“Take your people and get away from here as quickly as possible,” he said, appearing calm, but the tension was back in his shoulders. “They can’t know we spent time swapping information. I’ll send Sicarius back to you as security for Tabari’s safe return. If you need to get word to me, make use of Astrid; otherwise I shall be in contact in two months.”
Gabi and Julius both hesitated. Neither wanted to let Tabari go with the Decurian.
“Sire, I can hear them; they’re close,” Fergus warned.
“Sicarius will only slow you down,” Eka warned. “If you believe nothing else about me, believe that I won’t do anything to risk Flora’s long-term protection.” He was right about the assassin slowing them down. Reluctant agreement merged in her mind along with Julius’s. She took a precious moment to check Razor’s armour, making sure he knew to stay close, and then ran for the cave entrance, Julius a step behind her.
“One last thing,” Eka called. “Ask Cassandra about the Mole. He is your key to finding the Dark Magus and the thief.”
Gabi stopped in her tracks as Julius sailed past her, the cryptic sentence reminding her they hadn’t got everything from Eka that they wanted.
“Go,” Eka snapped, and Julius grabbed her elbow, dragging her after him.
They flew through the forest, careening downhill at twice the speed they’d climbed up the mountain. Fergus in the lead, following their previous trail by scent, Razor on his heels, Gabi behind him, Julius and Mac bringing up the rear. It had been hard leaving Tabari behind. She had hesitated again once out of the cave, and only Tabari’s hand, protective around Flora’s shoulder, had finally convinced her to go. Moments after they’d begun the headlong dash down the mountain, they’d heard the low hum of a helicopter, its pitch different from the one Butch had been piloting for them. Either Eka was escaping the easy way, or there was a fight brewing at the ruins. Gabi had very nearly turned back, but Julius had put a hand on her shoulder and thrust her forward again.
She knew he was right. They were vulnerable with just four of them and Butch somewhere near the base of the mountain. Eka had more fighters with him and the upper hand as Decuria Number One, but it still left her uneasy. And then all her attention was on not tripping and breaking her neck or dislocating her knee again.
She’d underestimated the amount of concentration needed to run down a mountain in the pitch dark. She found it impossible to scan ahead for supernaturals while dodging fallen trees, hanging vines and slippery mud puddles. She slowed every few minutes at first to run a quick mental sweep, but half an hour into their mad dash she’d become complacent. Julius had edged ahead of her, using his body to open a pathway for her. Her more-human lungs were burning, her leg muscles screaming in protest, and her face and hands stinging from a hundred minor cuts and bruises. It was taking everything she had to keep putting one foot in front of the other in a steady rhythm. Gradually she fell back until she could only hear Julius ahead of her, not see him. Razor had slowed as well, staying just ahead of her while Mac still held his position a few feet behind her.
“Lea,” Julius barked a warning several metres ahead of her, but his warning came too late.
In the instant that she ground to a halt she threw her Vamp sense out in a desperately wide net.
“Fuck,” she whispered through gasping breaths and walked the final few steps into the clearing where the helicopter waited.
At least three dozen people filled the small glade: Vampires of varying strength and maturity and Werewolves, lots of Werewolves, male and female, their eyes hard and triumphant in the gloom of night. A large black wolf with silver-tipped ears and tail hunched on the damp ground near the chopper, growling softly. A dagger protruded from between his shoulder blades, buried to the hilt. By the simple fact that he wasn’t able to remove it, Gabi knew the dagger was silver. Butch was being poisoned. Worse than that, Fergus was lying prone on the ground, several plain-handled daggers protruding from his chest, and Julius was on his knees. A man stood over him, his hand on the ivory hilt of a dagger, the tip of the blade buried in Julius’s chest, exactly where Nex had been in Eka’s chest less than an hour before. Both men’s eyes were on her. Julius’s face was calm, his thoughts to her reassuring.
Anger, confusion and guilt sliced through Gabi; the anger won out. “What is the meaning of this?” she roared. “Who dares to touch what is mine?” She advanced into the clearing, stalking closer to Julius and his attacker, Nex a cold comfort in her right hand. Mac flanked her left, a MacDartgun in one hand and a MacSpike in the other. Razor was a warm, dark presence at her right ankle.
The male Vampire holding the dagger in Julius’s chest bared his teeth warningly, bringing her to a halt before she reached striking range. He was lean, not much taller than Gabi, with dark, close-cropped hair and dark, designer stubble. He could’ve been any age between twenty and forty. His bearing was self-assured and his eyes held a cruel edge.
“A local Pack contacted us for assistance when they received reports of invaders in their area.” Dark brown eyes ran an assessing eye over her and Mac; they never lowered to Razor. Condescending amusement lifted the corners of his full mouth.
Gabi’s mind raced. How had Julius and Fergus not sensed them waiting? It was impossible they’d run into this trap so easily. A chuckle echoed through her mind.
Several swear words popped into her head, but none of them were strong enough to encapsulate her sentiments at that moment; she’d have to learn some new ones. Julius would pay for this, but at least she could drop the sense of guilt.
“My Consort asked you to explain yourself.” Julius’s voice was so low and so menacing it drew a shiver down Gabi’s spine. “You have exactly five seconds to do that.”
“Or what?” the shorter man threw at Julius, looking at him with disdain. “I get to kill you quicker?”
“Three seconds.”
“Just because it is your dying wish.” The man sighed dramatically. His accent sounded Middle Eastern, but Gabi couldn’t pinpoint it exactly. “I am Zayden. I am here to clean up the mess Eka is leaving behind. And you,” he inclined his head towards Gabi, “can decide whether your lover dies quick and easy or slow and tortuously.” Enmity dripped from each word. “You can come with us meekly, or you can come with a fight. But now you are ours.”
“Zayden?” Gabi asked, the name registering. “Decuria Number Seven?”
“Ah, you have heard of me.” He lowered his head in a faint bow. “I am honoured. I hate to kill and abduct people who don’t know my true identity.” The power swirling around Julius had become a vortex so strong Gabi was finding it hard not to take a step backwards. The Decurian had to be the child of a Null not to sense it.
“Tell me, Zayden,” she began, then lowered her voice to a husky whisper, “what did you do to draw the short straw?”
Confusion briefly softened his features, and then his sneer regained control. “This is no short straw, as you call it, I am merely on clean-up duty. It’s an unpleasant job, but somebody has to do it.”
Gabi actually snorted, it wasn’t very ladylike, but this guy was so deluded it was laughable. His sneer turned to a glare.
“Have you paid any attention to the rumours of what my Consort is capable of?” she asked, but it was rhetoric. If he had any idea, he would’ve tried to twist the dagger and remove Julius’s head already.
“He can control Vampires,” Zayden said with a sarcastic edge to his voice. “Only weak, young Vampires, it would seem. I brought only strong, mature Vampires, and then, of course, there are the Werewolves. Make up your mind: quick or slow.” He shifted the dagger slightly, and a dark patch blossomed on Julius’s shirt.
Gabi shook her head, playing along as she had a slightly surreal telepathic conversation with Julius.
Gabi: Nearly twenty Werewolves? There’s no chance I can control them all.
Julius: Yes, you can. You are stronger than you believe.
Gabi: But what if I can’t?
Julius: You can. Bu
t there is always Fergus, Mac and Razor to back you up.
Gabi: This is going to be a royal fuck-up. If you die on me…
Julius: In three…two…
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Gabi said aloud to Zayden, and then she flung open every box filled with the anger, worry and guilt from the past three days and gathered them into a roiling ball of fury. One, Julius whispered in her mind.
CHAPTER 13
To an outside observer very little happened in the clearing at the bottom of a rugged Mauritanian mountain filled with Vampires, Werewolves and one pissed-off Dhampir, but beneath the surface all hell broke loose.
Behind a kneeling Julius, Zayden stiffened, his sardonic sneer turning to open-mouthed horror. The sensation of biting ants marching over Gabi’s skin was distracting, but she ignored it as she poured her furious ball of emotional energy into the delicate connections she could sense attached to each Werewolf in her immediate vicinity. She quickly and carefully singled out the enraged and pain-ridden wolf that was Butch and calmed him, compartmentalised his presence off to a safe zone, and then she released the torrent of emotion-driven will into the others.
“Submit,” she yelled aloud, and half the army around her dropped whatever weapons they were holding and howled. Some arched backwards, some collapsed forward, and others fell to their knees. She’d never experienced such an insane amount of power over another creature. Until a few months ago she didn’t even know she could take control of a Werewolf. Her first attempt had been pure instinct driven by a desperate situation, and it had taken every ounce of strength she had to hold Derek stationery and convince his wolf to back down. Now she was controlling nineteen fully mature werewolves, binding them to her will, and she was still standing. Her teeth gritted against the strain, and she spared a sliver of concentration to check the clearing.
Julius was back on his feet, the ivory-hilted dagger held loosely in his right hand, blood darkening the blade as Zayden knelt in the damp grass, his head bowed. The other Vampires stood still as death, their hands hung loose at their sides, and their expressions were vacant. Mac was standing a few feet from Butch, Razor beside him and the silver knife in his hand. Both were keeping a wary but protective watch over the black wolf that now lay on his side, panting and growling. Fergus was getting to his feet. The pale light from the sickle moon glinted off the collection of knives and daggers lying in the bloodstained grass near him.
The low position of the moon reminded Gabi that they didn’t have very much time before sunrise.
“So now what, Sherlock?” she threw at Julius, her voice coming out hoarse and growly as renewed sweat broke out on her forehead. “I can’t hold them for long.”
“Just keep them human,” Julius said, and the telltale prickle of his power teased her exposed skin again. Each of Zayden’s Vampires suddenly started walking. Moving like sleepwalkers, they formed a loose circle around the contorting Werewolves; slowly but inexorably they began to prod and poke the wolves until they gathered them into a small knot in the centre of the glen. The Vampires had closed ranks and stared at the wolves, their intentions clear. Fergus approached the circle. He’d retrieved the silver knife from Mac and was tossing it end over end in his left hand.
“Release them,” Julius told her. It was a rare pleasure for her to enjoy following a direct order. She dropped her control over the wolves and the dark glade swirled around her.
“Lea?” Julius said, concern clear.
“I’m fine,” she gasped just before her butt hit the grass. She dropped her forehead to her upraised knees as dizziness swamped her and spikes of pain lanced through her head. Razor’s whiskers tickled the side of her face and his worry washed over her.
“Hellcat?” Mac’s voice was on her other side. His weathered hand covered one of hers, his fingers digging gently into the pulse point at her wrist. “She’s okay,” she heard him say. “Here.” A water bottle pressed into her hand, and she dared to open one eye as she twisted the cap off. The cool gush of the water down her throat was heaven. I’m fine, Julius, she projected at him.
“Just give me a moment,” she said out loud. The headache had dulled from piercing to throbbing. Razor nuzzled her face, purring, relieved but not entirely reassured. She petted him as she finished the water, then put one hand on Mac’s arm and used his solid strength to pull herself into a standing position. The knot of werewolves bristled angrily in the circle of mindless Vampires, but Fergus’s silent threat seemed to be keeping them under control. Zayden still knelt silently at Julius’s feet while Julius watched her with narrowed eyes. She gave Mac a grateful pat and withdrew her hand from his forearm. “Take care of Butch. Call me if you need me,” she told him, stiffening her wobbly knees before going to join Julius.
“I would prefer you didn’t see this,” he told her, showing no hint of the strain he must be under keeping control of so many hostile Vampires. He had slammed his mental walls into place as soon as he realised she was alright, and not a single emotion leaked through his barriers.
“Am I your Consort or not?” She tried to keep her voice even, but didn’t quite manage it. She was filled with a mixture of irritation, anticipation and fear. Kyle had warned her that she didn’t really want to see this side of Julius. Kyle had seen it, and Gabi knew it still haunted him. But it was time; she wanted…no, she needed to see every part of him, understand every aspect of him. She knew the good, noble, loyal side of him; now she had to see the brutal, heartless side, the side that would stop at nothing to protect those he loved. His dark sapphire gaze bored into hers. She opened her mind, laying herself bare, hoping to prove she was strong enough to see all of him.
Finally, he nodded, just once, but his expression was bleak.
Power swirled around Gabi and then the Vampire on the ground shook his head and groaned, like someone waking from a nightmare. He looked up to find Gabi and Julius staring down at him, and flinched.
“Tell us who sent you here? Who were you going to deliver me to?” Gabi asked.
Zayden visibly steadied himself and let the mocking smile slide back into place. “I don’t take orders from others, especially not mostly human females,” he sneered.
“Answer the questions, or I’ll rip the information from your mind,” Julius said. His voice was low and soft, and Gabi was grateful it wasn’t directed at her. She could almost taste the foreboding in his words.
“I will not tell you anything,” the Vampire hissed. “Release me and my people or this will be considered a declaration of war. The Lucis will not stand a chance.” He spat the words as though they were distasteful in his mouth.
“Your choice,” Julius replied. And then the Vampire’s spine bowed, his head flew backwards and he screamed.
Zayden, the powerful Decurian, lay on the ground, his legs twisted under him at unnatural angles, his eyes staring vacantly up at the starry sky. Julius had avoided looking at Gabi throughout the process, and he turned away from her now. Watching the man writhe and scream hadn’t been pleasant; she’d never been comfortable with calculated torture, but the vision of Julius on his knees with a dagger millimetres from his heart was still fresh in her mind, and she’d felt no empathy for the Decurian. Her fears over how she’d feel about Julius afterward were groundless; she felt only amazement at the power he was capable of wielding. She wished he would turn and read her so he would understand the depth of her feelings for him, the admiration she had for the control he showed every second he was conscious. How easy and how tempting would it be for someone with his gifts to simply make others do exactly what he wanted? If someone like Dantè or one of the Decuria had even a drop of the power he possessed, the world would be a very, very different place.
“Fergus,” Julius called.
“I’ll do it,” Mac said, already stalking across the clearing. Butch was sitting up, leaning against the helicopter, a water bottle in one hand, his skin less ashen. Mac approached the prone Vampire, his expression as cold as the blade of the hunting k
nife in his right hand. Gabi growled a little; it was too kind to finish the Decurian this cleanly. Leaving the living wreck alive would be fair warning to any others who thought they could mess with Julius’s Clan. But that wasn’t Julius’s way. She respected that.
As Mac neared him, Julius held out his hand for the knife. Mac ignored his unspoken request and knelt near the Vampire’s head. “He doesn’t deserve the honour of being slain by a Master Vampire,” he told Julius, his voice gruff. Without hesitation he jammed the blade into the Vampire’s neck and hacked downward until the head came away from the body. They all watched in silence, even Zayden’s own people, as the Vampire began to shrivel and decay. In just moments his clothing lay crumpled on the grass, small piles of ash at the openings, and little more. Julius tossed the ivory-handled dagger beside the clothing and stepped away.
A strong swirling of air and the sound of a powerful motor drew Gabi’s attention; Butch was in the helicopter’s pilot seat, flicking switches. A quick glance at her watch revealed there wasn’t much night left; they needed to leave. Julius strode towards Zayden’s people. The Vampires had lost the spaced-out look they’d had earlier, and the Werewolves paced restlessly, the whites of their eyes showing, their wolves clawing for control.
“Leave however you wish,” he told them. “Go back to the others, or build another life for yourselves, I don’t care which, but if I ever see any of you again, you will not get off as lightly as he did.”
Gabi clenched Nex a little tighter and moved in front of Razor as the tense throng of Vampires and Werewolves broke apart and scattered to the four winds. Mac and Fergus stood, fierce and battle ready, watching them go. Not one so much as looked back.
Julius turned on his heel and paced towards the helicopter, still studiously avoiding Gabi’s gaze. Annoyance flared and Nex’s hilt grew warm in her hand as she moved to intercept him.
“You bastard,” she growled, levelling Nex at his chest. He stopped when the tip of her blade touched his chest, his eyes finally meeting hers, and in their depths she read his sense of doom. “You nearly made my heart stop when I saw that dagger in your chest…you took ten fucking years off my life.” She broke off, letting the sword fall to her side. She was too tired to actually stab any sense into him. Instead she knocked down the mental walls she’d automatically rebuilt and allowed her emotions to drench him. He hesitated for a full second before reaching out and pulling her into his arms, ignoring her outraged squawk and Razor’s warning hiss.
There'll be Hell to Pay (Hellcat Series Book 6) Page 17