Immortal Flame

by Jillian David

  Thank God for his indefatigable strength. Although she was no slouch hiking on snowshoes, they were moving twice as fast at his pace. The creek disappeared into a ravine as they increased elevation. Once the trail bordered the creek again, they’d almost be at Aneroid Lake, in an hour or so.

  But even if her crazy ability led them to Quincy, what next? Nothing. Peter had his obligation to kill criminals for hundreds more years. She’d made her decision clear. They had no future together. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy these fleeting moments of closeness before they parted. She’d come to rely on his steady faith in her gift, his assurance that they could do the impossible and rescue Quincy while getting out of this mess alive.

  With a sigh, she rested her cheek on the back of his neck, absorbing the heat radiating out from his skin. Her lips grazed his hairline.

  “Allie, you need to stop that.” His voice reverberated through her body.

  “It’s helping me focus on Quincy.”

  “Yes, but my focus deserts me every time you breathe there.”

  When she nuzzled right behind his ear, she felt the shudder pass through him. “You want me to stop?”

  “Never,” he said.

  They crested the hill and rejoined the creek.

  She breathed in his spicy, warm scent. The crunch of his snowshoes and the distant rushing creek created a calming sound. Lulled by his warmth and his steady stride, she kept her face pressed to his neck and let her mind wander.

  The connection lacked strength, but Allison managed to get back into her niece’s thoughts. Through Quincy’s eyes, Allison saw gray snow and a dark hole in the mountainside. She sobbed in terror as she was dragged into the darkness. The feedback from Quincy’s exhaustion crept into Allison’s arms, and she lost all of her strength.

  Peter stopped and grabbed her sagging legs. “What is it?”

  As he boosted her back up, she forced herself to hold on again. “I’m not sure. Something’s going on with Quincy. It’s dark.” She shook her head, trying to clear the fuzzy feeling. “Keep going, please, if you’re not too tired.”

  “Not at all.” He picked up the pace, panting a bit as his efficient strides moved them up the trail.

  After a half hour, they crested another hill, and the terrain opened up into a wider valley where the creek, now a small stream, cut through a snowfield. Dotted throughout the valley were lodgepole pine trees. Low clouds hid the timberline and the mountaintops. A frozen lake came into view.

  At the edge of the lake, the tracks stopped, and then went in opposite directions.

  Peter stopped and helped Allison down. Without his warmth, she was lost, alone. The difficulty focusing must be due to fatigue. She dragged her attention to the tracks.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  To the south, the tracks circled the lake beneath a slope of granite. The other set entered a stand of trees and appeared to be moving toward the open area at the far side of the lake.

  He frowned. “Is he throwing us off? Playing games?”

  She took off her glove. Grasping his warm hand, she focused on Quincy and felt a pull toward the north. “That way.” She nodded in the direction of the path through the trees.

  Both on snowshoes now, they hiked through the trees as the snow fell. Arriving at the back of the lake, she spied a few small cabins on the hillside. She also felt hidden eyes on her.

  “What’s that?” He pointed to a circular wooden structure.

  “That’s a yurt. This is a small parcel carved out of Forest Service land from years ago when folks would pack horses up here to spend their summers.”

  “Is Quincy in one of the cabins?”

  Allison concentrated. “No, I don’t think so, even though there are tracks to almost all of the cabins.”

  “Putting us off the scent again?”

  “Yes, but how does he know we’re following him?”

  • • •

  Peter stopped cold in his tracks.

  You must be getting close to being free. They threw the whole kit and caboodle at Barnaby before he finished his contract.

  “What is it, Peter?”

  He couldn’t meet her eyes. “The man who took Quincy knew we would come up here.”

  “How?”

  Dread sucker-punched him in the stomach. “Your power. He knows about it. Hell, that means Jerahmeel knows about it, too. Not good.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to kill this guy?”

  “Maybe. What I do know is that it’s me he’s ultimately after.”

  “So that leaves me off the hook, right?”

  He rubbed his jaw. “No. You’re in grave danger. You’re the collateral damage, the leverage. Oh, hell.”

  “Why?”

  Damn her trusting green eyes watching him like he would keep her safe. She had no idea. He had no idea if he even possessed enough strength to get her out of here alive before the minion attacked.

  “This whole mess has to do with my contract ending. With the Meaningful Kill.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Deep, unrelenting fear doused him awake as surely as a bucket of ice water. This situation was a deadly endgame, and not for Peter. “They’re going to try to destroy anything dear to me, to prevent me from completing the contract.”

  “But completing the contract, that’s good, right?”

  At the impossible hope in her eyes, he had an overwhelming urge to kiss her pink nose. Then he wanted to shake her so she would understand the mortal danger she was in.

  “Not if other people get hurt. He knew about your power. He knew you would lead me here. You have to leave. Now.”

  She planted the poles and shot him an icy green glare. “I’m not leaving Quincy.”

  He raked his hand through his hair. Never had he felt this helpless as a man, not even when Claire lay in the iron lung.

  “Allie, I don’t know if I can beat this guy. I might not be able to keep you alive. This is serious.”

  Her chin jutted out. Uh oh. “I agree this is serious. I will find Quincy—with or without you.”

  This brave, selfless woman would be the death of him. He had to save Quincy, destroy the minion, and keep Allie from being annihilated—all at the same time. How the hell could he pull this off? But if her crossed arms were any indication, he had no choice but to move forward.

  He pointed up the frozen lakeshore. “Put your radar on. Let’s find Quincy and maybe we can sneak out of here.”

  Cold realization steadied his churning thoughts until he reached a state of calm, lethal focus. He couldn’t destroy the minion.

  But he could sacrifice himself for Allie. Hell. He set his jaw and followed her up the mountainside, every movement and every thought fixed on the task at hand.

  Hiking past the cabins, Allie briefly stopped in front of each one with her hands outstretched, checking for Quincy. She motioned for them to continue onward.

  Peter compulsively scanned the surrounding area, his nerves stretched taut. For the second time today, he nearly ran into Allie as she stopped short. The tracks traveled up a hillside and entered a dense stand of trees.

  He didn’t like this situation one bit. “I’m in front.”

  “Not arguing with you there.” She followed him, bending into the incline.

  All he could hear was Allie’s light breath and the crunch of snow under the snowshoes as they skirted a boulder field. Soon, the trees thinned out and the tracks led into a small clearing.

  Peter’s internal alarm rang like a loud klaxon in his head. Where is the minion, damn it?

  On the hillside he spied an old mine entrance with snow disturbed in front of it.

  Peter’s body tensed at a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye.

  Strolling down the snowy slope was the stocky man from the park: the minion.

  Allie gasped.

  Peter stepped in front of her.

  The guy grinned. Snow sizzled as it landed on the minion’s head.
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  “Hello, Mr. Blackstone.” Tense, manic lines formed at the corners of the minion’s bloodshot eyes.

  Peter put an arm back to keep Allie behind him. “I believe you have me at a disadvantage.”

  He studied the minion and scanned the surrounding area, every sense dedicated to his mission. Where was Quincy?

  “My name’s Anton. I’m an associate of our big boss, Jerahmeel.” He snickered for a minute. “Ah, hello, my beautiful pretty pretty.”

  When Anton leered at Allie, only Peter’s desire to protect her kept him from rushing at the man. If he stepped away, she’d be too exposed. Anton would have to go through Peter to get to her.

  Anton tapped an eyebrow. “Lovely meeting you the other day.” His harsh, barking laugh raked through the cold air.

  “Where’s Quincy?”

  “That delectable little girl?” Anton licked his dry lips.

  “What have you done to her?” Peter’s gut turned to ice.

  “I made a new friend. You want to see?”

  “She’s an innocent. Leave her out of this.”

  “Oh, Petey, this has nothing to do with that sweet child. Or that yummy, scrummy lady there.” He inclined his head toward Allie, who, to her credit, had moved to stand tall at Peter’s side. “Although your mortal girlfriend is going to be a tasty treat. Then maybe I’ll take care of that little girl, too.”

  He licked his lips and gestured toward the mine opening.

  “You son of a bitch!” Peter roared. “Leave them out of this. Step aside, Anton.”

  Anton cast an eerie, feral smile at Allie. “Wouldn’t you like to see the little girly girly?” He scratched at his head.

  Allie’s voice quivered. “Please let me go to her.”

  He tapped his eyebrow again and giggled, a high-pitched, dry squeal. “Of course. But you have to get around me first.”

  His hollow laugh bounced off the snowy hillside, the reverberation grating on Peter’s nerves. Allie staggered forward a step, holding her head. When she looked up at Peter, the pain was etched on her fine features. To hell with his control. He would tear the minion’s arms from his sockets and enjoy the pop of bone separating from sinew. To hell with Peter’s life.

  He hurled himself at the minion, flying across the open space. With a sickening crunch of bone impacting bone, they rolled to the ground, locked together. Peter’s snowshoes broke and flew off. Maneuvering Anton away from the mine entrance, Peter punched him in the jaw repeatedly, snapping his head back. The minion spit out teeth.

  Peter had to buy time for Allie to rescue Quincy. He needed to distract or disable the minion. Neither action would be easy.

  As he scrambled to his feet, Anton struck back, shattering Peter’s rib with a deep snap.

  Peter fought a wave of nausea as the rib shifted and knitted back together within seconds. He held his breath, bracing himself against the agony. Tasting blood, he recovered enough to return a punch and kick combination that staggered Anton. The minion shook his head and ran at Peter, bellowing like an enraged bull.

  He hit Peter with enough force to hurl him down into the pine trees. More bones cracked. The snowy world inverted as Peter scraped down the trunk and fell headfirst into a drift of snow. His vision blurred, leaving only a smear of white with black specks flitting across. It would take a minute to see again. Hell, he didn’t have a minute.

  Digging out of the snow, he squinted against his throbbing headache and willed the healing to go faster. One dark shape moved toward the opening of the mine.

  Allie? Or Anton?

  Chapter 17

  With the men locked in vicious battle, Allison crept around the far edge of the clearing, approaching the mine entrance from the side. A rope lay coiled at the opening of the mine; a length disappeared into the mouth of the tunnel.

  Staying low, she crouched just inside the entrance, probing the tunnel with her mind. As she slipped off her snowshoes, Quincy’s aura pinged weakly back to her, almost like sonar. Allison pulled her backpack around and fished out a flashlight. Looping the strap over her wrist, she clicked it on but saw only a small tunnel vanishing into darkness.

  At that moment, Anton shot her a bloody grin from across the clearing, despite Peter’s blows. “What do we have here? Lovely, lovely intruder.”

  In a whoosh of air Anton hurled Peter into the trees on the other side of the clearing. Peter landed with a sickening crunch of bone and branches that she could hear, even at this distance. He didn’t move.

  Oh God.

  She had to get Quincy.

  Anton stalked toward the mine entrance.

  Terror driving her, she dove into the tunnel and hunched down, half running, half crawling into the dusty mine. Supporting timbers flashed by. She expected to see Anton right behind her. But when she looked back, he remained at the entrance. Her flashlight’s beam bounced off his sadistic leer, backlit by the snowy terrain behind him.

  He had the rope in his hand.

  “Bye-bye, pretty pretty.” He pulled the cord as Peter collided with him, knocking Anton away from the entrance.

  She heard a rumble above her as her flashlight beam caught a bare foot ahead in the tunnel. Quincy!

  Rocks crashed down around them.

  Crouching, she scooped up the limp girl. Swinging the flashlight around, she desperately searched for safety.

  There, a tiny niche next to a supporting beam. As she squeezed herself and Quincy into the space, the tunnel collapsed. Rocks banged off her back and head as she cradled Quincy, shielding her niece as the entire world fell down around them.

  Allison cried out as a rock glanced off her leg, and Quincy whimpered and shifted. She held her niece tighter as the deep, deafening rumbling continued. Minutes passed.

  A dusty, ominous silence descended in the pitch-black.

  • • •

  Peter struggled to his feet and crossed the clearing. As he approached the mine entrance, Anton yelled into the black hole and pulled the cord. A loud rumbling and a plume of black dust erupted.

  Allie.

  Hell. She’s in there.

  Between one blink and the next, Pater bent the minion beneath more vicious blows. Anton wheezed and stumbled backward. Peter refused to stop, even though he’d eventually wear out, despite his super strength. With every kick and punch, fear and fury mixed into an all-consuming, explosive compound inside Peter’s mind. He tried to destroy the minion with his bare hands, his only goal to drive the man away from the mine entrance. He threw Anton into the boulder field, the minion’s eerie screams bouncing off the snowy landscape.

  Slower now and favoring one leg, Anton returned. Blood flowed from his damaged nose. One limp arm hung at his side. The minion charged, frothing and yelling.

  Honing his rage, fear, and strength into a lethal point of convergence, a state of surreal calm came over Peter. This was it. He pulled the knife from his ankle holster. Anton stopped short and rocked back on his heels.

  “You can’t use that on me,” he said, eyes bulging.

  “And why not?” Peter shook with fury.

  Every minute he had to deal with Anton was a minute Allie might not have.

  Bloody spittle formed at the corners of Anton’s mouth. “The rules. We can’t use the blades on each other.”

  “Does it appear that I care about rules?”

  He pointed at the black cloud of dust drifting out of the mine, then struck without warning, backing Anton down the slope with vicious slices. When he pierced Anton’s side with the blade, the minion howled.

  “You can’t do that!” Anton stared in horror as dark blood spread over his shirt.

  “Of course I can,” Peter said calmly. “And I intend to destroy you with it.”

  He lunged, grazing the man’s leg. Blood spurted. Anton screamed in pain as Peter’s knife began to glow.

  “Oh, Anton, she’s hungry for you,” Peter crooned, brandishing the blade.

  Blinded by desire to fill the knife with prey’s blood, Pet
er struck with a killing blow, but Anton turned at the last moment. The luminescent knife glanced off the minion’s chest wall, filleting clothing and a dinner plate-sized chunk of flesh. Dark blood pulsed out of the wound, melting the snow beneath the steaming piece of minion meat.

  Shrieking with the force of a train whistle, the minion hit Peter hard enough to knock him to his knees and cloud his vision again before the minion sprinted down the hillside. Peter saw him as a bloody blur, skirting the lake and dodging onto the return trail down the mountain. Anton left a path of blood in his wake, visible even from where Peter sprawled.

  Peter staggered to his feet and shook his head again, clearing it. Anton wouldn’t win the day today, but the minion would heal and gather his strength. He’d be back. May you get an infection and gangrene and rot. Too bad that wasn’t possible.

  Every nerve in his body strained to finish the kill. But with the knife still glowing with unfulfilled hunger, Peter dragged his base desires back to the present priority.

  Scrambling across the trampled, bloody snow to the entrance of the mine, he peered inside. Dust and rocks sealed the mine access five feet into the entrance. Peter’s blood ran cold. Allie was down there. Trapped. Possibly hurt. Or dead.

  “Allie!” he yelled.

  Only rock-solid silence answered him.

  • • •

  In the heavy blackness, Allison took stock of her situation. She slowed her panicked breathing and took a slow, deep inhalation. Mistake. She choked on the dusty air.

  By some miracle, the flashlight still dangled from her wrist. Praying it would work, she clicked it on, the LED glow illuminating her tomb.

  Her right leg was buried under a foot of rubble. The timber she had huddled against held the worst rock fall away from them, but rock encased them. There wasn’t a whisper of air movement. No sound met her ears except for her harsh breathing and Quincy’s whimper.

  Unwrapping her left arm from the backpack, she chafed Quincy’s arms, alarmed at how cold her niece was.

  “Mmmph, Mommy?” the girl mumbled.

  Her heart twisted. “No sweetie, it’s Auntie Al.”