by Addison Fox
The urgency in Quinn’s voice—and his having dropped his tone to almost a whisper—dragged him from the frenzied need to hover over Ava. “What is in your hand?”
Oh gods.
Brody’s hand fisted around what looked like a drugstore bag, the name of a major chain printed on the label. “Ava had it in her hand.”
Quinn reached out and took it, walking backward away from Ava as he dug through it. The New York stone.
The death stone.
Where had it come from?
And why hadn’t his touch worked?
Quinn ripped the stone from his hand before he could throw it. “Callie, take it. Now. Lock it in the safe in the basement among the papers. We’ll deal with it later.”
Brody rushed to Ava’s side, his heart fisting up again as she screamed and moaned, as if the hounds of hell were snapping at her feet.
“Ava!” He pulled her up, wrapping her flailing body in his arms, absorbing the pressure and weight of her fists and kicking legs as she fought an invisible demon only she could see.
“Ava!” Oh gods, Ava.
Ava looked down at herself, hot panic flooding through her and pushing her heartbeat into overdrive.
Where was Brody? Where were the other Warriors and the mansion? What had happened to her?
That awful, metallic blood taste hit her tongue at the same time the smell hit her nose, and she fought the rising nausea. Fought to keep it down and focus on where she was.
What was this place?
Ignoring the smell of blood, she slowed her breathing into a gentle rhythm, willing a sense of calm through her system.
Focus.
Every time before, she’d allowed her panic to take over. Use the fear, Ava Marie. Channel it and find out where the hell you are.
An odd giggle bubbled up.
Maybe it was hell.
Focus.
Then the giggles were gone as she opened her eyes and really looked around. Unlike the real-yet-unreal clarity of a dream, this was real. It felt real.
She could smell the fire that rose up from strategically positioned pits surrounding the large space.
As her gaze roamed the area, she realized she was outside. And were they on a road? Yes, they were. The road led into the city, two large obelisks framing them on either side.
She could see swaying bodies chanting around her, their screams getting louder the closer they got to the monuments.
Why did those look so familiar? Where had she seen them? And what were they all doing?
Then she saw him as she felt herself being methodically pushed forward along the road, toward the obelisks, toward the area lying between them. A long, flowing robe covered his head and shoulders, but the robe had no tie. It hung open down the front of his body, baring a magnificently sculpted chest. The heavy ridge of his penis jutted from the opening, the erect length of him evident even from her distance.
Thutmose’s high priest!
Was he chanting? What did he want with her?
Panic scraped her nerve endings as she saw what he held in his hands: the stone. She could only assume it was the death stone—the one her father had showed her all those years ago. How else would she be here?
How else would she see her visions come to life?
With slow, deliberate movements he lifted the stone in rhythm to his chants.
Hot, sharp waves of pain assailed her each time he lifted the stone, like a punch to her midsection.
Lift, chant, punch.
Lift. Chant. Punch.
The scream welled up inside her, dragged from her throat by the sheer pain of it all, by the pure torture of his movements, although he wasn’t even touching her.
Lift. Chant. Punch.
Her stomach clenched as another wave of pain assailed her. Oh my God. He was killing her, murdering her from the inside out.
Tears streamed down her face as she fought the mind-numbing waves of pain. She watched in horror as he lifted the stone again, bracing herself for what was to come.
Lift.
Chant.
Pu—
Then it stopped. And the room blessedly went black.
“Hold it steady, Brody. Hold the stone.” Callie held tight to Ava’s head while Quinn took her feet. Brody stood over her, the love stone in his hands as he ran it over her body.
“Come on, baby. Come on back. Come back to me. Please, baby.”
He felt the hot tears falling freely but didn’t stop them. Didn’t dash them away. Didn’t feel a bit of embarrassment or remorse.
With methodical precision, he ran the stone over her body again. Head. Chest. Stomach. Pelvis. Legs. Feet. Over and over, willing the warmth and healing and love he knew she took from the stone into her body.
He willed her to come back from wherever she was and live.
Head bent, Brody laid it on her stomach. “Oh please, Ava. Come back.”
“Brody?”
Her throaty greeting was the most glorious thing he’d ever heard.
“Brody, sit down, please. I’m back. I’m here and I’m not broken, and I really don’t need to rest in bed.”
“To hell with that. You could have died. The power of the stones and their effect on you keeps getting worse with each exposure. It’s as if they’re reeling you in. What if I couldn’t save you this time?”
Ava watched him pace the room—her big, bad Warrior. “It’s over. And we’ve got to take the positive away from it.”
“Positive? I fucked up royally, Ava. And it almost cost you your life.”
“I’m the one who picked up the stone.”
“And I’m your protector. If I can even be called that, seeing as how I did a piss-poor job of actually protecting you.”
She reached for his hand, clutching at him and willing him to stand still and stop the agitated pacing. “How did you fuck up? We thought if you held on to me, the stone wouldn’t have any power. Guess that only works if you’re holding me before I touch it. And besides, Brody, we thought Ajax had stolen it, not hidden it. Why’d he do that?”
“Quinn reviewed the security tapes. He saw him place the bag there under the benches.”
“What was the time stamp on it?”
“It was within minutes after he tried to kill me in Dr. Martin’s office.”
“But why? What is the motivation to hide it? Is he trying to set us up?”
Brody shrugged. “Why does my brother do anything? Ten thousand years without him in my life and it’s as if time hasn’t ever passed. Clearly he had some twisted reason.”
“Well, whatever it was, now we have two stones instead of one. Which means more leverage against Enyo.”
Frustration rose in her chest when his attitude didn’t get any better. His shoulders held their rigidity, a sure sign he was still blaming himself. Stubborn, idiotic Leo. The king of the pride couldn’t stand the fact she’d been in danger.
“Brody, look. Now we know even more about the stones. The New York stone is what we suspected—it’s the death stone. It portends death and it can be used to kill. I felt its power, Brody.”
“Directed at you.” When she didn’t say anything, he pressed her again. “Tell me all of it again. Exactly what happened. Exactly what you saw.”
As she related the story again, he climbed into bed and drew her close. The warmth of his touch and the security in his arms penetrated something so deep inside of her, she didn’t know how she’d ever lived without him.
As she lay there in the circle of his arms, the nightmare—or whatever it was she’d lived through—continued to play over and over in her mind. And as she allowed sleep to claim her for a few hours, secure in the knowledge she was safe in Brody’s arms, she imagined wielding the same power Thutmose’s high priest did.
The power to kill at will.
The power to vanquish enemies.
The power to decide who lived and who died.
When she was a small child, Ava had lived in her imagination. One day she was a
duchess, another an astronaut; still another she was an Angel, fighting crime for the mysterious Charlie.
She’d always considered her imagination the one area of her personality that stood out, even after she left childhood dreams behind and progressed into the realm of adult pursuits. Her imagination was unique and vibrant, colorful and active.
And nothing—not one single thought in her entire life—could have prepared her for the surreal experience of sitting through a battle-plan meeting with the Warriors.
As they sat in the basement of the Warriors’ magical house, she watched millennia of history and learning and knowledge coalesce into a plan of action.
Quinn pressed the same point he’d been making for a half hour, peppered in between discussions of which weapons to take and the right entrance point into the park. “Brody, we need a triangulation on Enyo’s position when she’s in New York. We’ve known forever she’s got a lair somewhere. This is our chance to find out where.”
“Ava’s not doing it.”
“She’s the only one who can.”
“No.” Brody’s arms crossed against that oh-so-impressive chest of his as his mouth slashed into a grim line. “We focus on the rest of the plan. It’s a solid strategy. Besides, the lure of the remaining stones is too great. Enyo’ll come to us. She has to come to us if she wants to activate the stones at Cleopatra’s Needle.”
The one they called Grey looked up from where he was pulling a wicked-looking pile of swords from a case. “Quinn’s right, Brody. We need to find Enyo before she gets to the needle. We put way more at risk if we let her get that far.”
Still, her stubborn Leo wouldn’t relent, his mane of hair shaking as he pressed his point. “She’ll find us.”
Swallowing hard, Ava thought back to those days in her imagination—days of adventure and daring, where she took on the challenges of the mythological worlds she’d created in her mind.
Time to pay up or shut up.
“What’s involved, exactly? In getting Enyo where she lives?”
Brody stopped helping Grey with the swords to come stand next to her. “Ava, you’re not doing it.”
It ate at her to do this, but she dragged her gaze from his and turned toward Quinn. “I want to hear what I have to do.”
The Taurus kept his gaze off Brody as well. “You’re already going to your grandmother’s this evening? Likely your uncle will be there?”
Ava thought back over the ritual and routine of her family. “He usually is.”
Quinn nodded. “Good, that makes this easier. We believe Wyatt has some role in the theft of the stones—either directly or indirectly. The way Enyo, Ajax and the Destroyers have narrowed in on you is far too suspicious to assume there wasn’t help. Wyatt is the likely choice.”
Nausea bubbled in her stomach, but Ava fought it down. She’d never been close to her small family, but to be sold out by one of them?
As her stomach pitched and rolled, Ava felt something spark to life. Something that overtook the sting of nerves, the fear of the unknown. It channeled every emotion in her body into one pounding need.
A desire to act.
“Quinn, tell me what I have to do.”
“We want you to pin a GPS device on your uncle. I’ve got a transmitter built in as well so we can monitor his conversations. The moment he goes to see her, we’ll move in.”
Brody’s voice was a low growl, his position on the matter clearly unchanged. “We’re not putting her in danger.”
“Brody. I’m only in danger if you don’t remove the threat of my family. We’ll go to my grandmother’s. Wyatt will be there and you’ll be with me the whole time. I’ll drop the GPS, we’ll have a quick drink and then I’ll be back here. And then it’s my turn to worry as you leave me behind with the home fires as you go off to battle.”
Kane ran a finger down one of the large battle swords on the table, the blade gleaming in the overhead lights. “It’s a good plan, Talbot. It makes sense.”
Ava saw the raw fear in Brody’s gaze. The love and need and absolute panic that something might happen to her. Reaching up, she ran a finger down his cheek. “Do you really believe my uncle’s working with Enyo?”
He nodded, but his gaze remained unchanged.
“Then I need to do this.”
Leaning in, Brody laid his forehead against hers. “Why?”
“It’s time to stand up for myself. It’s time to take my life back.”
Ava and Brody arrived at precisely seven o’clock. The butler led them into the house, straight to the drawing room where her uncle Wyatt waited for them.
The moment she saw her uncle, Ava felt her heart trip over. It was one thing to go all Amazon-woman-I-can-handle-anything safe inside the Warriors’ cozy, impenetrable house, but it was another thing entirely to act on it. Her stomach muscles jumped with nerves and fear as she fingered the small GPS button Quinn had given her.
Had it really come to this? She’d never been particularly close to her uncle, their relationship framed by a strange formality they both instinctively adhered to. Despite the neutral relationship, she’d never thought him capable of betraying his family.
And now?
Only a fool would ignore the potential threat.
Uncle Wyatt stood by the bar, but he quickly hurried over to give her the requisite familial welcome.
“Ava! So good to see you, child. What a pleasure.”
“Uncle Wyatt.” She nodded and gave him her cheek. With a pretend twist of her shoe, she made a production of stumbling and caught on to his shirt, dropping the small device into his breast pocket.
“Oh! I’m so clumsy.”
“Are you all right, Ava?”
A nervous laugh tittered out and she couldn’t help but wonder if she sounded as dumb as she felt. “Sorry. Yes. I’m so worn out from the exhibit. My equilibrium is a bit off.”
Wyatt patted her back, the benevolent uncle. “It’s to be expected, dear.”
The feel of his hand on her shoulder blades nearly sent her into another stumble—this time for real—in her haste to get away from him, but she held her ground.
At his expectant look, she turned toward Brody. “I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, Dr. Brody Talbot.”
She didn’t miss the look of surprise that washed over her uncle’s features before he managed to hide it. Recognition.
“Where’s Grandmother?”
“She’s on her way down. Some trouble with one of the maids.” It must have been one hell of a problem for her grandmother to deal with it instead of letting the house manager handle the situation. With a mental shrug, Ava let it go. She had an appearance to make. She’d done her job. It was time to get in and out and not get caught up in the family drama.
Ava took a quick scan of Uncle Wyatt’s features as they settled into Grandmother’s uncomfortable drawing room seats. They’d had dinner together just a few weeks ago, so she was surprised to realize a lot had changed in him within that short time. His skin had a saggy look and his hair was unkempt, the gray more noticeable than usual.
Had he really deteriorated that much? Was it from the pressure of living such a lie?
Although never a fit man, he’d always had an energy about him. The man who stood before her seemed, well . . . piggish, almost.
“So, how are you?”
“Fine, fine. Fit as a fiddle. So tell me. How are the last-minute touches on the exhibit going?” He poured himself another drink, a broad smile on his face. “Ah, Ava. Just look at you. Your father would be so proud.”
“Thank you, Uncle Wyatt. Look, I really don’t want to be rude, but the exhibit still needs a few more touches. I’m just going to run up to check on Grandmother and then we do have to be going.”
“Ava.” Brody followed her into the hallway.
“Brody, I just want to check on my grandmother. I’ll be right upstairs. Let me bring her down.”
“Why doesn’t your uncle Wyatt go check on her?”
Now
he was paranoid about her grandmother?
“Brody, I’ll be right upstairs.”
When he nodded, she hurried from the room, heading for the front staircase. With quick steps, she ran up as she had so many times as a child, straight for her grandmother’s room with the big, dark, oversized furniture and heavy, light-killing drapes.
She’d barely cleared the doorway when she heard something from behind.
Whirling, she came face-to-face with a man she didn’t recognize in a butler’s uniform—two of them, actually. And they had horns.
In unison, they blew a breath at her, the fetid air passing through sharp, pointed teeth.
She passed out before a scream could leave her throat.
Chapter Twenty-two
A va heard the distinct sounds of Manhattan traffic and struggled to remember where she was. Cracking one eye open, she fought to hold back nausea as the car whirled around her.
Why hadn’t she listened to Brody and taken the threat seriously? Oh God, was he hurt in all this? Captured, too?
“Where are you taking us?”
Wyatt faced her across the limo, his back to the driver. A tall, sleek woman rode next to him. Although the woman hadn’t introduced herself, Ava had no trouble identifying her.
Enyo.
The thought was completely incongruous with her situation, but she had to admit the goddess looked nothing like she’d expected. Although what she had been expecting was a mystery.
All she knew was she hadn’t expected a woman who looked like a sleek New Yorker—maybe a high-powered lawyer or a Wall Street executive—dolled up in designer clothes, high-end shoes and enough makeup to walk a runway.
She’d expected . . .
Well . . .
Someone a little more masculine. She was the goddess of war, after all.
Goddess or not, the woman’s eyes inspired all the comfort of an ice pick. They bored into you and she could actually feel the blue irises chipping away at her confidence, at her bravado, at her hope.
Keep it together, Ava Marie. You just found a backbone. Might as well try out the merchandise a bit longer.