Fergus stepped forward to open the door and then stood aside for Sicarius to walk ahead of them. Julius and Gabi brought up the rear, a silent procession to the gate. Razor followed quietly in their wake. As they left the mansion itself and started the walk down the tree-lined drive towards the gate, a tiny ball of red fuzz scooted out of a tree and hurtled directly towards them. Sicarius reacted instinctively and jerked aside, but the excited squirrel didn’t even seem to notice him. She darted for Gabi, zipping up her leg and onto her shoulder, chittering as though scolding her soundly. Fergus used the opportunity to give the human a shove in the small of his back, but Gabi caught the bemused expression on his face before he turned to continue walking. She allowed the tiny animal a few seconds of fussing and then gently but firmly gave her a mental push to return to the trees. The little fluffball gave Julius a mournful look, she had wanted to burrow into his hair and play games, but she obeyed Gabi’s encouragement without further fuss and, after briefly exchanging a nuzzle with Razor, scampered off.
Gabi suppressed a pang of guilt. One of these days she’d have the time to sit up on a branch and just breathe with her little friend. She hoped that time wasn’t too far away. Julius gave her hand a barely perceptible squeeze. She squeezed back, giving herself a mental shake.
Rest when you’re dead, right?
The gatehouse was alive with Werewolves and Vampires. Every hand on duty had besieged the area.
“Back tae wark,” Fergus growled, and several bodies scattered out of their way. “Tae yer assigned posts. Noo.” His tone grew harder, and more than half of the bodies melted quickly away into the shadows.
On the far side of the gate was a sleek, black motorcycle lit by several high-powered spotlights. Sitting casually astride it was a dark figure, one booted foot planted firmly on the tarmac, helmet in place and visor down. The guards on duty moved aside as the four of them approached.
“Open it,” Julius said.
One of the guards jumped to obey and the electric gates slid smoothly apart. Gabi knew, even before the figure removed the helmet, that it was a woman. The physique beneath the tightly fitted motorcycle gear was curved in all the right places. She trailed her fingers through her mass of raven black hair to shake out the inevitable helmet head and then deftly twisted the strands into a bun at the back of her head, tugging a long pin from her sleeve with her teeth to secure it in place.
“Astrid.” Sicarius strode forward as the woman swung her leg backwards over the bike in a lithe dismount. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Sicarius,” the woman greeted him. Her tone was neutral, but a twitch of her lips gave away her pleasure at having surprised him. “You look a little the worse for wear, are you alright?”
“I’m fine.” Sicarius’s voice was flat and unfriendly, putting Gabi on alert as Fergus tensed next to her and Razor came to attention. “What are you doing here?”
“Now, now, assassin,” she took a couple of sultry steps forward, “that’s no way to talk to your new partner.”
Surprise stiffened the man’s body. “Yeah, right. He’d never employ you.” He didn’t sound even remotely convinced.
A smirk curled the woman’s lips as she tugged off her thick gloves and tucked them into a pocket in the leather riding pants. Gabi was very close to losing her temper; she hadn’t come out here to witness a spat between ex-lovers. Then the messenger reached a hand towards the zipper on her bike jacket and Fergus growled warningly, appearing in front of Gabi and Julius in a whoosh of air. She immediately held out her hands in a partially submissive gesture.
“Relax, big guy,” she said. “I’m just getting what I came here to deliver. First, I have a message for my old friend,” she batted her eyelashes mockingly at Sicarius, “and then I have another one for tall, dashing and dangerous behind you.” She upped the wattage on her sultry smile to Julius, and Gabi’s teeth snapped together involuntarily.
“I’d ease up with that if I were you, Astrid,” Sicarius bit out. “The lady next to him could snap you like a twig. Not that I’d mind the show, but we have bigger concerns right now.”
The woman sighed gustily. “Being a captive makes you too grumpy to be any fun,” she griped and pulled two thick envelopes from her jacket. “For you, loverboy.” She held one out to Sicarius. “Oh, that’s right, you’re a bit tied up. I’ll just give it to this brawny dose of Scotland, shall I?” Before she could move to hand it over, both envelopes flew from her grasp as though snatched by an invisible hand. The first landed in Fergus’s outstretched hand and the second in Julius’s. The woman jerked back, her eyes wide, her mouth forming a bemused O.
“Open it,” Sicarius demanded of Fergus. “I’m not sure we can trust her.”
Fergus glanced back at Julius, who nodded. Gabi kept her eyes trained closely on the woman, who seemed to have made a quick recovery from her shock; she was holding her ground. Fergus drew an evil-looking kukri from the sheath at his waist and slit the envelope open with a quick flick of his wrist. He kept the blade in his hand as he tugged the folded sheet of paper out and opened it. Gabi’s attention settled back on the messenger, who stood feet apart and fight ready but not unusually tense; her heartbeat was calm and regular. She was one very cool cucumber for a human.
“Fur ye,” Fergus said, holding the paper open in front of the assassin so he could read it. Now Gabi had to divide her attention between the woman and Sicarius. His eyes quickly scanned the contents of the letter and then paused at the bottom, as though checking and rechecking something.
“Seriously?” He looked up at the woman finally. “You’ve switched allegiance?”
“He made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.” She smirked, the Cheshire cat sitting in the tree.
“So your loyalty is available to the highest bidder?” Scorn dripped from his voice. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“Don’t be so quick to judge, assassin.” Annoyance swept the smugness from her face. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“As much as I’d love to play relationship coach,” Gabi interjected, “we have more pressing issues. You can resume your lovers’ squabble on your own time.” She took subtle pleasure from the venomous looks both of them shot her. “Do we or don’t we trust this missive, assassin?”
The muscles in his jaw began twitching again: “Yes, the missive is from my employer. It appears he has done some recruiting recently. If he trusts her, we can trust her.” His reply was enigmatic, but also emphatic.
Gabi turned her attention to Julius, who was reading the second letter, trusting Fergus and Razor to watch the two humans. The tic in her Consort’s jaw wasn’t a good sign.
“We need to get going. Now,” was all he said, handing the letter to Gabi and focusing on the raven-haired woman.
“You may tell your employer we will see him soon,” he told Astrid, his tone curt as he signalled the guards to close the gates and took Gabi’s arm to guide her back into the grounds while she read. She followed him, reading and rereading the message as the Ducati roared to life.
“How long will it take us to get there?” she asked in a hushed tone. “This isn’t much time.”
“No, it isn’t,” Julius agreed grimly. “He’s keeping us too busy to come up with any other plan. The flight alone will take us at least fifteen hours.”
“So we have less than three hours to spare to get into the air and then to get from the airfield to the meeting place.” Gabi was thinking aloud, her brain trying to process the logistics of the journey ahead of them.
“Exactly,” Julius agreed. “No time to try to circumvent his plans, no time to make contingency plans of our own.”
“Do you truly think he’ll give us my mother’s location in two hours?” Gabi was surprised by his offer to give them a direct video link to her mother. “That seems risky from his side.”
“He won’t be doing anything risky,” Julius muttered. “Something tells me we won’t be able to get to her before the meeting ei
ther.”
“Hoo many can ye tak’ with, Sire?” Fergus asked from just behind them. The assassin was jogging to keep up with the rest of them.
“Six in total,” Julius told him. “Gabi, myself, Tabari and the assassin, plus two others.”
“Fergus and Mac,” Gabi said, without hesitation.
“Lea, I’m not sure about taking Mac this time,” Julius told her, his tone neutral but firm. “He’s still young and the daysleep pulls at him stronger than with older Vampires. We need to consider taking someone else.”
Gabi wasn’t going to argue the point with Sicarius in earshot, but she knew he could sense her dissatisfaction with his suggestion.
“Fergus, escort our esteemed guest back to his quarters and then deliver his letter to Murphy,” Julius said over his shoulder. “I want to know if there’s anything unusual about it and if there is an encoded message of any kind. Then join us in the conference room.”
Forty-eight minutes later they were boarding Julius’s private jet. Gabi didn’t even want to know how he’d been able to get the flight plan approved so quickly. Urgency was crucial. The GPS coordinates in the letter directed them to an abandoned citadel on a remote mountain in Mauritania, of all places. They would have to land the jet in the capital city of Nouakchott and take a helicopter to the edge of the mountain reserve. After that they faced an eighteen-kilometre uphill hike to the citadel itself. A tourist website proclaimed the hike as suitable for experienced hikers only and set a time frame of five to six hours to complete the upward trek. Gabi was fast but not as fast as the Vampires; at Dhampir speed, Alexander estimated she could do it in closer to two hours. They would make the meeting by the skin of their teeth, and there was not one centimetre of wiggle room. If they were delayed anywhere for any reason, they wouldn’t make the deadline.
Gabi had got her way in the end; Mac, Tabari and Fergus dumped their travel bags in the first of the sleeper cabins. There were four spacious bunk beds inside, enough room for all of them. Sicarius was escorted to the second cabin and told to stay put. He didn’t argue. They’d covertly snuck another member of staff into the mix as their co-pilot. Butch was not only a pretty good driver and a medic with a military background, but had also flown military aircraft in Afghanistan. Julius’s offer to have him requalify as a commercial pilot for the jet and helicopters had paid off handsomely. In another life, Gabi might have fallen for the gruff Werewolf. He would co-pilot the jet to Mauritania and then fly the chopper to the base of the mountain and shadow them on foot to the top, scouting the area for signs of a double-cross and acting as emergency backup. None of this had been discussed in Sicarius’s hearing, of course, so for the duration of the trip they would be treating Butch as simply the co-pilot, nothing more, nothing less.
Julius ducked his head into the cockpit to speak with the pilot, who was a Conscii, a human who was fully aware of the supernatural world. They were few and far between, but Julius had several on his payroll. He paid them well and protected them fiercely. Gabi went to the on-board kitchenette and opened the fridge for a Coke. Summer was relentless this year; even the early hours of the morning hadn’t brought any relief from the heat. She twisted the lid off the bottle and took a long swallow before pulling out a perspex bowl from a small cubicle next to the fridge. She filled the bowl with cold water and set it on the floor in front of Razor.
“Drink up, bud,” she told him as the shudder of the plane’s engines rippled underfoot. He did, and once he was done, she poured the leftover water into the tiny sink and stowed the bowl away safely, next to several large tins of premium cat food. She smiled; there weren’t many planes that catered to regular feline passengers. She took a seat in one of the soft leather seats as Razor hopped up in the one next to hers. There certainly were advantages to being the Consort of a wealthy Master Vampire. Not even business class could compete with this level of luxury.
Julius, Mac and Fergus joined her moments later and the plane began to taxi down the runway.
A loud vibration roused Gabi from the doze she’d been lulled into by the light drone of the jet engines. Sleeping on board the plane had become a staple of life; she’d become a pro at doing it. She lifted her head from Julius’s shoulder and blinked, easing a crick in her neck. Realising it was Julius’s phone vibrating, she was instantly wide awake and fully alert.
“Is that him?” she demanded as Julius reached forward to get his mobile from the small table in front of them. Mac and Fergus sat forward; they were all anxious for news.
“Yes, it’s a message from Murphy. He’s got the link established.” His thumb flew over the phone in a quick reply. Mac stood to retrieve a small laptop from an overhead storage compartment. He flicked it open and set it on the table so that Julius and Gabi could see the screen. The computer flicked to life, and as soon as the main screen appeared, he opened his mailbox. He clicked on the first of several messages and double-clicked on the link embedded in the message. Another window opened on the screen and a grainy image appeared.
The image was of a room, something like a parlour out of a Bronte sisters novel. Ornately carved Victorian furniture sat in the centre of the room while heavy, brocade drapes covered what Gabi suspected was a large window, and gold-framed portraits of people from a vastly different era hung on the walls to either side. In one of the high-back chairs next to the round table sat a woman. Gabi’s mother. She was still wearing the same clothes that she’d worn to lunch with Gabi, and she was leafing through a magazine.
“Mom,” Gabi gasped. Leaning in to take a closer look, she searched for signs that her mother was hurt or upset.
The Skype icon flashed with an incoming call. Julius clicked on the icon and Murphy’s face appeared in a screen alongside the one showing her mother.
“This just arrived, a messenger left a note at the gate, and I’ve just established contact,” he explained, not bothering with pleasantries. “I haven’t had time to trace the source of the feed yet. I thought you’d want to see her as soon as possible. There’s no sound feed, just the visual.”
“Thank you, Murphy,” Gabi said. A chunk of the heaviness weighing her down evaporated, giving her more room to breathe. “You’re sure this is a live feed?”
“It looks good on the surface; I’ll know for sure once I trace it.”
Gabi could hear the rapid click of the keyboard as he spoke. On the grainy video her mother looked up as though someone else had entered the room. Her mouth tightened in a look that Gabi knew was annoyance or disapproval. She certainly didn’t seem scared or intimidated. Maybe Julius had been right; her mother was a different woman from the one who been left mentally crippled by the death of her first love.
“Can you take a screenshot and send it to Evan?” Gabi asked Murphy. “I’m sure it will ease his fears somewhat to see her alive and unharmed.”
“Of course,” he told her, “give me a few minutes to activate my tracker. I’ll call back once I have something concrete.”
His face disappeared and Julius closed the Skype screen so that they could focus on the image of her mother. She was speaking to someone, the magazine lowered to the table, her body position ramrod straight and her eyes narrowed. A few seconds later she visibly blew out a breath and sank back into the chair, rubbing her face with her hands and appearing tired. Gabi’s heart tightened in concern, and Julius leaned his shoulder against hers, offering silent comfort. She looked away from the screen, out of the small cabin window at the pervading dark outside as she fought to collect herself.
Then Julius nudged her, making her glance back to the screen. Her mother was rifling through her handbag. She pulled out a handful of small items, set them on the table in front of her, and set to work redoing her make-up with sure, determined movements.
“She’s strong,” Julius whispered. “She’ll be fine. We’ll get her back.”
Gabi nodded, the tiny sprout of hope once more unfurling tiny, newborn leaves.
They were still waiting for word from Mur
phy when the sky began to lighten, ever so slightly, outside the plane.
“Mac, get to bed, and tell Tabari to rest as well,” Julius said. “Fergus, let the assassin out to stretch and use the bathroom, get him some food, and then retire yourself. I’ll wake you to help with the others when we land.”
Fergus grunted acknowledgement and Mac rose, giving Gabi’s shoulder a quick squeeze on his way to the sleeping cabin. They’d been through the plan several times already and put in contingency plans for anything they could envisage going wrong. They’d Skyped Alexander and Kyle, getting their input and playing off their expertise. They were as prepared as they could possibly be. There wasn’t much more they could do now. Gabi would wake Julius as the jet began its descent to a small private airfield west of Nouakchott. He would wake Fergus, and between them they would load Mac and Tabari, still in daysleep, into the waiting helicopter, in the safety of a private hangar. They would cover the windows at the rear of the helicopter with a spray-on film of Savanna’s design, to protect the Vampires from the last rays of sunshine.
They needed to land the helicopter at the base of the mountain just as the sun set to give them enough time to make the hazardous climb to the abandoned citadel. The chopper would be equipped with specialised cameras that picked up heat signatures from more than a mile away. It was a highly dangerous flight in the dark, but Butch assured them he could pull it off. Gabi had seen the Werewolf in action driving a car; his piloting skills were the least of her worries.
The Skype jingle sounded again, dragging Gabi from her contemplation. A quick click and Murphy’s face appeared once again.
“We’ve got a location,” he said, but his expression was grim. “It’s as you expected. She’s a long way away.”
“Where?” Gabi snapped, not in the mood for vagueness.
There'll be Hell to Pay (Hellcat Series Book 6) Page 13