by Tina Moss
Blue Rock Warehouse, Calgary Outskirts, Alberta
Talon stared at the phone, reading the text twice. Valkyrie’s message helped relieve some of the knots from his muscles. Knowing his team no longer resided in the hands of some psychopath enabled him to concentrate on Sera. Now, if he could just ensure she didn’t get herself killed, maybe then his heart would stop banging against his ribs.
“I can’t believe she pulled this stunt.” When he’d pulled up to the hotel he’d found fire trucks swarming the place. All the air expelled from his lungs at the sight. After storming to Sera’s room, he’d seen the note she left him. It read plainly, I’m sorry. - Sera. No more. No explanation. He didn’t need any. The fire and her disappearance said it all. She was going to trade herself for his agents’ lives, and she was doing it alone.
“Seven Hells!” He slammed his fists into the steering wheel for oh, about the tenth time. “Why didn’t she wait?” His team was safe now. She didn’t need to do this. “Because she knew I’d stop her. Damn it.”
As the truck’s tires sprayed dirt and gravel along the road and the warehouse entrance came into view, he grimaced at the silver Porsche on the street and the door standing wide open. A bad sign for sure. He checked his watch. Ten minutes past the deadline. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”
He rushed out the truck, palmed his gun, and slid inside. The hanging fluorescent lights blinked and shook, casting harsh glows along the floor and walls. He shifted without conscious thought to the owl’s eyes, utilizing the animal’s sharp night vision. The large rounded lenses absorbed the light and enabled him to see the full scope of the warehouse.
The rows of stacked boxes and enormous crates blocked the aisles and provided too many blind spots for an attacker to hide. He cursed and shifted again, this time opting for a grizzly’s nose. Smoke and burnt flesh filled the thousands of tiny receptors. He gagged at the stench, but it came out as a strangled roar.
Trusting his own senses amongst the vicious odors, he shifted to normal and followed the scent trail. Aisles in, he spotted the carnage. Heavy smoke coated the area. Shredded boxes spilled their contents onto the floor. Piles of dirt littered the ground. Talon stalked closer, peering through the dense haze.
A moaning from the end of the row caught his attention. He raised his gun chest high and pointed it toward the sound. The outline of a man emerged as he pushed forth from the smoke. “This is the PCD,” Talon said. “Put your hands in the air.”
No response. Chancing a quick glance over his shoulder, he saw no one behind him. Using the right most stacks as coverage, he tried to keep as little of his back exposed as possible. When he dared a closer look, he noticed the man sat on the ground, his head hung low. He kept his gun aimed on the man’s head, until he spotted the blood. A pile of it covered the floor.
Talon lowered his weapon and reached for his cell. “This is PCD agent, Talon Rede. I need a bus to the Blue Rock Warehouse off Route 1.”
Kneeling down, he tried to find a pulse. When his fingers pushed at the charred skin of the man’s throat, the head rolled. Talon leapt back and gaped at the sight. A dime-sized hole spewed blood from the man’s forehead while his cheeks housed two round burn marks. He turned from the dead man to inspect the scene and cancel the ambulance. But as he spun, an iron grip circled his ankle and pulled him to the ground. His gun flew from his hands and the impact caused his teeth to rattle. He kicked at the hand, rounding on whatever grabbed him.
A strained voice hissed, “Meat.”
“What in all the—” Talon’s words cut short as he looked on the dead—or rather, undead—man. The hole in the stranger’s forehead spit out a bullet and began to close. The burnt skin of his cheeks puckered, then smoothed over with a new layer. “Shit.”
“I need meat.” The man spat. Two black eyes bulged from their sockets. His bottom jaw extended, revealing rows of fangs. He lunged for Talon’s leg, chomping and gnawing the air.
“Phage.” Talon pulled away and climbed to his feet, staring at the creature. It looked the same as Sera had described, except this one had scars covering the whole side of his forehead, cheek and jaw. He kept his face a stoic mask, but his gut clenched. The damn thing made him sick.
A hideous laugh bubbled from between its long teeth. “Matt, actually. And you must be Agent Rede.”
“You’re the blackmailer?” Talon shuffled a step away, spotting his gun from the corner of his eye. He calculated whether diving for the weapon or shifting to something nasty—preferably with claws—would give him the better advantage.
“Oh you’re a quick one.” The eyes shrunk into its head. The pointed incisors shortened to fit into its mouth. “Apologies about the biting. But we tend to wake up hungry after our deaths.”
“Well, now I know you’re not dead,” Talon swiped his gun from the floor in a single step and leveled it at Matt’s chest, “you’re under arrest.”
“Really?” Matt rose, a slather of ashen skin flaked off him.
“The dirt piles,” Talon muttered to himself as the skin flakes bunched together in a heap, “like a phoenix from the ashes.” He shook his head at the connection, but kept the phage bastard sighted in his line of fire. “Yeah. Now, I suggest you put your hands up.”
“And if I don’t?”
“I’ll be forced to take more drastic action.”
The infuriating laughter filled the empty warehouse again. “Then, how will you ever find out what happened to Sera?”
“Well, since bullets clearly don’t kill you, I suppose I’ll have to settle.” Talon adjusted his aim and fired. The target struck dead on.
Matt’s howl of pain echoed through the aisle. He fell on his ass, clutching his leg. A warm stream of blood flowed from his shattered kneecap. “Son of a bitch.”
“Agent Rede!” The feminine screech caught Talon off guard and he swung his gun around.
“Whoa, easy chief,” Drake said as the barrel’s mouth whirled by the vamp’s face.
“Talon, what the hell are you doing?” Valkyrie eyed the man on the ground with suspicion, then leveled her gaze on Talon.
“An interrogation,” Talon said. “What’s it look like?” He shrugged, pointing the gun at Matt. “This here is our blackmailer. And he was just about to tell me where Sera is.” He aimed for the bastard’s other knee. “Weren’t you?”
Curses and incoherent ramblings sputtered from Matt’s lips as his jaw elongated again, revealing four inch teeth. Valkyrie’s jaw dropped, but Drake looked downright stoic as he observed the transformation.
“Phage,” the vamp uttered through distended fangs. He took a step forward, swatting Valkyrie aside.
Talon let one hand off his gun to grab the pissed vamp by his arm. “Hey, Drake. Don’t you still owe me for letting you out of jail?”
Drake snorted, never taking his eyes off the suspect. “Aren’t you the one who ordered me arrested in the first place?”
“True, but I’ll make it up to you.” Talon swiped his cuffs from his pocket and dangled them in front of Drake. “I’ll let you do the honors.”
The vamp seized the handcuffs. “My pleasure,” he said, flashing a sneer. He disappeared too quick to track. One minute he stood with cuffs in hand, the next he knelt behind the suspect, throwing the asshat to the ground and shackling his wrists.
Valkyrie huffed. “This is against protocol.”
“Screw that,” Talon said, fixing her with a hard stare.
Her eyes widened. “Are you kidding me, Mr. Joe Honor? You want to go against procedure?”
Talon looked away from her, his silence more damning than admission. His memories swirled.
Bram patting him on the back, a firm but gentle tap. “Duty before everything.”
No, not before everything. Not anymore, Talon thought. Not before family. Not before my team. Not before...Sera.
His gun remained level at the suspect’s knee even as Drake hauled the bastard upright. He smirked as the jackass hopped on one leg, the bones from his
shattered knee not quite healed. “You want to read him his rights, go ahead,” he said to Valkyrie. “But I’m getting answers from him one way or the other.”
“Fine.” She threw up her hands. “Let’s just get him back to base first.” Waving them down the aisle, she took point leading the way out of the warehouse.
“Sure you want to do this in front of witnesses?” Drake aimed his question at Talon.
Valkyrie spun around with murder in her eyes. “No one in my department is a snitch.” Her body hummed with tension that radiated small circles in the air. “You want answers, you’ll get answers. Now, let’s go.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Drake saluted and pushed the hopping phage down the row. “You coming?”
“Yeah, meet you out,” Talon said, putting his gun away. He watched them exit the row, then scooped a handful of the dirt sample into his jacket pocket. Watching the ashes flake off that phage bastard had given him the answer behind the mysterious dirt piles, but if he wanted to link the crimes, he needed evidence. Although, taking that motherless prick into a back alley and shooting him dead—again—wasn’t off the list either. “Where the hell did that come from?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose hard. An image of Sera flashed into his mind and he knew where the need came from. “Fuck me.” He kicked at a metal crate.
“Nah, you’re not my type.” Drake appeared midway down the aisle, leaning against a stack of boxes.
“What’re you doing now?”
“Coming to retrieve you. We stuffed the wanker in the back of your truck. And I knocked him out for good measure.” He tilted his head to one side in a gesture of innocence. “Seemed like a smart thing considering his need for meat. Though, Valkyrie didn’t agree.”
“Well, it’s a good thing she’s not in charge.” Talon walked passed him toward the exit.
“Good thing, indeed.” Drake followed behind.
He stopped in his tracks. Turning to Drake, he said, “Thanks for getting the team to safety. And for getting here.” His eyebrows rose. “How did you get here so fast?”
“No thanks required, chief.” Drake flashed a grin and slapped him on the shoulder. “As for getting here, don’t look at me.” They exited the warehouse, and Drake pointed to a fiery red Corvette. “The hellcat hotwired that and drove us.”
Talon let out a chuckle. The first genuine amusement he’d felt in a while. “Nice.”
“Uh-huh. Not bad at all.”
Valkyrie waved at them from behind the driver’s seat of the Chevy. “Let’s get going. I need to get this thing back to the owner.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Drake clapped his hands, then shoved an elbow in Talon’s side. “Her sense of duty remind you of anyone?”
Talon coughed and waved off the question. He checked on their passenger. The bastard laid out cold in the backseat. “You can wake him up, right? Cause I’m not waiting on him to come out of his little nap. We need to find Sera.”
“No worries.” Drake climbed into the truck’s passenger seat and flicked through the radio, as Talon started it up. “I’ve got some methods.”
Talon suppressed a smile, thinking he’d be more than happy to try a few of the vamp’s methods. Where his strict by-the-code attitude disappeared to he didn’t know, but with Sera’s whereabouts still unknown and her safety in question, he found he no longer cared.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Apartment Complex, Calgary, Alberta
Sera didn’t know how to suspend her disbelief. Her eyes refused to process the sights, but there they were. The phage she’d burned in the warehouse lay in bunk beds in the basement of this apartment building. Their charred skin flaked off and pink layers grew underneath. They healed fast as their wounds knit together.
“By the gods,” she cried as the acrid stench clogged her nose.
“No, Sera, not the gods.” Adriana Farrington, the woman who abducted her, the woman who shot Matt, and the woman who acted on behalf of the phage queen—or so she’d claimed—stood in the corner of the room. “Not the gods at all. The Luminarium.”
Sera stifled the fire in her palms, determined to uncover as much as possible...and well, to not get shot. Adriana’s gun trained on her in a most unsettling way.
“Come with me. This is no place for such an important discussion.” She placed a hand on Sera’s shoulder while the other held to the gun. “This way.”
Elevator doors opened at the end of the basement. Sera tried to collect her thoughts as they stepped inside. The ride from the warehouse to this apartment building had taken only fifteen minutes, but the woman had prattled on and on. Processing all the information had Sera’s brain working overtime. “You mentioned you came across my file when you were searching for information to blackmail politicians.”
“Well, not me in particular, of course. We have several people working on that.” Adriana tapped the PH button on the elevator console and inserted a key into the lock. “And it’s not blackmail, Sera. It’s using every advantage we can. The phage have been persecuted for years. We’re trying to get a foothold into this new NUA government so we can have a fair say.”
“Right. Sure.” She shifted her feet and hoped her nervousness didn’t show. She had to keep this woman talking and her mind off her trigger finger. “But what does that have to do with me...or Matt?”
“Matt was a mistake. When we came across your file, we used it to negotiate with your father. But Senator Marsh can be difficult.” The gun slid over Adriana’s hair, as she used the barrel to push back a stray strand. “My associates believed bringing Matt out of the coma and turning him phage would endear him to our side, and maybe even help him in the process. In return, he would find you for us.” The elevator car climbed to the top. “I believed it was foolish, but was outvoted on the matter. Unfortunately, I was right. Matt’s mind was too unstable, freed too soon. Besides, all he wanted was revenge.”
Sera shuddered. Her mind replayed the sickening images of the phage burning, Matt’s horrible scars, the way he’d stalked her, and the bullet wound. Her gaze fell to the gun in Adriana’s hand again.
“He had this psychotic obsession with punishing you.” The wisps of hair fell around Adriana’s face again. “He wanted you to cry, wanted to see you suffer. He even thought to collect your tears like a trophy.” She shook her head. “It was disgusting. Unworthy of a phage.”
“So you killed him?” Sera felt the sickness creep up her throat. The memory of Matt’s body sinking to the floor caused her stomach to churn.
“No, of course not. I only stopped him from killing you.” Adriana hugged her waist with her free arm and tapped the gun against her shoulder with the other. “Phage can’t be killed that way, and he’s one of us now. But I’m afraid he’ll have to answer for his crimes.”
The small space grew grave quiet as Adriana’s words sunk in. When the doors jingled open at the penthouse level, Sera jumped.
“Here we are,” Adriana said. Her burgundy suit and blinding smile presented the picture of hospitality—Silence of the Lambs style. “Have a seat on the couch. I’ll make us a drink.”
“A nice Chianti, I’m sure,” Sera muttered.
The room looked like something out of Millionaire Housekeeping. A swank leather couch with white cushions faced an ultra-modern fireplace and flat screen TV. Floor to ceiling windows wrapped around the living room. Two wide chairs with low wood backrests flanked the couch. Not exactly the sparse room or torture cell, she’d feared. Still...
Nope, not Hannibal. American Psycho for sure. She shuddered, then scanned the room.
After eyeing and dismissing the windows—way too high for a suitable exit—Sera walked to the sofa. Overhead, the dangling chandeliers provided soft ambient light. Square sheer boxes, with gauzy fabric, hung over single bulbs. Three sat in a line above the coffee table, highlighting a red and blue Persian rug. The shimmering lights brought another question to mind. Could I use them like the bathroom sconces at the hotel? Ignite them?
&nbs
p; Because that turned out so well? Guy chided. Best not test that with a gun pointed at you, pet.
Good point. She let the rock beats stay silent. If she was going to get out of this alive, she might need the pest’s help.
As an attempt to distract the psycho with the gun, she asked, “You said something about Luminarium? What is that?” Sera leaned on the low cushions, feigning a relaxed posture. “And you still haven’t said what this has to do with me...or your plans for me.”
“Well, I plan to offer you a drink.” A golden dish held two wine glasses filled with a red liquid. Adriana clutched the tray one-handed, still keeping the gun available for use in her right hand. “It’s a ’79 merlot, great vintage.”
“Thanks.” She sniffed the glass, but put it down without a sip. Her face flushed, fire creeping under her skin. It tingled and offered comforting reassurance. “Now, can you tell me what the hell is going on?”
Adriana drank deeply from her cup and filled it again. She placed it on the coffee table and took a seat on one of the chairs. Crossing her legs at the knee, she allowed the gun to rest in her lap. “Of course, but I’m afraid it’s a long story. The wine would help to calm your nerves.”
Settling against the cushions, Sera tried not to focus on the gun. She flicked her gaze at the bottle, then her glass and shrugged.
“As you will.” The second serving flowed down Adriana’s throat. She cupped her chin, careful not to spill a drop. “To understand your part in all this, my dear, I’m afraid you’ll need a bit of a history lesson.” Opening a drawer on the table beside her, she clutched at a laminated paper. She smoothed it on the coffee table and motioned for Sera to lean forward. “This is a tree chart of all the supernatural creatures on our planet and their beginnings.” Pointing at the top, the words Luminarium stood out in bold lettering. “Now, I’m going to tell you something very few people know, and many have died to keep secret.”
Sera held her breath. Her curiosity piqued and adrenaline pumped in her veins with raw heat.