“Again?” And then Ana knew. She understood him so much better. “You killed your family because you were under an illusion, didn’t you? That’s why you killed them.”
Elijah swore again, not answering her question. Anger vibrated off him. “Ana, listen to me. There’s shit about me that would get me kicked out of the Order. I’m not trustworthy, especially now that Dante’s dead. And you’re getting too damn close to figuring it all out.” His eyes flared.
She lifted her chin, letting Elijah see that she wasn’t afraid of him, that she didn’t believe he was the monster he claimed to be. “So, you’re going to kill me to shut me up?”
His eyes darkened. “Don’t ever joke about that.”
She bit her lip. “You’re really worried about killing me, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I am.” His hands went to her shoulders, and he took a deep breath. “If I could get you out of this mess, I would—”
“I don’t want out. I want Ezekiel dead. That’s all that matters.” But even as Ana spoke the words, she knew it was a lie. She didn’t just want Ezekiel dead. She wanted Elijah to live again, truly live, free from the torment of his mind. She wanted both.
Elijah ground his jaw. “And that, sweetheart, is the biggest problem of all.”
Ana blinked, confused by his words. “What’s the biggest problem? Killing him? Or the fact that his death is what I want?”
“The fact that it’s what you want.” He touched the mark on her arm. “Remember, the bond will destroy everything we care about most, and that’s Ezekiel.”
And Elijah. He mattered too, so much. “So, we don’t bond.” But even as Ana said the words, she remembered how Lily and Gideon and her own sister and Quinn had been unable to stop the bond from progressing, and her heart sank. “We can’t, can we?”
“We’ll hold it off and hope we get to Ezekiel before we bring down hell around us. It’s our only chance.” Elijah squeezed her shoulders, his body relaxing as his expression took on the calm focus of a warrior on a mission. “To the prison, sweetheart. We’ve got a psychopath to track down.”
A psychopath who had effortlessly toyed with them only minutes ago, making it clear exactly who held the power in this battle.
It wasn’t them. Not by a long shot.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Elijah slowed the truck as he neared Ezekiel’s prison in the Oregon high desert. The air was thick and heavy. Pungent. He could feel the cloying presence of Ezekiel in the pressure on his mind. Adrenaline raced through him, and his brands burned, his weapons ready for battle. “He’s still here.”
Ana peered through the windshield, keeping a tight grip on his shoulder. “Really? How do you know?”
Elijah parked the truck and climbed out, helping Ana down to the ground. The earth burned through the souls of his boots, and even the cold night air felt hot against his skin. “I can feel him in my mind.” Elijah had his mental shields up, as he always did when he came here, but he could still feel the slithery presence of Ezekiel lurking around in his head.
The walls of the prison stretched high and wide, dark red clay as they always had been. The bushes near the prison were dead, and the earth was acrid and parched.
Elijah tossed the truck keys to Ana, then squared his shoulders and strode up to the prison and smacked his palms against the clay. Several stones crumbed down the side, rattling over the clay. He glanced at Ana, who was standing beside him, her hand hooked on his waistband. “If I look like I’m about to turn on you, do an illusion to bring me down, and then take the truck and bolt.”
Ana frowned. “What are you talking about? You won’t hurt me.”
He closed his eyes and prepared to drop his shields, and he told her the truth he’d hidden from his team for five hundred years, a truth she needed to know. “I’m pretty sure Ezekiel can control me.”
Her eyes widened, and her fingers tightened where she was holding him. “What? What does that mean?”
“Exactly what it sounds like.” Elijah channeled his thoughts, focusing them on Ezekiel and dropped his shields. Come and get me, you bastard.
For a minute, Elijah felt nothing, then he was hit with such an insidious presence his stomach retched. It was lethal blackness, pure evil and venom, so thick and murky it was as if it was in his head, taking him over.
It was a thousand-fold stronger than it had been before, when it was only a faint, distant pulsing. This was immediate, dominating and brutal.
Ana’s hand dug into his arm. “Elijah? I can feel that.”
“Pull out. Don’t connect with me right now.” Elijah resisted the urge to retreat from Ezekiel’s influence, instead opening his mind further, trying to decipher its origins. Was it coming from inside the walls, or outside? He pressed his palms harder against the clay and concentrated on the interior of the prison. He honed in on the darkness within and caught the energy current of a physical presence just beyond the two feet of clay separating them.
It was a Calydon. Inside the prison.
It was Ezekiel…and it wasn’t.
***
Drew leapt up and sprinted over to the wall, slamming his hands against the clay as the pressure built inside the prison. He recognized the attempt of another Calydon to find him from when he’d been stalked before, but this time, there was a distinct lack of malevolence. He crushed his eyes shut and focused his mind the way Quinn had taught him.
But instead of the weak link and tenuous bridge of his unskilled Calydon mind, the connection sprung with explosive force and power, calling on the centuries of experience of the physical body Drew now inhabited. He touched minds instantly and knew he’d connected with another Order member. He could sense his father’s presence in the Calydon’s mind, and knew it was an Order member who had been shaped by Dante, who carried Dante’s blood in his body. It’s Drew. I’m in Ezekiel’s prison. Can you hear me?
There was a stunned silence, and Drew felt the shock of the mind he’d touched. But there was no answer. Frantic, he pounded on the clay. Hello! Can you hear me? I’m Dante’s son. I’m trapped in here!
I hear you.
Elation swept through Drew and he concentrated even harder. Who are you?
My name is Elijah Ross.
Elijah? The male Ana had been asking after? Elijah? Aren’t you dead?
No. Not yet. There was wry humor in the Calydon’s voice. I see my sheva’s image in your head. You want to duel at dawn for her?
No, no. He’d heard the legends of Elijah, and Drew could feel his strength even through their connection. Can you get me out?
Not sure. How’d you get in there?
The rite switched us. Drew pressed his face against the clay, as if he could will himself through the barrier. But not entirely. I mean, it’s my mind, but his body. I have his strength and his knowledge. It’s like he left behind everything except his spirit.
There was no response, and Drew dug his fingers into the dirt, suddenly fearful that the Calydon was going to leave him behind. Elijah?
I feel his presence in you. Elijah sounded suspicious. I also sense your own spirit.
Trust me, I’m here. Dante said I have to get out.
Dante? There was a heavy pause. Dante is dead.
He came back to talk to me. He said I’ll die if you kill Ezekiel, I guess because our existences are mingled. And he said that everything would be lost if I died. He didn’t explain what he meant, but he made it sound like a big deal. Drew knew that he had to make his life about more than himself when talking to an Order member. Order members were about the greater good, and sacrificing one innocent was always the choice they made if it would save others. He wanted to believe in that choice, he really did, but he also wanted to live. He said I had to live. I swear he did!
Elijah swore, and a vibration came through the prison walls, as if Elijah had struck them with his fists. I can’t let you out.
What? Why not?
I can feel Ezekiel’s presence inside the walls. As long as he�
��s in there, I’m not taking the chance of letting you out until I know for sure that freeing his body isn’t going to free him for real.
No! It’s me in here, I swear! Drew pounded at the walls, shredding the skin on his fists. I need to get out!
Drew sensed it the moment Elijah broke contact, and he shouted with rage and slammed his boot into the wall. Dust floated down from the ceiling as the prison shook from the force of his rage. Drew caught himself and stared upward in shock at the effect of his fury. That hadn’t been his own anger.
It had been Ezekiel’s.
Shit. Was Elijah right? How much of Ezekiel was still inside him? What the hell was going on?
Drew needed someone he could trust. Someone who knew him. There was one person he had left who would be on his side no matter what. Drew closed his eyes and focused the Calydon mind strength Ezekiel had given him and pictured his uncle Vaughn. Vaughn wasn’t a Calydon but Drew had to try. Vaughn. I need your help.
***
Vaughn McIntyre blinked and opened his eyes. He was in a room he didn’t recognize. Beige walls, white crown moldings, and high ceilings. Nothing like the shithole he lived in.
Where the hell was he?
He sat up, then doubled over as pain shot through him. What the hell?
Vaughn.
He jerked upright as his nephew’s voice rolled through his mind. Drew? Is that you?
Vaughn! It worked! Then there was a rush of emotion across their connection. I didn’t think you’d survived. I can’t believe you’re still alive after what they did to you.
Where are you, Drew? Vaughn tossed aside the shiny, deluxe sheets and saw he was naked, his body still healing from a brutal assault. Open wounds ran up and down his legs. He’d been stitched up, and hundreds of black threads were etched along his right thigh and left shin. They were clean and tended, as if someone had been caring for him. His stomach had the most stitches and it hurt like hell, as if he’d been gutted and someone had shoved his insides back into his body cavity and stapled him shut to keep him together.
Vaughn swore, suddenly remembering it all, how the two Order members had shown up where he and Drew had been hiding out. How they’d come for Drew, and how he’d tried to stop them. Gabe…the one named Gabe…he’d tried to tell Vaughn something…he’d seemed to be a friend…but then Zach had come after him…after Drew. Zach had betrayed them, and nearly killed Vaughn to get to Drew. Vaughn jerked to his feet, gasping at the pain. Where are you? Zach took you, didn’t he?
Yeah, but it was all a set up to catch Nate and Frank. It went bad, and Frank got me.
Vaughn grabbed the bedpost as his vision swam out of focus, then he staggered toward the fancy dresser with all sorts of carvings on the front of it. He yanked open a bunch of drawers until he found a pair of jeans and a tee shirt. Where are you? I’m coming for you. Cursing at the pain, he nearly fell when the snap caught on an open wound on his knee. We should have known better than to trust the Order. I could have kept you safe.
It’s not the Order. It’s Ezekiel.
Ezekiel again? He’s locked up, right? Vaughn took a deep breath and guided his leg through the pants, sweat trickling down his back at the pain.
Not anymore. He felt a shudder from Drew. Oh, man, he’s so much worse than you can imagine. I can feel him. I know what he’s done. Vaughn, he’s the end of life. And he’s inside me.
Vaughn paused, the shirt stretched across his arms to pull it over his head. What are you talking about? He’s inside you?
I don’t have time to explain. I’m trapped in the prison that was used to hold him for two thousand years, and I can’t get out.
Vaughn yanked the shirt over his head, nearly shouting with pain as his shoulder screamed in protest. I’m on my way. Where’s the prison?
I don’t know. You’ll have to ask an Order member.
Anger boiled inside Vaughn as he rifled through the drawers for socks. I’m not asking them shit. They turned on us—
No, they didn’t. The Order did what they had to do. Dante was my real father, and I believe in him and the team he led for so long. Trust them— Drew paused, and Vaughn felt his conflict. Don’t tell them why you want to know. They might not let me out.
Fuck that. You’re getting out. Vaughn strode across the room toward the closet, making it two steps before his body started to shake from exhaustion. How long had he been unconscious? How long has it been since I was attacked?
Five days.
Five days. He’d never been out for that long. His race was too tough…but not compared to the Order, apparently. Hell, he and Drew were in deep. But he’d made a promise to Drew’s mother, Nell, God rest her soul, the only woman he’d ever loved.
Vaughn had loved her all his life, but it wasn’t until she’d been used, impregnated and abandoned by Drew’s father that she’d finally realized she loved Vaughn, her hero who’d swept in and picked up the pieces of her life for her. Vaughn had shared Nell’s heart and her bed for thirteen months, until disease had taken her. Her heart had broken the night she’d realized she was going to die and leave her eight-month-old son alone. Vaughn had given his word in blood that he’d protect Drew as if he were his own.
And for more than seventeen years, he had. Vaughn had sacrificed everything to give Drew all that Nell would have wanted for him, including his heart. He loved the boy as much as he’d loved the kid’s mother, and all he wanted was to do right by him.
And now he’d failed. He’d let them all down by allowing the kid to follow his dreams of finding his biological father and his destiny, and now they’d gotten tangled up in a mess that was so far over his head. Fuck the biological dad shit. In his heart Vaughn was Drew’s dad, and he was taking his son back.
Vaughn? Drew’s worried voice sounded suddenly like the scared eighteen-year-old he was, not the badass Order member he wanted so desperately to be. Are you still there?
Yeah, I’m here, Drew. Vaughn tugged open the closet door and saw rows and rows of expensive shoes and top-of-the-line work boots. In the back, off to the right, was a pair of beat up, steel toed leather boots caked in dirt. Those were his style. He grabbed those and shoved them on his feet. A little big, but workable. I’m coming for you. You okay there? Any shit going down that I need to know about?
No. I’m safe, I guess.
But scared. Vaughn could hear it in Drew’s voice, and it sent his protective instincts into high gear. Hang tight, kid. I’m on my way.
Vaughn felt Drew retreat from his mind as he forced his weary body toward the door, willing himself over the exhaustion and the pain. He yanked the door open and nearly crashed into a woman on her way in. He recognized her instantly as the woman who’d been with Quinn when he and Drew had gone to him for help. She was wearing jeans and a pale blue tank top, and her dark hair was tumbling down around her shoulders, so different from the muddy, wet, desperate woman he’d met in the woods that night. “Grace.”
Her silver eyes widened, and then lit up with true delight. “You’re up! That’s fantastic! I was so worried when you didn’t recover and you didn’t heal those wounds. Are you okay? You probably need food. Are you sure you should be up?”
Vaughn stiffened at the genuine affection in her voice, not wanting to get sucked into letting his guard down. “Where’s Drew?”
Grace’s face shifted, and her eyes became sad with empathy. “Oh, Vaughn, you don’t know about Drew yet, do you? We…he’s in trouble. Ezekiel took over his body and disappeared. We’re trying to find him.”
Vaughn closed his eyes at the sudden wash of grief. “Ezekiel possessed him?” Young Drew? Possessed by a bastard who was the end of life? Vaughn forced his eyes open and concentrated on reading every nuance on Grace’s face. “What happened?”
“We don’t know exactly. Frank performed a rite and used Drew as the center of it, and then it was Ezekiel looking out of his eyes, not Drew.”
Vaughn struggled to keep his face neutral. “So, where is Ezekiel’s body, t
hen?”
She shrugged. “I guess it’s still in the prison. I don’t know.”
“Then I’m going to the prison. Where is it?”
Her eyes suddenly became wary. “Maybe I should call Quinn.”
He could tell by the way she tilted her head that she was already calling her mate.
Vaughn remembered Drew’s confidence in the Order, his command to trust them, and he forced himself to wait, shifting his weight restlessly to take the pressure off his aching legs. Taking anything out on the innocent woman before him wasn’t his style, and he’d give her time. If Zach showed up though, he owed the bastard big time. As for Quinn, Vaughn would reserve judgment. Quinn had seemed decent, and he’d liked the guy well enough.
Unless Drew died, and then there would be no mercy.
Not for anyone associated with the Order.
Vaughn’s gaze went to Grace. Not even for their women. Everyone would pay if something happened to his son.
Grace gave a slight nod, and then her silver gaze focused on Vaughn again, apparently finishing the discussion with her mate. “Quinn isn’t available at the moment. There have been a lot of rogue Calydons lately, and he’s in the middle of a fight with several of them right now, but he said he completely failed you in all ways after you trusted him and he…” She gave a little eye roll of apology. “He said he feels like complete shit about it and anything you want or need from him or the Order is yours.” She smiled, her eyes still empathetic. “He also says he doesn’t believe Drew is dead, and he’s not giving up.”
Vaughn grunted, not mollified by the apology. Not until he could look into Quinn’s eyes and see true regret. Not until he knew Drew was safe.
Grace touched his arm, her brilliant eyes vibrating with emotions. “Vaughn, I’m so very sorry about Drew. He’s too innocent to be caught up in this, and I can tell how deeply you care about him. If there’s anything I can do, please let me know. He is a good young man, and I want him back safely, too.”
Darkness Surrendered (Primal Heat Trilogy #3) (Order of the Blade) Page 17