by Nova Archer
Caine smiled.
“Is there anything else I can do?” Laal asked.
“Do you know any judges who aren’t members of the club?”
The baron nodded. “Judge Mica Smith. She’s a lycan and surly as hell, but fair.”
“Good. Call her. We’re going to need all the help we can get.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
When Lyra woke, her body was shaking so violently she couldn’t keep her teeth from chattering. Blinking back tears, she opened her eyes to darkness and cold. She definitely was not tucked in her bed in the crook of Theron’s arm.
Feeling around with her hand, she realized she was on her side on a cement floor. There was nothing near her that she could discern. No bed, no chair, nothing to identify where she might be.
Rolling onto her back, she knew with certainty she’d been kidnapped. They had finally gotten to her. But how? Theron had been with her. Images of their love making flashed through mind.
Her hands went to her body. Relief surged over her when she realized she was clothed and not naked as she’d been when she went to sleep. Thankfully, whoever had kidnapped her had had the decency to dress her in what felt like a robe.
How had they gotten through her wards? And why didn’t Theron wake up? Maybe they had subdued him first, but then she would’ve felt it wouldn’t she? Unless, they had inside help to break her magic.
She squeezed her eyes shut against the alarming thought Theron had something to do with this. That he hadn’t given up his dark ways and had been working on her, gaining her trust, the whole time.
She shook her head as tears rolled down her temples to drip on the floor beneath her. No. She wouldn’t believe it. Theron loved her. She would’ve sensed his betrayal. Her gran would never have told her to trust him if that had been the case. She would’ve known the truth about him.
The last thing she needed to do was to confuse her mind with conspiracy theories and useless thoughts about what could have been. She needed her wits about her if she was going to get out of here alive.
“Gran?” Her voice echoed back to her.
There was no response.
Lyra put her hands out feeling for her grandmother’s essence. Her skin was left cold.
“Gran? This is no time to give me the silent treatment.” The desperation in her voice bounced back to her from the emptiness of the room. It sounded hollow.
Pushing to a sitting position, Lyra forced her eyes to adjust to the darkness. After blinking several times, outlines of the walls appeared. She was definitely in a large room without any furnishings. Nothing seemed to be on the walls either. Squinting harder, she could make out the outline of a rectangular fixture along one wall. Unsure of what was above her, she crawled toward it.
As she neared it, she could distinguish more shape and possible color. It was a large, whitish, box-type unit. She pressed her hand to it. The outside was plastic-coated and cold. Standing, she ran her hands over it and found something that felt like a handle on top. She pulled with all her strength. The lid gave way. An icy puff of air rushed over her. Heart racing, she lowered her hand and touched ice.
She dropped the lid. It slammed shut with a reverberating snap. It was a freezer. A large one. The one she suspected Theron had seen in his vision, the one which held Lori James’ body.
Cowering along the floor again, Lyra couldn’t stop her hands and body from quivering. Fear tightened its grip on her. She could barely breathe from the pressure on her chest. She had to get out of here.
Swiveling to scrutinize the room, she could make out the outline of a door. It was about six feet to her left. She crawled to where she thought it was located. The closer she got the more she could see the definitive shape of the door and the handle to open it. She put her hand out and touched it when she neared.
It burned like fire. She snatched her hand back and blew on the searing flesh of her fingertips. There was magic on the door—a powerful ward to prevent her from opening it. She should’ve suspected as much.
The wards also likely prevented her from contacting her gran. For the first time in her life, she was truly and utterly alone.
Scooting away from the door, Lyra leaned against the adjacent wall to think. Thankfully, she hadn’t been drugged like Eve had been when she was taken. She was surprised about that. It was for a reason though, that much she knew for certain. Maybe they needed her awake and aware for whatever they had planned for her.
Fear strangled her as she considered what was going to happen. She now knew the last part of the symbols and text in the book, the final ceremony. She mentally slapped herself for not figuring it out sooner.
She was to be the final sacrifice, the Virgin Mary for their hellish birth.
Oh, they were going to be some mad when they found out she wasn’t a virgin anymore. Somehow, she didn’t think it would stop them from killing her though. Her execution had been scheduled, she had no doubt.
Midnight most likely. The last hour of her birthday. She hoped it would be enough time for Theron and the others to find her.
Happy Birthday to me. Fighting tears, she rubbed her hands over her face. How long did she have? She had no idea what time it was, or if it was day or night. She could be a few minutes away from her death sentence and not know it.
Images of Theron flashed through her mind. Their night together had been amazing. She’d never experienced such raw emotions and sensations before. It was as if he had ripped her open and melded with her both physically and spiritually. Even now, she could feel his magic on her skin and deep inside her soul.
Pulling on that energy Lyra wrapped it around her body and fed from its warmth. Theron’s scent wafted to her nose. She clamped her eyes down on more tears as she inhaled his essence. If she concentrated, she could actually feel his arms around her, embracing her tightly.
What she wouldn’t give to be there now, in her bed, in his arms, listening to his rhythmic breathing and the steady beat of his heart. His good heart. She wished she’d taken the chance of telling him, that she hadn’t been such a coward to open herself up. Now, she might not ever get the opportunity to tell him she loved him.
The door creaked open. Scuttling back, Lyra watched in horror as a cloaked form filled the doorway.
“Hello, witch. It’s time we formally meet.” It was a woman’s voice coming from the black shroud.
Gathering all her energy, Lyra formed a binding spell between her hands and tossed it. It fizzled within a foot from where she crouched on the floor.
The dark figure laughed. “Your magic is useless here. I’ve had this whole room warded.”
“What do you want?”
“What do you think I want you silly girl.” She stepped further into the room. “I want you to die.”
The figure pounced on Lyra so quickly; she didn’t have time to scream.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Two hours later and armed with a search warrant, Theron and the members of the OCU were knocking on Mistress Jannali’s front door. It hadn’t taken much convincing for Judge Smith to grant the warrant. She seriously hated the mistress anyway. At the same time, Monty and his people were exercising another warrant at Nadja Devanshi’s home. Hopefully, someone would find Lyra alive.
A uniformed servant opened the door. “Yes?”
Mahina held the warrant to the elderly man’s face. “We have a warrant to search the premises.”
He took it with shaking hands and licked his lips nervously, then glanced at the seven faces staring in at him.
“Is the mistress home?” Caine asked.
The servant shook his head.
“Could you please step out of the house, sir?” Mahina held the door open for him to step out.
Once he came out, the lot of them went in, gathering as a group in the main foyer. Theron’s nerves were racing. He couldn’t stand still. He started down the hallway, but Caine grabbed his arm, stopping him from going any further.
“Trust me, Theron. I know
how you’re feeling right now, but we need to be smart and search thoroughly.”
Theron nodded, but shrugged off Caine’s hand. He was too wired to have anyone touching him. The only person whose skin he wanted to feel was Lyra’s.
“This place is huge, so we’ll need to split up,” Caine suggested. “Jace and Tala, you two take the west wing. Mahina and Laal, you take the upstairs. Theron, you’re with me and Eve. We’ll search this wing.”
Faces grim, everyone nodded.
“Turn your radios on. I don’t have to tell any of you how urgent this is. If you find anything, and I mean anything, call it in. Lyra’s counting on us.”
Mahina and Laal took the stairs quickly, and were at the top before the rest of them could get moving.
Jace walked to Theron, his jaw tight and his eyes guarded. He offered Theron his hand. Surprised, Theron took it. “We’ll find her.”
Theron nodded, too overcome with emotion to speak.
After one final shake of his hand, Jace let go and went back to where Tala was waiting for him. Grasping hands, they made their way down another hallway toward the west wing.
Caine glanced at Theron. “Let’s go.”
Without waiting for Caine or Eve, Theron ran down the side hall to the collection room. He flicked on the lights, searching the room for any indication of Lyra’s presence. He rushed to the Egyptian statue the mistress had shown him peering into the glass case. The answer had to be here somewhere.
Something flashed at him through the glass. Sidestepping the display case, Theron charged toward the wall. He crouched down and touched something metal. It looked like a locking mechanism.
“I found something,” he shouted.
Caine and Eve rushed into the room to where he was crouched.
Eve asked, “What is it?”
“I think it’s a hidden door.” Theron ran his fingers along the floor next the piece of metal. He could feel a groove at the bottom, and air brushing across his skin. There was definitely an opening.
Caine was searching along the wall for the rest of the door outline. “I can’t feel a split in the wood.”
Theron stood, examining the wall and the groove he had discovered. “Get out of the way.”
Caine jumped back just as Theron put his foot through the wood, making a big hole.
“That works,” Eve said, backing up so Theron and Caine could yank the rest of the wood away around the hole, making it big enough for them to walk through.
Done, Theron peered into the black hole. Clapping his hands together, he formed a ball of witch light and pushed his hands into the dark.
“There are stairs leading down.”
Anticipation fueled the pounding of his heart. He was close to finding Lyra. He could feel it. Goosebumps crawled over his skin and he shivered.
Caine spoke into his radio. “We found a secret set of stairs leading into a basement in the east wing, far hallway, collection room. Everyone reassemble here ASAP.”
Theron stepped through the wall onto the first stone stair.
“Theron, wait. We’ll all go together.”
“I can’t wait. Lyra is down there, hurt or worse.”
“And what if the mistress is down there?” Caine asked.
“Then I’ll kill her.” Without waiting for a response, he continued down the steps, his hand out lighting the way.
The stairs curved down into a dark and dank stone cavern. The smell of damp earth, and old blood floated to him on a cool puff of musty air. Using the witch light, he looked around the room. It reminded him of a dungeon from the old days, carved out of rock, complete with iron manacles on the wall and a stone altar right in the middle.
Swallowing down the bile rising in his throat, Theron neared the altar. It was stained dark red with blood. But when he got closer he realized to his relief the stain was old, not fresh.
The others pounded down the steps as he crossed the cavernous room to a corridor leading further into the rock.
“Lyra?” He called as he moved down the dark passage. His voice echoed back to him.
He stopped at a closed wooden door. His heart pounding and his throat dry, he kicked it open, expecting to discover the worst. Splinters flew from the broken wood. He rushed inside to see an empty cot and more dark stains on the floor. Turning, he rushed out of the room and to the next closed door. He kicked that one in. Empty. Then the next and the next. All four cells were empty.
The passage ended. There was no other way out.
Backtracking, Theron walked back to the main stone room. All the team had assembled around the altar. Caine was scraping the old blood into an evidence bag.
They turned and looked at Theron when he entered.
“We’ll find her.” Caine said. He glanced at Jace. “Was she ever here, Jace?”
Lifting his nose, Jace inhaled deeply, let it out, then did it again. He shook his head. “I don’t get her scent down here at all.”
“Okay, we’ll continue searching the rest of the house.”
They only had six hours left. The clock was ticking.
Lyra didn’t know how long she lay on her back on the cement floor bleeding, but it was enough time to form a pool of blood the size of an orange around her head.
The wound on her neck throbbed, aching in time with the beat of her heart. She’d been bitten; blood sucked out of her, and now lay virtually immobile while more blood dribbled from the open gouge on her throat.
Lifting her hand, she covered the wound, hoping to salvage some magical energy to heal it. She gathered the power inside her, but found it impossible to harness it for her purposes. Something was blocking her. The wards on the room were slowly leaking over her. That was why she couldn’t contact her gran and why now, she couldn’t heal herself. She couldn’t do magic at all.
She was powerless to do anything but wait for her fate.
Curling onto her side, she pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She rocked against the despair overwhelming her.
Theron had to be looking for her. She knew he would scour the city to find her. She felt it in her heart and in her soul. But she also felt the time ticking away, like drops of water from a leaky tap. Soon, it would stop. And she’d be dead.
The door to her prison creaked open again.
“It’s time, witch, to die.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
After another three hours of searching the mistress’s house, they had found nothing. No other secret rooms or stone altars. Nothing. A call into Monty revealed the same outcome from the search at Nadja’s.
Now, they were driving back to the lab to pursue a new path. Theron was desperately aware they were running out of time. The sun had set and moon was glowing like a beacon in the night. Except this beacon wasn’t leading them to Lyra.
He rode in the back of the SUV with Eve and stared out the window as Caine maneuvered the downtown streets. Mahina drove in another vehicle behind them. Large buildings and neon signs flashed by him without notice. How could he concentrate on anything, when Lyra was out there somewhere waiting for him to rescue her?
Sucking in a breath, he tried to stop the images of her battered body lying on a cement slab—her sightless eyes looking at him in accusation. You did this to me! They screamed at him. He covered his face in his hands to rub the thoughts of his mind. He had to stifle a despairing cry.
“Theron, pull it together,” Caine demanded. “You can’t help Lyra if you can’t function.”
He dropped his hands to his lap and clenched his jaw. He was losing it. Helplessness threatened to consume him. He’d never experienced pain like as severe before.
Eve grabbed his hand. “It’s going to be okay. Lyra is strong. She won’t go down without a fight.”
“How did you escape?”
Startled by the question, she looked at Caine then down at her lap. “Caine found me.”
“Did you know he would come for you?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Because I knew he loved me and wouldn’t stop until he found me. That’s what kept me going.”
“And if you hadn’t known that he loved you, would you have fought so hard to stay alive?”
Tears rolled down her cheeks, as she squeezed his hand. “She knows you love her, Theron.”
“I never got the chance to tell her.” His voice hitched in his throat. Embarrassed, he returned his gaze to the window.
“It doesn’t matter. A woman knows when her man loves her. She knows.”
Nodding, Theron couldn’t look back at Eve. He stared at the moon and prayed Lyra knew how he felt. Prayed she would fight until he came to get her.
As they zipped down another street and turned a corner something made Theron turn to look out of the window. The same voice from the other night whispered in his ear.
Look and see.
One of the tall buildings caught Theron’s eye. He’d seen that exact sign somewhere else.
“Stop!”
“What?” Caine called.
“Stop! Stop. Pull over to the curb.”
Lurching to the side, Caine applied the breaks and parked along the curb. Theron opened his door and jumped out onto the sidewalk. He ran down the street a block and looked up at the billboard sign on the side of the skyscraper. He had flashes of the same sign in his head.
Caine, Eve and Mahina came along side him and they all looked at the sign. Caine asked, “What’s going on?”
“I recognize that sign.”
“From where?”
“I think from when I touched Lori James. I think it’s one of her memories.”
Caine spun around and frowned. Eve did the same and asked, “Hey, aren’t we close to Shadowwood?”
“It’s down two blocks,” he said, then perked up and grabbed Theron’s arm. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. Nadja owns the studio. Come on!”
They ran back to the SUV. Caine pulled a U-turn in front of thick traffic, and took the next corner at high speed. Within minutes, he drove onto the curb and parked in front of a nondescript brick building with a small sign. Shadowwood Studios.