She started to put the amulet around her neck but thought better of it. “Hiding it is smarter.” It made her feel better to talk to herself. “But where?” She stared around the bathroom, looking for something she might use and coming up blank. Then she saw the hardback copy of Gone with the Wind and suddenly she had an idea.
She carried the book into the bedroom and sat on the bed. In the nightstand drawer, along with the usual worn copy of the Bible, there was a small sewing kit. She pulled it out and found a tiny pair of scissors inside. “Perfect.” She took them out and opened them so she could use the small blade.
Then she opened the book to the middle and read along. It was the part where Scarlett and Rhett were on their way to Tara after the burning of Atlanta. That had always been Phoe’s least favorite part. The perfect place to deface the book.
“Sorry, Scarlett,” she murmured. “Desperate times call for desperate measures.” Using the tiny scissor blade, Phoe cut a small square out of a few pages, creating a tiny box in the middle of the book. She then used the scissors to cut the satin cord off the amulet so that she could fit the charm into the small nook. When the book was closed, no one would be the wiser that it had been altered. “Excellent.” Proud that she could be so devious, she took the fragments of paper and the satin cord to the toilet and flushed them before shoving the book into Cage’s rucksack.
Phoe lay down across the bed once more, staring at the clock. Damn. He’d only been gone twenty minutes, but it felt like an eternity. She craved his body and the safety it offered. She wanted it back as quickly as possible.
What would he do in her situation? Her eyes came to rest on the tiny wet bar. “A shot of whiskey. If that doesn’t put me out, nothing will,” she said. As she approached the small liquor cabinet, she looked around for a glass. She’d seen Cage come in with a bucket of ice earlier. Isn’t that how people did it? Whiskey on the rocks.
Of course the glasses were nowhere to be found, so she simply chose a mini-bottle and twisted the cap off. “Bottoms up.” She toasted the air and drank deeply.
17
Cage’s stomach rolled over once more as he stepped into the street. The scents of so many souls all collected in one place was driving him mad. His hunger filled him with a savage rage fueled by pain. It was why he’d had to leave Phoe.
He was at a disadvantage having to hunt in the day, and though he wouldn’t burst into flames, his strength waned during the daylight hours. Strength that he could use to fight, overpower, and resist his primal urges. His only saving grace was the overcast sky that was threatening to burst in a flash of lightning any minute.
He started down the street, wondering what he was going to do about food. In an urban area, it wasn’t as easy as one might think for someone like him. A true vampire gravitated toward large cities as they provided a healthy hunting ground.
Thousands of people meant thousands of opportunities to feed for a creature who thought nothing about taking a human life. But for Cage, who tried his best to keep his vampirism in check, food was scarce. There were no small animals to feed upon and thousands of witnesses. It wasn’t that he was opposed to killing. Survival of the fittest had always been his motto.
Over the course of his long career, both before and after the Splice, he’d taken many lives. But he refused to become the monster that the IU thought he was. That was why he was so willing to do whatever was necessary to get his hands on the antidote Wilder had promised.
Without the monsters living inside him, Cage would be given the opportunity to rebuild his life. A life free of blood and death. A life that might include Phoe. When he’d agreed to the IU’s little “enhancement,” he’d been an angry and vengeful person. He didn’t have any regard for life, his own or anyone else’s. The last several days had changed his outlook.
Though he needed to feed, the thought of taking a life made him ill. He didn’t want Phoe to see that hunger and lust for blood.
He could smell the man’s blood before he could see him. It was a heady, coppery smell that made Cage’s mouth water. It was also laced with alcohol. He smiled. This would make the man much easier to overpower. Perhaps he wouldn’t fight, and Cage might leave him alive.
Cage fell into step behind the man. He was older, but still fit. He was obviously someone who still ran every morning before taking off to his executive office job. He wore a suit with the jacket off and thrown over his arm in the heat of the afternoon. Underneath the smell of his blood, Cage could smell expensive aftershave. If he had to guess, he’d say this man had been on a business lunch that was mostly liquid.
The man paused, stepping to the edge of the sidewalk with his arm raised. He was trying to hail a shuttle, but it was starting to rain, and one after another drove past. Cage quickened his pace to catch up, dodging other pedestrians.
Just as the man stopped to try once more for a cab, Cage purposefully crashed into the back of him. There was just brief contact of skin on skin as Cage sputtered and apologized, helping the man regain his balance, but it was all he needed. Suddenly, images from the man’s entire life flooded Cage’s mind, sending him stumbling backward. Then the images slowed and he could pick them out one by one. A heated encounter with his secretary in the break room, denial of a loan that would save an old lady from homelessness, his eyes shifting from side to side as he casually pulled an envelope of money from a cash drawer. On his knees, deep in prayer at church.
“I’m sorry, mate,” Cage said, pulling back. “I didn’t see you there.”
“Try watching where you’re going,” the man snapped.
“My apologies, sir,” Cage said, laying his accent on as thickly as possible. Stereotypes were always an effective way to disarm another.
Cage continued past the man and ducked into the alleyway. He peered around the building, making sure that the man hadn’t found a cab. Cage took a deep breath, pressing himself against the cool bricks to lie in wait. His mind was quiet, and he filtered out every other sound, honing in on the steady footfalls of his prey. He could feel the burning sensation of his canines elongating and the sharp, bitter taste of the venom that dripped from them, wetting his lips.
The man was close. Cage could smell the stink of that aftershave again. In just a second he would be within reach. It would have to be quick. In the day, with so many around, he couldn’t let him make a sound. His body was rigid as he reached out, ready to grab him.
An angry buzz broke the silence. “Damn it.” Cage growled as his phone buzzed in his pocket again. He watched as his first meal in days wandered oblivious past the alleyway. This better not be Phoe calling to whine that she was frightened of being alone.
“What?” he shouted into the phone.
“Mr. St. John?” There was a hissing and several clicks as the connection broke up. “Macijah St. John?” a hushed female voice asked.
“This had better be good,” he said. “Who is this?”
More static and then a clatter. For a moment he thought he’d lost the call, but then she spoke up again. “Mr. St. John. My name is Jessica Addison. I think you’re acquainted with my sister Phoebe.”
Cage’s eyes darted around, and he stepped back farther into the alley, away from the street. He couldn’t afford to attract any unwelcome attention. “Where are you?” he whispered. “Are you safe?”
“For the moment,” she said through the static of the bad connection. Evidently she was on a mobile that was not ideal for interplanetary communication. “I’m not sure how long I have, so just listen.”
“I’m listening,” Cage replied, pulling his jacket closer around him.
“You have to keep my sister and that amulet away from New London.”
“What? I thought you were the one that asked her to bring it. That the people holding you hostage were willing to kill for that trinket.”
“None of that matters,” she hissed. “If Machine gets a hold of that key, then everyone is dead anyway.”
“I don’t understand.”
“On the contrary, Mr. St. John, I think you understand far more than you’re letting on. After all, you’re practically one of them.”
Cage tightened his fist. He could already feel the rage that came with his bloodlust threatening to seep to the surface. “What are you talking about?”
“Eve Manning. She told me all about the Splice. And your past history with it. Please believe that if one hair on Phoe’s head is harmed…”
“I think you have me confused with someone who might be intimidated by you, Miss Addison. Phoe is perfectly safe with me. Why don’t you start by telling me how you know Eve Manning?” There was silence on the other end of the line, and once more he thought he’d lost her. “I’m waiting.”
“She’s been here. She knows all about the amulet and what it’s keeping hidden. I think maybe she’s known all along, but she’s a smart girl and has cleverly kept it from Machine.”
“She’s working for Machine?”
“Of course she is. You didn’t think that she held some kind of loyalty to you? There’s no loyalty among thieves. You of all people should understand that.” He and Eve had a long and complicated history together, and he knew her well.
When Cage and Oliver first became friends at uni, Eve had been a child of fourteen. That didn’t stop her from being completely in love with her older brother’s best friend and doing everything in her power to be noticed. Including following him into MI6. Eve had never been above cheating to get what she wanted.
“She used to work for the IU. She probably still does, but she’s been here with Machine, and their interactions didn’t look casual. I heard them talking about Phoe and you. And the medallion. Eve was supposed to find out what that key was hiding. She was supposed to steal it, but she ran out of time. Machine sent her back down there to make sure Phoe got here. He wants the key and also…” Her words trailed off, and he could hear her talking to someone in the background. A low voice that sounded angry.
“Jessica? What does Machine want?”
“I have to go,” she whispered. “I need to know that I can trust you.”
“As your list of enemies grows, I don’t think you have much choice.”
“Look, Mr. St. John, it doesn’t really matter what happens to me, but you have to keep Phoe and that key away from Derek Machine. And that means keeping it away from New London altogether.” Another pause. “He knows where you are, Mr. St. John. And he wants you too.”
The line went dead. He pocketed his mobile and leaned against the wall behind him for support, taking in all of the information he’d been able to piece together. He knows where you are.
“Phoe.”
Suddenly, he was frantic, running back toward the hotel and forgetting about the hunt. “Sorry. Excuse me,” he said as he sprinted down the sidewalk, pushing people aside.
He gauged how many people were around and the risk of shifting. It would be so much easier if he could fly above all this. It seemed that the swarm of people on the sidewalk was thickening with every passing second, and that only added to Cage’s panic.
For a moment he considered that the whole thing might be some elaborate conspiracy to keep him away from the hotel. As the pedestrians passed by him, crashing into his shoulder one after another, he could smell their blood, feel their heartbeats. Their subconscious minds yammered endlessly about their jobs, their mates, their boring lives. It was crowding Cage’s focus and made him feel claustrophobic.
“Mr. St. John.” Cage stopped and whipped around. The man standing before him was enormously broad in his black suit, and the others behind him weren’t much smaller. He recognized their garb and demeanor from the Maglev. IU thugs, obviously.
“You need to come with us.”
His first instinct was to fight, but the biggest of the thugs had reached out to restrain him. “You really don’t want to do that, mate,” he said, glancing down at the meaty hand on his arm.
“Let’s not cause a scene here, Mr. St. John.” The agent in charge tightened his grip, making a point to let his red eyes flash. More fucking werebeasts. “You have Ms. Addison to think about.”
At the mere mention of her name, Cage felt the anger rise from the pit of his belly and into his throat. His own eyes flashed, and he could taste the venom on his tongue, burning and bitter. His hand rose in a flash, grabbing the wrist of the agent who held him and twisting, breaking it immediately before using the leverage to pull him closer. There was a crack as Cage crashed his forehead against the other man’s, knocking him cold before he could shift. With a flash of movement, he leapt over the other agents and took off down the nearest alley. He had no wish to shift on a sidewalk full of people.
Before he could will the changing, two more agents appeared at the end of the alley, blocking his escape. He skidded to a halt, his boots throwing gravel in all directions. “You better be prepared to kill me, mate,” Cage snarled, his size growing.
“We ain’t gonna have to kill ya,” one of them replied just before his body contorted and blurred as he shifted. A black panther stood before him, roaring once before leaping at Cage. He caught the cat easily in his fist, baring his teeth and sinking them into the cord of the beast’s throat. There was one cry as the animal went down, hissing and shifting in and out of human form as Cage drained its blood. The warmth and thickness of the blood was overwhelming, and Cage felt the strength flooding back into his limbs. He should just let it go. He should throw it aside and run for the hotel, but once he’d tasted the blood, he couldn’t. He drank deeply, feeling the man’s life force flowing into his body, becoming intoxicated by it and rendering himself vulnerable.
So vulnerable that he didn’t see the other agent, who pushed a syringe into Cage’s spine as he fell.
Cage howled in pain, throwing the dead agent aside as he flailed, trying to pull the needle from where it lodged in his back, high between two vertebrae. The other agent watched as Cage’s floundering flagged.
He had no control over his limbs and felt his heightened senses drain like water from a bladder. He fell to his knees, trying to shake off the sensation. A profound weakness set in, and he couldn’t get his balance. Nausea and pain took over until he could do nothing but crawl away from the other agent.
“Phoe…” he murmured.
“Don’t worry about Miss Addison. We’ll take good care of her,” the agent snarled before kicking him in the face.
The world faded to black.
18
An exploding ball of agony behind her left eyeball roused Phoebe. The bright white light was like a knife that stabbed into her forehead, and she squinted, trying to make it go away. “Where am I?” she mumbled as she tried to sit.
Her head spun, and she fell flat on her back. Nausea came with pain and sat in the back of her throat, waiting to make its appearance. She was relieved to find that she could move her arms, and she crossed them over her eyes, waiting for the sick feeling to subside. After a few deep breaths, she leaned on her arm then straightened and waited to see if she could remain upright.
When she was sure she wouldn’t hurl, she stared around the room.
Everything was white, which accounted for the unnatural brightness. The room was devoid of any furniture, save for the bed she lay on. There were no sharp corners. The structure of the room was smooth and sleek. An electric hum buzzed over her head and an intermittent beeping noise preceded what sounded like a slow exhale of air.
She could smell the light ozone of pure oxygen. It was a scent she remembered from her time spent in the hospital during her mother’s illness and was a powerful sense memory that made her belly roll over with a sickening thud.
As her eyes adjusted, she could see that there was a window that stretched from floor to ceiling and took up the width of one wall.
“Cage?” she called, slowly getting to her feet.
Obviously she was no longer in the Mayo where she’d fallen asleep. She made her way toward the window, and as she got near, she became aware that
the deep blue view of night was much too dark to be normal. As she looked out, her breath hitched as she realized that this strange room was among the stars and moving. “Holy shit.”
“Now is that any way to talk about such pristine accommodations?”
Phoe turned at the familiar voice. “Eve? What are you doing here? I thought we left…”
“Left me by the side of the highway? Tell me, Phoebe. Are you feeling enlightened?”
“What are you talking about?” Phoe murmured, holding her head and trying to focus. She had to stay calm. What was that old slogan? Keep calm and carry on. Yes, that’s what Cage would do. “What am I doing here?”
“Well, darling, what you should be asking is ‘where is here?’”
“All right. Where is here?”
“On a private transport bound for New London. Courtesy of Derek Machine.”
Phoe tensed, moving away from Eve. “Where is Cage?”
“Oh don’t worry about him. I’m sure that he’s right there where he belongs. He’s probably taking that antidote right now, the poor sod.”
“The antidote? What are you talking about?” Phoe turned to face her, knowing that she couldn’t show any fear. “Cage never said anything about any antidote.”
“Well, he wouldn’t, would he? That was his price.”
“His price?”
“For you. For the amulet. Machine promised him that if he delivered you that he would give him the antidote for his, shall we say, condition.”
Phoe closed her eyes, seeing Eve’s words flashing behind her eyelids like giant glowing letters on a movie screen. She was a prize? It couldn’t be true. Cage wouldn’t have betrayed her for some kind of antidote. He loved her. Didn’t he? “I don’t understand.”
Eve gave a bitter chuckle, circling Phoe. “Is it really so hard to believe? Cage’s entire life has been lies and betrayal. It’s his job.”
Naked Page 16