by Carly Fall
Leave it to him to fall in love with a fucking ghost. He shook his head and closed his eyes briefly. He had fallen in love with a woman he had never seen in person, a woman he had never held. How in God's name did he let this happen? More importantly, how in the fuck did it happen? He opened his eyes and was just about to turn to leave when a glitter of something caught his eye on the floor in the far corner. Carefully he walked toward it, his footsteps cautious. As he approached it, he felt the drums of hope begin to beat in his chest. It looked like some type of handle. When he stood over it, he crouched down on his haunches and studied it. It was most certainly a handle, and with its shiny metal appearance, it was obviously new to the building.
“Cohen,” he said quietly, but loud enough for his voice to carry to the other side of the room. “Go get the car. Pull up directly outside. Hudson, come here. I think I've got something.”
Hudson was by his side in seconds, also down on his haunches studying the handle.
“Booby trapped?” Hudson asked.
“I can't see anything,” Rayner said. He gazed all around the handle, looking for some type of tripwire that could simply notify the owner that the handle had been pulled, or as extreme as blowing them sky-high when they touched it. Colonists were usually very security conscious.
“I don't see anything either,” Hudson said after a moment. They gingerly brushed around the handle until they found the outline of the door. Rayner guessed that it was about five-feet-long by three-feet-wide. Both got to their feet.
“Look over there,” Rayner whispered, now seeing the trail of footsteps that hugged the wall and led directly to the shiny handle as his red eyes illuminated the dark space.
He met Hudson's glowing yellow eyes. He nodded, indicating that he now saw the trail as well. Hudson then looked back down at the shiny handle. “We don't know what we're going to find on the other side of that,” Hudson said in a quiet tone.
Rayner nodded. He felt his adrenaline surge as he removed his gun from his holster and disengaged the safety. “Might as well not waste time.”
He bent down and yanked the shiny metal handle, ripping the door it was attached to off its hinges. He threw it across the room and looked down at Hudson, who had already bolted down the stairs into the space, a gun in one hand and his knife in the other. He knew that for most of the Warriors, the gun represented a kill at a distance; the knife represented security if the fight went personal. For Hudson, his deadly aim with a knife, or a gun, represented a kill at a distance. Or if the male was feeling particularly irritable, he would get in close and both weapons could be used in a personal kill. Either way, Rayner was beyond happy to have Hudson on his side.
Rayner started down the stairs, his heart screaming in his chest, his hands steady and calm.
At the bottom of the stairs, they stayed close, back-to-back, each searching a side of the room for a weapon pointed at them ready to end their lives. They saw none. The ceiling was so low Rayner figured there was maybe six inches between the top of his head and the ceiling, if he was lucky. His eyes traveled to another door directly in front of them.
“Clear,” Rayner said quietly, putting his gun back in the chest holster, keeping the safety off.
“Same,” Hudson said. They then turned forward to see another door.
“What the hell is this place?” Hudson whispered, looking around the dark, bare room, his yellow eyes illuminating the space. The floor was cement, as were the walls, but it smelled musty and moldy.
Rayner shrugged. “Who knows. File storage. Maybe it was used for hiding booze during prohibition. It doesn't matter though. It’s here, and we have another door to go through.”
They approached the door, one on each side. On a silent three that was counted out on Hudson's fingers, Rayner pulled back the door and Hudson went through. Rayner was just steps behind him, and almost ran into the back of him.
Hudson had come to a complete halt. Rayner stepped up beside him and understood why. The scene in front of them was shocking.
The small room had been made into a makeshift jail cell. The floor was dirt, and the ceiling was even lower in here, as if the room hadn't been part of the original building, but added on at some point. There were steel jail bars encasing five bodies lying on the dirt floor. Jesus, he'd seen dead dogs treated with more respect.
The forty-watt bulb cast an eerie glow over the room. His and Hudson eyes glowed red and yellow, lighting up the area more than the pathetic bulb above.
Rayner was next to the bars in two steps. His eyes scanned all the women. Then he found Faith. Yes, they were all redheads, but there was only one river of fire on the floor.
"We need this open," he said. He could hear the panic in his voice as he grabbed the bars and tried to shake them loose.
“Back off, Rayner,” Hudson said quietly. Rayner watched as he approached the lock, a gun in one hand, the knife in the other.
“You can't fucking shoot the damn thing open,” Rayner said in a more controlled voice than he felt.
Hudson rolled his eyes. “No shit. I'm not taking the chance of a bullet hitting someone.” He stuck the gun in the back of his waistband and held up his knife. “But I can, however, pick the lock with this.”
Oh man, Hudson was a guy of many talents. If Rayner were the type, he'd kiss him right then and there.
A minute later, Rayner and Hudson were walking through the gate of the cage. Rayner's eyes locked on the flaming red hair and the face of Faith, and he stepped over two of the girls to get to her. He felt his breath catch. Her tanned skin was an ash color, her wavy, red hair fanned out over the brown dirt. In two steps, he was at her side. He gently placed his hand over her heart and brought his ear down to her lips. He thought he would weep with unsubstantiated joy when he felt a faint beat under his palm and heard her slight breath whisper in his ear.
He let his hand linger for a moment over her heart just so he could get a read on the beats. He cursed under his breath, realizing he didn't have much time.
He turned to Hudson who had a calm, cool look on his face as he examined the remaining women. “Four dead,” he said, his voice neutral and controlled. “What about your female?”
Rayner opened his mouth to speak and realized he couldn't get the words out. A mixture of panic, relief, and desperation were clogging his throat. “Where's Cohen?” he pushed out.
Hudson flipped open his cell phone, and Rayner watched as he hit one number and held the phone up to his ear. A calm mask was set on his features, showing no emotion. Rayner wondered how he did it. How he kept his shit together so well. How he never showed fear, how he kept his emotions in line. The only time Rayner had ever seen him show any type of emotion was when he was with his daughter, Abby, Noah’s mate. When they were together, Rayner saw nothing but love in the male’s face, and even then, the emotion didn’t seem to fully register. Other than that, the guy’s face was a statue.
“Where are you, Cohen?” A pause. “Hurry up. You're needed.” Hudson flipped the phone closed and moved around the room, taking pictures of the whole scene.
“We have some ash over here,” Hudson said, snapping a picture with his phone.
Rayner turned back to Faith, hearing the click of Hudson's phone as took pictures of the room and the cell. He hesitantly put his hand on her forehead and brushed her hair back. It was softer than he had imagined, even in that dream. It felt like strands of red silk. He let his hand travel to her cheek; it was soft as well, and he longed to see the brown eyes he had been looking at for the past few days.
His heart calmed, and he began to concentrate on Faith. He had something just below zero hope that he could bring her spirit back into her body. The factors weren't there. He knew he loved her, but how could she fall in love with him in such a short amount of time? It was natural for an SR44 male to fall in love with such force, with such speed. But from what he had read and noticed from human women, it simply didn't happen. But he held out a thread of hope that his Gomada had
been wrong, or maybe the chant would work differently with humans. He was going to try and figured it couldn't hurt anything, except his own soul if it didn't work. And really, if it didn't work and Faith died, God help him. And his soul.
He took a deep breath and put one hand over her heart, the other on her forehead. He rocked back and forth slightly on his knees to help put himself in a slight trance. When he reached the space of calm and concentration he needed to be in, he began the chant.
He had never translated it into the English language, but he knew the words he would ascribe to the chant: Second chances. Renewal of the spirit. Life is precious. It's not your time to leave now.
The ceremony of bringing a spirit back into a body on SR44 was more complicated than the rest of the ceremonial traditions. Usually the chant for other ceremonies lasted three rounds, signifying one for the each person involved. A mating ceremony involved the mating couple, and the god who overlooked them. A healing ceremony involved the healer, the one who needed healing, and then the god who oversaw the healing. Bringing a spirit back into a body involved the spirit, the person who loved them strongly enough to bring them back, the medium capable of making it happen, and the god who was in charge of it all. And he was playing the role of two of the four needed components.
Talk about multi-tasking.
As he slowly said the words of the chant, he vaguely heard Cohen come into the room, and then there was silence, except his words.
He poured his emotions into the ceremony, keeping Faith's face front and center in his mind. He thought about the conversations they had had, about how much he had enjoyed their short time together. He thought of her prideful smile when she told him she had painted the pictures in her small living room. He could hear her laugh in his ears as if it were real, see the sparkle in her eye as she teased him. He let his feelings of wanting to touch her and hold her bubble to the surface and pour into the air, hoping it would be enough to bring her spirit back, but knowing that it wouldn't be. She needed to love him, and chances of that were slim-to-none as far as he was concerned. He had to try though.
He did the chant four times as was the protocol, then stopped. He was afraid to open his eyes. He could still feel her heart beating. Maybe, just maybe, she would be strong enough so that he could meet one of her parents somewhere so they could be a catalyst of love. But would she survive the trip? He would hate to show up somewhere with Faith's dead body.
“You're real.”
It was barely a whisper, but Rayner heard it. His heart beat even faster, and he slowly opened his eyes. Faith was looking at him.
“Yes,” he whispered back.
“Your eyes...” her voice drifted off, and she closed her eyes for a moment as if she were recalling something, then opened them again.
She smiled slightly and reached for his hand. “My wise warrior saved me.”
He took it and held the delicate bones in his big paw. Energy ripped through him as their palms touched. After the initial jolt, he felt a peace overcome every fiber of his being. It slowed his heart and loosened his muscles. The peace that flowed through him was an energy all onto itself.
They stared at each other for a moment, then Faith shut her eyes. Rayner studied her face. In a nutshell, she took his breath away. She was prettier in the flesh than she had been as a ghost. He watched her chest rise and fall with each breath.
“We have to get out of here, Rayner,” Hudson said in a low voice.
Rayner nodded, let go of Faith's hand and began to stand up.
Faith's eyes flew open and she tried to sit up, panic raced across her face. “No!” she said, “please don't leave me!”
Rayner took her hand again and got back down on his knees. “Faith, relax. I'm not going anywhere without you. You're safe now.”
He met her eyes, and for a long moment he knew she was deciding whether he could be trusted. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and said, “I promise.”
She shut her eyes again, and Rayner gently put her hand down by her side.
“We need to call in...” Jesus he hated this, “the bodies to the police. But we need to get her out of here first. Cohen, do you have the Hummer parked close enough so we can get her in without drawing too much attention?”
Cohen nodded. “Maybe a step or two and we're in.” He reached into his pocket for his cell phone.
“Once we're on the road, I'll call Talin and tell him to check into any of the security camera feeds around here and erase anywhere we may have made an appearance. Then I'll have him call the police on a scrambled line to report...this.” A sad emotion swept across Cohen's face, but quickly disappeared. Rayner knew that death of the innocent to a healer was a blow to his own soul. Unless it was a Colonist, of course. Then Cohen would, in Talin's words, be bringing in hookers and blow, ready to party for more than a couple of sunrises.
“So let's get it done,” Rayner said. “Cohen, go start the car. Hudson, make sure there isn't anything jumping out at us from any shadows upstairs.”
Hudson nodded once as Cohen went up the stairs.
When Cohen disappeared, Hudson asked, “What are we doing with her, Rayner?”
Rayner wondered the same thing. If a Colonist did not get his prey, he would hunt it down until he did get it. Rayner wasn't sure what was going on down here in this dungeon, but he did know that Faith had been kidnapped and held by a Colonist, so he was going on the very high probability...well, revise that to the one hundred percent probability, that she was his prey. When the cocksucker came down here to his twisted jail of horrors, he was going to be pissed, and Rayner tried to put himself into the mind of the Colonist. First thing he would do was check the hospitals. If a hospital wasn't first on the Colonist’s list, it would certainly be in the top five.
So a human hospital was a definite negative.
Back at her apartment?
From what Faith had told him, chances were good that the Colonist knew where she lived. So that was also a no-go.
Parents?
The Warriors couldn't very well show up with their eyes shining like they had glow sticks shoved up their asses, telling her parents that even though she had been drugged and was unconscious, they couldn't take her to a hospital. So no there as well.
“Back to the silo,” Rayner said.
Hudson looked at him for a beat, his yellow eyes shining. “Okay,” he said quietly.
Rayner knew what Hudson was thinking, because Rayner had the same thoughts running through his head. A few short weeks ago Rayner had fought hard to get Abby, Noah's mate, out of the silo in Nevada because he was certain she was someone who could hurt them. Humans weren't supposed to know about him or his fellow Warriors, yet here he was taking one back to their home. Well, their temporary home for the time being in Phoenix. Rayner knew that Faith would be safe there, and that was all that mattered. Rules, regulations, protocol, policy...all of it could kiss his ass for the time being. What was important was Faith.
Rayner gently picked her up from the floor, carried her out of the cage, and through the room to the stairs. He began the ascent up the stairs behind Hudson, who was on high alert—a gun in one hand, his trusty blade in the other. When they made it to the top of the stairs, Hudson went out slowly, his yellow eyes taking in every corner.
"C'mon," he said quietly, motioning to Rayner, "we're clear."
They made their way across the empty room. Rayner felt the hit in the back of his shoulder before he heard the shot. He held Faith closer to his body, folding and scrunching her to his chest as if she were an accordion. He knew it would take a lot for a bullet to make it through both the muscle mass of his back and chest, and Faith would be safer huddled up against him than having any part of her exposed.
Hudson spun around looking for where the shot had originated, and Rayner kept his focus on getting to the door. He heard another shot and felt the bullet penetrate his other shoulder. He felt no pain, just held Faith closer and holding her so that his mass covered as much of h
er as possible. He kept the door in his sights, determined to get Faith out of there and to safety.
He heard Hudson fire his gun, heard return fire, and waited for another bullet to penetrate some part of his body. Hudson cursed violently, and Rayner guessed he had been hit.
"Move it, Rayner!" Hudson said from behind him. He broke out into a run. Almost at the door. Hudson fired again just as Rayner reached the door. Having heard the shots, Cohen came through with his gun drawn.
Another round was fired their way, and Cohen aimed at the muzzle flash. When Rayner reached him, Cohen stepped out of the doorway and opened the car door for Rayner, then stepped back inside to cover Hudson. Rayner climbed in and pulled Faith on his lap, holding her as he would a child. He looked around and noticed people starting to gather at the sound of gunfire. He kept his eyes down not wanting to draw attention to the fact they were spitting red fire. He heard a car screech to a stop next to him. He took a chance and gave a sideways glance out the window.
Oh, hell.
A news truck.
Shit had just gone critical.
Hudson was out the door, his gun in hand as the cameraman threw his camera over his shoulder. Hudson threw himself in the backseat and slammed the back door. Cohen was right behind him and flew into the driver’s seat.
"Fucking news, Cohen. Go!" Rayner said.
Cohen took off as they heard sirens in the distance. Hudson looked over his shoulder as Cohen blew through a red light and made a left-hand turn that would lead them to the freeway.
"Hope no one was taking down license plates, or we're more screwed than a hooker on a Saturday night," Hudson said.
Cohen took a right and slowed down. They didn't hear any sirens coming their way.
"Do you think we should do a switch on the license plates?" Cohen asked.
Rayner heard the conversation as if it were in another room. It was like he could hear the words, but not make any sense out of them. The only thought he could grasp was that he had Faith in his arms. Her flesh touched his flesh. Now that they were out of danger, he studied her face. Her cheekbones were high, her dark lashes long. He gently brushed his thumb over her plump lips and remembered the kiss from the dream he shouldn't be thinking about. Her coloring didn't look as bad as it had when he’d first found her. He wanted her to open her eyes so he could see the kind, warm, brown orbs for himself. He hadn't paid attention back in that...place. He heard her breathing, and tilted his head down and heard her heart beating. It might have been the prettiest sound to ever reach his ears. It was better than any music he had heard in his twelve hundred years of existence, and that included any symphony, or concert, and even Frank Sinatra, who he knew when Old Blue Eyes was young. He briefly thought of the parties he used to attend with Noah in Reno. Frank, Marilyn Monroe, Sammy Davis, Jr…those had been some great times, and with those three around, the music and singing had flowed almost as fast as the booze.