“Yeah.” Miko shoved the key into the ignition, started the car and threw it into gear. He couldn’t get to Hadrian’s fast enough. To his credit, Burke didn’t complain when Miko sped through not one, not two, but three red lights. Nor did he comment on the hairpin turns he took at speeds that should have earned him a ticket for reckless driving.
The car’s tires skidded on wet pavement as he hit the brakes in front of his brother’s temporary home, a townhouse in a nondescript building. Before he left the car, he gave Burke a warning glance. “Wait here. Keep your eyes open.”
“Sure.”
Running, he approached the building. Hadrian’s car wasn’t in its marked slot in front of the townhouse’s entry. Chances were he wasn’t home. He knocked anyway but wasn’t surprised to get no answer.
Now what? Did he want to risk taking Burke to the command center? It could be a trap. He did a one-eighty and sprinted back to the car.
Before Burke could ask the questions etched all over his face, Miko raised an index finger and went for his phone. He tried Hadrian first, and got his voicemail. Next he tried Petrov. Dyre hadn’t heard from Hadrian in a while.
Although Miko didn’t dare risk asking, he sensed Petrov had not heard about Burke’s escape yet. Petrov did, however, say that he thought he’d spied Hadrian approaching Miko’s car earlier. But he hadn’t thought anything of it.
Something was really nagging at Miko about all this. Specifically, he was having a hard time understanding why his micromanaging, uber-efficient brother had pulled a Houdini so quickly after Burke’s capture. Normally, he would be breathing down everyone’s neck, demanding paperwork and preparing for their return trip home. What the hell was so important?
He hit the speed dial key for Hadrian’s number. This time, when he got his voicemail, he left a message. “Hey, I have my reports. Where are you?” Then he punched in the command center’s phone number. No answer. He shifted the vehicle into gear and drove to the command center -- housed in a warehouse located in the rear of an industrial complex -- explaining his worries to Burke as he drove. As a safety measure, he left Burke at a nearby motel before heading to the complex. A wise decision. Hadrian’s car was parked in front of the building. Miko laid his hand on the hood as he walked by.
Hot. His brother hadn’t been at the command center for long.
Preparing himself for whatever might happen, Miko pulled open the door.
His brother wasn’t there. Cizak had driven his car back to the command center for him. That same man had some very shocking information to share with Miko about his brother.
Cizak had been secretly watching Hadrian for the past few weeks, and had developed his own theory about the string of murders they were investigating. Of course, at this point, he still had no proof to support his suspicions. Therefore, he hadn’t been able to take any action against Hadrian. But he’d been watching, waiting for Hadrian to make a mistake. He explained he regretted not telling Miko what he suspected earlier, but he hadn’t wanted to risk it, since he couldn’t be sure he could trust Miko.
Could Cizak be right?
Struggling with disbelief, Miko dashed out to his car, leaving Cizak back at the command center, hoping he’d keep Hadrian distracted if he returned.
If what he’d heard was true, Sylvie was at another safe house, about fifteen miles away.
And Hadrian was the killer.
* * *
When Sylvie had been four or five -- she wasn’t really sure how old she’d been at the time -- she’d faced a demon head-on. That monster hadn’t been a literal being with claws and scales and teeth, but a figurative one.
Hopelessness. Despair. Desperation.
She’d never denied the fact that those awful years had shaped who she was and how she reacted to situations as an adult. Day after day, night after night, spent hungry, dirty and scared, begging for money from passersby under the protective cover of a freeway overpass had taken its toll.
As a child, she’d spent years constantly fearful of being scooped up by a social worker and taken from the only adult she trusted, the mother who she now knew had had no business becoming a mother. Years narrowly escaping the leering eyes and groping hands of men who’d offered her brief relief from hunger by doing the unthinkable.
Thanks to the pressure, she’d more or less skipped childhood, maturing to adulthood long before she’d reached puberty. As her mother’s mental illness progressed, Sylvie stepped into her place, becoming the parent. Her mother’s mind slowly deteriorated until she was like a child, entirely dependent upon Sylvie for her every need.
But it all changed one chilly, rainy night in the spring. Sylvie woke up to the sound of screeching tires. A dull thud followed. Then silence.
It didn’t take long for Sylvie to realize what had happened. Her mother had wandered into the street and had been hit by a passing car. There were no police cars, no ambulances. Only whispers, rain and darkness, terrible emptiness.
That emptiness had become a part of her over the years. It was always there. A cold spot inside. She’d tried filling the void with food, work, alcohol, studying, friendship, sex, exercise. Sometimes the cure-of-the-week would give her some temporary relief, but over time, the empty feeling would return and she’d be on the hunt for the next treatment.
Carpe Nocturne was her most recent temporary fix. Or at least she’d thought it was, until she’d met her vampires.
Whether it was the magic or something much deeper, they did something for her that nothing and no one had done before. Yes, the pain of the Binding had been agonizing. But now that it had eased, and she’d had time to just lie there in the dark and think, she realized that she felt complete, whole, for the first time ever.
Ironic, since she was pretty sure she was about to die.
She was spread-eagle on a chilly concrete floor, wrists and ankles in shackles. Heavy chains locked to the cuffs held her arms and legs in position, despite her struggles. There was no way she could escape. Not a chance.
To think her life was about to end like this.
She was alternately petrified and in complete denial. This wasn’t really happening, right? It was some kind of hallucination. Or a dream. Nightmare. She’d simply overdosed on junk food and fallen asleep with the television on.
If only.
Although she’d completely lost track of time, she sensed the end was near. The bastard who’d kidnapped her had brought her down here unconscious, chained her to the floor. And just as she’d regained consciousness, explained exactly what he intended to do. In horrifying detail.
She wasn’t heartless. Hell, in a way she could appreciate the reason why he was going to such extremes. The woman he loved had been taken from him, cruelly, unjustly. And he simply couldn’t live without her. It was a tragic story, the kind she’d read many times in her favorite romance novels.
Unfortunately, it seemed that she, being an Origo, was the cure to his heartbreak. Her blood would revive his dead lover.
Why couldn’t she just donate a pint? It was so unfair.
From her spot on the floor, she could see the corpse, positioned like Sleeping Beauty on a flat stone pedestal that in a bizarre way reminded her of a church altar. A band of strange engraved symbols circled the upper edge of the platform. Part temple, part storage room, the basement in which they both lay was very dark, with walls painted a deep burgundy. Floor-to-ceiling wooden shelves lined one wall. There were also some kind of symbols painted on the floor. It was all so… gothic. Creepy yet fascinating at the same time.
Up above, she heard a thump. Instantly, her heart rate launched into high speed, sending hot blood pounding through her body. She twisted, cocking her head to the side so she could see the stairs.
Was this it? Had her time run out?
Oh, God!
A coat of sweat slicked her skin. She pulled on her restraints, even though she knew it was useless trying to break free. This whole time she’d held some hope she’d somehow escape. But,
as the door at the top of the stairs swung open with a spine tingling creeeeek, the last remains of her hope were wafting away.
A rush of chills swept through her body. Her stinging eyes filled with tears, and pleas for mercy rushed to her mouth. To hell with pride, with romance, and tragedy. She was going to plead, beg, cajole, whatever it took. As long as she had breath, she’d talk. Her words were all she had anymore.
She didn’t wait for him to descend the stairs. Eyelids pressed tightly together to stem the flow of tears, she pleaded, “Please, I realize you love her, but you can’t do this. It’s wrong to take someone else’s life. You know it --”
“Sylvie! Thank God we found you.”
The rest of her unspoken plea jammed in the back of her mouth. Emotion rushed up her throat and out in an incoherent cry. Miko? He’d found her?
He dashed down the stairs, ran across the room and dropped to his knees. His dark gaze swept up and down her chained body before settling on one of her bound wrists. “What is this?” He curled his fingers around the cuff circling her right arm and pulled. His scowl deepened. He snapped his fingers. Nothing happened. He cussed, “Bastard!”
“He’s going to kill me. To bring that corpse back to life. It’s some kind of spell or magic,” she blurted. Her gaze hopped between Miko’s red, stress-filled face and the door at the top of the basement stairs. “Is he up there?”
“No. I don’t know where he is.” Miko jumped to his feet and started searching the room. “Did you see where he put the key?”
“Key?”
“To the bindings.”
“No. I was unconscious.”
“Dammit.” He charged from one wooden shelf to another, knocking dusty boxes full of who-knew-what to the floor. Muttering curses, he dug through rattling contents until he’d run out of boxes and shelves to search.
Then, he turned his attention to the dead body. “What the hell are you doing, Hadrian? My God! Is that your girlfriend? She’s been dead…” He approached the stone altar slowly, hands fisted at his sides, rage pulling the muscles of his shoulders and arms into tight, trembling ropes. “What the fuck?”
Sylvie’s breath caught in her throat. She’d never seen a man more angry, confused, conflicted. He sniffled, swiped at the tears running from his eyes, and ran his hand along the upper edge of the pedestal, fingering the engraving. “I didn’t want to believe it.”
“What time is it?” She hated interrupting him, but even more than before, she sensed time was running out.
Miko checked his watch. “Almost four in the morning.”
She’d been lying there for hours upon hours. “Oh God! We need to get out of here.”
Catching the panic in her voice, he started searching the altar for the keys. An excited yelp and raised fist indicated he’d found them.
He dashed back to her, dropped to his knees at her feet and fumbled with the locked cuffs, releasing her left then right ankle. She worked the blood back in her limbs by shuffling her legs while he freed her wrists. Her head swam as he hooked his elbows under her armpits and lifted her to her feet.
“What about Burke?” she asked as she shuffled up the stairs behind him.
“He’s safe.” Miko knocked the door open, then turned and caught one of her hands in his. “We’ll all be together soon.”
“Thank God.” Relieved, she ran through the dilapidated house with Miko, her sight focused on the door, freedom, safety, finally the happiness she’d waited a lifetime to find. “How’d you find this place?”
“I had some help.” He opened the front door, and together, hand in hand, they ran across the weedy front lawn to his car, parked on the street. He helped her into her seat and slammed the door.
But then, as she sat frozen in horror, she watched her kidnapper sneak up behind an unsuspecting Miko. She hit the window with her fists, desperate to warn him. She screamed. Pointed. Gestured. But he didn’t react quickly enough. One second he was standing there, staring at her through the car’s side window, the next he was gone. The kidnapper was in his place, his face a deep scarlet, his eyes narrowed to slits as he glowered at her.
Horrified, she scrambled with wildly trembling hands for the car’s power lock button, but in her panic unlocked the doors instead. When her door flew open, she shrieked and threw her body backward, slamming the back of her head against the steering wheel. Dazed, she started kicking, aiming for any part of her would-be killer she could strike. He grappled for her feet, cussing when he lost hold of them.
Sure that this was her last chance at escape -- at survival -- she caught the steering wheel in her hands and held on for life. He’d caught her legs again, had her by the ankles and was yanking hard, trying to drag her out of the vehicle. She screamed as loud as she could, hoping by some miracle someone might hear her and come to her rescue.
The sweat coating her palms was making her grip on the steering wheel loosen. She gritted her teeth and tightened her hold. But even as she did, she knew it was only a matter of time -- a very short time, at that -- before his strength won over her desperate determination.
The short time ended up being even briefer than she’d hoped.
It took one hard jerk, and he pulled her halfway out of the car. She screamed again and stretched, rolling onto her side to try to catch a hold of the steering wheel again. But it was too late. Before her fingers had closed around it, she was sliding out of the car and landing flat on her back on the ground.
Instinct took over. She thrashed wildly, arms, legs, body. She twisted and rolled, punched and kicked. But for all her effort, she received little in the way of reward. The killer had her pinned to the ground within moments, his butt parked smack dab on her stomach. Under his weight, she struggled to catch her breath. Tears blurred her vision. She lacked the lung power to shout. Her strength was slipping from her.
It was over. She’d lost.
But just as she’d all but given up, Miko knocked the killer off her, sending him rolling to one side. While the two men battled, throwing punches hard enough to knock out a world class champion boxer, she scrambled to her feet and scampered back to the car, crawling across the passenger seat to wiggle herself behind the steering wheel. The keys were dangling from the ignition. She started the vehicle, hesitating, one hand hovering over the gear shift, her foot resting on the brake.
What to do? Drive away, leaving Miko to fend for himself? Or wait?
As if he sensed her struggle, Miko turned to give her a shooing gesture. “Go!” he shouted. “Now!”
She depressed the brake and shifted into drive. Yet, she couldn’t make herself drive away. At the moment, he wasn’t winning the fistfight. In fact, he was darn close to losing it. And while she could admit he was taking a beating to keep the kidnapper distracted long enough to allow her to escape, she simply could not abandon him like a chicken.
If only Burke were there to help!
Another slug to the face sent Miko staggering backward. He stumbled and fell to the ground. The kidnapper didn’t let up. He kicked Miko, beat his head, shoulders, chest.
Crying, Sylvie jerked the steering wheel and gunned the gas, steering the car straight at the bastard. He was too close to Miko for her to run him down, but she was hoping she might be able to slam him with the car door. Or at least distract him long enough to let Miko escape.
Anything was better than sitting there like some stupid, helpless sissy. She stopped the car mere inches from the kidnapper and kicked the door open with all her might, catching him with it in the hip. The force knocked him aside but didn’t hit him hard enough to give her the time she needed to get to Miko.
Miko was struggling to sit up, but the blows to his head had taken their toll. He moved sluggishly, clumsily, like he’d downed an entire bottle of tequila.
Meanwhile, she slammed the door closed and locked it to keep the kidnapper from getting his grimy paws on her again.
Visibly furious, he spun around, dragged Miko to his feet, and jerked him back against
him. More monster than man, the kidnapper glared at her. “I’ll kill him.”
“If you do, then you’ll kill your lover,” she screamed through the window. “We’re bound. If he dies then I die. You need me alive. That’s what you said.”
Hatred flared in the man’s dark eyes. At that moment, she had to question whether he just might kill Miko, regardless of the consequences.
How did a man who lived to uphold the law, justice, all that was good, go so bad?
“You bastard, Hadrian,” Miko shouted, struggling to break free from his captor. “He won’t kill me. I’m his brother. Don’t believe a word he says.”
“Wouldn’t I?” Hadrian produced a knife from somewhere and pressed it against Miko’s throat. Miko’s eyes revealed the depth of his shock.
That… that awful person was not just Miko’s superior, but his brother? The one he’d talked about, bragged about? Compared himself to?
She could only imagine how painful it must have been for Miko to have someone he loved and admired so much do what he had. At that moment, her gaze tangling with Miko’s, her doubt about Hadrian’s intention completely evaporated. Poof. Gone. Whether it was insanity from extreme grief, or rage, or mental illness, Hadrian was not firing on all cylinders anymore. Brother or not, he would kill Miko.
And, if the Binding had been completed, she’d die too. Sure, there was a possibility it hadn’t been. But did she want to take that chance?
The answer was no.
“Get out of the car,” Hadrian demanded.
She flipped the lock and pulled on the latch, but before she had the door open enough to get out, Miko kicked it shut. “The Binding’s not complete,” he blurted.
Something flashed in Hadrian’s eyes. For the briefest of seconds, the hand holding the knife dropped. Miko took full advantage of the opportunity. Within a blink, he was free from Hadrian’s grasp and was lunging for the car.
Seeing where this was going, Sylvie stomped on the brake and shifted the vehicle into gear. But as Miko dove into the back seat, Hadrian lifted the knife and plunged it into Miko’s back.
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