Ashton started to dress, his eye on the spot where Sera had stood only moments before. His brain was starting to slowly catch up with what she’d told him, and as he processed it, he had no idea whether or not to believe her. But where his brain was willing to lie to him, his eye wasn’t. Sera had really been here; she’d been as flesh and blood as he was. She was a real person, not some figment of his dream-imagination. And what she’d told him…
Ashton didn’t know if he could believe it. Despite his doubts, though, he set two alarms on his watch: one for 7:15pm and the other for 7:27pm.
Ahm was still waiting in the bedroom beyond. He quickly finished dressing in the black slacks and white button-up that she’d provided him and joined her—reluctantly, but he didn’t see where he really had a choice in the matter. She gave him a bright smile that set his teeth on edge and looped her arm through his like they were the best of friends.
“Where are we going?” Ashton asked, hazarding a question. At her look of what was obviously feigned confusion, he clarified. “I heard someone say something about wheels up in an hour. Last I checked, that’s slang for a plane taking off.”
Ahm chuckled at that. “If you think I’m telling you where we’re going so you can find a way to get a message to your friends, you’re kidding yourself. You’re mine now, and I’m not letting you get away that easily.”
Brandon stood at the head of the stairs, watching them approach. The look on his face could only be described as “thunderhead.” Clearly, he wasn’t happy with Ashton’s presence. That made two of them. “Turner said the pre-flight check is done and he’s ready to go whenever we are. He just needs to file finalized flight plans to D.C.”
D.C.? Turner? All of a sudden, everything started to slot into place. Turner was probably Jake Turner—he was the only Turner Ashton could think of that was involved with planes—and Jake was one of the pilots employed by the Agency to chauffeur high-level administration around the world on the Agency’s swanky private jet. Brandon was clearly taking advantage of all the perks that came with his new position. But why the hell would they be going back to D.C. now?
“Do you have her in hand?” Ahm asked.
Her?
“Almost,” Brandon said. “I’ve got guys on her now, keeping an eye on her and waiting for the right moment.” He held up his cell phone. “They’re supposed to call as soon as they’ve got her.” He cut a glance at Ashton and added, “Should we be discussing this in front of him?”
“Are you presuming to tell me what to do?” Ahm asked, one of her perfectly arched eyebrows slowly rising.
“Not at all,” Brandon replied. He glanced at Ashton again, then said, “Chambers has the car ready. It’s waiting for you outside.”
When Ahm and Ashton started down the stairs, Brandon shouldered into him, nearly sending Ashton falling down the stairs, which earned him a dirty look from Ahm. Brandon didn’t seem to notice; he simply gave them both a simple nod of acknowledgment before going into the bedroom Ashton had just vacated, presumably to clean up any sign of Ashton’s presence from the room.
Riley sat in the backseat of Ashton and Zachariah’s SUV, clutching the thick, leather-bound book she’d snatched from Marie’s office to her chest, feeling its time-worn edges digging into her stomach. Scott sat in the passenger seat, massaging his neck and shoulders as he stared out the window, his head practically on a constant swivel as he scanned their surroundings. Zachariah drove with a determination that suggested if someone cut in front of them, he wouldn’t hesitate to get up under them and put them into the nearest wall.
She felt like she was preparing for a war, though all their preparations had been made shortly after moving their car to a safer location than the front of a store with three bodies in it. Zachariah had put so many weapons on his person that she was sure he counted as a one-man army. He’d probably need every one of those weapons, too, considering everything they were about to face: Brandon Hall, the thorn in everyone’s sides; Ahm, the apparently unbeatable bitch; and that big bald guy, who appeared to be a werewolf. It seemed like a terribly one-sided fight, but they did have something that the other side didn’t—pure, righteous anger.
“What exactly are we going to do?” she spoke up, breaking the silence that hung heavily over the car’s interior.
“What do you mean?” Scott asked.
At the same time, Zachariah snarled out, “We’re going to kill them.”
“Yeah, I gather that part,” she grumbled. “I mean in the immediate. What happens if he’s not at the only place we know to check? What do we do then?”
“That’s not going to happen,” Zachariah said with obviously false confidence.
“It could,” she said. “Hell, there’s a good chance it probably will. And if they’re gone, we won’t know the first place to look for him.”
“Do you want me to shoot you?” Zachariah asked. “Because if you keep talking like that, I will pull this car over and shoot you.”
“Ah, the power of positive thinking,” Scott murmured.
Riley could feel the evil look Zachariah gave him all the way in the backseat of the car.
“As for Riley’s concern,” Zachariah continued, “it’s a bridge we’ll have to cross when we get to it. Hopefully, it won’t be an issue. Because if it is, if he isn’t there, I don’t know what I’ll do.”
“There might not be much of anything we can do,” she said. “I don’t have any more cards to play. Everybody here that I know that would help us is dead.”
“Or too far away,” Scott added.
“We don’t need anybody to help us,” Zachariah said. “I mean, hell, look at what we do have on our side.” He waved his hand in a circle to indicate the three of them.
“A werewolf, a former vampire, and whatever Riley is,” Scott said. “We’re a regular team of superheroes.”
“Super-something,” Riley muttered, but the other two didn’t seem to hear her.
“There’s always Angelique, though,” Zachariah continued, his tone speculative. “Maybe we can call her and get her on standby to come out here if necessary.”
“Do you trust her?” Riley asked.
“With Ash’s life,” Zachariah said. “She doesn’t really belong to the Agency or to The Unnaturals, not exactly.” He paused to make a left turn. “I recruited and trained her personally. She didn’t pass through any of the Agency’s training programs. Angelique is totally loyal to me and to Ashton, no one else.”
“I hope you’re right,” Riley said. She twisted in her seat to peer into the cargo area, searching for a safe place to stash Marie’s book. A quick perusal had revealed that it was loaded with potentially useful information on supernatural creatures, and she didn’t want to risk losing it in case she and Scott were separated from the others again and needed the information the book contained.
“I know I’m right,” he replied. “You don’t know her like I do. She’ll back us up. I’m positive of it.” Then he changed the subject. “The house is up ahead. We’re almost there.”
“Game faces on, everybody,” Scott added.
Riley jammed the book in a space between two boxes then slid forward to stick her head into the front seat. “Babe, I always have my game face on,” she said, even as she looked him over. He looked fine, every bit of the violent treatment he’d endured both in the fight and during his captivity erased. Even his broken arm was healed. Well, at least being a werewolf has a few perks, she thought. He was flexing his right hand as if it pained him, and when she looked closer, she realized that his fingers were about two inches too long and tipped with long, wicked-looking black claws. As she watched, he closed his eyes like he was concentrating very intently on something, then with a soft crack of bone, the fingers of his left hand shifted to match the ones on his right.
“Practicing?” she asked when he opened his eyes.
He gave her a slightly pained look. “I figure if I’m stuck like this, the least I can do is start exploring what I
’m capable of.” He held his hands up so she could see them. “Can’t take these weapons from me short of cutting my hands off, you know? Technically, I’m always armed now.”
“Handy,” she quipped, and he cracked a grin at her terrible pun.
“We’re here,” Zachariah spoke up, bringing the car to a stop. And as soon as the words had left his mouth, he started cursing a blue streak.
“Geez, you kiss Ashton with that mouth?” Riley asked. She refrained from questioning him over the cause of his anger, though; she could see that for herself. The house that Scott had been held in was dark and obviously empty, the driveway devoid of cars. As she’d suspected would happen, their enemies were gone, and they’d taken Ashton with them.
“You sure this is the right house?” Scott asked.
“Positive,” Zachariah answered through gritted teeth. “They’re gone. They’re fucking gone.” He punched the steering wheel so hard that Riley worried he’d break something.
“Don’t panic,” she told him.
“I’m not panicking,” he bit back.
“You sure? Because it looks like it from here.” He twisted around to glare at her, and she glared right back at him. “We need to go inside and check things out,” she said in a steady, measured voice that she hoped would cut through his fury. “Maybe they left some evidence behind that will give us a clue where they could have taken him.”
He scowled one more time then flung his door open and climbed out, slamming it shut behind him.
“Well, if someone’s inside, they know we’re here now,” Scott said. “You ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
Katie Hunter sighed and blew a strand of her long blond hair out of her face as, once again, she fumbled with the stack of cash in her hands and dropped a few bills on the floor. It was closing time at the fast food restaurant she worked at, and she’d been attempting to count out her till for the past ten minutes, but it seemed like every time she tried to count the cash, she inevitably dropped some. She was all thumbs tonight, and it was driving her crazy.
Something felt off about tonight, and she wasn’t totally sure what it was. Maybe it was because for the third week in a row, her uncle Scott hadn’t dropped in like he usually did on Saturday evenings, just in time for her dinner breaks. He’d buy food for both of them, and they’d sit in his car and talk about school and family and whatever else came to mind. His failure to show had her worried, though not too worried; he’d texted her a few days ago, apologizing for not seeing her but explaining that he was out of town for a job and wouldn’t get back in time for their weekly tradition. He hadn’t addressed the fact he’d missed the other ones, too.
It must suck to work as an insurance adjuster, she thought as she counted out the money again. She didn’t drop it this time, and she wrote the amount on the slip of paper by her till. Uncle Scott had been one for as long as she could remember, always traveling all over the place and not home much. It was probably because of the horrible thing that had happened to Aunt Amy last year that Uncle Scott had gotten so interested in keeping up with her life and the happenings in their family, even though he never actually came to the house for any family barbecues or reunions or birthday parties.
He’d been with a woman last time she’d seen him. A pretty one, too, judging by the few glances Katie had chanced her way while bagging up Uncle Scott’s order. She wondered if he was dating again. That’d be a pretty nice change of pace for him, even if it wasn’t anything serious. Though the thought of Uncle Scott dating casually was something that almost made her laugh out loud. He’d never struck her as the date-them-and-leave-them type.
Katie finished counting out the rest of the money, totaled up the numbers on the slip, and packed it all into a dark blue cash bag. Within a minute, she’d slipped the bag into the slot on the safe in the manager’s office, retrieved her purse from her small employee locker in the break room, and called out to her boss. “Mark, I’m gone! I’ll see you tomorrow!”
She didn’t get a response. She usually didn’t. Hell, she’d be surprised if Mark had even heard her: he usually spent his evenings holed up in the back room, headphones in his ears, listening to some Top 40 garbage. She shoved her hand into her purse and dug out her car keys and cell phone as she unlocked the front door and walked into the night air. Her car was parked in the little employee section on the side of the building, so she started in that direction, glancing around the lot as she walked. There wasn’t a soul in sight.
She’d just pressed the unlock button on her car’s key fob when something cold and metallic pressed against the back of her neck. “Don’t move,” a man said, prodding her neck with what was obviously a gun. She froze, obediently, her heart jamming itself into her throat. This was a long time coming, she thought, ridiculously, as she clutched her keys tighter. She’d always figured it was only a matter of time until somebody mugged her in the parking lot after work; she was just surprised it had taken this long.
“H-here,” she stammered, hating the way her voice shook, but she could barely get the word past the lump in her throat. She thrust her purse out, offering it up in the hopes of getting him to leave her alone. “I don’t have much, but—”
He didn’t take the purse. “Shut up,” he ordered. She obediently pressed her lips tightly together. “Are you Katie Hunter?” he demanded.
How in the world does he know my name?
She wanted to ask him that question, but she was too scared to say anything. So she just nodded, hesitantly.
There was a chirrup of a radio beeping, and the man said into it, “I found her. Ready for extraction.”
A muffled voice responded, “Ten-four. ETA ten seconds.”
A hand closed around one of her wrists, and her keys and purse tumbled to the ground. A flash of terror rocked through her as she thought of all the stories she heard on the news, the ones of young women who were kidnapped from parking lots and found dead in ditches or fields or woods days or even weeks later. Instinctively, she struggled as the man wrenched first her right arm and then her left behind her back and slapped handcuffs around her wrists.
“Oh no,” she said. “Oh no, no, no. Please let me go. Please, please.”
“You scream and I’ll knock the shit out of you,” the man said harshly. A black sedan pulled up alongside them, and with a thump, the trunk popped open. Katie’s heart lurched. He was going to stick her in the trunk—in the fucking trunk—and he was going to close her up inside it and she’d probably never see the light of day again. She went limp, trying to make this guy’s efforts as difficult as possible. Not that it helped much; she only weighed one hundred and twenty pounds, and he lifted her as effortlessly as she lifted five-pound sacks of sugar and stuffed her in the trunk.
“You can thank your uncle for this,” the man said, inexplicably, and then the trunk’s lid closed, enveloping her in darkness.
Seventeen
The house was empty.
Scott wasn’t totally surprised by this discovery; he’d expected it, had been prepared for it. If he’d kidnapped a high-value target, he would have gotten out of dodge as fast as humanly possible. Hell, their attackers probably didn’t even come back by here. Ashton had probably not set foot in this house since he’d come in to help rescue Scott.
That reality was not enough to stop Zachariah from going inside.
Scott followed Zachariah and Riley as they led the way into the house, pistols out, sweeping it for threats as they moved through the rooms. The caution was unnecessary; Scott had known from the second he stepped into the house that they were the only living beings in the building. So while the other two worried about looking for people, Scott kept an eye out for evidence that might hint at where Ahm and Brandon had taken Ashton.
The house had been pretty well stripped of anything—including trash—that could have pointed them in any particular direction to look for Ashton. The three of them congregated in the upstairs hallway after a cursory search of downstair
s; the expression on Riley’s face was worried, and Zachariah’s was hard, like he was itching to tear Brandon’s head off at the first available opportunity. Scott couldn’t say he wouldn’t be willing to help.
“There’s nobody here,” Zachariah reported, his tone heavy with disgust.
“There’s nothing here,” Scott corrected. “It looks like they’ve scrubbed the place down. I couldn’t find a single clue that could tell us where—”
A noise reached his ears, and he broke off mid-sentence, tilting his head reflexively as he tried to locate the source of the sound. Riley started to say something, and he held up his hand to signal for quiet.
It was a ringtone. And it was coming from behind the door at the end of the hall.
“Out of the way,” Scott ordered, jostling the other two aside and starting for the door in question. He could hear the other two following him, cautiously; his claws, too, had lengthened and sharpened, and he’d barely noticed the pain that had accompanied them. The door was closed, and on the wall next to it, at roughly waist height, was an “X” written discreetly in chalk. He reached out to touch it then pulled his hand back, not wanting to smudge it. “Look at this,” he whispered to Zachariah, motioning to the mark on the wall. It was like someone had tried to send them a message, tried to indicate which room they were supposed to be looking into as discreetly as possible. He tried the knob; it was locked. Motioning for Riley and Zachariah to move back, Scott kicked the door open with a hard strike of his foot next to the doorknob. The door popped open with a crack, a chunk of the doorframe thudding to the floor, and Scott stormed into the room, almost heedless of his own safety.
The room was empty, which he expected—he’d already surmised as much with his surprisingly sharp sense of smell, another side effect of being a werewolf that he hadn’t anticipated and wasn’t sure he liked—but he was still a little disappointed by the lack of something to hit. He stopped short, looking around for the source of the sound, which had ceased. The room was dark, almost pitch black, old blankets tacked up over the windows to block the view into the room. Despite this, he could still see rather well, making out the rectangular shape of several mattresses stacked in the middle of the room’s floor, a dilapidated dresser shoved against a wall, and not much else. He scanned the room, and as he did so, the ringtone started up again, this time accompanied by the distinct buzzing of a phone vibrating against a hard surface.
Wicked Creatures Page 27