by Kelly Meding
A chill worms down my spine. Shivers ripple across my stomach, harden my nipples. She can’t say it. If she says she has Wyatt, too—
“Don’t worry, child; he’ll find you. Just as he’s meant to, but it will be too late to save you. Too late for the poor, lovesick fool.”
She’s going to kill me and leave me for Wyatt to find. God, this will destroy him.
Kelsa enters the room, but her shadow remains in the hallway, just out of my sight. She crosses to the foot of the mattress and squats. Unlocks the shackles around my ankles. My legs are too weak to use against her. I want to kick, but find no strength in the torn and broken flesh. She drags a nail along the sliced sole of my foot, and I shriek.
“You’ve been such a good sport, I hate for our time together to end,” she says. “The next step needs tending right now, but don’t fret. I’m leaving you with a friend.”
Leaving me? But why? I haven’t changed hands since falling into Kelsa’s. Is this lurking shadow the buyer who has yet to claim his prize?
She waves her hand. The backlit figure shambles forward. Bile scorches my throat, threatens to spill down my lips. A goblin male leers above me, his oily skin shimmering in the hall light. He is naked, the hooked tip of his penis dangling low between his crooked legs. His eyes dance with lusty fire, and I understand. There is no buyer. He’s here to kill me.
Only once in my career did I serve a warrant on a goblin for the rape of a human female. I’ll never forget the blood, or the frozen horror on her terrified face. For two weeks after, she haunted my dreams, the misery of her fate burned into my memory. The creature that killed her became one of Kelsa’s groin-to-sternum victims. I took great joy in killing it.
I close my eyes. Kelsa’s familiar footsteps whisper across the floor.
“Good-bye, Evy Stone,” she says.
The door closes with a thump. A lock snicks into place. The mattress shifts as weight is added to it.
I think of Wyatt and cling to his memory as my world descends into agony like I’ve never known before.
Chapter Seventeen
47:18
My fists closed over warm flesh, twisting and squeezing and trying to push it away. Blood filled my mouth, metallic and hot. I screamed, but no sound came out. My throat was hoarse, raw. I pushed, but he wouldn’t let go.
“Evy, stop! It’s Alex.”
The familiar voice finally invaded my foggy mind and pushed away the last remnants of memory. The small room in the basement of the train station faded, replaced by the luxury of the Sanctuary. Incense replaced urine; warmth replaced cold. The agony fled as well, leaving me empty. Shivering.
“Evy, it’s okay, I’ve got you.”
I fell against Alex’s chest, letting strong arms fold me into his embrace. I pressed my face into his neck and sobbed. I cried for the woman who had died in that room, tortured and left for dead. Only one, final piece of the puzzle was missing—my rescue and moment of death.
It would come, just as the other memories had. It was only a matter of time, and I didn’t want to remember any more today.
Alex stroked my hair and whispered. I couldn’t hear him, but it didn’t matter. The words were not important. I just needed his strength until I found my own again and the memories drifted back into the past. As I brought my emotions back under control, the torrent of tears subsided. My head ached. My nose was stuffy. My entire face felt swollen, but I could think straight.
“I am sorry,” Isleen said. “I did not realize how overwhelming your memories would be.”
“It’s okay,” I rasped. “I needed to do that. I had to remember it.”
“You said things while you were in the trance, Evangeline. You mentioned the name Istral. What does that mean to you?”
I studied Isleen’s face. The intensity in her stare surprised me. I realized why she had seemed so familiar at our first meeting. It wasn’t because we’d met before, but because I’d seen someone who looked just like her. “Istral was your sister, wasn’t she?”
Isleen nodded. “She has been missing this past week. I have feared for her.”
“I’m sorry, Isleen, the goblins killed her. I was there; I saw it.”
She bowed her head, and I found myself torn between wanting to comfort her and not caring for her pain. She was a vampire, for crying out loud. Maybe my ally today, but she could easily be my enemy tomorrow.
“The goblins were holding me on purpose,” I said, putting the clues in a row, trying to make sense of it all. “The female told me as much. They wanted Wyatt to find me, to know what had been done to me, but why? Why incite his hatred?”
“To divert his attention, maybe?” Alex offered.
“Maybe, but they should have picked a better target. I wasn’t exactly the poster child for the Triads, at that …” A scenario presented itself, one I had briefly considered that morning with Rufus. One that pointed to so many truths I didn’t know how to face.
“What is it, Evy?”
“What if it was all a diversion?” I said. “I know someone set me up for Ash and Jesse’s deaths. I was framed for their murders, which put me on the Triads’ Most Wanted list, right? So they’re spending time looking for me, instead of watching the Dregs. Other stuff, like a potential alliance, gets missed. Wyatt finds out about the alliance from Isleen, which makes him a threat. I’m already on the shit list, so kidnapping me keeps Wyatt off the alliance scent and looking elsewhere. They probably hoped that finding me torn to pieces would make him crazy enough to give up the rumors.”
“It makes sense, save one part,” Isleen said.
“Which part?”
“The part about making him crazy. Goblins do not understand mental illness or grief, but they do understand the concept of revenge. Hence your treatment under their care. They wanted Truman to find you, but not to grieve for you or to lose himself in that grief.”
“Then, what?” Her explanation made sense, but she hadn’t given me an alternative. “They wanted him to seek revenge for me?”
“Perhaps. But this is merely speculation on my part, as it is speculation on yours.”
Damn her and her good points. “So let’s end the speculation. We need to track down this Kelsa and extract the truth from her. Preferably with a straight razor.”
“We’re going to see goblins now?” Alex asked. His look was black.
“The offer to stay behind is still good,” I replied. “The things she did to me, Alex … If we get caught—”
“I’m staying with you, Evy. I said I would.”
I smiled, energized by his steadfastness. “Thank you.”
“We require another mode of transportation,” Isleen said. “My car is damaged and quite noticeable.”
“I guess you don’t keep spares in any of the empty storefronts?”
“This is a place of Sanctuary, not a used-car lot.”
Sarcasm from a Blood. Who knew? I stood up and nearly fell over when the room tilted. Alex looped an arm around my waist to steady me. I waited for the world to stop spinning before I gently pushed him away. I rubbed my hands over my face and through my hair. I still felt the cuts and burns, even though my skin was unmarred. It was like post-traumatic stress in fast-forward.
“We’ll just have to play this by ear, then,” I said. “Let’s go.”
* * *
“There is a serious flaw in your plan, Evangeline,” Isleen said as we left the mall the same way we’d entered. “We do not know how or where to find Kelsa.”
I rolled my eyes and ignored the statement of the obvious. This time though, I studied what I’d previously assumed to be a wall. It was a cleverly disguised entrance that made me think of the old Road Runner cartoons where a fake train tunnel was painted on a rock and the Coyote smashed right into it. Vampires were clever; I had to give them that.
The sun was dipping low on the horizon. The passage of time alarmed me. “Kelsa may have to wait,” I said. “I gotta get to that phone booth before dusk.”
“You stil
l trust this Rufus guy?” Alex asked.
“I don’t know. I really don’t. But I have to do something proactive to find Wyatt. I just need to know that he’s still alive.”
I started down the sidewalk, unsure of my exact direction, but determined to find a car I could steal. Tufts of grass grew in the cracked parking lot, some of them sporting early dandelions. I plucked one as I passed and started tearing the tender yellow petals off one at a time. Something to keep my hands busy.
Half a dozen yards from the exit, I heard a distant hum. The air stirred. I stopped. Alex crashed into me, and I stumbled a step.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I hear it, as well,” Isleen said before I could answer him.
I looked up at the darkening sky. Thick clouds covered much of the blue. A bird flew too high to be disturbed by what had caught my attention. My stomach knotted.
“Get back inside,” I said.
Alex blanched. “What—?”
“Just go!” I gave him a shove. He started running, and I followed, Isleen somewhere behind me.
The helicopter rose up over the west side of the mall, ten times louder the moment it was in sight. The pavement exploded by my feet. Alex shouted. The trail of automatic gunfire followed us like a shadow, marking our trail until we burst into the safety of the mall’s interior.
We came to an ungraceful stop near the fountain, panting and red-faced. Even Isleen seemed ruffled, disturbed by the change in events. Through the entrance, we watched the helicopter land in the middle of the U-shaped parking lot.
“Who the hell are they?” Alex asked.
“No idea,” I said.
Isleen raced back to the car, as light as a shadow. She ducked into the car’s interior and withdrew almost immediately, gun in hand. She rejoined us at the fountain. Past the bulk of the ruined car, two familiar faces leapt from the helicopter.
Tully and Wormer, decked out in flak jackets and carrying enough ammo for six men, once again opened fire on the mall’s fake wall. Bullets pinged off the car bumper. Surprise colored their faces even from a distance.
“Christ,” I muttered.
“Aren’t those the guys from my apartment?” Alex asked. He’d gone pale, mouth tight. “They look pissed.”
“Wouldn’t you be?”
“You know them?” Isleen asked. She aimed at her targets, but didn’t fire.
“Triads,” I said. “Wyatt kidnapped and tortured their Handler for information. How the hell did they track us?”
“It may be chance. We created a sensation down the street. Perhaps they were patrolling at precisely the right time.”
“Or the wrong time.”
“Indeed.”
A few more random shots preceded their flight toward the mall. And us.
“Shall I kill them?” Isleen asked, keeping someone in her sights. “Or merely slow them down?”
“What rounds?”
“Regular bullets.”
“Slow them down.”
She tilted the gun barrel down a few degrees. She squeezed the trigger. Tully dropped, blood spurting from his left thigh. Wormer faltered, concern for his comrade overwhelming his instincts. Isleen shot the back of his right thigh, and down he went with a cry. Both were a foot shy of the hidden entrance.
“What about the guy in the helicopter?” Alex asked.
Our collective heads turned. Air hissed and squealed, even above the din of the rotating chopper blades. Smoke, a flash of metal, and then the helicopter exploded in a cacophony of flame and heat and thunderous noise.
The concussion flattened Tully and Wormer to the pavement. Their cries were lost to the roaring fire. Heat rippled the air inside the mall, scorching and thick. Debris pinged against the building and car like hailstones. Flaming bits rained down on the injured men outside. The back of Tully’s shirt caught fire and spread fast, like a match to flash paper. He began to scream.
I was on my feet and running to the tune of Alex’s surprised shouts. Wormer was out cold, unable to help his companion. They may have been my enemies that day, but I couldn’t watch a former colleague burn to death. I tackled Tully and slapped at the oil-fueled flames eating his shirt and scorching his skin. My hands blistered and wept, but I didn’t stop until the fire was out. Tully was whimpering, facedown, un-moving.
I felt for Wormer’s pulse and found it strong. Good. I pulled my hand back. A red-feathered dart pierced Wormer’s shoulder where my arm was less than a second before. I toppled sideways. A second struck the pavement by my foot. Shit. I crabbed backward, driven by pain and surprise, followed by more darts, until the shadows of the mall enveloped me.
Alex was there, trying to look at my hands. The top of Wormer’s head exploded from a gunshot I didn’t hear, see, or expect. Tully tried to sit up and flee. He collapsed a moment later, half his face gone. I gasped, choking on bile.
“Who did that, Evy?” Alex asked. He looped one arm around my waist and hauled me to my feet. I let him drag me back to the cover of the fountain, still stunned by the rapid-fire change of events. In less than five minutes, things had gone from bad to completely fucked.
Another dart sailed over my shoulder and pinged off the front of the fountain. I dove for cover. Rough tile scraped my elbows. Alex landed next to me, on his stomach. He turned his head, looked right at me, and said, “Damn.”
“What?”
His head dropped to the floor and lolled. My heart nearly stopped. One of the darts was lodged in his hip. I pulled it out and threw it. The dart shattered against the far wall. The sound brought no satisfaction. Whoever was out there wanted us alive, and they were willing to murder Triads to get us.
“Evangeline,” Isleen said. “You must run.”
I glared. Her lavender eyes gave nothing away. Footsteps echoed around us. Small, many, and closing in fast.
“You must. They want you, child.”
“Alex—”
“You have no friends, only duty.”
A familiar line, one that Wyatt had tried on me once upon a time, back when I was new to the Triads and just learning the ropes. It didn’t work back then, and it wasn’t working in the mall. I did have friends. Friends I could no longer protect.
Isleen handed me the gun. I took a breath, turned, and bolted back down the mall corridor, toward the Sanctuary, firing over my shoulder as I went, hoping to get a target. No time to look, no time to see who was hunting me.
The only thought in my head was escape. Live to fight another day. I was completely alone. The Sancutary seemed to call to me, beckon me toward its powerful center. Everything blurred and, for an instant, I was sure my feet left the ground. I saw the interior of the Sanctuary, smelled the incense. Felt the warmth. Two places at once.
One … two … three stings in my lower back. Cold permeated my legs, my arms, my chest. I fell toward blackness, even as the floor rushed up to meet me.
Chapter Eighteen
43:10
Consciousness returned like an anvil. A headache and queasy stomach dropped out of nowhere and knocked me back to the real world. The dim room and stark ceiling sent a bolt of panic through my abdomen. Adrenaline set my heart pounding. I jerked my hands. Instead of finding them bound above my head, they moved easily at my sides. My back was on something hard and cool.
It still smelled of waste and sweat, but I wasn’t in that damnable closet again.
“Evy?”
The familiar voice startled me. I rolled onto my side and drew my knees up, prepared to spring. The sudden movement sent my stomach churning. My vision darkened. I swallowed against the overwhelming need to vomit.
I was in a jail cell of some sort, five-by-eight maximum, with no cot and a bucket in place of a toilet. Iron bars made up three of the walls, with cement blocks the fourth. A bare orange bulb glowed from an open fixture just outside of the cell. Others dotted the corridor every ten feet or so. I could see straight through to the other cells. The two on my left were empty. The one immediately to
my right was not.
Wyatt knelt on his side of the bars, hands clenched around the slim poles. I blinked, certain the apparition would disappear. It didn’t. A purple bruise colored his left cheekbone. His nose was red and slightly swollen, and his knuckles were flecked with dried blood.
“You’re alive,” I said.
“So are you.”
He smiled, and I nearly broke my nose trying to hug him through the bars. My arms were slim enough to make it through, but he could only squeeze my shoulders and touch my face. I pressed my lips to his forehead, inhaling his familiar scent.
“I didn’t think I’d find you again,” I said.
“It’s not quite the rescue I was hoping for, but I’ll take it.”
Rescue. Shit. “I screwed up, Wyatt. I let myself get caught.”
“Doesn’t matter, Evy, we’ll figure this out. We always do.”
I looked past him, at the cell on his other side. It was empty. “Did they bring Alex and Isleen here, too?”
“You met Isleen?”
“We ran into each other at the train station earlier today.” Or yesterday, depending on how long I’d been unconscious. “She’s been helping us. She was there when we were captured.”
“I haven’t seen her.” His frown hardened. “Another guy was here for a while. They took him about an hour ago, while he was still unconscious.”
Fear twisted my stomach. I grabbed my throat and found bare skin. I gazed at the floor of my cell, even down the front of my T-shirt. The cross necklace was gone. God damn me for losing it. “They? Who’s doing this, Wyatt? It can’t be the Triads.”
“It’s not them, Evy. After they picked me up at the burger place, they took me to one of our holding stations near the Anjean. It was mostly Kismet and Willemy, and I spent an hour or so not answering their questions. Rufus showed up and said he wanted to talk to me. The door opened again, and suddenly he was shot….”
He looked down. I squeezed his hands, urging him to finish.
“I remember a flash grenade and a lot of shouting, and then I woke up here. Broad daylight and they’re running around like it’s nothing.”