Raising Innocence: A Rylee Adamson Novel (Book 3)

by Mayer, Shannon

  Faris smiled down at her, his fangs just peeking out past his lower lip. “Now, what would make you so foolish as to think you can take care of yourself now? Surely not your FBI agent-turned lobotomized wolf over there?”

  O’Shea watched in fascination as Milly stiffened. “He wouldn’t hurt me, not while I’m pregnant.”

  Faris’ eyebrows lifted. “Really? I think you should ask him—and make sure you tell him to be truthful about it.”

  O’Shea knew a trap when he felt it tightening around him.

  “Liam,” Milly said and Faris’ eyes snapped wide, staring hard at him.

  “Stop. This is . . .Liam?”

  Animosity flowed off the vampire; O’Shea could smell the anger and jealousy as if it were a fine bouquet. Fuck, what had he done to piss off the vampire?

  Faris stepped close to him and took in a deep breath. “Oh, I see, you aren’t just a werewolf, are you?”

  Liam felt the rage in the pit of his belly bubbling up and he fought to control it. Nothing he could do about it anyway.

  They stood like that, toe to toe, nearly nose to nose. The scent of blood and death rolled around the vampire like incense coiling through a room. That wasn’t what got his attention though.

  The smell of Rylee on Faris’ breath lit a rage in him he didn’t even try to hold back.

  The fury broke up and through the hold Milly had on him; his arms twitched despite the torc. O’Shea wanted nothing more than to rip the smug vampire’s head from his shoulders, bathe in his blood, and . . . the images assaulting him stopped him cold. Not that he’d moved more than a twitch, but it was enough.

  “I think you should let your” —Faris made air quotes with his fingers— “wolf,” then he laughed and went on, “go. I’d like to see what he kind of damage he could do on his own.”

  Milly made eye contact with O’Shea. “Tell me the truth; would you protect me and the baby from anything?”

  He snarled his answer, not caring if it damned him. “No. I’d let whatever monster wanted a piece of you take you and your god forsaken soul to hell along with whatever devil spawn you carry.”

  She gasped and reeled backwards, a hand to her chest. As if she was truly shocked.

  Faris laughed and patted O’Shea on the shoulder. “I think maybe I like you a little more. Agent Wolf.” The vampire leaned in and spoke softly. “But you should know, Rylee will be mine.”

  He lifted blue eyes to his, the depths of them glittering with hatred.

  “All of her will be mine.”

  The rage spilled out of O’Shea, and with it he spoke of his own volition. “We’ll see about that.”

  *-*-*-*

  Will drove us out to the countryside. That was not terribly exciting; thank the gods for small mercies. I slept most of the way, the chatter of Pamela nattering at Will a good bit of background noise. My dreams were disjointed and disturbing. Milly killing Eve, Alex biting Pamela, O’Shea pinioned by stakes. That last jerked me awake with a gasp. I had never been a Dreamer, one of those people who prophesied via their nightmares. No, but that didn’t mean I didn’t take my dreams seriously. Sometimes they were trying to tell me something.

  Like maybe I needed to go after O’Shea first. He wasn’t dead, the kids were.

  Jack Feen’s’ voice seemed to drift over me. You made me a promise. Now fucking keep it.

  Yeah, there was that. I did my best to push the dream away and looked around where we were. The rain sleeted sideways and gusts of wind actually pushed the car around on the dirt road. Add that into the dark night and it was a picturesque scene straight out of a horror movie. Fantastic, just what I wanted for night number two in London.

  “Are we almost there?” I stretched my arms above my head and felt my spine pop from sleeping hunched over.

  “Yes, a few more minutes. Then we walk.”

  I glanced back outside. I wasn’t a prude about weather, shit I lived in North Dakota, so who was I to complain? But this was rain, not dry cold snow. Rain, lots and lots of rain. Lots and lots of wet.

  A few minutes later, Will pulled into a, well, I suppose it could be called a turnoff. It looked more like an accidental dip to the right of the road. He was the first one out, Pamela followed, and I sat in the car looking out at the weather. Of course, Will didn’t need a flashlight, and we were to just blindly follow him in the dark, out in the woods, in the rain.

  The weather wasn’t the issue, it was the whole trusting Will thing. I didn’t trust him, not fully. Pamela, I trusted her, even though she was a child. But that was just it, she was somewhat easy to read, she hadn’t learned yet to hide her emotions even with her tough upbringing. Yet, I’d been wrong about Milly. Was I wrong about Pamela too? Was I wrong to follow Will? I shook off my worries. No, I’d kill him if he made a step wrong. He wouldn’t be the first shifter I’d ended.

  With teeth grit against the first gust of wind and rain, I stepped out of the car. The rain bitch slapped me, followed by a gust of wind that would make North Dakota proud.

  “Let’s get this done,” I said. Why was it that every freaking Shaman or Shaman-like supernatural lived in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere? Seriously, couldn’t they find a nice apartment in town? Just once I’d like to have that as an option. Just bloody well once.

  Pamela tucked in tight behind Will, and I followed the two of them. From time to time, I saw Will duck his head to speak to Pamela. I kept my eyes and ears open, wondering how exactly this was going to go down. Keeping my head up wasn’t easy; the rain was literally running in small rivers down my scalp and into the neck of my jacket. The front of my pants were soaked through, and already, I could feel the slight squish of water in my boots. I’d love to say at least the smell was fresh and refreshing, but it wasn’t. There was nothing I could smell over the heavy intrusion of water on my senses.

  “If you don’t have a Shaman,” I said, raising my voice just enough to be heard over the wind. “What do you have?”

  Will paused. “A Druid.”

  I jerked my head up. “Really?” I knew Druids were still around, of course they were. But true Druids, like true psychics, weren’t easy to find, nor were they easy to get help from. The other part of the equation was that Druids, well, they weren’t known to be shall we say, personable. Every supernatural has their quirks, the things they’re known for.

  Druids were known for being assholes. Ambiguous, but still assholes.

  Earth powered, ambiguous, hide behind smoke and mirrors, assholes.

  Which, combined with my rapier wit, was probably not the best of combinations.

  Will paused, turning green eyes toward me. “You must promise to be on your best behaviour. Please.”

  I made a peace sign with my fingers and put them to my temple. “Scouts honor.”

  “That isn’t how you make the scouts’ sign,” he grumbled, a visible shiver running down his spine.

  “You okay?” Pamela asked, obviously seeing the same thing I was.

  He cleared his throat, shook his head, and stepped back from us. “I’ll lead, but I have to be in my other form. If we get separated, you need to keep going. I don’t think she’ll give us another chance to speak with her. She’s funny like that.”

  “Why would we get separated?” Pamela asked softly.

  Will put a hand on her head. “My Destruction are the ones who keep the Druids safe. I’m on the outs with them.”

  “Why?” I asked, not wanting any more politics than we already had.

  Will shrugged, or I think he did in the dim light. “It’s complicated.”

  “Fuck, isn’t it always.”

  Will said nothing more and the conversation was over.

  I beckoned for Pamela to step back behind me as Will’s body hit the ground. I’d never seen a shifter actually shift and the morbid curiosity had me by the throat for a split second.

  “Pamela, turn around,” I said, as a visible tear in the skin along his face appeared. One hand on her shoulder, I tried to tu
rn her alongside me, facing away from Will.

  “I can take it,” she said, stiffening beside me.

  “It’s not about you. Ever think he might not want an audience?”

  She relaxed and turned her back; the rip of flesh was obviously painful if the soft groan he let out was any indication.

  We stood there, backs turned to a creature that had skin-rending claws attached to all four limbs. It took everything I had not to grab for one of my swords. A soft whuffle, that noise only cats make, brought my head around.

  Will was one big-ass kitty. The outline of his feline black body was barely discernible against the darkness around us.

  “You do realize that following a black-as-sin cat in the middle of a stormy night isn’t going to be easy for us?” I grumbled, irritated by the whole situation. I just wanted to get this over with, to get back to London, find O’Shea and then go after Berget.

  “I can make a light,” Pamela said, lifting her hand, and I had a vision of the forest burning down around us.

  “Wait, you think that’s a good idea?” I put my hand on her arm.

  “I can do it,” she snapped, jerking her arm away from me.

  I shrugged. “Okay, but try not to burn the forest down.”

  Will gave that soft whuffle again several times in a row, almost as if he were laughing.

  A bloom of soft pink appeared above Pamela’s head. “There,” she said. “See, it’s not even real fire.”

  “Hunky dory,” I grunted. “Let’s go.”

  Will led, Pamela was in the middle with her pink glow ball, and I trailed behind. The deeper we went into the forest, the more my back itched. Like some bad movie cliché; we were being watched. Most likely by Will’s Destruction, if what he was saying was true.

  Unable to stand the tension any longer, I loosened up my two swords and slid them noiselessly from their sheaths. It made me feel better to hold the weapons, to know I could use them quickly if need be.

  The soft breath of air displaced was the only warning I had. I dropped to my knees and rolled as the creature leapt across me.

  “Pamela, get down,” I yelled. Everything happened in a blur. Pamela hit the ground with a scream, her pink light going out, but the creature ignored her. It seemed more intent on our guide than anything.

  Scrambling to my feet I ran to Pamela’s side, and helped her up as the screams of two very large cats echoed around us.

  “What do we do?” Pamela gasped out.

  “Get your light going again, we’ll have to make a run for it.”

  “What about Will?” She lifted her hand and light blossomed above us, a pure white cluster of what looked like fireflies.

  I slid one sword back into its sheath, grabbed her arm and ran deeper into the forest. “He can take care of himself and he told us we had to book it, so let’s go.”

  “The lorry’s the other way.”

  “But the Druid is this way.” And above all else, we were going to meet with the Druid. One way or another.

  18

  Pamela and I were totally and completely turned around. Lost didn’t even begin to cover what we were. I briefly Tracked Will. He was way behind us and going further away. My gut feeling was that he led the other cat further from us to give us a chance. The thing was, I had no way to find the Druid on my own, and fuck me, we couldn’t even find our way back to the damn ‘lorry.’

  We were crouched in a cluster of trees, the rain seemingly not inclined to ease up, not even for a second. I wiped my face, wishing for a warm fire and some dry clothes.

  Beside me, Pamela shivered violently. I’d already given her my jacket and that had helped, but now that we weren’t moving it was harder to keep warm.

  “How . . . long . . . are we going . . . to stay . . . out for?” Pamela’s teeth chattered and even in the dim light I could see how little color her face and lips had.

  Through the downpour of rain, the trees were becoming visible, highlighted at the tops from the slowly rising sun.

  “Not much longer. As soon as it’s light out we can get moving. Can you hang on till then?”

  She nodded and hunkered down deeper inside my jacket. My t-shirt was soaked through and my skin was bumpy with gooseflesh. But I’d survive. I was loathe to give up, but without being able to Track the Druid, I had no idea how I’d find her.

  I closed my eyes and tried to think happy thoughts. There weren’t many of them.

  Jack Feen’s words drifted slowly back to me . . .

  You can Track groups of people, groups of supernaturals. It’s why the vampires want you.

  My eyes snapped open. And if I could use that now? Maybe I could find the Druid on my own.

  I wasn’t sure how to start other than the way I would with a child. Druids were assholes, notoriously difficult to deal with, went out of their way to be hermit-like, secretive. I let the traits I knew them to have coalesce inside my mind, creating a ‘picture’ of what a Druid should be.

  My Tracking ability seemed to hover over the created picture and then with a crack of what felt like lightning through my mind, I could feel the Druid as clearly as if I’d had a picture.

  “Bingo.” I stood, my body stiff from sitting crouched under the trees for several hours. “Come on, Pamela, I think I’ve found us a way out of here.”

  She didn’t argue, just got groggily to her feet, slipping her fingers into my belt loop. “I don’t think I can make a light,” she said.

  “Don’t need one.” I answered, striding off in the direction of the Druid. Different than Tracking someone I had a picture and a name of; in some ways, this was clearer, cleaner. The sense of ‘what’ the Druid was hummed inside my head, yet I had no definite emotions or feelings. I couldn’t tell if the Druid was happy or sad, alive or dead. In its own way, this kind of Tracking was far easier. Or, at least, less emotional. The downside was I suspected it could be any Druid, not necessarily the one we were looking for.

  We made our way through a thin patch of trees, over an easily jumpable creek, up the embankment, and then we were looking down on a bare field. I guess there was a part of me that figured we were going to stumble on Stonehenge. Of course, if it were that easy to find a real Druid, the humans would have done it long ago.

  The creek we’d hopped coursed out through the bare field, dividing it in half completely and as we watched, the sun rose, highlighting the other niceties of the place. Like the dozen Druids kneeling around an altar.

  “I don’t want to go down there,” Pamela said, her voice full of fear. No doubt the altar brought back memories of the priests.

  “Good, cause I want you to stay here.” I looked around. “Actually, I want you to climb that tree and wait for me or Will. Got it?”

  Her blue eyes, so old for her years lifted to mine. “And if neither of you come?”

  Bugger, that was a good question.

  “Wait till they” —I pointed at the group below us— “are all gone. Then do your best to track your way back to the road.”

  She nodded, and I boosted her into the lower branches of the tree. At a distance, no one would even see her wearing my leather jacket and dark jeans. Only her hair would stand out, but there was nothing to do for that now.

  I only held one sword, the other still strapped to my back, the leather ties squeaking in protest with the wet.

  Keeping my gait easy, I sauntered down the slope and walked toward the still kneeling group of Druids.

  Doing a quick count, I saw that there were thirteen, not an even dozen as my first glance over had shown me. They were wearing light grey robes with hoods that came up and over their heads, draping down past their eyes almost to their mouths. No point in trying to surprise them, at least one of them knew we were coming. Or at least, I assumed one of them did.

  I stopped about fifteen feet away from the kneeling group, put the tip of my sword into the ground and leaned on it. “Hey, which one of you knows Will?”

  There was a nice overall stiffening, as the
group shifted to stare at me, one at a time from under their hoods. I stared right back. Druids, for all their assholeness, were not generally prone to violence or death magic.

  I truly hoped my foggy recollections of them were correct.

  One Druid stood and even with the loose hanging robe I could see she was a woman. A ridiculously well endowed, large woman.

  She flipped her hood back and my jaw dropped. The lady in red, the woman who’d been trying to take Pamela from me and put her in foster care, was a gods be damned Druid.

  “Dr. Daniels, I presume?” I gave her a salute.

  “Truly, you have a knack for causing grief, Tracker,” she snapped. “If you’d allow me to take the child, she’d already be in training.”

  “She isn’t a Druid.”

  Dr. Daniels drew herself up, her bosom heaving. “She could be. We could train her.”

  I smiled and laughed in her face. “Please, with what skills? I’m going to take her back to the States with me where a Coven will train her properly.” I actually only had begun to formulate that part of things, but no need for them to know it.

  Her eyes flashed. “She belongs here, with us.”

  Holding up my hands in mock surrender, I did my best to curb my tongue, but failed miserably. “Listen, you are a serious pain in my ass, don’t tell me that you are the one familiar with Will?” It seemed obvious that she was, but then why didn’t he just phone her, or better yet, call her down to the police station?

  A second Druid stood. “Familiar would be the correct word, useless Tracker.”

  Ah, here we go, someone to spar with.

  “Useless? This from a bunch of bathrobe wearing” —I stepped forward, leaving my sword where it was— “overweight” —there was a gasp from the group— “child-thieving douchebags?”

  All of the Druids stood up and the tension rose with them.

  “I’m here to speak with one Druid. The one who knows Will the best.” Gods, I seriously hoped it wasn’t Daniels.

  Finally, there was movement from the back of the group, and a slender Druid stepped forward, flipping back her hood and baring her face to the rain. Strawberry-blonde hair, and seriously pissed hazel eyes tried to pin me down. She was pretty, but there was something familiar about her . . . her lips twisted downward in a sharp line and my eyebrows went up.