Wolfe blinked at the simple explanation.
“Good enough for me,” he at last said. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Nine
Bailey struggled to breathe.
Dammit. She hated being afraid.
From the time she was a little girl she’d always thought of herself as a brave adventurer. More Xena than Cinderella.
But she couldn’t deny a bone-deep terror as she watched the man named Limburg motion for his bodyguard to cross the small room and stand beside her.
She didn’t know what they wanted from her, but she knew it wasn’t going to be good.
Not that she was going to let them see her fear, she bleakly told herself.
She might not be a warrior princess, but she did have a little pride.
Besides, she knew one thing beyond a shadow of a doubt.
Mika was coming for her.
It didn’t matter where they’d taken her, or how hard they tried to cover their tracks, he would find her.
The knowledge gave her the courage to stiffen her spine and meet Limburg’s sneering glare with a tilt of her chin.
“Master?” She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
The dark eyes narrowed. “I see you are in need of training,” he murmured, pointing toward the door. “Jacob, leave us.”
“Why?” the young Sentinel asked, his expression troubled. “What are you going to do to her?”
Limburg sent his son a warning glare. “I told you what would happen if you disobeyed me.”
Jacob grimaced as he turned toward Bailey. “I’m sorry. I . . .” His voice cracked as he backed toward the door. “I truly am.”
Bailey waited until Jacob was gone and the door closed before she made a sound of disgust.
“Does it make you feel like a big man to bully your son?”
Limburg folded his arms over his sunken chest. “Robert,” he murmured to his companion.
Without warning the thug backhanded Bailey with enough force to slam the back of her head against the cement wall.
Holy shit.
Bailey’s teeth snapped together and a groan was wrenched from her throat as blackness threatened to suck her under.
Only grim determination kept her from passing out.
“You will show me respect or I will kill you,” Limburg purred, his smug tone making Bailey wish she had the strength to kick his ass.
“I don’t think so.” She lifted her fingers to wipe the blood from her lips. “You brought me here because you need me.”
“Correction.” The too-thin face hardened with seething hatred. “I need a healer. If I decide you aren’t worthy to serve me, then I’ll kill you and get another.”
Bailey swallowed her angry words.
It wouldn’t matter if Mika was on the way if she couldn’t stay alive long enough for him to find her.
She grimaced, meeting Limburg’s feverish gaze.
Easier said than done.
The creep clearly got off on watching her being hurt.
“Fine,” she forced herself to say. “What do you need from me?”
“I should think it’s obvious,” he rasped. “I’m dying.”
God almighty. How many times did she have to explain her powers only worked on high-bloods?
“I can’t cure human diseases.”
The man moved forward, the strong scent of antiseptic not entirely disguising the slow rot beneath.
“You can’t cure me, but your powers of healing can keep me alive,” he said.
She shook her head. Not to antagonize the idiot, but to warn him that any hopes he was harboring that she could prevent his looming death were futile.
“It’s not possible,” she insisted. “My skill can’t affect a human.”
“You think not?” He regarded her with a superior expression, stroking a finger down his loose jowl. “Let me tell you a little story.”
She clenched her aching teeth. God, he was a ridiculous blowhard.
Unfortunately, for the moment she had to grin and bear it.
Please hurry, Mika.
“Okay,” she muttered.
“There once was a Brotherhood leader who was held in awe by his people,” he grandly announced, his voice gaining strength as he became lost in the thought of his own glory. “He was destined for greatness, despite the disappointment of his son.”
Bailey shifted on the hard ground. She didn’t know which was more painful, sitting on the hard pavement or having to listen to the douchebag’s yammering.
“Fascinating,” she muttered.
He seemed impervious to her blatant lack of admiration. “Then the gods grew jealous of his splendor and they punished him with a foul illness.”
She gave a lift of one shoulder. “Cancer isn’t a punishment. It’s a common disease among humans.”
The dark eyes flared with fury at what he considered a curse by resentful deities.
“Death has invaded my body. I tried all the usual treatments.” His lips twisted with bitter anger. “I even went to a Nostrum clinic.”
Bailey blinked in surprise. Nostrum clinics were unsanctioned, backroom hospitals run by high-bloods who claimed they could heal everything from infertility to death.
Valhalla did their best to keep them from popping up, of course. Not the least of which was tossing a healer caught providing treatment to a human into prison for life. But as long as there was money to be made, there would always be unethical people willing to take advantage of the desperate.
“Then you must realize there’s nothing more to be done,” she said.
“I haven’t finished my story.”
She made a sound of impatience. God. This wasn’t War and Peace.
“Then finish.”
He stiffened, that unnerving fervor flaring through his eyes at her sharp tone.
“Apologize,” he snapped.
Bailey didn’t hesitate as Robert lifted his hand, clearly eager to dole out more punishment.
“I’m sorry.”
A taunting smile twisted his lips. “It’s nice to know you can be trained.” He waved off the goon. “Shall I continue?”
“Yes.”
Smoothing his hands down his robe, he began to pace the cramped space, seeming to enjoy the sound of his own voice.
“A doctor suggested that I have regular blood transfusions to stave off the inevitable,” he said. Bailey nodded. She wasn’t fully familiar with human treatments, but it seemed she’d heard there were some drugs that suppressed the formation of blood platelets. “Luckily I had a brother who could provide what I needed.”
She couldn’t hide her shock. “The brother you shunned because he was a high-blood?”
Limburg shrugged. The bastard was clearly undisturbed by the thought he’d treated his brother like he was trash, then demanded his help when he needed him.
“I’ll admit that I briefly considered my previous belief that I would rather be dead than to contaminate my body with anything that came from a freak. Thankfully, my lust for life was greater than my hatred of your people.”
Bailey blinked.
Wow. Just . . . wow.
“And your brother agreed?” she demanded.
“Not at first. He had to be convinced to do his family duty.”
“You forced him.”
Limburg waved a hand toward the goon. “Robert provided incentive for him to agree to my demands.”
Bailey grimaced. Of course he did.
“Nice.”
“It offered some relief, but I was still dying. And then one day Robert became . . .” He paused, as if searching for the proper word. “Overly enthusiastic.”
Robert gave a short, humorless laugh. “It happens.”
Bailey pressed against the wall, desperately wanting to put some distance between herself and the looming brute.
“What does that mean?” she breathed.
“While he was convincing my brother to help, he accidentally broke his neck.” He spoke as if h
e was discussing a shattered teacup. “We had to find a healer to keep him alive.”
Limburg’s stark lack of emotion was . . . stunning.
She shuddered. “Good God.”
Limburg smiled. “Yes, it was indeed an answer from the gods.”
“Because you nearly killed your brother?”
“He was still in the process of being healed when my private doctor performed the blood transfusion,” the man explained. “Instantly I began to feel better.”
“The transfusion—”
“It was more than that,” he interrupted, suddenly annoyed. “My vitals improved, my constant pain eased, and I was able to keep down a meal for the first time in weeks. Then, as the days passed, we realized my cancer had slowed.”
She frowned. “It must have been a coincidence,” she said, although inside she was assuming that it had to be the placebo effect.
“No.” His hand slashed through the air. “I don’t understand the medical mumbo jumbo, but so long as the blood being transfused still contains the power from the healer, it gives me a residual burst of magic.” He grimaced, glaring down at the robe that covered his frail body. “It doesn’t cure me, but it does keep me alive.”
Bailey hesitated.
Good God. Was it possible? Had the brother proved to be a conduit, allowing the healer’s magic to be transferred to a human?
She’d never heard of such a thing.
But then, had it ever been tested?
They’d recently found a healer who was able to alter actual DNA, so clearly there were still things to be discovered when it came to high-blood powers.
Giving a shake of her head, she shoved the startling possibility to the back of her mind.
Right now it didn’t matter if it truly worked or if it was a figment of Limburg’s imagination.
Her only concern was keeping the man preoccupied until Mika could get her the hell out of there.
“So if your brother was helping you, then why did you kill him?” she asked.
Limburg halted his pacing to turn and meet Bailey’s wary gaze.
“The more aggressive my cancer becomes, the more powerful magic I need. Which means the more healing my brother had to receive.” Again there was that appalling lack of concern. Did he care at all that his brother had been brutally beaten just to keep him alive? Seemingly not. “Eventually his body gave out.”
She was forced to clear her throat.
Just being in the same room with the jackass made her want to gag.
“And the healer?”
“He knew too much.”
The words were matter-of-fact.
A man was dead. An expendable casualty.
“You truly are evil.” The words burst out before she could halt them.
Robert took a step toward her, but Limburg held up a restraining hand.
“As I said, your opinion has no meaning to me,” he drawled.
She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature.
“Tell me why I’m here.”
“My doctor is convinced that the transfusions worked because my blood was so similar to my brother’s,” he explained. “Which means I need a new source of blood.”
A smile curved Limburg’s lips as he watched the horrified comprehension spread over her face.
“Jacob,” she breathed.
Mika and Wolfe crouched behind the hedge that framed the small parking lot.
Ignoring the baking heat and the nearby fishermen who were unloading a shrimp boat, they studied the square, red-brick structure that was built at the edge of the water.
At a glance it looked deserted.
The windows were barred and the front door locked with a heavy chain. And if that wasn’t enough, there was a large No Trespassing sign planted in the small patch of grass next to the stairs.
“This is the place,” Mika muttered.
They were the first words he’d spoken since they’d commandeered a vehicle from the monks and taken off.
It’d taken everything he possessed to focus his Sentinel skills on locating Bailey. Any lapse in his concentration and the barely leashed panic would overwhelm him.
Now, however, the tightness that had made it nearly impossible for him to breathe was beginning to ease.
Bailey . . .
She was near.
Wolfe nodded. “I’ll scout—”
“She’s there.” Mika nodded.
“You’re certain?” Wolfe pressed.
“I can sense her,” he admitted.
It was rare, but a few Sentinels formed a bond so deep they could actually feel the presence of one another when they were near.
Wolfe lifted a surprised brow. “Where?”
He nodded toward the warehouse. “Lower floor, south side.”
“Wait,” Wolfe commanded as Mika prepared to rush forward. He pointed toward the top of the warehouse. “There’s a sniper on the roof and at least one guard on the front door.”
Mika shrugged off his leader’s hand.
He didn’t care if there was a fucking army guarding the place. He was going to get Bailey.
Now.
“Keep them occupied,” he muttered, keeping low as he headed toward the end of the hedge.
“Where are you going?” Wolfe rasped. “Mika . . . dammit.”
Ignoring Wolfe’s anger, Mika silently jogged along the edge of the parking lot, headed toward the path that led toward the boat.
Then, ignoring the startled fishermen, he plunged into the water, using the wooden docks to shield his approach as he swam toward the warehouse.
Reaching the stairs, he pounded beneath the wooden planks, his lips twisting as the guard predictably moved to peer over the edge of the dock.
He was still bending down when Mika’s fist met with his face, busting his nose and sending him tumbling into the water with a loud splash.
Mika didn’t hesitate.
Grabbing the top step, he pulled himself out of the water and vaulted onto the dock. He crouched low for a second, waiting for a second guard. When none appeared, he jogged toward the back of the building.
Predictably, the only entrance was a vertical steel door that was locked and chained, but Mika was a Sentinel.
With one massive jerk, he busted the padlock and shoved the door up to reveal a large loading dock. He peered inside, assuring himself that it was empty before he slid inside and headed toward the closest door.
He wasn’t afraid of human guards, but the farther he could get without having to fight, the better.
The last thing he wanted was to alert his enemies that he was there.
They might take off with Bailey. Or worse . . .
No. He clamped down on that no-go thought.
The only possible outcome he was willing to consider was him finding Bailey and killing the bastards who took her.
End of story.
He entered a narrow hallway, pausing as his acute hearing picked up the faint sound of gunshots.
Shit.
Wolfe must have been spotted.
He hurried past a row of offices, sensing he was closing the distance to Bailey.
Just a few more seconds . . .
Focused on his bond with Bailey, Mika nearly missed the scent of a nearby male.
Coming to a halt at the end of the hall, he pressed his back against the wall as he peered around the corner, watching a young man who couldn’t be more than twenty years old come down a set of stairs.
Mika stiffened. He recognized that scent.
Jacob.
With a smooth motion, Mika stepped around the corner, his gun pointed at the center of the young man’s chest.
“Don’t. Twitch.”
Jacob went perfectly still, his eyes wide as he watched Mika prowl forward.
“Sentinel,” he breathed. “Are you here for the healer? I can take you to her.”
Mika held the gun steady as he patted Jacob down, quite prepared to put a
bullet in the traitor’s heart.
Once he was satisfied, he took a step back, his expression hard with warning.
“You’ve done enough,” he said in cold tones.
Jacob flinched as if he’d been slapped. “I know. Forgive me, brother.”
“Don’t call me that,” he growled. Bailey had taken this acolyte into her home. She’d healed him. Given him food and shelter. And how had he repaid her? “Traitors aren’t tolerated by the Tagos. You’re no longer my brother.”
Jacob blanched, his hand reaching out to rest against the wall as if his knees were threatening to give out.
“They told me they were holding my mother hostage. I was terrified she was going to die before I could even get to know her.” He gave a slow, pained shake of his head. “But now . . . I think it was nothing more than a trick.”
Mika flattened his lips. Dammit. Either the young Sentinel was the best actor ever, or he truly had been blackmailed into helping the humans.
Not that Mika actually gave a shit.
Not now.
“You should have gone to the monks,” he said without sympathy.
“I know.” Jacob covered his face with his hands, his body, which that had yet to fully fill out with muscle, visibly trembling beneath the force of Mika’s disapproval. “God. What a mess.”
Mika lowered his gun, although he remained on full alert. He was well aware this could be a trick to distract him.
“Why did you kidnap Bailey?”
“It wasn’t me.” Jacob lowered his hands to reveal his ashen face. “It was my father.”
Mika sucked in a sharp breath. “Father?”
Hunching his shoulders, the young man gave a brief, sometimes confusing explanation of his family history and the twisted reason that both he and Bailey had been targeted by the Brotherhood.
By the time he finished, Mika was holding on to his composure by a thin thread.
Goddamn, the bastards.
They were going to pay.
Not only for what they did to Bailey, but what they’d done to Jacob’s uncle and the innocent healer.
“If they wanted her as a healer, then why not take her the first time they beat you?” he demanded, his voice thick with fury.
“They had to make sure I would be compatible.” Jacob rubbed his inner arm, where there were still faint bruises. “I was taken to a cabin and forced to share my blood with my father.” Well, that explained the hospital bed they’d found in the attic, Mika acknowledged. As well as the smell of antiseptic. “Once they were sure I was a suitable replacement for my uncle, they demanded that I lure the healer—”
On the Hunt Page 9