The Fire in Vengeance

by Sue Wilder

  The man’s bearing was solid and sure, no longer a retired warrior who made good whiskey. Darius commanded attention with such respect and authority, Three considered him her primary general. Rome’s greatest achievements had Darius at the core. He maintained the line when others fled, following a fierce code of honor, and his men were his, loyal to the end. Earlier that night, Darius had again demonstrated his skill when, in the midst of the chaos in One’s ballroom, he had taken control. Only the enforcer and his second held higher positions in immortal hierarchy. Christan considered Darius an equal.

  Over the next ten minutes, Christan told the general what they’d learned. He began with the five vessels leaving Ancona. They readily agreed that once Lexi disappeared into the Mediterranean, she’d be more difficult to locate. Christan explained Lexi’s description of the sounds and smells, leading him to believe she was on a fishing boat. He was less forthcoming with Lexi’s emotional state. The enemy was forcing the dreams, and they were running out of time. Christan wanted to intercept the vessel before it reached Patras.

  Darius was silent while Christan spoke. The general’s attention remained on the map, his focus unnerving as he sorted through every scenario to find the flaws. Over a thousand years ago, Darius had been defending a territorial line far to the north. While viewing the field of battle, he realized a subtle weakness in the enemy’s position and changed tactics, ordering his foot soldiers into the forest while the cavalry moved in from the flank. The move saved lives and broke the back of the barbarian attack. Since Darius was known as a decisive commander, Christan expected him to agree with immediate action. The general, though, saw the difficulties.

  “It’s not what I would do,” he said when Christan finished the argument about data points and the five locations. “I’d wait until they pass Patras.”

  “The longer she stays with them the more they’ll torture her.”

  “True, but she’s your mate and that emotion skews your priorities,” the general pointed out. “And you have five knowns with an unlimited number of unknowns.”

  “I’m aware.”

  “It was an amateur’s job, killing Luca. Rushed. It’s far more likely they put her on the first available transport and set out into the Adriatic where they can hide and regroup, try to salvage their operation.”

  Christan conceded one point; he was a master of war, but it was personal this time and he felt a hard rush of anger overlaid with fear. He struggled to force it down. “Then set up search patterns, have warriors pick up her energy signal.”

  “You have only an hour before dawn,” answered the general. “It will take that long to get everyone spread out along the coast. Warriors could shift and they would, but you’re asking them to fly over an open sea and in daylight.”

  “Use drones.”

  “You have two coastlines to search with too many places to hide.”

  “I don’t want her out there,” Christan said with aggression.

  “Neither do I, but here—Corfu, Kefalonia, Zakynthos,” Darius jabbed the map with a thick finger for emphasis, “they’ll be expecting you. There are hundreds of islands to choose from, and this enemy is inexperienced. For the first twenty-four hours it will be pure adrenalin, racing from island to island. You know this, Enforcer. I know for a fact you have dealt with this same scenario hundreds of times. You don’t want her harmed, but it’s better to let him think he’s gotten got away with it. Let him relax and make mistakes.”

  Christan walked back to the wet bar, reached for the whiskey and splashed two fingers worth into three glasses. He set one in front of Arsen, took the other two and handed one to Darius, conceding to the general’s sense of the battle. The time for vengeance would come, Christan thought, but he’d spent four hundred years in the Void while the world changed. He needed to listen to a wiser voice.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked as he sipped the whiskey.

  “That I like Arsen’s suggestion about a net at Patras.”

  “We need to get close enough to cast that net.”

  “There’s a safe house on Kefalonia,” Arsen pointed out, looking at Darius. “Where are you going with this?”

  “First, we find the right boat, then we use satellite imaging and drones for visual confirmation. We get eyes on her and we’re in control.”

  “Time, Darius,” Christan said. “Every day we leave her there, they hurt her, trying to get to her memories.”

  The general nodded. “How strong is she?”

  “Strong and stubborn, and still too mortal.”

  “Does that mean she is your blood mate?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then we use that, Enforcer. Give her your strength and your power while we find a way to get her to land. As long as she stays at sea, they can shift her from boat to boat while we play catch-up.”

  “Darius is right, Christan,” Arsen said. “I want to protect her as much as you do but give them what they want.”

  “She said she doesn’t remember.”

  “You can talk to her, help her along a little. They’ll see new memory lines on her hand and that will be proof enough.”

  Christan raised the glass of whiskey but didn’t drink. “How does she get to Cyrene?”

  “Six knows where Two interacted with Gaia,” Darius said. “He’ll take her there when she remembers. But we can control the timing, and the outcome if we do this right.”

  Christan wasn’t happy. “If she comes up with a memory right away, they won’t believe her.”

  “Then she dreams until they do,” Darius said, holding Christan’s gaze.

  “How many days?”

  “Long enough to be convincing.”

  “You’re asking too much.”

  “Of you or of her? Ask. See what she says.”

  “I know what she’ll say,” Christan said. “She’s too damn heroic.”

  CHAPTER 17

  “I saved a bird today.”

  “Did you?”

  “Yes. A seagull with a snapping yellow beak.”

  It had been twenty-four hours since Christan last connected with Lexi. It felt like an eternity. He listened to her exhausted mental voice as his gut clenched.

  “I’m on a fishing boat. The crew—they’re ordinary fishermen, Christan. I don’t think they know about anything, other than the Spaniard.”

  “Who is the Spaniard, cara?”

  “He hasn’t told me his name, but he’s like you. Well, not like you, he hasn’t figured out yet he isn’t actually in my mind.”

  “Good girl. Are you remembering Phillipe’s lessons?”

  “Yours, too. I have the headphones on but I’ve blocked it out tonight.”

  Christan heard the slight tension in her voice, needed to get her off the subject of the ringing gongs. “You were telling me about the bird.”

  “They’re using longlines, and the rules say they can’t catch birds. But the birds don’t realize the bait has hooks, they just think it’s food, and when a bird gets caught, they have to stop the boat and release it. They covered the bird with a towel and they asked me to hold it while they removed the hook.”

  “You were allowed on deck?”

  “For a little while. It’s not a large boat. I lived on the Oregon coast and this one is like the smaller fishing fleets I’m used to, old with rust, ropes, a faded red life preserver. A lot of electronics.”

  “Did you see anything else?”

  “We were hiding between a large island and the coastline. From where the sun was, the coastline is to the east of the island, so I’m probably closer to Croatia or Albania. We waited for several hours, and everyone was whispering and pacing around. They didn’t want me anywhere other than the deck so I could hold the bird.”

  “And you saved it.” She had given him more information than she realized.

  “Yes. I let it fly away.”

  “Are you still hiding behind the island?”

  “No, after a few hours of waiting I heard them talking
like they were angry and then we continued down the coast.”

  “Were they expecting someone who didn’t arrive?”

  “That makes the most sense.”

  “Are you still traveling along the coast?”

  “Yes. The land is on the left, but too far away to pick up any earth memories.” She paused. “Are you still in Florence?”

  “You’re wondering where I am, why I haven’t saved you yet.”

  “Well, you can’t expect me to wait forever,” she teased.

  “It’s only been a day, cara. It takes time to make a plan.”

  “Is it a good plan? Christan, I hope it’s a good plan because the plan so far sucks.”

  “You are the most spectacular woman I have ever known. You have me on my knees.”

  “What is the plan, Christan?” she asked after a long moment. He sucked in a deep breath and reached out to her again. His power moved gently over her hair, down her arm, to her wrist once again restrained with gauze.

  “I want you to remember Gaia,” he said finally. “I want to help you.”

  ✽✽✽

  Lexi wasn’t sure if she trusted any request involving Gaia. This voice might belong to Christan, the energy felt like him, but it could be the Spaniard manipulating her, or Kace—if Kace was still alive.

  “I don’t think I should remember Gaia,” she said.

  “What can I tell you so you know it’s me?” he asked.

  “Anything you tell me is suspect. If you’re an illusion, I made you up, and if you’re the Spaniard, you’d have found what you needed by invading my memories It’s a nullifying request under the circumstances.”

  “I understand the difficulty you have. Will you let me tell you our plan? After you hear it, you can decide what to do.”

  “For myself?”

  “Yes. If you don’t agree, we’ll find another plan.”

  “That sounds reasonable.” Lexi shifted on the hard pad that did little to soften the metal bunk. Her arms ached and the gauze around her wrists was tighter than usual. The food had been better, but she would reveal nothing of her circumstances to this presence in her head, in case it wasn’t Christan.

  “Darius and Arsen came up with the plan, but I agreed,” Christan said while Lexi smirked at the tone in his voice. “We want you off that boat and in Cyrene, cara.”

  “So you can rescue me?”

  “Don’t you want to rescue yourself?”

  “I could you know. All by myself.”

  “I know you could, but I’d like to help. I can remind you of Gaia, and when they see new memory lines, they’ll think the headphones are working. You’ll need to do some acting.”

  “I’m a pro. Haven’t I fooled you often enough?”

  “I only let you believe it.”

  “Gah. Do you ever give an inch? I need a win, Enforcer, if you want me to feel good about my acting skills.”

  “I don’t know how much decision power your Spaniard has, probably none, he’s just the mule, but he’ll report everything to Six.”

  “So I tell him some details are returning but earth memories in Cyrene will trigger more?”

  “Arsen told you,” Christan groused, and Lexi laughed, as she knew he wanted her to laugh. She tried reaching out to touch him and jerked when she felt a tingling sensation beneath her hand.

  “Did you do that?” he asked carefully.

  “I think I did. This blood bond thing might be pretty cool.”

  “What do you think of the plan so far?”

  She considered it. “After we get to Cyrene, what then?”

  “We’ll be waiting.”

  “Okay.” That sounded interesting. “Who’s we?”

  “All your heroes on their valiant steeds—Arsen, Darius, and Phillipe insisted. Should I worry about his intentions, cara?”

  Lexi sighed. “You have something rare, Christan. Loyal friends.”

  “They’re yours, too. Phillipe is half in love with you, for an immortal who doesn’t consider love a valid emotion.”

  “Oh, god, not Phillipe.” Tears clogged Lexi’s throat. Her heart was aching, and after everything else, how utterly demolishing was that, to realize they would risk their lives for her? She tried to shake her head, but the earphones held her immobile. She’d forgotten she had them on. “Will he do that bokator thing, do you think?”

  “He’s a decent fighter for an academic.”

  Lexi laughed and arched a little off the pad. “Okay, I’m good with the plan.”

  “From what you’ve told me, you’re probably heading toward the island of Kefalonia, or one of her neighbors. By midnight tomorrow you’ll be closer to Crete if they don’t take a detour. Just a quick daylight run from there to the coast of Libya.”

  “So, one more night with these headphones strapped to my head?”

  “It might take longer if they have to think about it.”

  “Think about what?”

  “Whether you’re telling the truth.”

  “Which is your polite way of saying I have to pretend the memories are coming back, but not so fast they suspect a trap. That will take more than one day.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t say sorry. You didn’t do this. Six did.”

  “Are you invoking the law of retribution for yourself, cara?”

  “You told me I’m more interesting when I’m bloodthirsty.”

  “Are you ready for a memory?”

  “Will it be a good one?”

  “You tell me.”

  It started out gentle, skin against skin, fingertips drifting, exploring, buried in dark hair. Lips tasted, nibbled, traced a path across delicate curves, secret corners, sweet places with exquisite care. Pulses flared, breathing hitched, bodies arched beneath the flames that began as embers and exploded until they were one soul, one body flying out into the incandescent sun where they fell—not like Icarus in a tumble of disintegration, but like the Phoenix, dying in the flames and bursting forth reborn.

  CHAPTER 18

  The general’s strategy had been deployed without fanfare. During the first 36 hours, using information from Christan’s midnight conversations with Lexi, they were able to eliminate three of the five fishing vessels seen leaving the port of Ancona. Another was eliminated when the boat entered the port of Patras and stayed there with no sign of leaving. Activity intensified as remaining longline fishing boat approached the tourist mecca of Kefalonia, having made an unnecessary and meandering trip along the rugged coastline of Croatia, then Albania, occasionally sailing rapidly out to sea, then returning to the sheltering coves. From the communications center at the villa, One made a phone call, and a signal was sent to a command center in an obscure location near Rome. Within minutes, a drone was gliding in wide, lazy circles more than a mile above the longline boat as it drifted near the island of Lithira, and they got their first visual clue.

  Christan had asked for increased camera resolution and leaned in closer to the monitor. He made note of the electronic array that seemed typical. Ethan was quick to respond with the name painted on the hull, and it was as Lexi had guessed, a common fishing vessel that contracted out with one of the larger processing ships. A man could be seen standing on deck, and Christan captured the screen shot, typed in a quick command. Within seconds Ethan was running facial recognition software that zipped through the various calibrations until settling on one with a soft ding.

  “Jago.” Christan spoke without emotion. Lexi’s “Spaniard.”

  “I didn’t realize Six still used the man,” Arsen said.

  “He needed someone on short notice. I can’t think of any other reason he would risk incompetence.”

  “There’s the sadistic aspect.”

  “I’d have known if he hurt her,” Christan said. “All he does is tie her wrists and use the headphones, nothing else.” Christan didn’t add that his knowledge extended only to physical harm, that emotional harm could be shielded from him by a heroic woman who wanted to pro
tect her blood mate.

  “He’s acting as a place-holder.”

  Christan nodded. “Jago was never an operational planner.”

  “Then he’ll be in contact with someone. Has Ethan tapped into their communications, yet?”

  “Yes. Nothing through normal cell phones or computers. They’re using encrypted phones and telepathy for privacy. Ethan can break through the encryption, but we should assume the contact is shadowing them, ready to move if she remembers anything.”

  Arsen drew circles around dots on the hard copy printout of the latest satellite information. “I’ll have Ethan see what he can find out about these boats,” he said, sending the request through the secure system. “But I think we need a diversion.”

  “I think I agree.”

  ✽✽✽

  At seven that evening, a warehouse, located across the Adriatic Sea in Croatia, exploded.

  The cause for the explosion was unknown. Since the warehouse had repeated safety violations, and the owner was known to be difficult, local officials went through the motions. They filed the required documents and returned to normal business. Since the property was far from the prominent tourist destinations, it became a disaster without an audience.

  Six, however, realized why his building had been destroyed. The fact that it was within 240 miles of Ancona pointed to the obvious.

  But then again, he never accepted the obvious, nor did the people who sent the message. Six picked up his phone, spoke briefly to the person who answered on the first ring, and poured himself a drink.

  ✽✽✽

  Since the beginning of her personal Mediterranean cruise, the Spaniard treated Lexi with indifference. He bought food, allowed her freedom within the tiny room and tied her wrists at night. But on the morning of the third day his behavior changed.