Master Unchained (Stealth Guardians Book 2)

by Tina Folsom

  He collected his strength and called the air to him, intending to throw up a shield, but nothing happened. He tried again, but the air didn’t stir, didn’t listen to his command.

  “Change of plans,” he mumbled.

  Frantically, he looked around for an escape route, and saw the reason why his witchcraft wasn’t working: along the walls, ancient runes were carved into the stone. Though he couldn’t decipher them, he knew they were meant to shut down a witch’s power. As long as he was within these walls, he was, in effect, powerless.

  “Fuck!” he cursed, but it was all he had time for, because one of the men, clearly a preternatural as identified by his aura, had reached him and now slammed him to the ground with two-hundred pounds of muscle and rage.

  “Fucking demon!” the man yelled.

  A dagger came toward Wesley’s neck, but he was able to divert it with his arm. Searing pain shot through him, and he realized the blade had caught him.

  “Argh!” he cried out, but the knife was already coming at him again.

  “Die, you fucking demon!”

  “Fuck! I’m not a demon!”

  But his attacker wasn’t listening, his face a mask of rage and hate. He made another swipe with the blade, but before Wes could fend him off, his attacker was ripped off him by the second guy.

  “Shit, Hamish, let go of him! He’s a witch!”

  Wesley breathed heavily, staring at both men and using the momentary truce (or whatever it was) to scramble backward, away from the blade’s reach.

  The man who’d attacked him, the one called Hamish, stared back. “A witch?” He let his eyes wander over Wesley, then ran a hand through his dark hair. “Shit!”

  But if Wes had thought this might mean their encounter would now turn civil, he was wrong. Hamish jumped at him again and pinned him against the wall. “And how the fuck did a witch get into our compound?”

  Wesley managed to jerk his thumb to the left. “Portal?”

  “No shit!” Hamish hissed, while more footsteps could be heard echoing through the corridor.

  “Aiden? You got ‘em?” somebody called out.

  The man addressed as Aiden looked over his shoulder at the two men coming their way. “We’ve got ourselves a witch.”

  “I’ll be damned!” one of them responded.

  Suddenly they were all crowding around him. The one they called Hamish still had his forearm pressed against Wesley’s throat.

  “Now tell me who you are and how the fuck you got in here,” he demanded.

  “As I said,” Wesley gritted, “I used that portal. Can’t you get that into your thick head, you numbskull?”

  When Hamish bared his teeth, one of the other men put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t go all machete on him now. We don’t hurt witches.”

  That little piece of information lifted Wesley’s spirits a bit, though Hamish didn’t seem to agree.

  “Still doesn’t explain how he was able to use the portal and breach our defenses,” Hamish grunted.

  “We’ll figure it out,” Aiden said calmly. “But you’re under enough stress, buddy.”

  Whatever stress Aiden was referring to, it appeared that it had clouded the Stealth Guardian’s ability to recognize Wesley’s aura as that of a witch.

  One of the others said, “Yeah, man, just heard about Tessa. Hope she pulls through.”

  Finally Hamish released him, and Wesley pulled in a few deep breaths. At least they weren’t trying to kill him anymore. That was an improvement.

  “So, fellas,” Wesley started, “I suppose you wanna know what I’m doing here, huh?”

  “Brace yourselves, guys,” Aiden said to his friends, “looks like we’ve got a smartass on our hands.” Then he narrowed his eyes at Wes. “You’d better make your explanation quick and to the point. As you may have noticed, some of us have a short fuse.”

  It wasn’t hard to guess whom Aiden was talking about.

  “I’m Wesley Montgomery from San Francisco. And if my research is correct, then you’re all Stealth Guardians,” he said, watching the four guys for their reaction. But they all had their poker faces on. “Okay, and none of you is the chatty kind either.”

  When several of them grunted in displeasure, he lifted his hands. “No worries, I get it. You’re a little pissed that I didn’t ring the doorbell. My bad.” Still no reaction from the four. “I’m here because I was hoping to broker an alliance between you and Scanguards.”

  “Who’s Scanguards?” Hamish ground out.

  “A security company headquartered in San Francisco.”

  “All witches?” Hamish wanted to know.

  Wesley shook his head and braced himself. “I’m the only witch in their employ. Most of the others are vampires.”

  Wes could have heard a needle drop in the silence that now descended. He suddenly realized that the alarm had stopped, though he hadn’t noticed when.

  Aiden shook his head and so did the other men. “Don’t treat us like imbeciles. We know as well as any preternatural that witches and vampires are archenemies. So what do you really want?”

  “Man, I’m telling you the truth. You can check it out—”

  A shout coming from the end of the corridor interrupted him. “Hamish!” a man called out. “You’ve gotta come. Tessa is crashing.”

  “Oh God no!” All the blood drained from Hamish’s face as he spun around and raced out of sight.

  “So what should we do with him?” one of the others asked, gesturing to Wes.

  “Lead cell for now,” Aiden ordered.

  “Hey, listen to me!” Wes protested. “I’m telling the truth!”

  “We’ll deal with you later. We’ve got more important things to worry about right now,” Aiden claimed and grabbed him by the arm.

  “Hey, watch out!” Wes pointed to the wound on his arm. “Can’t you see that I’m injured? A little professional courtesy would be nice!”

  “Let’s go, witch! I’ve got a nice little cell with your name on it.”

  33

  Hamish kicked the double doors to the medical room open and ran inside. Monitors were beeping. His gaze shot to the gurney where Tessa lay—not motionless like before. Her whole body was spasming violently, Leila frantically trying to hold her down. Her eyes locked with his as he approached the bed.

  “She’s having a seizure,” she cried out.

  “Oh God! No!” Hamish said, panic saturating every single one of his cells. “Why is this happening? Can’t you do anything?”

  “She’s reacting to the Naloxene.”

  “What?” He took Tessa’s head between his hands to hold her still so she wouldn’t kick off her oxygen mask.

  “It’s a side effect of the opioid blocker. It happens.”

  “Fuck!” he cursed. “What now? Damn it, Leila, what now?”

  Tears shot into Leila’s eyes. “I don’t know, Hamish! I don’t know! I’m not a trauma surgeon.” She looked around the room, appearing just as panicked as he. “I don’t have anything else…”

  The words clamped around his heart and squeezed painfully. “I can’t lose her, Leila! I can’t lose her.” He looked at Tessa’s face. “I can’t bear to see her in pain.”

  The doors opened behind him, but he didn’t look over his shoulder.

  “She’s not strong enough, Hamish!” Leila’s words came out as a sob. “Not strong enough…”

  “Then make her strong!”

  The words had come from Pearce, who’d approached the bed behind him. Hamish looked at him. And just as Pearce opened his mouth again to continue, Hamish understood.

  “Virta,” Hamish said.

  Pearce nodded. “It’s worth a shot.”

  Hamish exchanged a look with Leila. A hopeful expression spread over her face. “It helped make me strong when I fought Zoltan in that farmhouse. You remember, Hamish, don’t you?”

  All too well. Leila had been nearly as strong as a Stealth Guardian, though the circumstances under which she’d received v
irta had been different.

  “Do it!” Leila urged.

  Hamish removed the oxygen mask from Tessa’s face. “Leila, Pearce, hold her so she doesn’t hurt herself.” Because he’d have to concentrate on one thing and one thing only: to collect his virta—his preternatural power—and pour it into her.

  He felt his body harden and his muscles tense as he called on his powers and commanded them to rise. For a brief moment he realized that he’d wanted to share his virta with her ever since he’d first laid eyes on her, though he’d never imagined it would happen like this.

  As he bent over her and brought his face to hers, he prayed that he could save her.

  “I love you, Tessa.”

  He sank his lips onto hers and willed his virta to leave his body and enter hers, holding her face with his hands so she couldn’t move, while Leila and Pearce immobilized her arms and legs. His only thoughts were of Tessa now, of what she meant to him, of what could lie in their future if only she made it through this. He poured more and more of his life force into her, urging it to permeate every cell of Tessa’s body and fight the effect of the drugs in her system. He’d give anything, even his life, to heal Tessa in this moment.

  “She’s stopped seizing.” Leila’s voice floated to his ears, but still, Hamish didn’t let go of Tessa. He continued to pour his strength, his virta, into her.

  He heard the beeping of the monitors returning to a less frantic pace. And he could feel it himself: her heart rate calming, evening out, her body stilling beneath him.

  He felt Pearce’s hand on his shoulder. “It’s good now, Hamish.”

  Yet, he couldn’t stop. He needed to continue, needed to know that he was giving her everything he could so she would survive.

  “Her vitals are good,” Leila said from the other side of the gurney. “She’ll make it.”

  Suddenly he felt his body weakening, his knees buckling.

  “Oh shit!” he heard Pearce curse.

  His fellow Stealth Guardian ripped him off Tessa. Hamish tumbled backward and would have fallen had Pearce not caught him.

  “Leila, a chair. Quickly!” Pearce ordered.

  A moment later, Leila had pushed a chair next to the gurney, and Pearce was carefully lowering him onto it. But Hamish wasn’t concerned with himself right now. Instead he lifted his eyes and looked at Tessa. Her skin shimmered golden, an aftereffect of the virta he’d shared with her. She’d never been more beautiful.

  “Shit, Hamish,” Pearce said, “you nearly brought yourself to the brink.”

  “She needed it,” Hamish said, though he felt drained now, his virta at a level that was dangerously low. “I’ll be fine.” His power would be fully regenerated in a few hours. Being at the compound among his fellow Stealth Guardians would ensure that. He could draw from their collective virta and the power that lay within the stone walls of the building.

  “You need to rest,” Pearce demanded. “Come on!”

  Hamish shook off Pearce’s hand. “No! I’m staying with Tessa. She needs me.”

  “There’s nothing you can do now,” Leila said softly. “She’s sleeping.”

  He reached for Tessa’s hand, but Leila stopped him. “No, Hamish. You can’t touch her now. She needs to rest.”

  He understood immediately what Leila was referring to. While Tessa shimmered golden, his virta strong in her, a touch from him would arouse her instantly and make her climax. “I know. But I need to be here when she wakes. She’ll be frightened.” He looked up at Leila. “She doesn’t know you.”

  Leila nodded, a soft smile on her face. “Then stay.”

  He sighed in relief, and next to him, Pearce did the same.

  “You’ve done well, Hamish,” Pearce said.

  Hamish glanced at him. “She can’t die.”

  From the look his friend gave him, he knew Pearce understood. “She won’t. And we’re gonna get the bastard who did this to her.”

  Hamish nodded in agreement.

  “I’ve checked on that email you sent me,” Pearce suddenly said.

  Hamish shot him a look, his body coiled in anticipation. “Yes?”

  “That name that sounded so odd? Zoel Monnadt?”

  “What about it?”

  “It’s an anagram. If you rearrange the letters, it spells Demon Zoltan.”

  “That sick son-of-a-bitch!” Hamish growled, his hands automatically curling into fists.

  “He likes to play games. I also examined the photo, and it’s not been altered. The photo is real. It wasn’t photoshopped. Sorry.”

  Hamish nodded, letting the information sink in. It lent more weight to his hunch. “Did you get the adoption file I asked you for? I think I know how Zoltan did it. I just need confirmation.”

  “I hacked into the county records, but thirty-five years ago they had paper records. They’re not digitized yet. I was about to go down to the county courthouse and let myself in to look for them, when…” He glanced at Tessa, then back at Hamish. “I’ll go now.”

  “Thanks, Pearce.” He hesitated. “For everything.”

  Pearce smiled. “What are friends for?” Then he turned and marched out of the room.

  Hamish moved his chair closer to the gurney, still feeling physically weak. But he’d take that any day if it meant Tessa would live.

  “What now?” he asked, lifting his eyes to Leila.

  “Now we wait.”

  “Why don’t you take a break, Leila; go see Aiden. I’ll call for you if her condition changes,” Hamish said.

  “Are you sure?”

  He nodded. “And you might want to take some bandages with you. The intruder is injured.”

  Leila’s chin dropped. “You didn’t kill the demon who got in?”

  “It wasn’t a demon.”

  “Then who breached our defenses?”

  “A witch.”

  “But… how is that possible?”

  Hamish shrugged. “We don’t know yet. We’ll figure it out.” He glanced back at Tessa. “Later.” When he could think straight again.

  Leila grabbed a bag with supplies and walked to the door where she looked over her shoulder. “If anything changes, if she wakes up, press that button.” She pointed to a spot on the wall. “It’ll send a silent alarm to the command center and to my cell.”

  Hamish nodded. A moment later he was alone with Tessa.

  Her face looked peaceful now, not the contorted mask of pain and anguish it had been earlier during her seizure. The golden glow that covered her entire body made her look like an angel. And to him she was an angel.

  “I love you, Tessa,” he murmured. “And if you wake up, no… when you wake up, I’ll show you how much.” He sniffled. “I’m going to kill the demon who did this to you. I’m going to destroy Zoltan. I’m going to make him wish he’d never been born.”

  34

  Wesley cursed. They’d stripped him of his backpack and searched his pockets, emptying them, before they’d tossed him into a dark cell lined with lead. Without any weapons, his cell phone, or his witch power, there wasn’t much he could do. He just had to wait for his reluctant hosts to come back and let him explain why he was here and how he’d been able to use the portal.

  He wasn’t sure how long he’d been in the dimly lit cell, but it couldn’t have been long, when he heard footsteps approaching. More than one person, as far as he could tell. He jumped to his feet and stared at the door, which looked as if it belonged in an old castle. A key turned in the lock, and the door swung open, letting more light into the cell.

  A man was silhouetted against the light behind him. “We’re going to take care of your injury.”

  He recognized the voice. It was Aiden. He stepped aside, revealing a smaller figure. A woman. Wes lifted an eyebrow and approached the door, taking a closer look. To his surprise, the woman was human.

  “One false move, and I’ll have you by the balls, witch,” Aiden threatened.

  The woman put a hand on his forearm in an attempt to calm hi
m. They exchanged a look.

  “He’s injured and powerless, Aiden, I don’t think he’s going to try anything.” She glanced at Wesley. “Right?”

  Automatically, Wes shook his head. “I’m not gonna hurt anybody.”

  When the woman stepped into the cell, Wes remained motionless, knowing Aiden was watching him like a hawk. If he had to guess he’d say that Aiden and this woman were an item, considering how protective he was of her.

  “Leila, be careful.”

  She didn’t reply and walked closer. Then her eyes homed in on Wesley’s injured arm. “It’s too dark in here,” she said, looking over her shoulder. “Let’s take him upstairs.”

  “He’s staying here!” Aiden ground out.

  She turned slowly. “Aiden, please be reasonable. Let’s take him up to the kitchen. I need warm water to clean out his wound anyway. He’s not gonna be able to escape, no matter whether he’s in the cell or upstairs.”

  Aiden grumbled something, before he finally said, “Fine.” Then he pointed his index finger at Wesley and added, “But one wrong move—”

  “I heard you the first time,” Wes interrupted. “And the name is Wesley. It’s offensive the way you say witch as if it were a four-letter word.”

  To his surprise, Leila chuckled. “Come on, Wesley, let’s get you patched up.” She walked toward the exit, waving him to follow her.

  “And did I hear kitchen? You wouldn’t by any chance have something to eat there? I’m kind of starving,” Wes said as he left the cell. When Aiden narrowed his eyes at him, he pointed to his wounded arm, where blood had crusted over the incision. “A stiff drink wouldn’t go amiss either. You know, to dull the pain.”

  One side of Aiden’s mouth curled up slightly. “We drink Scotch here.”

  “Love me a good glass of Scotch anytime,” Wes claimed. Anything to connect with his hostile host.

  Through several corridors and up a couple of flights of stairs, Aiden and Leila led him to a higher floor. There, the walls were similar to the ones in the basement, but the floors had a much smoother surface, and the place was well-lit. It even smelled homey. From what he could tell, this was a massive building, several stories high, and several city lots wide. His own house in San Francisco could fit into this place at least five times over.