“What?” he snapped, deciding to bluff his way out. “I’m texting my girl.”
The moron was dripping water on the floor. Daniel assessed him in a blink—low enough on the totem pole to be relegated to outdoor patrol and stupid enough to carry a cannon that no doubt bucked like a mule instead of something light and utilitarian.
“Who the fuck are you?” the goon snarled.
Daniel put his phone in his pocket with a casualness that belied his racing heart. “I’m Joe, smartass. Who the hell are you?”
The guard blinked, lowering the gun a fraction. “Pretty sure you’re not supposed to be here Joe,” he said, elongating the name into two syllables.
“My boss told me to check this whole floor out,” Daniel said dismissively, taking his phone out again.
Be there in fifteen, the text from Ray said.
The mouth breather was confused. “Then why didn’t I see you earlier?”
“So you always meet every employee of the men your boss does business with?” Daniel waved at the windows. “My car got stuck in the mud. This fucking rain, huh?”
His expression clearing, the guard lowered his cannon. He shrugged. “Yeah. It came out of nowhere. Even my boxers are wet.”
“I’ll take your word on that,” Daniel added, trying not to cast worried glances at the door.
With luck, the rest of the criminals would assume muscle-man with the cannon was talking to another guard, but he couldn’t bet on it.
He opened his mouth, about to make an excuse about taking a leak, when a crash upstairs rained dust all over them. It was swiftly followed by another before shouting began.
“Serin,” he breathed, taking off at a run. The goon followed at his heels.
14
Serin hadn’t planned on fighting all the way down to the lower level. This whole floor should have been empty, but two of the men had made their way upstairs to plot a bloody betrayal in the next room.
“I’m telling you, we can do it if we act fast,” the first man said, loud enough for her supernatural hearing to catch it through the thin plaster.
“Or we get our heads blown off trying,” the second one replied.
“All we have to do is take them by surprise. Do you know how much money is in that briefcase?”
“And do you know how many other guys are downstairs?” The second man broke off, saying something she couldn’t make out.
“With this, we won’t need to worry about them.”
Serin edged around the corner, peeking into the room to see one of the would-be mutineers holding a massive machine gun. The weapon was straight out of a sci-fi movie, like the firearms in Fifth Element, Logan’s favorite movie.
She swore under her breath when the man held the gun up like a showroom model.
“This baby is all we need,” he insisted, waving it around. “One can take out a fucking army.”
“And that Puck guy is buying two dozen. What makes you think he and his men won’t grab them and take us out?”
The first man pointed the barrel at the floor, holding the heavy weapon with one hand.
“Because the clips on these are custom made… and they’re locked up in my trunk.” His tone self-congratulatory, he smirked. “Too bad I didn’t fork over the real key to Sal. The boss won’t know what hit ‘em. Neither will the buyer.”
He nudged the other guy hard. “Puck deserves to get fucked over, the way he talks down to everybody.”
The second man passed a hand over his face. “All right, but we split the cash and the rest of the guns fifty-fifty.”
Well, crap. If she didn’t intervene now, these two idiots were going to start shooting up the place. They could very well kill Puck before she got a chance to question him.
Serin moved into the center of the doorway, blowing air through her lips to puff her hair out of the way. The men in the room froze with hands-in-the-cookie-jar expression. Their faces darkened first with confusion and then suspicion.
“No, I’m not with any of you. I’m here to kick your ass and take those guns.” Irritated, she rolled her eyes when they continued to stare at her like idiots.
Affecting boredom, she yawned, then held out her hand, signaling them to come at her. Being naturally stupid, they obeyed, completely forgetting they were holding what might qualify as a weapon of mass destruction.
The gun was the first thing she broke, snagging it in a blink and twisting the barrel so they couldn’t fire it.
Disbelief was barely dawning in their eyes when she followed up with a punch, one she had to pull back on to avoid killing the first. The man went flying through the dilapidated wall of the bedroom before she landed a kick to head of the second man.
The sounds of their skirmish attracted attention. Men flooded in like rats escaping a flood.
Grinning, Serin pulled out her sword. It sang, cutting the air—and some body parts—with a hum that guaranteed death if anyone got too close.
Her muscles warmed rapidly as she fell into the rhythm of battle. Instinct and training took over, acting and reacting to block punches. She used the sword only when someone was about to raise their gun—and even then, it only took a strategic cut to certain fingers to get them to drop them the weapons.
She would never admit it to her sisters, and especially not to her family, but Serin was enjoying herself.
The Water Elementals of T’Kaieri were fierce warriors, but they had been trained from birth that using violence was a last resort. They were supposed to use their talent to take out their enemies. Relying on brute force was beneath them.
But it was so much more satisfying, she thought as a goon twice her size crashed at her feet with a thud that rattled the floor. She couldn’t help her smile at the sight.
Until Agent Romero shoved through the door, knocking down another man to get inside.
Serin froze in surprise, allowing one of the newly fingerless men to tackle her.
At least, that was his intention. She absorbed the force, dissipating it and standing firm. The man’s eyes widener with fear when Serin glared, her eyes growing cold. She batted him away, then scowled at Agent Romero.
Her heart sank. Wait. Romero wasn’t Puck, was he?
That suspicion lasted until the idiot fished out his badge and tried to arrest everyone.
“Get on your knees with your hands up,” he yelled when his first shout was ignored. “You are all under arrest.”
When he started reciting Miranda rights, she took pity on him, grabbing him by the collar and dragging him downstairs.
“I don’t know what the hell you are doing here,” she hissed, “but you need to shut up and stay behind me. I’ve got an asshole fairy to find.”
And once she got her hands on Puck, he was going to regret crossing her and her sisters. There was Loki’s shooting as well, not mention that whatever Puck was doing appeared to be giving Agent Romero here the means to track her.
Her list of grudge material against the fae crime lord was getting damn long.
Regrettably, Agent Romero was not keen to take a backseat. He jumped in front of her on the stairs.
“You’re the one who needs to get behind me. And where the hell did you get that sword, let alone learn to use it? Do you know how many hands you cut off back there?”
“Only one and it was still technically attached,” she corrected in low voice. “The rest are fingers and those can be sewn back on now—medical science has improved by leaps the last few decades.”
She huffed, wiping the blade on her sleeve. “I remember when I used to maim an asshole they stayed maimed. Not the case anymore.”
Romero stopped short at the bottom of the stairs, baffled frustration clear on his face. “What are you talking about?” he asked, raising his voice.
Biting her tongue, Serin clapped her hand over his mouth. “Shut it. There are at least half a dozen more men running around down here. Don’t broadcast our location unless you want the rest on top of us.”
“They should be on top of us anyway,” he countered, shifting to that stance cops on television used when moving through hostile territory—gun held in front, finger on the trigger. “Your fight upstairs was loud enough to wake the dead.”
That showed what he knew. There were at least a dozen bodies buried nearby, but not one zombie.
“I know that,” she said from behind gritted teeth, wondering why he could irritate her so easily. She shoved him behind her again, forcing him to stay by moving forward, sword in hand.
“Are you insane? You have a sword. I’m the one with the gun. Get behind me.”
“One more word and I’m locking you in the nearest closet,” she said, contemplating doing just that.
Serin never reacted this way with anyone. She was not a green beginner, struggling to control her emotions or her craft. Diana and Logan were the firebrands. She and Gia were the calm and centering influences.
Unless she was in Agent Romero’s vicinity. Then she flared up like an underground steam vent. Somehow, this human managed to get under her skin. However, she’d be damned if she let him know that.
“They must be outside,” she muttered, considering her unwanted tagalong with pursed lips.
Agent Romero put his hands up. “Don’t even think about slipping me whatever you gave me at the club. I’m on to your tricks now, Serin.” He stopped to scratch his wrist.
Her lips parted and she staggered back, blindly groping for the wall. The memory charm was beating, glowing with unearthly brightness just under the surface.
“How did you do that?” Serin frowned, moving to grab his arm. And where had he heard her real name?
She rubbed his wrist, feeling the thread just under the surface. The spell should have been absorbed within minutes of being put on, faded to nothing. But this had barely been taken up at all. It was just lying there as if his body had rejected it.
His aura had no other ticks, no signs of damage anywhere, not that it should have made a difference. Dalasini’s spells worked on everyone. They had been used on powerful witches, the fae, even the angelii. It was overkill to use one on a human, but they were infallible. Only she and her sisters were immune. And, of course, her mother herself.
You can’t leave it there.
Serin swore aloud this time, covering his wrist with both her hands and rubbing. The spelled band rose to the surface, breaking when she applied a little pressure.
She tried to hide the remnants of the string in her hands as she removed it, but Romero wasn’t having it.
“What the hell is that?” He snatched at her hands, tugging at the string with his mouth open. “Was that inside of me? It was, wasn’t it? I felt it come out.”
His face twisted, went white, and then a shudder passed through him.
“Err…” This had never happened to her before. Clearly, the agent was some sort of anomaly.
You’re forgetting your surroundings, a little voice warned her.
“Sorry, Agent Romero. You are a problem I don’t have time to solve.” If one of her mother’s memory charms hadn’t worked on him, there was little chance one of her own spells was going to.
“Well, I can always knock you out,” she mused.
People subjected to blows to the head frequently had issues recalling the events just before the injury. Of course, she would have to hit him pretty damn hard to wipe out all memory of her.
His eyes flared with disbelief and irritation. “You can try,” he said, puffing up.
She was tempted to take him up on his mocking challenge. “Relax, I have no wish to cause you permanent injury.”
A mental image of the agent sucking his dinner through a straw flitted across her mind. That was the last thing she needed on her conscience.
The infuriating human snorted. “How comforting. Sweetheart, let me tell you now—I wouldn’t go down as easy as those losers upstairs.”
Serin grunted, a biting retort on the tip of her tongue. But if her mother’s charm didn’t work on him, there might be some truth to his boast.
“We don’t have time for this. Puck is getting away. You need to stay here.” She turned on her heel, heading for the door.
“To hell with that.” Romero followed, just a step behind, crowding her. Ignoring him, she threw open the door.
A wave of bullets cut through the rain—and it was aimed right at her and Romero.
Time slowed down as the bullets flew at them, but it wasn’t long enough for her to mutter a counter-spell. Acting on instinct, she reared back, grabbing Agent Romero and diving sideways for the floor.
He yelled something as they fell, grabbing at his arm. Blood spread out from beneath his fingers as she crawl-dragged them out of the line of fire.
I guess they managed to bust into moron number one’s car trunk.
Bullets sprayed the wall, shredding the rickety wooden wall. Splinter-shrapnel rained like knives, slicing through the agents’ thin cotton shirt.
Her leathers fared much better, but the shots kept coming, turning the walls into swiss cheese. Serin covered the agent, checking him rapidly for more holes.
“I’m fine,” he shouted, trying to tug her behind him even though he was lying flat on the floor.
A really foul-smelling couch provided some cover, but it wouldn’t last long. She turned to the agent, smacking his hand when he tried to yank her against him.
His arm was covered in blood.
Serin covered the wound with her palm. She had some healing ability—not as good as her sister Gia, but her talent did give her a bit of control over the water in his body—enough to staunch the flow of blood at least.
Romero didn’t notice he wasn’t bleeding anymore. He was busy trying to save her life, getting to his feet and pulling her out of the living room. She let him drag her to the hallway, peeking out to gauge where the gunmen were.
The agent exploded. “Do you want to get that pretty head blown off?” he growled, pulling her deeper into the hallway.
“Hey, this is your fault,” she snapped back. “If you hadn’t been here to distract me, I would have done some recon and glanced out the damn window. We wouldn’t have been caught with our pants down!”
“You shouldn’t be here at all. There was a major arms deal going down.”
“Oh, gee, really? I hadn’t noticed. What tipped you off? The hole in your arm or the blitzkrieg of bullets?”
He raised his arm. “It was just a scratch. See, it already stopped bleeding.”
She clenched her jaw to keep from taking credit. He really does bring out the worst in me.
“And why the hell don’t you have a scratch on you?” he asked.
“Well, it’s not because I’m bulletproof,” she said.
Her spellcraft was good enough to redirect some of those bullets, but the sheer volume being thrown at them was enough to overwhelm even the best deflection spell. Protecting Romero was another story—for her talent skillset, shielding a human would have required a laboratory full of spellcasting equipment and ingredients. Maybe Logan or Gia could have redirected the bullets with their talents, but she was restricted that way.
She was still weighing her option when the assailants took the decision out of her hands. Wood banged on soft plaster as the door was kicked out—or at least what was left of it. She caught a brief glimpse of a dark figure silhouetted by the dim afternoon light.
Serin held out her hand, calling the water to her.
Outside, the rainwater she’d called for earlier coalesced, rushing toward the house like it was escaping a broken damn. But the raised foundation depleted the force out of the wave. The best she could do was knock the gunman off his feet.
That was enough.
“Follow me.” Serin grabbed Romero’s hand, running to the back of the house.
If only they’d been able to get outdoors. Even though it was ramshackle, the house provided enough protection from the elements to interfere with the use of her water talent.
She mentally scann
ed the pipes in the basement level for water, but the house had been abandoned so long they were dry as a bone.
Serin kept running, tugging the agent behind her. A bullet whizzed past her cheek, going through her hair. She stopped to throw the agent across the hall and out of harm’s way, preparing to charge at the gunman who’d flanked them.
She threw up her hands, preparing to disarm him, but the man went flying backward.
Serin started, blinking as the gunman groaned, picking himself up.
She had done that, hadn’t she? Moving him without touching him, she meant. Do it again. She gestured, but nothing happened.
Only a few Waters could manipulate a body’s water. This was why most Elementals drowned their victim, even if they had to manipulate the heavens to ensure their weapon of choice was on hand when they went on a case.
Manipulating a person’s water was a different story altogether. It was bound to the body by an individual’s chi and protected under the thick layer of energy—the aura that surrounded all living things.
She gave the man another experimental nudge. A much harder one. The man’s sneakers squeaked on the wood as he was propelled backward. The expression on his face as he crashed against the wall was comical, up until it was wiped clean by unconsciousness.
She wanted to throw her hands up in victory, but there was no time to celebrate.
“Hey,” Romero yelled as he appeared in the doorway of the room she’d thrown him in. “They’re coming.”
A flurry of footsteps pounded on wood. At least three more men were coming. From the sound of it, each was weighed down with one of those massive guns.
She didn’t have time to think. Serin turned, following Romero into the room before she realized it was a bathroom…and it only had one door.
The men were in the hall. Caution had slowed their steps, but she could feel their water as they crept along.
This was bad. She might be able to block most of the bullets, but she knew from experience the protective semi-bubble only covered a small surface. It was only a matter of time before the gunfire decimated the walls, giving the bad guys one-hundred-and-eighty-degree access. Another gunman firing from outside would complete the full circle of death. There was no way Romero would survive.
Water: The Elementals Book Three Page 11