by Jane Cousins
Locke waited for her to process that information, when she didn’t ask any follow up questions he chanced a quick glance her way. Asleep. Hugging the pot plant to her chest like it was a teddy bear. A seriously flowering pot plant he now realised. Weird, it hadn’t had any flowers on it when she’d first scooped its bedraggled butt off a high forgotten ledge, now it seemed to be twice the size and flourishing dramatically with a handful of deep purple flowers in full bloom.
Likewise Serena seemed to be looking better, less pale, though she still had dark circles under her closed eyes and only food and rest would make those cheeks of hers less hollow. Once more a distant flicker of movement in the rear view mirror caught his attention. Goddess, looked like they had company, time to open this baby right up.
Chapter Three
Serena came awake with a small start. For the first time in what seemed like forever the car was slowing down. Opening her eyes she focused on the T-junction sign as Locke took the turn off to the right.
“Umm shouldn’t we be headed for Lubbock, or at the very least the state line?”
“Everything’s under control. Don’t worry.”
Serena’s anxiety suddenly inexplicably dissipated. Frowning, she glared at him. “Don’t do that! If I want to worry I’m perfectly entitled to worry.”
“Sorry.” Locke sounded distracted as he took another sharp turn, following the signs posted.
“You could slow down.”
“No really I couldn’t. They picked us up about ten miles back.”
Serena turned in her seat. “I don’t see anyone.”
“They’re there. I need to keep the speed up and stay off the main roads in case they get the local law to set up road blocks. Not that I think they’ll chance that. It would raise too many questions about your identity if the locals got hold of you first.” Locke gritted his teeth, taking the car smoothly through another tight turn.
“Why are we headed for Guthrie?” Serena frowned, as they whizzed past yet another sign post.
“Not Guthrie, Evanstowe.”
“Never heard of it?”
“Hardly anyone has except for a third cousin of mine twice removed who visits there once a year for their annual hot sauce festival.”
“So why are we…” Serena gripped the door handle as they took another sharp turn, “…going there? Do they have an airfield?”
“Don’t know about an airfield, all I know about is the hot sauce festival.” Five minutes later Locke hit the city limits of Evanstowe.
Serena glanced Locke’s way dubiously, something weird was going on here.
In fact the whole escape from the get go seemed kind of surreal. Gorgeous man turns up in a suit and rescues her. Maybe she was dreaming. But if she were dreaming why would her subconscious choose to go to a tiny town in the middle of nowhere whose only claim to fame was an annual hot sauce festival? Maybe it was time she started taking more control over this rescue, if the man ever slowed the car down maybe she should consider jumping.
Two minutes later they were in downtown Evanstowe, what there was of it, consisting mainly of one wide main road that had a series of authentic looking Texan shops that all appeared to be selling some sort of barbeque equipment, tools or food. It appeared Evanstowe had found its tourist hook and embraced it with both hands.
“We’re looking for…” Locke searched for their destination. “Ahh the Fire Breath Inn.” Not that he could have missed it. The fifty foot plastic bottle of hot sauce out front shooting balloon flames into the air was hardly a thing of subtlety.
“What? Why are you stopping?” Serena was horrified as Locke turned the car into the courtyard parking area of the Inn. “Locke, what are you doing?” She all but hissed as he parked the car in front of a fire engine red door with the number six stamped on it.
Locke was already out of the driver’s seat and racing around the car. Yanking her door open, he clicked his fingers in command. “Undo your seat belt. Come on.”
He grabbed first the briefcase he’d placed at her feet, nice to know where his priorities lay, then he scooped her up, pot plant and all. Turning he came to a sudden stop, face to face with a middle-aged couple who were staring at them gob-smacked. Taking in the sight of the man in the expensive suit hauling around a sickly looking girl wearing clothes one usually associated with prison inmates.
“Honeymoon.” Locke stated forcibly.
And just for a moment Serena could see it. She was wearing a frothy off white bridal gown, the pot plant had transformed into a bridal bouquet of dark red roses and confetti drifted lazily to the ground, falling from her dress and hair. The couple were suddenly all smiles, a look of dreamy admiration on the woman’s face. Serena wondered whether it was for her fake dress or the studly groom. Then Locke was on the move, striding for the door to room six.
“Seriously? They really bought that we’d spend our honeymoon here? At a hot sauce theme park?” She shook her head in dazed wonder.
“Everyone wants to believe in romance.” Awkwardly with his hands already full Locke managed to turn the doorknob. “Who doesn’t love a happy ending?”
They sailed into the room, Locke coming to an abrupt halt as the impact of the décor suddenly overloaded his delicate senses. From the wallpaper dotted with little green and red bottles of hot sauce to the bedspread with the giant bottle of tabasco sauce appliqued on it.
“I bet this room has seen any number of happy endings, but only if money changed hands.” Serena couldn’t keep the horror out of her voice as she eyed the nightmare hidden behind door number six. People actually slept in here? She’d be dreaming about heartburn all night.
Locke laughed. “Cynical much?”
“Locke, seriously, why are we here? Shouldn’t we be making a run for the nearest airport?”
“Have a little faith.” Locke kicked the door shut behind them. “I’ve gotten you this far haven’t I?”
“It would be a little easier to have some faith if this place didn’t look like a room favoured by a serial killer with a spicy food fetish.”
Locke laughed again. “Whatever you do, don’t mention that to my cousin Marvin.” Five strides across the room, Locke came to an abrupt halt in front of the closet. “Get the door would you?”
Serena sent him a look of sheer disbelief. Through the thin walls she heard the sound of tires squealing as their pursuers took the turn into the courtyard inn too fast. “Locke.” Her heart was beating a mile a minute.
“Remember… faith… in… me.”
Funny, she hadn’t realised in all the excitement of her escape that Locke Valhalla was completely an utterly insane. With no other option available she reached, over opening the closet door. “This is turning out to be a very weird rescue.”
Locke clucked his tongue, taking a step into the closet, ducking slightly to avoid getting a couple of wire hangers in the face. Holding Serena even closer in the cramped space, he managed to turn them around. “Not weird. Unique… stylish even. Get the door again would you?”
“We’re going to hide in the closet?” Serena yanked the door closed, abruptly encasing them in darkness. “What are you ten? It will take them two minutes to find us in here.” She could sense Locke smiling in the dark. Honestly, if the man wasn’t so good looking and wore such expensive looking suits someone would have found a nice padded cell for him years ago.
“We’re really going to have to work on those trust issues of yours. Door?”
“What?” Serena was past confused and heading towards frozen disbelief.
Locke just issued a heartfelt sigh, repositioned her slightly in his arms and turned the doorknob himself. Serena squeezed her eyes shut, unsure if it was the sight of the room’s décor or the prison guards coming for her that she was trying to block out, possibly both.
“It’s okay Serena you can open your eyes now.” Locke instructed in a soft amused tone. Serena was debating the wisdom of that when an unfamiliar yet friendly voice broke into her silent decisio
n making process.
“Hey Locke, didn’t know you were stopping by. And you bought a friend.”
“Hey Marvin.”
Marvin? Locke’s second or was it third cousin twice removed? That Marvin? What would he be doing in the hotel room they just vacated? Serena opened her eyes, drinking in the sight of unfamiliar surroundings, spicy, bordering on eye-watering, scents filling the air. She was in a kitchen of all places, full of industrial sized ovens, cook tops and equipment. Smack bang in the middle of it was a man, standing over a large pot. He was wearing an apron that said ‘Hot and Smoking and that’s just the Cook!’ over a frayed dark blue t-shirt, shorts and flip flops. He looked to be in his late fifties, with a buzz cut of grey hair and friendly light blue eyes.
“Marvin this is Serena, Serena, my cousin Marvin.”
“Hey darling. Want a taste from my latest batch?” He held out a spoon in invitation. “I’m pretty sure it’s going to be a winner.”
Was that the spoon melting or just heat rising from the acid red liquid?
Locke squeezed Serena lightly in warning. “Sorry Marv, can’t stay. Gotta get this one back to her people.”
“Maybe another time.” Disappointment edged the older man’s voice.
“Definitely.” Serena couldn’t help but smile. “Locke’s mentioned great things about your hot sauce.”
“Really?” Marvin’s chest puffed out in a pride, a huge grin spreading across his face.
“Yeah another time. Later Marvin.” Locke swung her around and they stepped right back into… not a closet… a large pantry stacked full of canned goods and warehouse sized tubs of spices.
“This is so unreal. How did we get here?” Another thought had her squeezing Locke’s arm. “Can they follow us?”
Turning Locke awkwardly shuffled forward, grasped the doorknob and pulled the pantry door shut. “Don’t worry. Only family and designated friendlies can activate and use the portals.”
“Why didn’t you just zap us out of the hospital?”
“Because.” Locke opened the pantry door; they were in another kitchen this time, empty, homey, full of warm woods and lots of light. “We can only go to locations that have been previously mapped. Like the closet at the Fire Breath Inn, thanks to Marvin.”
Serena noted just before Locke shut the door one more time that their surroundings had changed, they were still in a pantry, but a smaller one, less organised than Marvin’s.
“Where are we…” She halted abruptly as the door was snatched open. Dash’s gorgeous familiar face staring back at her, the smile of relief on his lips at odds with the concern filling his gold edged hazel eyes and the gun raised and pointed in their direction.
“One witch as requested.” Locke shouldered his way out of the closet.
“Thank Maat you made it. By the Sun Serena you’re a sight for sore eyes.” Dash flashed her a heartfelt grin of welcome before a shuttered serious look swept over his features. “We need to hit the conference room.”
Locke shook his head, holding Serena out for Dash to take. “If you’ll just take Serena off my hands I’ll get out of your hair. Tell Vaughn my bill will be in the mail.”
Serena swallowed a snort. Wasn’t that just lovely, the man couldn’t wait to dump her and run. She should be grateful. He’d rescued her. Saved her life really. So why did a sense of betrayal swamp her at the thought Locke was not only willing but all too eager to get away from her?
Well she could be a mature woman about this. Politely thank him, then find a nice safe soft bed to curl up with her pot plant and have a good cleansing cry. And it wouldn’t be because Locke Valhalla had hurt her feelings she told herself, no it would just be the sheer… relief, yes relief at finally being safe.
Dash shook off Locke’s attempt to hand over Serena, the warrior stood combat ready alert, his gun still raised, a positively grim expression on his features. “Xander’s dead! We need you both in the conference room, now.”
Chapter Four
Locke had been in countless conference rooms over the years where he and his colleagues ‘got the knives out’ verbally, but Maat’s warriors had taken a much more literal translation of that saying when they’d chosen to decorate the walls of their large meeting room. It was Dexter meets Salvador Dali; everything was sharp, serrated, hooked, barbed or jagged, yikes. Half of the objects he could barely name, let alone actually use.
“I suppose you’ll be sending Vaughn the dry cleaning bill?” Hadleigh groused from her seat next to his at the humongous conference table as they waited for Rafe to return with the official report on the events surrounding Xander Marr’s death.
Locke turned to look at his sister, grateful for the distraction. Anything was better than watching six over grown line-backers fuss over one tiny Earth Witch, who was currently huddled in one of the extra wide padded chairs at the far end of the table, wrapped in a blanket, surrounded by an eclectic group of potted plants the warriors had hurriedly snatched from the hallway and nearby offices. Locke noted out the corner of his eye that despite her fatigue Serena was smiling and laughing with the group of hovering over attentive lugs.
Locke gripped the sides of his chair, random and wholly surprising questions running through his head. Goddess, had Serena ever dated any of the over-sized Elite? Perhaps more than one? Not that it was any of his business he reminded himself. With more effort than he was comfortable admitting too he forced himself to focus on his sister. Sprawled in the seat next to his she seemed entirely unperturbed that her husband was kneeling beside Serena’s chair currently holding her hand. The man was married now for Goddess sake, did he have no shame? Again, not any of his concern, mentally Locke gave himself a brisk mental slap, priorities man, where are your priorities?
“I was thinking I’ll have to replace this suit entirely.” He cast a glance down at the wrinkled material, wondering why he wasn’t a little more upset that one of his favourite suits had gone to the great moth cupboard in the sky.
“It probably just needs a good steam and a lint brush.”
“Your lips to the Goddess’s ear but I don’t think so. Should I send the bill to Vaughn personally or to Maat Enterprises?”
Hadleigh shook her head, a smile on her lips. “Do you want to be buried or cremated?”
“Put me down for a Viking funeral at sea… I always did like a good bonfire.”
Hadleigh laughed. He’d noticed she’d been doing a lot more of that recently, smiling, laughing. He supposed he had Vaughn to begrudgingly thank, not that he’d ever say anything out loud, the man was already way too smug.
“You did a good job out there today.” Hadleigh acknowledged, her eyes flicking to the end of the table where Serena huddled amongst her forest of greenery and the warriors fought over who would pour Serena’s herbal tea. “Very… smooth.”
“That’s me, all about the finesse.”
“Stop being such a sarky know-it-all and just take the compliment.”
Locke nodded abruptly. “Thanks. I must admit I caught a glimpse today of why you like it so much, the adrenalin kick alone is kind of addictive.”
“What’s she like? The Witch?”
“Serena?” Locke fought hard to keep his tone indifferent. “Nice enough I suppose.” Though she was much more than that wasn’t she? Strong, focused, witty, and hot… way hot despite her current fragile state.
“She seems….” Hadleigh searched for an appropriate descriptive word, absently toying with the hilt of a knife she had hooked onto her belt. “…tiny.”
“Everyone’s tiny to you Gigantore.” The words were barely out of Locke’s mouth when an abrupt cuff to the back of his head almost sent him slamming face first into the conference table.
“It’s like you have a death wish.” Vaughn commented, collapsing into the empty chair on the other side of Hadleigh.
“It’s an affectionate nickname.” Locke protested, rubbing the back of his still ringing skull.
“Well find a new one, something a l
ittle more respectful like Angel, Princess or Kitten?”
Locke slapped his thigh. “Kitten?” Hooted a laugh and then grinned. “Kitten? Wait til I tell the boys.”
Hadleigh cast an exasperated look in her meld mate’s direction. “That was you trying to be helpful I assume?”
“Sorry.” Vaughn shrugged just as Rafe entered the room, taking a seat at the head of the table.
Rafe ran a fatigued hand through his over long auburn hair. His green eyes warmed up just for a split second when he spied Serena before returning to an icy remote colour as he surveyed his fellow warriors as they quickly took their seats. “Okay, I’ve just returned from the hospital. As near as I can tell the timeline goes something like this. Serena escapes, seven minutes elapse before anyone raises the alarm. Twenty minutes later, Dr Kenton, head of the facility sends an email to an unknown proxy address. Five minutes later Xander is killed.”
“What was in the email?” Drum looked towards Marcus, knowing his hi-tech warrior colleague would have the information at his fingertips.
“Notification of Serena’s escape and a file attachment.” Marcus looked up from his tablet briefly, continuing to tap away. “Give me another minute to access the attachment.”
“We’re sure Xander was murdered?” Nate queried.
Rafe gave an abrupt nod. “Vampires.”
The noise level in the room spiked abruptly, questions volleyed across the room but it was Hadleigh’s that got everyone’s attention. “What kind of sucker?”
“There’s more than one?” Flynn looked torn between thinking this was the coolest conversation ever and the creepiest.
“All kinds; dream suckers, youth, life force, memories… blood. If we know which kind maybe we can work out why.” Hadleigh frowned.
“Blood… definitely blood.” Rafe stated categorically. “Xander barely had a drop left in him.”
Hadleigh’s frown deepened. “Assassins then. Sek and Mot must have had them on standby.”