by Alyssa Day
Quinn fought for the calm she needed to come up with options. She’d been in worse situations, but her terror over what they might do to Justice and—especially—Jack was threatening to overwhelm her reason. She tried to slow her breathing, but the head vamp trained his red gaze on her.
“I don’t like the sound of this one’s mouth,” the leader said, coming closer. He raised one hand, and the last thing Quinn saw was his fist coming at her face.
Chapter 27
The cabin
Erin shot straight out of sleep, fighting her way through dreams slashed with fangs and claws and red, glowing eyes. She screamed and fought against the weight suffocating and trapping her.
“Hey, it’s me, mi amara. It’s Ven. Calm down.”
She forced her eyes open and stared into his face. His forehead was furrowed with concern. “Ven?” She glanced down and realized the weight pinning her down was simply his arm, which had been resting across her abdomen as they slept.
“Yes, you had a bad dream. It’s okay—” His soothing words abruptly cut off. “No, it’s not okay. That’s sunlight streaming in through the chinks in the west wall. Quinn and Jack should have woken us long before this.”
He vaulted out of the bed and reached for the weapons that he always kept near, and Erin sat up hastily and pulled on her boots.
“Maybe they slept somewhere else?” She realized as she said it that it didn’t make sense, a feeling he confirmed with a quick, decisive shake of his head.
“No way. They’re professionals and they would have known we’d expect them to check in as they said they’d do or we’d assume the worst.” He finished stowing his various daggers and his sword in their sheaths on his body and then pulled on his long leather coat to cover it all.
“So we expect the worst,” she said grimly. “But it doesn’t change anything. We still have to go after the Nereid’s Heart now, while the sun is up and the vamps will be at their weakest.”
He strode to a window and peered out through the cracks between the boards covering it, then repeated the action everywhere there was a chink or crack large enough to see through. “I don’t see anybody, but that doesn’t mean anything. Any shifter worth his fur will be hiding in the trees, not sitting out in the open.”
He stopped, back to the door, and looked at her for a long moment, then he growled out a vicious-sounding stream of words. She might not have known the language, but it was easy enough to guess the meaning.
“Ven, quit cussing like a wounded bear and tell me what is going on in that five-hundred-year-old head of yours,” she said, trying for a smile.
“I’m not five hundred yet and I’m not likely to get there at this rate,” he muttered. “Look, Erin, I’m not sure I can do this.”
“Do what?”
“Allow you to risk your life. Why don’t you tell me how I can find this ruby and you head your pretty little ass back to Seattle and your people?”
Her mouth had fallen open back at “allow you.” “I’m sorry?”
He blinked. “Why are you sorry? You have nothing to apologize for.”
“I know I have nothing to apologize for, you…you…overbearing Atlantean dunderhead! I’m sorry is another way to say excuse me. Or—better—what the hell do you think you’re talking about?”
“I get that you’re angry at me, but—”
She finished lacing her boots and stood up. “Two words. ‘Allow you.’ Figure it out.”
As she yanked her coat on, he crossed the room and caught her waist and lifted her up off the floor until she was equal in height to him. “My choice is this, gem singer,” he said, biting off the words. “I can lead you into what is almost certainly a suicide attempt to discover a priceless, magical ruby that, from all accounts, is hidden somewhere in the middle of Caligula’s home base.”
“Put. Me. Down. Now.”
“Fine.” He glared at her but put her back on her feet on the floor, then crowded her until her back hit the wall.
“Second choice,” he continued, eyes narrowed and a muscle clenching in his jaw. “I can get you out of here and safe and try to recover the ruby without you.”
“Which is crazy, Ven. Marie told me that a gem singer would need to find the Nereid’s Heart. Do you think it’s just lying around on the ground with signs saying ‘This way to the priceless ruby of Atlantis’?” She put her palms on his chest and shoved, but it was like shoving a wall.
“Right. So my other choice is to protect you and forget the ruby, and Riley and the baby will probably die.”
The bleak words hung in the air between them for several seconds. Then she put her hands on the sides of his face. “It’s a choice no man should have to make, Ven. Especially a warrior who lives to protect others. But you must listen to me. This isn’t your choice. It’s my decision to make, and I’ve already made it. I hope Jack and Quinn are somehow fine, but we can’t worry about them right now. We have to find the ruby, and if we can destroy Caligula as we do it, so much the better. If not, we can return later for him.”
She tilted her head up and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “It’s my choice, Ven. All I can ask you to do is respect it and help me.”
He wrapped one hand around the nape of her neck and bent his head to kiss her so fiercely that she was unable to do anything but hang on to his shoulders and kiss him back. When she was completely out of breath and trembling, he finally stopped and rested his forehead against hers, groaning a little.
“Brainless and forgettable,” he muttered. “What a fool.”
“Hey! Those words had better not be aimed at me,” she threatened him.
He stepped back and swept into a full bow. “Oh, no, my lady. Trust me, no one could ever mistake you for either brainless or forgettable. In fact, you are the most courageous, most beautiful, and most unforgettable woman I have ever known.”
She had to wait a moment for her heart to stop stuttering before she could respond. “Thank you. I…thank you. I feel the same way about you. Well, without the woman part.”
He grinned. “I like your woman parts.”
She studied him, suddenly realizing exactly what he was doing. “It’s not working, Ven. You can’t distract me from this. We have to go, and we have to go now.”
All humor vanished from his face, and the hardness in his eyes would have terrified her if she hadn’t known him. Hadn’t seen inside his soul. Hadn’t seen the darkness that he believed defined him—and the courage that truly did.
She watched as he finalized the few preparations they needed to make and carefully doused the remaining embers of the fire with water that he casually channeled from thin air. Anticipation and anxiety warred inside her until her stomach roiled with nausea.
“Tell me we’re going to succeed, Ven. Even if you don’t believe it, tell me that we’re going to succeed.”
He stopped what he was doing and met her gaze, his own fiercely determined and utterly sincere. “We will succeed, Erin. Count on it.”
He headed for the door, and she fell into place behind him, the knots in her stomach loosening somewhat. It didn’t make sense—it wasn’t logical in any way—but she was somehow reassured. “Well, since you have five hundred years’ worth of experience, I’m guessing I should take your word for it,” she said, trying for humor. “You know, I think I’ve said this before, but you realize you’re too old for me, right? We should probably talk about the whole May-December romance thing at some point.”
He smiled briefly, then his face returned to its grim lines. “Add it to the list.”
As they walked out of the cabin and into the cold and sunny morning, Ven with his weapons drawn and at the ready, Erin cast one last glance at the room. “Please, Goddess, may we have time to write that list,” she whispered, not knowing even as she spoke the words if she uttered a hopeless wish or a prayer.
Justice felt the first stirring of consciousness and realized he was being carried by his arms and legs, face down, over uneven ground on a de
scending path. His captors made no sound except for the harsh rasping of their breath and the ringing of boot heels on stone.
Resisting the urge to open his eyes, he gave no sign that he was waking up from whatever drug the darts had pumped into his system. The poison was strong, but his immune system was proof against all but the most virulent poisons and had undoubtedly been attacking the molecules of the foreign substance until his bloodstream was recovering from its effects. But the properties of Atlantean health and recuperative powers were not widely known, and he was counting on the attackers to believe he’d be unconscious for quite a while.
He slowly lifted one eyelid a hairsbreadth of space and saw nothing but darkness. He mentally counted off a full thirty seconds before opening his eye a little more, and still saw nothing but darkness. Vamps and shape-shifters had night vision that was superior to his, so they undoubtedly didn’t need light.
As they continued their descent, he considered his options. He wasn’t entirely sure the poison’s effects were diluted enough for him to be able to manage the transformation to mist, at least before they could stab him with another dart.
Awake and feigning unconsciousness, he held a temporary edge. He decided to stay as he was until he could determine what had happened to Quinn and Jack. Careful not to give any hint that he’d woken up, he began counting footsteps. It was always a good survival tactic to know the direction and duration of any exit routes.
Exactly three hundred and thirty-seven steps later, the quality of light on his closed eyelids changed. Instead of the constant black, a reddish glow came through. Again, Justice cautiously raised one eyelid just enough to see that they were not walking in total darkness any longer. From his facedown position, he could see a flickering reddish-yellow glow reflected off the small pools of water on the ground. Wherever they were headed, there was either fire or torches. Either way, he’d finally be able to see what he’d gotten himself into. He couldn’t look up high enough to see if any of the men following his captors held Quinn, but he did see the legs of several of them who were walking in a closely gathered group. When one of them stumbled, a long orange and black striped tail swung free and smacked the man right in the groin, prompting a howl of outrage.
Way to go, Jack.
“Keep it together, you lot,” snarled the man on Justice’s left, clearly a shape-shifter. “I don’t want to be anything but model wolves until we find out what exactly that bastard plans to do with those vials of Special K.”
The one who’d gotten his nuts smacked growled, but subsided, and then the shifter carrying Justice’s right arm and leg spoke up in a low tone. “I didn’t like the sound of that. The mouthy little human had a point. What are our supposed allies doing packing ketamine? That Calgoolie fellow has a rep for offing his help.”
“It’s Caligula, you illiterate asshole. Used to be a Roman emperor, right? Anyway, he says he had the Special K for the tiger, although why anybody’d want to play with a live tiger, ancient vamp or not, is beyond me. I’ve heard of this Jack, too. He’s one of the meanest shifters around. Vamps killed his whole pride.”
“That’s lions. Tigers call ’em something different, I think. Streaks?”
“I don’t give a square shit what they call them! Whatever the name, the result is the same. Killed his entire pack or streak or whatever, and he’s been dusting vamps ever since.”
“Can’t say as I blame him for that. If somebody came after our pack…” His voice trailed off into guttural growls, and the fierce need to get his hands on a sword gripped Justice so hard he had to fight a mental battle with himself to remain limp in their grasp.
“I hear you. But that ain’t our concern. We do this, we get paid, we move on. First we got to survive meeting the big man himself, and we’re almost there.”
They made a jerky, awkward turn to the right, bashing Justice’s already wounded head against the stone wall, and then stopped. The orangey light flared brighter in this space than it had in the tunnel. Justice snapped his eyes closed, in case the room boasted guards who were a little more alert than the two carrying him.
Justice fixed the information in his memory. At least three hundred sixty steps, then a right turn.
“Get out of the way, you two. We need to dump this damn tiger before our arms fall out of our sockets.” The group carrying Jack must have crowded past them, because the jungle-sharp smell of tiger strengthened and then waned as they passed.
He carefully opened his eyes again, in time to see the shape-shifters dump Jack on the ground, hard. The large tiger lay still, his chest barely rising and falling with shallow breaths. Justice still couldn’t see Quinn. When one of the ones who’d been carrying Jack turned to face his captors he hurriedly shut his eyes again.
“Why are you still carrying that piece of shit? Throw him over on top of the tiger. With any luck, the cat will wake up in a rage from the drugs and eat him.”
The “Calgoolie” idiot laughed. “Good idea. At least that would be a little entertainment for a change around here. I’m not much for icy, damp places.”
They took a couple of steps and tossed Justice. He maintained the appearance of limp unconsciousness, even when his face smashed into what had to be Jack’s unyielding rib cage and his knees smacked the stone floor hard enough that he could only hope nothing had shattered.
Though he was relieved to find that Jack’s chest was still rising and falling with the tiger’s breaths and a steady heartbeat thudded under his head, he made another, far more unpleasant, discovery.
Jack smelled like wet cat.
Before he could figure out a way to turn his head to the side, undetected, so that he could scan the area, he heard the tramping of more footsteps. These came from the opposite direction of the way he’d been carried.
“It’s about time you got here.” The voice hissed with menace, and Justice instantly recognized the leader from the very short-lived battle above.
“Yeah, well, you weren’t carrying several hundred pounds of smelly tiger. Damn thing was pure dead weight,” one of the shifters said. “I’d like five minutes alone with the idiot who decided we had to bring him, instead of just killing him on the spot.”
With his face still mashed into Jack’s side, Justice had to agree with the smelly tiger part. Also with the killing part, except the killing he had planned involved a certain group of shifters and vamps.
By his oath to Poseidon, there was going to be much, much killing. And he was going to enjoy every bloody moment of slicing heads from bodies, just as soon as he could figure out where he was and how to get Jack and Quinn to safety.
“Drakos took the woman to Caligula, so why don’t you come along with me and you can voice your complaints directly to the emperor?” The vamp’s voice was sly with amusement. “I’m sure he’ll be glad to find some way to…accommodate you.”
The shifters growled and stamped their feet a bit, then the one who’d been talking about “smelly tiger” finally spoke up. “Naw, just blowing off a little steam. We’ll stay here and guard these two. You go ahead and do your vamp stuff.”
The vamp laughed. “No, our ‘vamp stuff,’ as you so eloquently phrased it, is something that Caligula wants to share this time, so two of you stay here to stand guard until they start to stir. The rest come with me. The woman is important to the human rebellion in some way, and he wants to make an example of her. It should be quite a show.” He laughed again, and a chill whispering of torture and death skated down Justice’s spine.
Almost simultaneously, the tiger’s muscles clenched. The movement was so slight none of their captors would have noticed it, but it gave Justice very specific information and concerns:
First, Jack was waking up.
Second, depending on the reaction Jack had to the drugs in his system, Justice might be defending himself from a five-hundred-pound tiger any minute.
Without his sword.
The day kept getting better and better.
Chapter 28
/> Ven watched Erin as she walked—almost staggering—forward through the woods beyond the cabin, holding her hands out in front of her, palms facing down. “What is it?”
“There were vampires here very recently. At least one of them called death magic,” she said. “We need to—”
“What is it?” He raised his sword and pushed past her, scanning the area for danger.
“A battle,” she said, her eyes going dark. “I don’t know how, but I’m sensing the emanations of what happened here, not long ago. The Wilding is coursing through me, calling to me, but not…I don’t know how to describe it.”
She pointed to a cluster of trees. “Through there. Death, but not death. Perverse joy…evil. Evil.”
Ven ran forward, sword held high, searching ground, trees, sky for possible attack. He slammed to a stop at the sight of an eight-or ten-foot-square spot of trampled snow. Vivid red spatters of blood showed up starkly against the bleak white. “Something happened here, all right. Looks like we found out what happened to Jack and Quinn.”
Erin’s face paled to the color of the snow surrounding her. “But maybe they’re still alive. If they’d killed them, wouldn’t the bodies be here?”
“Maybe. Unless they didn’t want to leave any evidence. Another snowfall would cover up the signs of the fight,” Ven said. “Wait! What…”
The breeze had ruffled the low branches of the lacy pines, and sunlight had flickered off a flash of blue. He swiftly crossed the trampled snow to a spot on its edge, under an overhanging branch, and knelt down. The sight of the familiar blue strands, ripped from their source, tore the breath from Ven’s lungs.
It was Justice’s hair.
Erin ran up beside him and dropped to her knees in the snow next to him. “What is it? What—oh, no. Is that your friend’s hair? Is that blood?”
She put her hand on his arm. “What is happening? Why was he here? If they captured him, too, what can we do—”