by I. T. Lucas
As Tom appeared at the head of the stairs, his hair still wet from the shower he’d taken, Sebastian motioned for him to stay where he was.
There was no point in staying down in the basement.
He needed to organize a search party, even though their chances of locating Robert were slim. According to the soldier Robert had left in charge, he had left shortly after breakfast, which meant an almost six hours' head start. But if he was driving the van, and after removing the tracker he might, there were other ways of locating it even without the tracker. Sebastian could call up some favors and have the license plate searched.
After all, there were traffic cameras everywhere, and all it took to get access to them was either a fat bribe to the operator or legit payment to a good hacker.
In short, it would cost money.
Chapter 18: Kian
As Brundar relayed the news about Carol, Kian’s fingers thrummed a staccato beat on his desk. “What do you think? Do you believe she wasn’t coerced? Maybe they are on to the snitch accountant and know that we are coming. Or perhaps he took money from both sides.”
The unlikely informant worked in the accounting department of the weapons supplier, and the large shipment delivered locally piqued his curiosity. When Turner’s people had started asking questions, he’d taken the opportunity to make a quick buck. Or a whole sack of them as was the case.
According to Turner, pencil pushers were among the best informed personnel in an organization, and his first choice in snitches.
Brundar shook his head. “I know Carol. She sounded grateful to the guy who helped her. Aside from hinting about the other females, she didn’t divulge information about the location. My impression was that the Doomer didn’t allow it. What surprised me, though, is that she didn’t reveal ours. I was sure they would torture it out of her.”
“Indeed. It seems that we underestimated our Carol. She is a lot tougher than she looks.” Kian pushed to his feet and began pacing the length of his office. “It changes nothing. The threat remains, and the next civilian they catch might talk. We need to eliminate them. But the women are a problem. Considering the possibility that the Doomers might slit their throats as soon as we attack, we need to adjust our battle plan.”
“We don’t know where they are holding them. And it’s too late to make changes to the plan, unless you want to cancel. We can come up with a new strategy today and go to war tomorrow, or the day after. With Carol’s situation resolved, there is no urgency.”
Kian glared at Brundar’s stoic face. If he wasn’t as good-looking and as blond, the guy could have played Spock or Data on Star Trek. He rarely spoke, and when he did, there was barely any inflection in his tone. Everything coming out of his mouth sounded emotionless—like computer speak.
“I’m not cancelling the mission. Even if I were inclined to, which I’m not, we would have a riot on our hands. The guys who answered the call and came here to help liberate Carol would not be happy to have their fun and games postponed. They are pumped on testosterone and psyched to go.”
Brundar surprised him with an almost angry sounding retort. “What about the females? Are we going to forfeit their lives because our warriors thirst for Doomer blood?”
“Of course not. We need to find out where the fuckers are holding them. We will have to split the force into two groups, and while one keeps the Doomers busy, the other will free the women.”
“How are you going to find out where they are holding them in the next hour?”
“We have the blueprints of the monastery. It shouldn’t be too difficult to deduce where the Doomers would stash a bunch of abducted females.” Kian fired up his desktop, and a moment later he had a blown-up layout of the building displayed on the big screen hanging above his credenza.
“As far as I know, the fuckers are not into orgies, so they would need individual holding cells for their victims to serve the men in private.”
Kian counted the number of bedrooms. “There are forty-two rooms. Assuming they have about one hundred warriors, and they are sleeping two and three to a room, there are no bedrooms left for the girls. That only leaves the basement.” He pointed to the large unfinished area.
“Or, they can sleep four men to a room, and put the girls in the remaining ones.”
Brundar was right, logically it was possible. But Kian’s gut was telling him that the women were held underground. From the Doomers' perspective, it made more sense to keep their sex slaves away from the warriors’ main quarters. Order had to be maintained, visits needed to be scheduled and monitored.
“They are in the basement. Trust me on that.”
Brundar nodded. “It’s your call. Just in case, though, let’s send Arwel with the rescue team. He might be able to sense the women and point us in the right direction.”
“Agreed.”
The gym, which had been basically converted into a war room, was bustling with activity when Kian and Brundar returned from their brief meeting. With the eighty-six Guardians who’d answered the call and his current six, and Dalhu, he had ninety-three warriors. Andrew, Kri, Bridget and her two assistants, William, and the five ‘hikers’ brought the number to one hundred and four participants.
He wondered if they needed a third bus for the women. Just in case it was needed, he should have one on standby.
Kian clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Please take your seats. I have an update.” He waited until they did as he’d commanded and a hush fell over the cavernous room.
“Carol escaped. One of the Doomers helped her get away.”
A murmur that had begun at one corner of the gym spread like wildfire throughout the ranks, and bodies shifting in the rickety foldable chairs amplified the sound of disquiet. As he’d expected, the men were glad for Carol, but disappointed at the prospect of the mission getting cancelled.
Kian raised his hand. “We are still going in.” That had gotten everyone’s attention. “First of all, even though this is no longer about Carol’s rescue, the fact remain that for us to sleep peacefully at night this viper nest of Doomers needs to be eradicated. Second, Carol said that there were other women held prisoner by the Doomers, and we all know what they need them for. We are going to rescue them.”
“How many?” Anandur asked.
“She either didn’t know or couldn’t talk in front of the Doomer. But it doesn’t matter. Two or twenty or two hundred, they need to be liberated. We are helpless to help those taken to the island, but we can and must help those in our own back yard.”
He got back nods, murmurs of agreement, and even a few grunts.
“We need to split the force into two groups. One to keep the Doomers occupied, and the other to rescue the women. Thanks to your willingness to drop everything and come, we have more than enough warriors to do both.”
Kian signaled to Shai who turned on the projector, displaying the layout of the Doomers compound on the Gym’s back wall. With a ruler, he pointed at the stairs leading down to the basement.
“I suspect that they are holding them down here. But I’m sure that it no longer looks like that. My bet is that they divided it into individual rooms for the females. Still, these stairs are the only point of entry, which creates a bottleneck. Therefore, the rescue team will need to be limited to no more than a dozen men. In case I’m wrong and they are not there, Arwel will lead this team, using his telepathic ability to locate the women.” He motioned for Arwel to join him in front of the warriors.
“I need eleven more. Who's volunteering?”
Bhathian got up, but no one joined them.
Bhathian glared at the men. “I would’ve loved nothing better than to fight and kill Doomers with you, but these women need my help more than I need to kill Doomers. Their families must be frantic with worry over them. I would be if my daughter went missing. Who’s with me?”
Anandur sighed and stood up.
“Come on, men. We need nine more.” Kian scanned the room full of warriors.
Suddenly the men got busy looking at the shoulder of the guy sitting next to them, or down at their shoes. But they couldn’t hide from him their guilty expressions.
“Okay. You leave me no choice but to decide for you.” Kian pointed at the first row. “Uisdean and Niall, you two.”
The two warriors grunted their disapproval but joined the others up front. In the back, Alesteir grabbed the back of Muir’s shirt and lifted him up. Muir shook his head but followed. Raibert was next, then Eoin.
“Thank you, gentleman.” Kian shook each of their hands as they joined the group. “We need three more.”
Morogh stood up and pushed his way through the line of warriors, tapping Nachton and Uarraig as he passed them by. The three completed the count.
Kian clapped each on his shoulder.
“Good. Now we are ready to roll out. In twenty minutes, I want everyone in the parking level. Shai made a list of who goes on which bus, so check with him before you board. Hikers, you are with me.”
Chapter 19: Dalhu
“Dalhu, you’re on the front bus.” Shai checked off his name on the tablet he was holding.
Dalhu felt his shoulders relax. The seating arrangements for the rescue team had been reassigned so they would all ride on one bus, which happened to be the one Andrew was driving, and the one Dalhu hoped he’d be riding as well.
The only friends he had made since he was accepted into the clan were Anandur, Andrew, and to some degree Kian.
The guy who’d despised everything about Dalhu had reconciled himself to his sister’s choice of mate. But it was more than that. A few days ago Kian had shocked him when he’d come to ask his advice.
Dalhu’s opinion, the ex-Doomer who in Kian’s eyes had been lower than the worst scum of the earth, suddenly carried weight.
It wouldn’t have been so surprising if Kian had asked him about insight into the Doomers’ fighting style, or weaknesses in their strategies. But it had been about something personal troubling him that he couldn’t discuss with anyone else. One mated male to another.
Who would have thought?
Not Dalhu, that was for sure. He hoped that what he’d told Kian had helped. Syssi was not herself lately, and Kian couldn’t get her to talk about what was troubling her. Dalhu’s advice had been to give her space and wait until she was ready to share whatever it was. Not an easy task for a guy like Kian, who had an obsessive need to control everything and everyone around him.
At least the man didn’t think of himself as a know-it-all and welcomed input from others. The final decision, though, was always his. Unless Annani overruled him. That was why everyone had been ordered to keep their mouths shut about this mission until it was over.
Kian would have hell to pay once his mother found out.
Was that why he was driving the ‘hikers’ and Brundar in his Lexus instead of joining the others on the bus? Some attempt at plausible deniability?
Or perhaps it had been something else. Maybe Kian believed that his SUV was a lucky charm or something. Dalhu had his own irrational beliefs. Like taking the fact that he’d been assigned to the same bus as his only two other friends as a good sign, because if the day started with a lucky break, there was a good chance it would continue that way.
Warriors were a superstitious bunch, especially before a battle. None would ever admit it, but they considered all kind of bullshit as signs, either lucky or unlucky, and he wasn’t immune to the nonsense.
Apparently, there was truth in the saying that there are no atheists in a foxhole.
Anandur and Arwel had already boarded and were sitting directly behind Andrew. The bench across the aisle from them was unoccupied. His second lucky break for the day. Dalhu put his butt in it before anyone else had a chance to snatch it.
Bhathian taking the seat next to him was the third lucky break. The guy wasn’t exactly a friend, but he didn’t show exceptional animosity toward Dalhu either. Bhathian scowled and grunted at everyone. Though lately, the guy had been smiling more often. Still, even Bhathian’s scowls were better than some of the looks Dalhu had been getting from the newcomers. More so now, when they saw the monstrous sword Kian had given him strapped to his side.
They didn’t trust him. Not yet. He had to prove himself to them too.
In a couple of hours he would.
Dalhu was an exceptional fighter, even if he said so himself. The Guardians were superior warriors, but he was just as good if not better. The skill level was equivalent, but they weren’t as vicious.
Dalhu had no qualms about dispatching each and every one of the Doomers. His world view was simple. Those who posed a threat to his mate and her family had to die.
“I’m hungry,” Bhathian grunted.
“Why didn’t you grab something to eat before we left?” Arwel asked.
Bhathian folded his arms across his chest. “There was no time.”
Anandur leaned to smirk at Bhathian. “Don’t worry, boys, I’m sure we’ll get fed.”
Dalhu doubted that they would stop at a drive-through on the way. Besides, fighting with a full stomach was a bad idea. He was about to share his opinion when Kian’s butler climbed the stairs with two huge plastic bags in each hand, lowering them gently to the bus’s floor next to Andrew’s seat.
“Gentleman, I brought provisions for the road.” He lifted one bag and headed for the back of the bus, distributing neatly folded lunch bags.
“Need any help?” offered a warrior sitting behind Dalhu. Was that Uisdean? Dalhu thought so but wasn’t sure. It would take some time before he learned all the newcomers’ names.
Okidu turned around with an affronted expression on his broad face. “No, sir. I do not. If you wait patiently, your turn will come shortly.”
The butler accentuated every word with a flawless British accent. It was hard to believe that he was basically a machine. Amanda’s butler, Onidu, who was an almost exact replica of Okidu, looked and sounded so real that Dalhu had no problem following Amanda’s example and treating her butler as if he were a person. Onidu was so good at mimicking emotions that Dalhu often caught himself thinking that the mechanical butler actually liked him.
Or, what was more likely, that he was imagining the affection because he needed it. Dalhu had lived for so long as an island, with no one to trust, no one to even share his thoughts with. Now that he’d gotten a taste for it, he wanted more. Amanda’s love was wonderful, the best that life had to offer, but he craved more interactions with people.
Good interactions, with people who actually liked him.
When Okidu was done distributing the bags, he returned to the front, faced the bus full of warriors, and bowed at the waist. “Gentleman, I wish you best of luck on your mission. May you come back victorious and unharmed.”
With another bow, he stepped down.
It had taken another ten minutes or so before Andrew turned on the engine and closed the bus’s door. Shai had come up to take a tally, making sure everyone was accounted for and sitting on the right bus. William had performed a communication test, ensuring that everyone’s earpieces were working fine, and Kian had given his version of a rally-the-troops speech. Short and to the point with not much fluff.
Dalhu’s appreciation for the guy had gone up another notch.
When Kian had given him the sword this morning, Dalhu had assumed that as regent he wasn’t going to join the assault but was going to lead from the back like Dalhu’s superiors had done. Not a bad strategy, in Dalhu’s opinion. Kian was irreplaceable, the other warriors weren't. And yet, Kian had had a sword strapped to his side when he’d come to give his laconic speech.
He was going to fight, which meant Dalhu would have to watch the guy’s back. Amanda would never forgive him if he let her brother get hurt.
Earlier, when he’d kissed her and said goodbye, she’d surprised him. The woman who’d cried buckets when he’d faced Micah’s challenge, smiled and wished him success.
Damn, he hoped that the reason was her confiden
ce in him, not lack of caring. He was sure Syssi hadn’t been as calm with Kian.
“What’s the face for?” Bhathian asked. “Worried?”
The nerve of the guy. For someone who wore a perpetual scowl he had no right to make comments about Dalhu’s facial expressions.
“No, you?”
Bhathian sighed. “Yeah, I am. All these females who might get hurt today… It’s not the same as us warriors. We are trained, and we expect pain and blood and loss. What if the Doomers kill them before we get to them? Do you think they are capable of this? Hell, of course they are. But will they?”
Dalhu was embarrassed. He’d thought Bhathian had been teasing him, but apparently the guy was just looking for an opening to start a conversation.
“I don’t think so. Not unless they are ordered to. If we take out their commander first, I doubt the rank and file soldiers will go out of their way to slaughter women. Not all of them are monsters.”
Bhathian arched one of his formidable brows. “Just most, right?”
Dalhu shrugged. “It’s impossible to tell who has some soul left in them and who doesn’t. It’s not like Doomers sit around a fire, sing kumbaya, and share their feelings.”
Anandur snorted. “Now, that is a picture.”
Bhathian opened the paper bag that had been sitting on his lap and pulled out a water bottle and a nicely wrapped sandwich. Not a bad idea. The ride to Ojai would take at least another forty minutes. Plenty of time to digest a light meal.
As everything else in the clan’s world, the sandwich tasted like something from a fancy restaurant, and the brownie dessert had Dalhu’s eyes rolling back. He washed it down with the second water bottle, then wondered what to do with the trash.
Bhathian crumpled his into a ball and shot it into one of the plastic bags Onidu had left up front.
“Score!” he exclaimed when his paper bag made it in.
Someone in the back snorted. “Big deal. You’re practically sitting on top of it.”