by A and E Kirk
Her arms remained limp at her sides, her voice lifeless. “My fault. Not yours.”
“No way.” Jaeger looked into her eyes. “Since the fairies ambushed us last time, gramps insisted on playing decoy. Worried about some sort of leak. Turns out he was right. A fact he’ll never let me forget once we find him. Which we will.”
Kiara blinked against the noise. So loud. The voices in her head.
They shouted and screamed and bellowed. A headache bled behind her eyes. Her vision flickered. Muscles spasmed and convulsed. Her body stiffened, and then stilled. Slowly, steadily, ice returned to her veins, like an old familiar friend. With its arrival, a torrent of pain seared hot through her skull. She cradled her head in her hands.
“Dammit,” Jaeger said. “Kiara, stay with me. Don’t check out again.”
She welcomed the excruciating torture, the unrelenting agony that pierced her brain. It brought relief in other ways. Because, finally…
Oleander was free.
CHAPTER 108
“Kiara, wait.” Jaeger struggled against the medieval shackles that handcuffed his hand to the ladder to Kiara’s room.
“Raise your voice again and it shall be your last utterance.”
Kiara descended from the trapdoor with fluid grace.
Jaeger did a double take. “Wow.”
Black leather pants cleaved like a second skin to her every curve and disappeared into high boots, each brimming with the hilt of a knife. The top buttons of her fitted blood-red blouse were undone to reveal abundant cleavage. She weaved a matching red ribbon into the final twists of her long French braid, and tied it off.
As she walked past, Jaeger slapped her butt.
She wheeled around. “You insolent dog!”
He held up his palms in surrender. “I know. Totally inappropriate. So insolent. Won’t happen again. And I can’t believe I’m saying this but…” Jaeger cleared his throat. “The fact that you look smokin’ hot isn’t the most important thing right now.”
She rolled her eyes and grunted.
“I’m not angry about the whack on the head or even the handcuffs.” He rattled the metal. “Hey, under different circumstances, I’d be happy to play slave boy in this kinky Gothic role-play you’ve got going on, but let’s think this through. I get it. You want to save Leontes. Amazingly enough, he’s kinda grown on me, too. So take me with you. I’ll be your backup.”
Kiara unzipped Jaeger’s duffle bag, pulled out Nicky’s pistols, and tucked them in the waistband against the small of her back, adding them to the arsenal she already had. She could not believe Jaeger had regained consciousness after the blow she dealt him. She summed it up to good breeding.
“Stop ignoring me, Kiara. Hey, let’s try Dr. Lyons again. I’m thinking you could really use his help right now, because you’re acting strange. Really strange. Stranger than your normal strange, which is pretty strange to begin with. It’s almost as if…” Jaeger’s brow furrowed, and he finally blessed her with some silence.
She could see the gears turning as he studied her quietly. She pulled out a book from deep within a back shelf and withdrew another book hidden behind that one. She opened it and smiled with relief.
“What’s wrong with your eyes?” Jaeger said. “They’re yellow again.”
“Hush, fool. I am busy,”
“Doing what? You aren’t acting like yourself.”
She laughed. “Puppy, you are truly priceless.”
“Puppy? Really?”
The book opened to a rectangular cutout in the pages. Inside were a small crystal perfume bottle and a cloth with a lock of dark hair. Leontes’ fresh scent filled the air. Kiara pinched free a single strand and dipped it into the perfume bottle.
“What’s that?” Jaeger asked.
She rubbed the strand between her thumb and index finger. Magic thickened, gained a lemony green glow as it sparkled around her hands. Seconds later, Leontes’ image beat in her mind.
Wrath quickly darkened her features. She blew on the hair and it disappeared in a short burst of flame. “I have you now.”
“Leontes, right?” Jaeger watched her worriedly. “Take me with you.”
“I have scores to settle that are best unwitnessed.” Kiara stalked toward him. “Leontes’ life is mine to take, and I will be damned if I allow some rubbish charlatan to purloin that prize from me.”
Jaeger swallowed. “Yeah, see now you’re worrying me a little. Okay, a lot, because, seriously, you do not want to hurt gramps.”
“I should worry you always, puppy.” Kiara squatted in front of him and placed a hand on his head. Her eyes frosted with malice above a bone-chilling smile. “But fear not. In a moment, you will have no worries at all.”
Jaeger jerked his head around, trying to keep it out of her reach. “I understand you’re upset, but—”
Bright flashes burst from her fingertips and spidered around Jaeger’s skull, until his eyes closed and he collapsed.
CHAPTER 109
Kiara frowned as her fairy door shut behind her. The fog hovered so thick she could barely see a few feet in any direction. Magic vibrated in the mist, and she knew it was created to help hide the location from prying eyes.
She moved forward until it came into view, the grand house Kiara had seen in the tracking spell using Leontes’ hair. She knew the place well. Inside and out.
It was her house.
However, while the five-story estate that emerged before her indeed looked like Kiara’s house, it was in California. Her real home was on another continent, surrounded by open meadows and the ocean. Not in this forest trembling with wildlife. A cold wind sifted through the trees, rustling a soothing murmur and a musty scent of earth and pine.
Kiara climbed up the two small flights of stairs, across the grassy lawn, and to the main doors. Unease skittered down her spine as she stepped inside. The grand staircase with red carpet, the black and white diamond-checkered floors. The red, black, and gold furnishings, the paintings, the sculptures—they were all exactly as she remembered them.
Whatever game Fauxleander intended, she would make sure he lost. And that he suffered. Immensely. She eased the pistols from her back and took a deep breath.
She noted Leontes’ scent and followed it to the parlor. A fire crackled in the room of overstuffed furniture. Large paintings and tapestries of long-forgotten battles hung on the walls.
Leontes sat in one of the grand, high backed chairs facing the fire. She saw only his arm on the rest, but could feel her tracking spell wafting about him. She flicked a glance around the room. Empty. It was much too easy.
“Rise, Leontes,” Kiara commanded.
He did not even twitch.
Kiara kicked the back of his chair. The jostle lurched him forward. He hit the ground with a wet thud. His limp form splayed in awkward angles. Deep lacerations oozed black blood. His jaw opened slack, with teeth colored a dark crimson. Eyes remained open, fixed and unseeing. His clothes ripped and stained from an abundance of vicious wounds.
None of which were healing.
“No,” she breathed.
Kiara walked to Leontes, who lay silent, mangled, and unmoving on the floor. She stared down at him for a long moment.
A growl vibrated in her chest and came out in a scream. “No!”
She reeled back her leg and kicked his side. He flew up and bounced off a wall, knocking a painting from its perch. As Leontes’ lifeless body fell, Kiara raised both guns and fired around the room.
Bullets tore through ceiling, walls, plaster, wood, chandeliers, and artwork. The smell of gunpowder burned pungent in the air. The former luxury décor rained down in shreds around Kiara as she reloaded, her breath labored as color rose in her cheeks.
Floorboards creaked behind her. Fauxleander’s scent soured the air. She spun and pointed both barrels at him.
She almost laughed.
He was a child really. Early twenties, at most. Straight hair the shade of chocolate fudge and long enough
to be pulled back in a short ponytail. He wore black cargo pants and a matching T-shirt, which was ripped in several places. Injuries on his face and arms were caked with dried blood. Tall and gangly, with a slender body and a face full of sharp angles, he was attractive more than handsome, his youthful features shaded with the dark forlorn quality of a tortured artist.
Or, in his case, an assassin.
“You bastard,” Kiara seethed, keeping the guns aimed at his chest.
“It’s you, isn’t it?” his voice timbered deep, unemotional. He tilted his head, studying her closely. A smile tinkered at one corner of his mouth. “The Kiara Blackwood of old? It’s a pleasure to finally—”
She pulled the triggers.
CHAPTER 110
With impressive speed, he dove out of the doorway.
Kiara emptied the clips into the wall Fauxleander had disappeared behind. Plaster rained. Wood splintered. Wallpaper frayed. The paintings shattered and then clattered to the floor. The silence that followed had an annoying hum instead of the screams of agony she craved.
That would soon change.
Kiara tossed the guns aside and yanked knives free from her boots. She twirled them with ease as she prowled forward through billowing waves of dust. But in the dark, wood-paneled hall, she frowned. No Fauxleander. Only bullet holes and debris.
“You cannot hide, charlatan,” she called out.
A crimson drop splattered on the toe of her boot. She whirled and unleashed a roundhouse kick as Fauxleander dropped from the ceiling. Her foot caught him mid-air. He cratered through the wall with a bellowing thunder. Kiara dove through the splintered hole after him. She launched herself, ducked into a graceful somersault, and rolled to her feet, arriving back in the room with Leontes’ prone form.
As Fauxleander scrambled to stand, Kiara threw the knives. Blades buried into his shoulders. Blood oozed from the wounds.
Fauxleander grimaced in pain. “Wait, please. I just want to talk.”
Magic swirled around Kiara’s hands. The two knives ripped free from Fauxleander’s torso and flew across the room toward her. She caught them and immediately hurtled them back. They stabbed in each of his thighs. Fauxleander gritted his teeth against the pain.
“Leontes was mine to kill,” Kiara said. “Now I will have to make due with you.”
Magic brought the knives back to her hands, and she chucked them once again. This was going to be a long, painful afternoon for the assassin.
“He’s not dead!” Fauxleander shouted.
Kiara paused.
So did the knives.
Fauxleander stared wide-eyed at the blades, which stabbed an inch into the skin above his heart. “I only gave him Sandman. I swear.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“If I’d killed him, would I still be here waiting for you?” Breathless desperation tinged his words. “He’s taking his time to come out of it, because I triple dosed him with darts. But good thing I did, because he put up a hell of a fight before it brought him down. He almost killed me.”
Kiara squatted next to Leontes and slapped his face several times. No response. “Could it be you were bested by a child, my lord?”
“I’m not a child,” Fauxleander said. “And I’m not the enemy. We did everything to set you free. You should be thanking us.”
Kiara stood and narrowed heated eyes on the assassin. “I admit you have gone to great lengths to capture my attention. You best speak whilst I am inclined to tolerate it, Fauxleander.”
Fauxleander’s mouth curled in disgust. “That’s what you’ve been calling me?”
“The moniker displeases you? Good.”
“Neal,” he ground out. “My name is Neal.”
“Neal is a stupid name. We will stick with Fauxleander,” she said. “Your next words will determine whether you continue to remain among the living. What do you desire of me?”
With the blades still embedded in his chest, Fauxleander collapsed into a chair. He pressed his hands to the bleeding wounds on his thighs. “To serve you. As we always have.”
“We?” Kiara said.
“Oleander’s Orphan Army.”
Kiara smiled to cover her shock. “My children survived the centuries?”
“In one way or another,” he shrugged. “We’ve been searching for you. We used the killings to draw you out.”
She stared at him. “So many deaths? You are mad.”
“No.” Fauxleander shook his head. “Just desperate. When I read about you, and what you did all those years ago, I knew you could help us.”
“Read about me?”
Fauxleander gave her a sly smile. “I have da Vinci’s journals.”
Kiara’s breath caught in her throat, but she kept her expression carefully neutral. “I see. They gave you the ability to recreate Retro and Sandman. And this place?” She gestured at the house.
“We used the sketches, thinking your old home could help restore your memory. But there’s a lot written in code that I can’t understand. Could use your help with that. I was really hoping the Midnight Poison info was in there, but not that I can find.”
Kiara chewed her lower lip. “How many have read the journals?”
“Just me,” he said. “I worried they were too dangerous in the wrong hands.”
As far as Kiara was concerned, they were already in the wrong hands. “I want them. Once they are returned to me, I pledge to listen to your plight and contemplate how I may consider to lend aid. It is my only offer.”
After several moments, Fauxleander nodded. “Deal. The journals aren’t here, but I’ll take you to them.” He started to get up, his movement stiff and painful.
“No,” Kiara said. “I must return to the mansion with Leontes.”
“But we just got you away from those bloodsuckers!” He flopped back down in the chair. The tips of the blades dug further into his flesh, but he did not seem to notice. “And I thought you wanted him dead.”
Kiara glanced at Leontes. A dark smile slithered onto her lips. “One day.”
They both heard the noise and froze. Footsteps scurrying through the great hall. A moment later Kiara heard a door hiss open followed by an urgent whisper. “Kiara? Gramps?”
She shook her head in disbelief.
Fauxleander wrapped his fingers around the hilt of each knife at his chest. “I’ll take care of him.”
CHAPTER 111
Jaeger entered slowly, but when he saw Leontes, he rushed to his side. “Gramps! Come on, dammit, wake up.”
Kiara burst in. “Jaeger, help!”
Jaeger raised his gun. Fauxleander filled the doorway and fired a shot.
“Get down!” Jaeger yelled.
Kiara dropped. Jaeger got off three rounds. Fauxleander took the first one in the shoulder. It spun him sideways and out of sight.
Jaeger vaulted over the couch and ran to follow. Kiara slid her leg across the floor and tripped him up. As the werewolf went down, she grabbed a lamp and crashed it over his head. His unconscious body thumped to the floor.
Kiara stood and kicked his shoulder.
“Reducing me to a damsel in distress? How humiliating. By all that is holy, you are the most infuriating puppy. What she sees in you I will never know. You are the most aggravating, vexatious, and—” She rolled him over. “Oh, hell! Fauxleander, you were not supposed to actually shoot him!”
The assassin shrugged. “Had to make it look good.”
“I’m surrounded by imbeciles,” Kiara muttered with irritation. “Get them outside at once.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Fauxleander limped over, his wounds not healing as fast as he would like, but he picked up Leontes, wincing as he shuffled toward the door. “I’ll come back for Jaeg—”
Kiara grabbed Jaeger’s ankle, took one step, and whipped him airborne. The werewolf prince crashed through the window and landed with a lifeless thud on the grass.
Fauxleander stared at her.
Kiara dusted off her hands. “What?�
��
“Nothing.” Fauxleander stood straighter and headed out the door, his limp now barely noticeable.
“One more thing.” Kiara followed close behind. “Where are your explosives?”
CHAPTER 112
In her bathroom at Nightmare Mansion, Kiara furiously scrubbed the blood off her skin, continually glancing back at Leontes, who was lying on her bed, still unconscious. She stripped off her clothes, stained with more blood and gore, and threw them in the sink. Something clattered on the countertop. She picked up the small piece of metal.
A tracking device.
The memory of Jaeger brazenly slapping her backside came to mind, and she had to smile at the clever distraction he had used to plant it upon her. She tossed the tracker in with the clothes and snapped her fingers. The pile burst aflame, mere ash in the blink of an eye, and she washed the evidence down the sink.
The sudden prickles inside her skull arrived without warning and rapidly grew stronger. Like moths to a flame, she felt the minds of others heading her way. Kiara could shut them out for a while, but not forever.
A low, echoing hiss whispered behind Kiara. She turned, but Leontes remained still as a corpse. The room was empty of any attackers. Fear made her itchy. She needed to go. She needed to follow the plan to save herself. But she hesitated because…
She walked across the room, lit with only a few candles and the fire’s flickering light, and stood next to the bed. Some color had returned to Leontes’ ashen pallor, but when she shook his shoulders, he did not stir. She folded her arms and studied him, covered in wounds and dried blood. So still.
So vulnerable.
She eyed the thin white line on his neck, which she remembered so well.
“One day,” she said. “I will finish what I began all those years ago.”
Kiara feathered the tip of her finger along the scar across his throat Slowly. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and—
Leontes jerked and sucked in a breath. Kiara jumped away. As she watched, the vampire’s chest began to rise and fall with steady regularity, but he did not wake.