by Sue Duff
He rushed to the center of the roof, searching. Did Donovan get his hands on the technology? Was it triggered when they opened the safe?
“What are you looking for?” Yannis asked.
“Something large enough to hold a sizable speaker.” Together, they combed the roof. Nothing.
Marcus met up with his lieutenant in the hallway. “Where’s everyone else?” he asked.
“On the way,” his lieutenant said.
The stairwell door clanged shut. Pacman and Xander joined them. “I told you two to stay put and keep working,” Marcus said.
“We got what we could,” Xander said. “Kudos to whoever designed the virus.”
“Voracious appetite,” Pacman said.
“Mother lode of appetites,” Xander added. They bumped knuckles.
Marcus stepped into the office waiting area. “Who’d we snare?”
The lieutenant indicated the office beyond. “I’ll give you some privacy, sir. He’s not going anywhere,” the lieutenant said. “Orders?”
“Get everyone up to the roof and signal for our pickup from there,” Marcus said.
The lieutenant saluted, then left, dragging the boys with him.
His man’s reserved behavior left Marcus cautious. He locked the door to the hall, then followed groans to a room beyond the executive office. The prisoner glanced over his shoulder at Marcus’s approach.
“Goddamn it!” Vael looked away. “Anyone, anyone but you.”
His hand had conjoined with the safe’s door and his arm hung limp. Marcus had never seen anything like it. “That’s gotta hurt.”
“Fuck you.” He slumped against the wall.
Marcus wandered into the executive office, unable to shake the daze of landing in the middle of an emotional flood. He leaned against the desk and hung his head.
“Hey, old man,” Vael shouted from the other room. “Get me the hell out of here.”
“I don’t care how long it’s been,” Marcus growled. “You either address me as General . . . or Dad.”
The hall doorknob jiggled. Muffled voices at the waiting room door. “I could have sworn I heard someone.” A second later. “Security check. The monitors went down in this hall. We’re checking all offices on this floor.”
Marcus shut the conference room door without a sound. “Your friends have deserted you.”
“Right. I’m such a failure, I couldn’t possibly do something like this on my own.”
“What were you stealing, an empty safe?” Marcus took a step back. “Of course, if you want to deal with this by yourself . . .”
“You wouldn’t!” Vael hissed.
Marcus held the jam up in his hand, but covered the red blinking light with his thumb. The battery life was about to die on the jam. His son’s power would return at any second. Desperate not to lose the boy, he measured his next words carefully. “Take your chances with the Duach, or cooperate and come with me,” Marcus said.
“Ahhh!” He grasped Marcus’s arm. “Now I remember why I hate you.”
Marcus pressed the button just as the scarlet light held steady. Vael’s hand glowed.
At the sound of rusty hinges, Jaered pulled Yannis behind the vent. Footsteps crept across the pebbled rooftop, the crunch tracing the men’s approach.
Click. Static interrupted the night’s calm. “Squad ready for pickup in two . . . roof top location . . . use stealth, over.”
The numb thawed. Tingling. A subtle warmth spread, deep in Jaered’s chest. He grabbed Yannis. “Do you trust me?” he whispered.
“What?”
“Do you trust me,” Jaered hissed.
It took a full second before Yannis nodded.
“Don’t resist what I’m about to do.” Jaered took off for the edge of the roof with a tight grip on Yannis. Shouts. A volley of shots. Bullets whizzed past his shoulder.
Jaered twisted back, wrapping his arms around Yannis. They fell over the side.
{43}
They reappeared in the middle of a field. Jaered collapsed to his knees. He hadn’t made it all the way to the car, but he had to stop the shyft when he did. Keep moving, he urged, but his legs refused to cooperate, and at the moment, they were the ones in control.
“Oh my god!” Yannis cried while pacing in front of Jaered. “If you were able to shyft, why did we go over the edge?”
“My core wasn’t at full strength. I had to buy us a few seconds,” Jaered said.
“And leaping to our deaths was the answer!”
The tingling cold of the shyft gave way to a fiery spasm in his back. He groaned.
Yannis stared at him. “What’s wrong?”
“I’ve been shot.” Jaered tried to push the pain away, but his body had other plans.
“How bad?” Yannis bent down and his fingers probed Jaered’s back. They stopped at his lower shoulder.
Jaered clenched his jaw and he held his breath to stifle a wail. His nostrils flared. Breaths came in rapid succession. Nothing helped.
“It appears to have gone in at an angle and missed your shoulder blade. It’s too high for vital organs, but you’re losing a lot of blood.”
“It’s worse than that.” Jaered collapsed on the ground. The crisp, cool earth felt invigorating. His head cleared. “I need my cell.”
Yannis patted him down and pulled it out.
Jaered grabbed the phone with a shaky hand and pressed the code. Two rings. Eve answered.
“Report.”
“Code Red,” came out barely above a whisper. Jaered caught his breath and closed his eyes, conserving everything he had left.
“Location?”
“Outskirts of town.”
“Are you alone?”
“No.”
“One of ours?”
Jaered hesitated. “No.”
“Transportation?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll send coordinates to your cell and alert the doctor you’re on the way. Do you have the package?”
“I think so.”
“Viable for use?”
Her question gave him pause. His suspicions at Eve’s true motives surfaced. “It needs to be tested to confirm.”
“Get there as fast as you can, and Jaered?”
“Huh.”
“Don’t die. I need you.”
The line went dead. A few seconds later, his cell vibrated in his hand. He turned the screen toward Yannis. “Get me to this address.”
“What’s there?”
“Help.” Mistrust clouded Yannis’s face and he didn’t move. “I’m sure Aeros will understand, his son bleeding to death on your watch.” Jaered moaned.
Yannis threw Jaered’s arm over his shoulder and heaved him up.
Jaered’s outcry was cut short by the grunts it took to stay on his feet. By the time Yannis stuffed him in the car and the engine turned over, his thoughts were lost in a gray, swirling fog. He slumped against the side of the car door and focused on something, anything to stay conscious. “Kill the lights.”
Yannis flicked the switch. Stars lit up the dark sky like spilt salt.
The thump, thump, thump of helicopter blades passed over them a few minutes later. “Make sure we’re not followed,” Jaered said, but his voice was louder in his head than what reached his ears.
Yannis stole a peek from over his shoulder. “I don’t see anything but pitch black behind us.”
“Make sure,” drifted off as Jaered slid into nothingness.
{44}
Ian slouched on the sofa. The night receptionist went about her duties across the hotel lobby. Her acrylic nails clicked against the keyboard. The occasional guest returned and the ding of the elevators signaled they were lucky enough to settle in for the night.
His thoughts had stilled and his muscles melted for the first time in days as exhaustion kicked in. Marcus and his squad had the pharmaceutical facility in hand. Ian welcomed the temporary reprieve.
“Why don’t we just join the others upstairs?” Rayne a
sked from the chair beside him.
“Everyone’s asleep.” Ian yawned. “I want us to be ready for when Marcus calls.”
Rayne’s cell buzzed in her pocket. She answered it. “Zoe, where have you been? Why haven’t you returned my calls?”
She gasped. Ian opened his eyes and sat up with a start. He strained to hear, but Rayne hit the speaker on her phone and held it out for him.
“. . . been tied up,” a male voice said. Color drained from Rayne’s face. They both knew that voice. “As much as I’ve enjoyed my plaything, Donovan wants his son. Time for a trade,” Ning said.
Rayne shot to her feet. She gripped the phone so tight, her knuckles turned white. “Don’t hurt her,” she said, loud enough that it earned a glance from the receptionist on the other side of the room.
“Too late for that.” Ning chuckled. “But you’re welcome to what’s left.”
“The zoo,” Ian said. “Meet us near the Big Cat House, an hour from now.” He looked at the ornate clock on the wall.
“No Pur troops, and we might all walk out of there alive,” Ning said. “Rayne, you’ll be the one handing over the boy.” The line went dead.
Rayne headed for the elevators. She pressed the penthouse button and stood, waiting with clenched fists.
“Rayne, we can’t go up there,” Ian said.
“An hour is no time at all, Ian. We need to gather everyone together and make a plan.”
The penthouse elevator doors opened. She stepped in. Ian grabbed her wrist to stop her. Spikes of pain ripped through his body. Her power drain gripped his core and threatened to tear it out of his chest. He let go and chose the button for the mezzanine level. The doors closed on his groan.
She pressed into the corner of the elevator and looked at him like he was insane. “You heard him. Ning’s already had his twisted fun with Zoe.” Rayne covered her face with her hands. A primal scream, muffled and riddled with despair, spilled from beneath.
Ian’s core throbbed. Air took its time to refill his lungs. “We’ll get her back, I swear we’ll get her back,” he rasped.
Rayne’s chest heaved. “It’s Ning, Ian. What’s left of her?”
Ian stepped out onto the mezzanine floor. Rayne hesitated, then followed him. A brilliant blue shone from the hotel pool beyond glass walls. “Outside,” he said and led her through the pool area and onto an outdoor patio.
Rayne gripped the railing and stared at the city lights. “Maybe if I can get close enough, I can drain Ning and keep Bryant safe. You can finish him off if you need to. Tara can take care of Donovan.”
“I want you to return to the mansion,” Ian said.
“What?” She turned on him. “You heard him. Ning expects me to be there. To hand over the boy.”
“There’s something you don’t know. Hell, I’m not sure myself. It’s only been a theory,” Ian said. He’d kept her at a distance, but with this latest snag, he couldn’t keep her in the dark. Not now.
“What aren’t you telling me, Ian?” His lack of response didn’t bode well. “I’m tired of secrets!” she shouted. “Protecting someone, doesn’t mean locking them out.”
In protecting her, was he pushing her away? Rayne de-served the truth, even if it meant dredging up her painful past. “Something didn’t make sense, the night of the party.”
Rayne turned around and leaned her back against the railing. “What?”
“When the Curse was triggered, why did Donovan carry Bryant around in search of the Pur Sar?”
She shrugged. “He didn’t want to take the time to return Bryant to their room. Possibly lose the Pur Sar’s—your—trail,” she said.
Ian leaned against the edge of a patio table. “Then why didn’t he go upstairs to the banquet hall or stay on the same floor as the meeting if he was searching for me? Carlene found out that he took Bryant clear across to the other side of the hotel.”
Rayne looked at him with a puzzled expression. “He wasn’t going after you.”
Ian nodded. “I think he was trying to avoid the Pur Sar. And when I looked at it from that angle, I formed a theory. What if Richard wasn’t born a Duach Sar, but Bryant . . . was.”
Her eyes widened. “But you’re—”
“The last Sar born to the Weir. The Prophesied Son.” He felt the raised edge of the sun on his left breast through his shirt, as if it kept his reality in check. “Before I killed him, Sebastian claimed I wasn’t the only one. That according to the Book of the Weir, there’s another.”
“You think it’s Bryant?” she said. “But do Sars skip generations?”
“Not that I’ve ever heard of. If the firstborn doesn’t have a mark, a core, the powers are lost in the family’s gene pool forever.”
“If a fluke happened, and Bryant was one in a million, then he’d have the triangle mark of a Sar, or even a sun, like you do.”
“I had Tara check when I sent her up to the penthouse earlier. He doesn’t have a sun.” Ian met her gaze. “He doesn’t have a mark at all.”
Brewing thoughts hung between them. “Who is he?” Rayne asked.
“What is he?” Ian said. “It’s been twenty years since your father tried to give you an artificial core during your mother’s pregnancy.”
“You think Donovan succeeded?”
“I’m thinking someone did.” He stood. “You can’t take Bryant to them, Rayne. We can’t risk you—”
“Touching him.” She pursed her lips. “That’s why you didn’t want me hanging out in the room with them. Why you’ve kept me close to you.”
“Neither one of us can go near him,” Ian said.
“Ning knows about my power drain, but he can’t know about Bryant. Not if he wants me to bring the boy.”
“Donovan must be in the dark about why Ning wants you,” Ian said. “Proving they don’t trust each other. Maybe we can use that to our advantage.”
“You heard Ning. If I don’t show up with Bryant, Zoe’s dead for sure.” Rayne’s heartbeat took on a life of its own. “Ian, if you can’t get within thirty feet of him, how are you going to protect either one of us tonight?”
He didn’t answer. There wasn’t any guarantee that he could.
{45}
Strong hands pulled Jaered out of the car. Yannis supported him and they crossed a small lawn. He propped Jaered against the door and knocked.
Jaered’s head bobbed as Yannis took heed of their surroundings. The overhead light was off. The doorway was hidden behind tall bushes. The icy glow of distant headlights inched their way down the residential street. Jaered rested his head against the door and followed their path through the branches. They stopped moving, then shut off. When a car door didn’t open and close, Jaered struggled to speak. Nothing came out.
“Where are we?” Yannis said. “This looks like someone’s house.”
Jaered couldn’t give him an answer, even if he somehow managed to find his voice. The door opened, and he fell into someone’s arms.
“Shut it,” a deep voice said. In spite of his bean-pole build, the man was stronger than he looked. He picked up Jaered and carried him into a back room.
He was laid out on a gurney. A bright light blinded him and he moaned at its glare. Together, they turned him on his side, and he cried out at the searing bolts ripping across his upper torso. Deep in the center of his chest, his core blistered from pain and swelling heat.
“He was shot in the back, right shoulder,” Yannis said.
“But he shyfted, after he was shot?”
“Yeah.”
The man opened a drawer and removed a long metal wand. He waved it across Jaered’s legs.
“What’s that?”
“A metal detector. I need to find the bullet.”
“It’s in his right shoulder.”
“No, it’s not.” The wand moved higher inching its way across Jaered’s chest. When it reached his left shoulder, its bleat startled Jaered and his eyes fluttered.
“Bingo.” The man handed Yannis the
wand. He jammed his fingertips into Jaered’s flesh.
“Aaah!” Jaered groaned.
“I can’t feel it, it must be deep.” The man pressed a hand on Jaered’s forehead. “I’m going to give you something for the pain. I’ll put you under once the doctor arrives. He’ll have to remove it surgically. You’re lucky it didn’t end up in a vital organ.”
“I don’t get it,” Yannis said. “How did it get there?”
“Our body’s molecules know where they belong. But if you shyft with a foreign object inside you, there’s no telling where it will end up. Like playing Russian roulette.”
Yannis gave Jaered a curious stare. “Where did the one from the bank job end up?”
“My hip.” Jaered coughed rough and deep.”
A hand pressed against Jaered’s forehead. “You’re burning up. The sepsis is developing fast.”
“Sepsis?” Yannis said.
“Gunshot wounds are full of bacteria. Shyfting spreads it like wildfire. It almost always gets into the bloodstream.” He grabbed a bag of clear liquid out of a small refrigerator and wheeled over an IV pole. He hooked it up, then set up a port in Jaered’s hand. He connected the bag’s tube.
The man filled a hypodermic needle with fluid from a vial. “I’ve got the antibiotics going. This will help with the pain.”
Jaered closed his eyes and focused on breathing, drifting wherever the tide of memories took him. The first time he was shot. Falling . . . weightless. His groggy thoughts touched upon Vael. Guilt swirled around his friend’s feet and Vael sank, kicking and screaming, into the crimson quicksand.
Vael’s father dragged him inside the mansion, but jerked him to a stop in the middle of the foyer. Vael cradled his sore hand and twisted about taking in the size of the place. I could get used to this, he thought, but the realization of where he was—who lived there—put a damper on his musings.
“Let go.” Vael tried to pull out of his dad’s grasp. “I won’t escape.”
“I’ve heard that one before.” Marcus clutched Vael’s arm tighter than ever. “Milo!”