“Gabrielle, I need you to lower your mental defences. Your walls are too strong for me to pierce.” Trinity’s voice sounded less calm, more like she was under some kind of strain, and the fingers clasping Gabi’s left hand had gone rigid.
“Oh, sorry,” Gabi whispered. She’d begun strengthening her mental defences after Mariska had cast a magic ward against her, using her own mind to hold her immobile while Dantè tortured her. She’d honed her walls with Julius’s help until even he couldn’t break through if she didn’t allow him in. She’d probably surprised Trinity with the strength of them. Again she used mental imagery to visualise creating a doorway through her defences. Non-physical stuff had never been a strength of hers; giving it a sense of physical presence had been the breakthrough she needed. She opened the door to the outer edges of her psyche, she didn’t think Trinity would try to intrude further than Gabi wanted her to, but there were things in her head that no one else needed to see or experience.
She felt the gentle wash of Trinity’s presence flow through her doorway, a vast difference to the time Athena hacked into her mind to destroy Mariska’s vile ward. She hadn’t been able to shield Athena from her own physical agony, so the two of them had suffered together for the moments it took Athena to unravel the spell. Somehow that shared pain had been the catalyst that finally abolished the unspoken animosity between the two of them, but Gabi had been too far gone in pain and blood loss to realise it at the time. She focused on a mental image of the ring and felt Trinity flow in and around it, absorbing the very essence of the memory and the emotions it elicited in Gabi.
She wasn’t sure how many minutes or hours had passed when a loud growl of frustration broke her from the meditative state. She straightened in the chair, instantly alert, scanning the room. Nothing had changed, but Trinity sagged in the chair opposite her, her face in her hands.
“I’m truly sorry, Gabrielle,” she said, rubbing both hands across her face. Gabi could see a fine mist of sweat beading on the Magus’s forehead. “There’s some kind of block or ward around the ring. I think it’s a magical ward and is probably cast over your mother, not the ring itself. I cannot pierce through.”
“What?” Julius was unusually curt as he swung open the door. “Can you sense anything, any kind of direction or distance at all?”
Trinity shrank back a little in the chair but answered him. “It’s like being in a dark forest utterly devoid of light, and all I can hear is the quiet ringing of a bell. I know it’s there, but I have nothing to reference it against because I don’t know where I am in relation to it. I am sorry, I really am.” The weight of her words landed like bricks in Gabi’s stomach, squelching the hope that had bloomed again despite her best efforts to the contrary. Where was her mother, and how in Hell’s name were they going to find her?
CHAPTER 5
Only one thing was sure in Gabi’s mind. When they found whoever had kidnapped her mother, there would be hell to pay. She and Julius would come down so hard on the perpetrators that no one would ever dare to try something like this again.
The trip back to the Estate had been a silent one; Gabi’s anger, fear and self-recrimination suffused the interior of the car. In the past year she’d had to rescue Kyle from a crazy human trying to breed himself a Werewolf army, and then her friend Adriana from a group of human Vampire Hunters, but this was the final straw.
“We need to warn Byron, get him up to speed,” she growled as they exited the elevator from the basement garage into the main foyer of the mansion, “and double up the watch on him.”
“I’m on it,” Alexander said from just behind her. She was relieved that he’d volunteered; she wasn’t sure she’d hold it together if she spoke to Byron right now.
“Has there been anything?” She tried to keep the note of pleading out of her voice when they met Fergus in the corridor, a phone in his hand. Razor trotted down the sweeping staircase to their right and purred a worried welcome as he wove between Gabi’s legs.
“Nae,” he rumbled. “Noothin’ frae anyone outside ay th’ Clan. I was just on th’ phone tae Mac. He’s on his way back; he’ll be here within th’ hoor.”
Gabi nodded. Mac was her right-hand man, an ex-private investigator and someone she’d called a friend even before he’d been Turned Vampire to save his life. He was an integral part of the Dhampir Squad, a bloodhound when it came to following clues, and could teach a master class on predicting both human and Vampire behaviour patterns. He’d developed a ‘friends-with-benefits’ relationship with one of Julius’s close friends, a Vampire loner named Savannah. She lived only a short distance from the City and spent her nights inventing things that improved the lives of Vampires, including the specialised coating that protected Gabi’s cars and infused items of clothing that enabled Julius to spend brief amounts of time out in the sun and made combat clothing resistant to the corrosive effects of demon blood. She’d even made armour for Razor. Between her and Mac, they’d produced several weapons that were highly effective in containing or killing both supernaturals and demons. Whenever SID made it back to the City after an assignment, Mac travelled directly to Savannah’s place for some downtime or, as Gabi suspected, some further collaboration on their respective inventions.
“Murphy is waitin’ fur us in th’ war room,” Fergus told them.
Gabi changed direction and headed down a secondary corridor towards the windowless room in the heart of the mansion. SID’s resident computer tamer, Murphy, had been co-leader of the group of Vampire Hunters who had kidnapped Adriana; they had called themselves the Kresniks. They’d been mind-fucked into what they thought was their true calling by a Vampire working for the Decuria, in an attempt to destabilise the City and send Julius running for help. Both Murphy, who’d gone by the handle of Darkstalker, and his co-leader, Lady Helsing, had been underhandedly fed Vampire blood, making it impossible to wipe their memories of all things supernatural. While most in the Community considered the operation to expose the Kresniks and free Adriana a success, Gabi was intensely disappointed that Julius hadn’t been able to extract any information from the Lieutenant, the Vampire responsible for all the trouble. He’d been killed by a highly skilled sniper while Julius was interrogating him. Gabi was also very concerned by how close Julius had come to losing his own life. She was fully aware of how easily the sniper could’ve aimed for Julius instead of the Lieutenant.
Faced with the option of working for Julius or being relocated to some remote part of Alaska, the two ex-leaders of the Kresniks had wisely chosen to take up employment with the Master of the City. Gabi barely slowed as she threw open a door and strode into the large, but mostly airless room they’d dubbed the war room. A dark figure in a high-back leather executive’s chair spun towards them, his face silhouetted against the bank of computer screens behind him. Darkstalker, real name David Murphy, had tried to get them to call him David, but the team had chosen Murphy instead—David just didn’t fit the athletic, tattooed, pierced and head-shaved parkour enthusiast. While his little Vampire Hunting group had enlisted the services of a computer and electronics expert who called himself Mastermind, Murphy had been the real black hat in the group. He preferred the physical stuff—running, jumping and climbing walls like Spider-Man—but had redirected his attention back to the keyboard to become a solid and reliable member of the Dhampir Squad.
“You’ve been filled in?” Gabi asked him, and he nodded, rising from the chair to take his empty coffee mug to the small well-stocked coffee station in one corner of the room.
“Trish sent me everything she has. You want some?” He raised his coffee mug towards Gabi, and she was relieved that he was treating the issue like any other case instead of looking at her with sympathy and wariness.
She nodded and watched silently as he set to work pouring two cups from the coffee maker. In the brighter light at the coffee station, one of the characters inked onto the side of his neck seemed to leer at her. Less than twenty percent of his skin was free of tatto
o ink, he sported more piercings than the average college intake put together, thick scars scored his arms from his early years of drug abuse and self-mutilation, and his particular brand of expertise had proved indispensable on more than one case. When seeking the dark and the dangerous, you didn’t ask the clean and upright citizens of the world where to look, you asked those living in the shadows themselves. Murphy was a consummate professional at gaining the trust of underground groups in towns and cities across the globe; he’d garnered vital information on almost every case they’d pursued so far.
“We’re working backwards, trying to trace which direction the van came in from,” he told her, handing over a steaming mug.
Gabi accepted it gratefully and wrapped unusually cold fingers around the warm ceramic. Razor pressed more firmly against her right leg, his fervent purr reassuring. Julius and Alexander took seats at the long narrow table, and Fergus crossed his arms over his chest and took up sentry position near the door.
“Sash is already working on tighter security measures around your stepfather and Byron. Is there anyone else you’re worried about?”
His partner in crime and ex-girlfriend, Lady Helsing, aka Sasha Beecham, was equally as useful as Murphy, but a lot trickier to handle. Gabi was happy that she’d become Nathan’s problem. As Julius’s security manager, Nathan, in conjunction with the ex-military Werewolf Patrick, oversaw every aspect of Clan security, both personal and business related. Before the Kresniks were disbanded, Sasha had been managing a city-fringe nightclub. She was astute when it came to sniffing out the rabble-rousers and had an almost preternatural ability to sense trouble before it erupted. As an ex-career criminal, she could also spot the potential for security breaches no one else would know to look for. Learning how to harness her gifts for good was a work in progress, and one Gabi certainly didn’t have the patience or fortitude for. Fortunately, Nathan had the patience of a saint and an unflappable, easy-going nature that allowed him to work with the platinum blond force of nature without actually strangling her.
“And have you traced the van?” Alexander asked. “Far enough back to be useful?”
Murphy set his mug on the table and reached for a stack of printed A4 sheets. He spread them over the table in front of his audience.
“It came in from the outskirts of the City, the same way the unmarked van left the City.” He pointed to the van with its illegible logos in several black and white pictures. “Giving more credence to our theory that the unmarked van is the one we’re looking for. The license plates are, of course, fake, but there are a couple of distinguishing features that would help us positively identify it if we found it.” He turned away and tapped rapidly on one of several keyboards strewn haphazardly across the workspace. A printer hummed to life on Gabi’s right, and Murphy grabbed the emerging sheets. “We also managed to get a clear image of the fake logos. We’re following up with sign-writing companies to try to track the printer, but it’s the wrong time of night. We may have more luck in the morning.”
“You’ll do well to extend your search beyond the City limits,” Alexander said. “These guys haven’t put a foot wrong yet; I doubt they’d make the mistake of using a local firm.”
Murphy’s lips pulled into a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Already taken care of. We have a team ready to start canvassing in the morning.”
“Are there any other avenues we can investigate now? Anything we can follow up?” Gabi asked. She was desperate to actually do something. Sitting or standing around waiting for something to happen, waiting for the kidnappers to reach out was slowly driving her crazy.
“If you’ve got any ideas, we’ll gladly work on them,” Murphy said.
She didn’t and the frustration of that… A dull crack followed by heat across her hand and down her pants leg made her jump back, almost tripping over Razor. Julius was beside her in a flash, catching her fall and prying the broken remains of the coffee mug from her hand. “Shit,” she hissed under her breath as Alexander and Murphy both leapt to grab handfuls of paper towel from the kitchenette. Julius quickly dried the cooling liquid from her hands and arm, and Razor set to licking himself clean of the drops in his fur. She grabbed a paper towel from Alexander’s hand and scrubbed at her pants with far more force than necessary.
“There has to be another way to track her,” she growled, hurling the soggy towels into a bin. The dozen or so broken shards of her mug were already at the bottom of it. With everything and everyone at their disposal, how could there be nothing—no spell, no person, no ward—that could help them right now? And then a thought seeped into her mind. A thought so dark that she instantly squelched it.
No.
But it was an insidious thought, and once breached, it would not be contained. She never thought she’d be desperate enough…
No, she wasn’t. They hadn’t even begun to try to find her mother yet. There was no indication that her mother would be harmed.
But the idea just wouldn’t stop worming its way into her thoughts, tempting her even as it repulsed her.
“No, Lea,” Julius said, his voice soft in her left ear. “We cannot resort to such measures. Not even in our time of greatest need.” His hands touched her upper arms, gently as butterflies.
“Says who?” She rounded on him, instantly angry, her fists clenched. “What law says I can’t summon the Wraith? It’s a Seeker; there is nothing it can’t track.” Seekers were demons, ghostlike creatures of the Etherworld, and she’d had more than one encounter with them. They were dangerous, treacherous and powerful, and they could track anything, anywhere. “We’d have my mother back in a matter of hours.” Her voice had gone up several octaves, just shy of screaming.
Julius didn’t respond, but his eyes never left hers. There was no reciprocal anger, no judgement, no condemnation. Just patient understanding. No recriminations, no telling her how dangerous it was, how impossible to summon a specific demon from the Etherworld, what it could cost her…them, the City itself.
Red. Red. A deep red mist erupted at the very edges of her vision as fury tore through her. She roared unintelligibly and lunged at Julius, her fists ready to pummel, to hurt, to kill.
Steel bands fastened around her wrists, as unbreakable as they were gentle. She struggled, spinning her body, twisting into her captor, throwing her hip and swiping at his knee with her boot. Her move failed to shift the bands that now held her even tighter in their grip. The red grew thicker, obscuring her vision and dulling her senses.
“Lea, my Lea.” A soothing voice washed through her mind, blowing at the mist, trying to clear it.
“No,” she growled, fighting harder, kicking out again. The fury felt right, it felt good, it was part of her and it wanted to be free. The shackles tugged her forward, forcing her hands down and behind her back. Strong pillars enclosed her, and she was yanked up against a cool, familiar wall.
“The rage will not help us now, Lea. I need you back with me. All of you, not just vengeance, not just fury. You are strong enough to deal with this. We are strong enough to deal with this. Come back to me.”
She didn’t want to hear the words, trying to block them from her ears, from her mind. But the crisp, cool breeze of his presence was so familiar, so intimate that it was impossible to resist. Lips touched hers, featherlight at first, and then, as she softened her stance, the red cloud receding just a little, the kiss turned harder, became demanding. She breathed out, opening her mouth to allow his tongue entry. His grip around her wrists unlocked and his hands travelled up her body, over her ribcage, up her back either side of Nex’s sheath and into her hair.
As the last of the rage burned away, Julius pulled back a fraction, his eyes searching hers, his chest rippling under her fingers.
“Hello, beautiful,” was all he said. She dropped her head to his chest, suddenly exhausted. He folded his arms around her and just held her.
The sound of a door opening roused her from the semi-daze. She wasn’t sure how long they’d stoo
d entwined, but the last vestiges of the Rage had dissipated. She looked up to see that the room was empty; Julius had apparently evacuated everyone else.
“There isn’t even any damage.” Kyle’s voice came from the open doorway. “Very disappointing, Hellcat, are you going soft on us?”
When she glanced at the door, just his head was visible, the rest of him was well protected by the wall. She wondered when he’d arrived. Whatever he read in her face gave him the confidence to re-enter the war room, his grin only slightly forced. He was followed closely by Alexander, Fergus and finally Murphy. Murphy was the only one human enough to have been at risk of serious injury, but Julius knew that one wrong word from anyone around her could send her over the edge. She’d made huge strides in learning to limit the effects of Red Rage, even training herself to harness its blunt savagery and use it to her advantage in combat situations, but it was still a chaotic, volatile force—one she doubted she’d ever truly control.
“Kyle.” Julius’s voice was gently chiding.
“Come over here and say that, Wolf,” she taunted, pulling away from Julius and straightening her clothes. “I’m sure you’ll be healed by sunrise.”
“No, I’m quite happy over here, thanks.” His grin widened as he purposefully kept the long table between them.
“Do you think Werewolves taste like chicken?” Gabi asked Julius mildly. A bark of laughter escaped her Consort and the tense line of his shoulders relaxed a fraction.
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