Turning her head in his direction, she tried to focus. A golden light seemed to surround him. She didn't know if it was real or the result of the bashing her head had taken.
"When I'm through with you," Cadamus said, "I will feast on her over your lifeless body." He bared his teeth and unfurled his wings, which spanned at least fifteen feet tip to tip. The right one bore an ugly scar where Nick had pierced it with the ritual dagger.
Nick stepped away from the doorway out onto the roof. He seemed somehow taller, his shoulders broader, his muscles larger. The planes on his face were more defined, the ridges sharper, the shadows darker.
"You will rot in hell before you lay a hand on her or anyone else again."
Gillian stared at him, spellbound by this stranger with the harsh eyes and icy voice.
This wasn't the man she knew, the talented camera operator, doting new parent, sympathetic friend, exciting lover. He wasn't even the skilled warrior who had dispatched the three female creatures with relative ease.
No, this man was the Huntsman. The champion of good and, if he defeated Cadamus, the sole person responsible for saving the world.
Much as Nick wanted to lunge at his enemy and drive the dagger into his chest with all the strength he could muster, he refrained.
Cadamus had only one vulnerability-a soft spot in his armor-plated hide just above his waist. And Nick would have only one chance to strike. He must be swift and cunning and most of all
, accurate. If he failed, it was all over. For him, for Gillian, and for the entire human race.
Circling right, then left, he waited for Cadamus, who possessed far less patience then Nick, to make the first move. He didn't have to wait long.
Cadamus flapped his wings and rose into the air. Six feet, twelve. Higher still.
Nick tensed, readying himself for the attack.
Like a seabird diving for prey in the ocean's wave, Cadamus swooped, slashing at Nick with his long, sharp fingers.
Ducking sideways, Nick spun and jumped, dodging Cadamus's deadly reach with mere inches to spare. He hit the floor of the roof, rolled, and sprang to his feet.
Cadamus wasn't tall, barely reaching Nick's shoulders. But he was considerably stronger than Nick, and he could fly. In the air, he was invincible. On the ground, Cadamus's bulk worked against him, making him slow and ungainly.
To win the battle, Nick must ground Cadamus. Not by damaging his wing with the ritual dagger as he'd done before. Cadamus had proved his ability to fly even with a small hole in his wing. And Nick didn't want to risk losing the dagger by throwing it.
He had to find a way to completely-and permanently-incapacitate Cadamus.
Suddenly, a piercing pain penetrated Nick's skull. Holding the sides of his head, he looked up to see Cadamus suspended directly above him.
"Forget it, you bastard," Nick growled. "You're not reading my mind."
He blocked Cadamus's attempt to make a psychic connection with him by creating a mental shield, a technique Charlie had taught him. The pain instantly subsided, and Nick's vision cleared.
Cadamus let out an angry screech and dove at Nick once more. Again, Nick dodged his attack. Four more dives, four more near misses. Nick stumbled on the last attack. Cadamus caught hold of Nick's arm but lost his grasp. Gillian screamed.
They couldn't do this forever. Nick would tire before Cadamus. Already, Nick's lungs ached and sweat plastered his shirt to his back, while Cadamus looked ready to go another ten rounds.
Swift and cunning and most o f all, accurate.
As he watched Cadamus hover overhead, an idea came to him. Arms by his sides, Nick left the safety of the wall and walked to the middle of the roof. Cadamus rose into the air and once he was in position, dove.
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