Trey

by Nya Rawlyns

  likely miss her unless she made some fatal mistake. The way she’d floated past him, on gossamer wings, as he’d hovered within the shields, made him think of a fairy; light as air. He shook his head at the fanciful notion. His lack of focus disturbed at some level, as did the niggling feeling, like butterflies in his gut. He decided to work from the top down, using the stairwell to ascend quickly to the fourth floor. He thanked the gods that neither building had more than four floors and each was relatively small compared to GFI’s more imposing structure.

  He worked at a steady pace, seeking residual energy, but found nothing. The

  37

  building felt cold, abandoned. Indeed many of the offices stood empty and a few were still under construction. By the time he finished with the second floor he knew he was wasting time. He smashed the safety door open, no longer caring about revealing his presence. Leaning over the rail, he jumped to the floor below, landing easily.

  As he raced across the lane dividing the buildings he heard the dogs in high voice, coming rapidly toward him. Not good. Shields protected him from humans but not from their canine trackers. They would smell him long before he could hope to find the woman.

  Cursing as he charged across the access road, he skidded behind the building,

  smack into the woman huddled behind a stand of azaleas. He managed to catch himself before he buried her under his weight. He thrust her against the brick wall and mashed his palm over her mouth to keep her from crying out. She still managed an audible

  ‘umph’ and connected with his groin, sending spasms of pain cascading through his lower torso. He bit his lip to stifle the groan. The sweet iron taste of blood in his mouth triggered a sensual rush of heat to his head.

  “I’m here to help you, woman! Stay still. We have to leave. Do you understand?

  The dogs have your scent.”

  The woman nodded assent and whispered, “I’m so sorry,” when Trey removed his

  hand. As he pressed against her lean body, a surge of power passed through and over him, the like of which he’d never encountered. She seemed unaware that anything

  unusual had happened, but for him it opened every nerve conduit. Pleasure and pain morphed and oscillated and blended until his head swam with sensation. Body and soul separated, then merged and he knew a thing she did not; she was his and he ached to explore her essence. He pushed away, physically sickened by the separation. This was the one the Seid had charged him to save, her daughter. How could this have happened?

  He wasted precious seconds drinking in her aura, invisible before he’d bonded with her, but now glowing like a beacon for his enemies to see. He’d just branded her with the mark of death in this world. He wrestled with the tangled mess his feelings had become. He didn’t ask for this. He didn’t want it. How dare the O’Brien woman task him with this burden; for burden it surely was. Already the demands of the bond gnawed at his belly, turning his world upside down, distracting him from his mission. Why him?

  Why now? He dare not risk it all, his world and his people, to feed this need. The only way out was to summon the berserker rage, let it wash over him, sweeping away the hold she had over him. He had no choice.

  Trey allowed the anger to build, not at a festering, toxic rate, but at full rolling boil, a volcano ready to blow. When the woman mouthed ‘who are you’ and squirmed against the pressure of his muscular body driving her frail form into the unforgiving brick, he dissociated, allowing the berserker rage to erupt in an inferno of anger. He slapped her face hard, rocking her head against the brick, the blood flowing freely from her nose and mouth. Long before he’d exhausted his furious descent into madness, the woman had sunk to a heap at his feet.

  Trey stepped away, debating whether or not to simply leave her there. The rage

  sloughed away leaving him stone cold, nauseous and terrified at what he’d just done to an innocent. He heard the dogs coming closer but couldn’t move a muscle, not a twitch, as he stared at the blank heap of bone and sinew crumpled at his feet. Empty, her aura gone, he knew not where.

  Dear gods, would they be so cruel as to bring him his heart’s desire only to have 38

  him crush it in one moment of insanity? Heart and soul, then cold intellect warred for control. If he could save her, one side argued… Then rationality reared its head. He could not afford the temptation, the loss of control, the rush of need and desire.

  His. She was his.

  Legend spoke of this bonding though none since the shearing of their culture into two warring societies had ever experienced it. That he’d been so gifted at this critical juncture was unfair.

  Trey gathered the woman into his arms and hobbled to the Porsche. His testicles

  still screamed in pain. He had to admire her strength. Surely he could find some way to keep her safe until he figured out how to deal with this unexpected challenge.

  He settled her in the front seat, strapped her in, and paused to glance at GFI, the area resembling a three-ring circus. He would use his transport until he could find a reasonably secure jump point. He needed to prepare and he needed supplies. Most of all he needed time to think and he needed a plan. He wasn’t much good at plans but he’d have to learn. They were both on the run now.

  From everyone!

  39

  Chapter Six

  Trey deftly guided the Porsche past the tractor-trailer groaning up the mountain.

  He’d driven with maniacal concentration along backcountry roads, relying on the GPS to guide him out of the maze of small towns and rural farmland in western Maryland. A light rain fell as he turned west onto Route 40. The engine purred a lullaby as they skimmed up the eight-mile grade.

  He glanced sideways. Still unconscious, the woman’s face slipped forward and

  back with the vehicle’s motion, leaving streaks of blood glazing the glass. He’d have to clean her up before he stopped for fuel. The last thing he needed was to attract the wrong kind of attention.

  He debated his options. He could find a jump point and take them to a remote

  location—it would be quick and easy. Unfortunately, the energy signatures were

  traceable by his people, or at least by their scientists. He had no doubt Gothi Eirik was already mustering a squad to deal with his latest debacle and they’d be on his ass in no time, leaving him little room to construct a plan, even less to execute it. Every time he used a Portal it was like leaving a trail of breadcrumbs and there was no way to know who or what followed his path. He had one ace-in-the-hole, a virgin jump point that not even Eirik knew about.

  The woman stirred and moaned but did not awaken. The fuel gauge registered

  below a quarter tank, but before he could attend to that he needed to clean up the mess.

  At the next rest area, he pulled in and parked in a sheltered lower lot, away from prying eyes. Exiting stiffly from the vehicle, he headed up the steep concrete stairs toward the tourist center.

  Only soft, sleepy chatter and the whine of traffic from the highway disturbed the night’s peace. With a quick scan to check if he’d been noticed, he entered the building in search of a maintenance closet. A bank of glass-fronted junk food dispensers on his left had his stomach growling. He hadn’t eaten in more than twenty-four hours, but his belly could wait awhile longer.

  To his right, a door labeled “Employees Only” stood partially open. With a quick glance to see if anyone was watching, he grabbed a small bucket and a roll of paper towels, and headed for the entrance. The snack machine yielded several candy bars after he blasted energy through the coin slot—and pounded indiscriminately on the keypad.

  At the rear of the building, he found a spigot to fill the bucket with tepid water.

  Though he made short work of the window, dealing with the woman’s battered

  face proved more difficult. Her lower lip was split to the gum line. It really needed stitches to do the job right, but his medical kit lay on his desk in his small apartment. A similar jagged open
ing under her left eye still leaked fluid as he manipulated the facial bones, sending small pulses of energy to knit the fractured edges together. It was slow going.

  “Dammit, why is this so fucking complicated?”

  He needed a plan. Seat of the pants had gotten him this far but it wasn’t going to be enough. He sank to the curb and unwrapped a candy bar, deep in thought.

  A mid-size SUV pulled up several parking stalls away and dispensed a bleary-

  40

  eyed young couple. Curious, he waited until they’d disappeared around the corner of the building, then approached the vehicle, a stray thought quickly taking shape. Suitcases and a cooler jammed the rear compartment with blankets and pillows scattered across the rear seat.

  All right, think. Think. She needs to be out of sight. I can lay her on the back seat… Though loath to relinquish his vehicle, he knew he had little choice. He was running out of time. The SUV’s rear compartment yielded to brute force. He dumped the luggage onto the ground and tore through it, grabbing a shirt for himself and a few articles of women’s clothing; probably not a good fit for her but it was the best he could do. He kept a few items he thought they might need and moved the luggage onto the walkway near the Porsche. The woman moaned softly but didn’t awaken as he settled her onto the rear seat and covered her with a blanket.

  Swapping out the license plates took only a few minutes, though he wondered if it would make a difference in the long run. He flipped the car key for the Porsche onto its hood, then slid behind the wheel of the SUV and hot-wired it.

  He looked back at the sleeping form and quickly scanned his memory in search of

  the name of the O’Brien woman’s daughter, the information passed over quickly during his researches, of little importance until now. He spoke softly, savouring the intimate feel and the pleasure it brought, “You ready to rock and roll, Caitlin?”

  He liked the sound of her name. It spoke to him in some odd, skewed way he

  could not fathom. But it was also too familiar, too personal, to call her by her given name. He would need to keep her at arm’s length. Though the sagas offered little insight into the mating legends, the fact that he’d been able to sever their link and mask her aura indicated that he’d need to use extraordinary measures to separate their powers. If he allowed her close again and permitted bonding as he had back at the industrial park, it could provide the anomalous signature that would draw both the Althing and GFI directly to them. Accident or not, that single event would now dictate his future actions.

  Clouds thickened and lowered over the mountainous terrain, rain coming down

  in sheets as Trey gunned the SUV west, then south. He had a full tank, food and a plan.

  ****

  “You heard me, Bjorg. Yes, two squads.” Eirik grimaced as he barked into his cell phone, “He’s officially off the reservation. Yes, best speed you moron! Do you think he’s going to wait around for you to…?”

  “Eirik.”

  The gothi looked at Tyr, his next most senior Jarl, and waved him off. “Take your goddamn finger out of your…”

  “Eirik! Enough. Let them do their job. You screaming at them isn’t going to find Trey any faster.”

  Eirik said, “Find him. Now.” He flicked the phone closed with exaggerated care,

  and sneered, “Happy?”

  “Eirik, I… we understand your concern. What I don’t get is why you think your

  nephew is on the run. It makes more sense to suppose that GFI have him; that his father has him. Look at this. Even those bastards couldn’t keep it out of the newspapers.” Tyr picked up a pile of newsprint and waved it at his gothi. “Dead bodies, the chopper, cars 41

  reduced to rubble. All put down to a gang confrontation of epic proportions. Somehow I doubt it was street gangs. This sounds more like Trey’s brand of mayhem. He’s about as subtle as a bull moose. Gunnarr will have every spin doctor in the tri-state area working on how to turn this cluster fuck into a positive for them.”

  Eirik grumbled, “If they had him, we’d know it. Gunnarr would be calling to gloat and we’ve heard nothing. It’s too quiet at their end. No chatter at all.”

  The Jarl murmured, “You might have a point. All right, say he’s gone all Rambo

  and shot the place to hell and gone; he manages to evade an army. They still need to come up with something credible to explain this mess away.”

  Eirik said, “Well, if he did get away, this other concern will take their minds off looking for him and the woman.”

  “Woman. What are you talking about?” Tyr glared at Eirik, seeking answers, not

  sure he was ready for details, yet he felt compelled to ask, “And how do you…?”

  Shrugging him off with, “I still have some resources when it comes to keeping

  track of my brother,” he avoided a direct answer.

  Tyr sat at Eirik’s desk and drummed his manicured fingers on the walnut veneer.

  Finally he broke down and demanded, “Who in god’s name is she anyway?”

  “We think—and I emphasize ‘think’—that’s she’s this mystery ‘other’ Trey’s been

  going on about.” Eirik sat opposite his Jarl and willed himself to calm down. “She’s, um, related to the asset, the one he lost.”

  “Hmm, yes, unfortunate that. She had potential from what I’ve been told.” Tyr

  glared at the gothi with displeasure. “Not to go off on a tangent, but isn’t it time we took control over the research division? They operate semi-autonomously.”

  “That’s their job.”

  “They keep secrets.” Tyr opened and shut the desk drawer with a slam. “I don’t

  like secrets.”

  Sneering with disdain, Eirik rose from his seat to pace the room. “Here’s what we know. I sent my nephew … in a car, did I tell you that part,” he shoved a photograph of the Porsche over to his Jarl, “to do a simple reconnoiter.”

  Tyr asked, “How did you get a picture of this?”

  “Oh, this is good. The boy had our research group install GPS so he could find his way out of the city.”

  The Jarl laughed out loud. “Oh, sweet Freyja. Despite his fascination with

  technology, your ward can be dumb as a post sometimes. Act first; think later. Sounds just like him. Well, that means we can track him. Problem solved, friend.”

  “Not solved. This ‘thing’ is now in a Baltimore city impound getting the CSI

  treatment while we sit here spinning our wheels.”

  The Jarl gagged at that news. “How the hell did it…? They don’t have him, do

  they?”

  “No, some people in West Virginia had their car stolen, but the thief was oh-so-

  kind. He left them the key to this Porsche instead, along with their luggage, at least most of it.”

  “Trey.”

  “Too right. So we know he now drives a Lincoln Navigator. For the time being.”

  “I wouldn’t have given him credit for being so inventive. Your nephew was always single-minded to a fault. This shows a degree of ingenuity I hadn’t expected.” The Jarl looked up quickly and said with a smirk, “Those vehicles come with GPS!”

  42

  Eirik barked a laugh and said, “Disabled. They found it at a rest area off the

  interstate at the border of West Virginia and Kentucky. Apparently he is going south.”

  Tyr perked up at that news. “We have a substation in Atlanta.”

  “On it. Believe me, we’ll have him by this time tomorrow. I’ve authorized the use of jump points for both squads.”

  “Good. What do you want from me? As always, Gothi, my resources are at your

  complete disposal.”

  “We need intel and we need it bad. I think it’s safe to assume he still has that

  ‘someone else’ with him, whether by choice or not we can’t be sure. Find out exactly what went down at Greyfalcon. Right now I only care about getting my nephew back in one piece bu
t it wouldn’t hurt to know what else—and who—we might confront while doing that.”

  “I’ll put my trackers on this immediately. They’ll ferret out whatever the hell is going on.” Tyr paused at the door. “Uh, Eirik? Does he still have that weapon with him?”

  The gothi said, “It wasn’t in the Porsche.”

  “Ah. Two squads might not be enough.”

  “I’m aware of that. Safe passage, my friend.”

  Eirik waited until his Jarl had exited the chamber, then picked up his cell phone and placed a call he really wanted to avoid. He was about to change his mind when an irritated voice barked, “What,” at the other end.

  “Gunnarr? It’s Eirik. We have a problem.”

  ****

  Trey pulled into a ramshackle barn and eased out of the ancient Toyota. He slid

  the barn doors closed and rested his head against the cool metal. Beyond exhausted, he’d expended every bit of energy to stay awake and to keep the woman unconscious.

  He’d traversed the interstates, heading south and west for hours, swapping vehicles along the way, until his head swam from the effort.

  Heat and humidity took their toll as he’d driven the empty reaches of eastern

  Colorado. Hoping to make the Wyoming border by nightfall, he’d turned north on Route 287 but the weather threatened to turn nasty with tornado warnings flagged across the entire eastern half of the state. He decided that pulling over for the night, resting and getting something to eat might put him in better spirits.

  Trey looked at the woman, trussed like a turkey, with a strip of duct tape across her mouth. She’d vexed him to his limits so he’d taken extreme measures once more to bring her under control. He’d changed her clothes into loose-fitting cut-offs and a tee shirt two sizes too large. He rubbed at his eye, puffed and swollen from where she’d connected with her designer boots. He’d let her keep the boots but the silly strips of leather he’d tossed into a small lake somewhere in Kansas.