The door swung open on thick hinges. A tall, distinguished-looking, middle-aged man in a white coat walked in. He stopped and stared at the bleeding figure on the floor.
‘And what have we here?’ he murmured, his tone unhurried.
The prisoner froze. Unbridled rage blazed in his aquamarine eyes. He jumped to his feet so quickly the movement startled Ethan and charged toward the man in the doorway. The chains stopped him short a second later.
A choked grunt escaped the prisoner’s throat as he strained against the metal collar digging into his windpipe. He clawed the air inches from the silent figure’s head, his face reddening while the metal links binding him jangled and shook around the iron ring in the floor.
The stranger in the coat turned his back on the enraged man, his expression unperturbed. His hooded eyes alighted on Ethan’s face.
‘Ah. You’re awake.’
The man reached inside his pocket and walked leisurely across the floor.
Ethan tensed when he saw the capped needle and syringe the man withdrew from his coat. He stared at the clear liquid inside the glass tube with rising panic and started to struggle against the chains holding him captive. Veins throbbed on his forehead as he focused his mind once more on the iron restraints around his wrists.
The cuffs trembled above him.
The man in the coat paused. ‘Now, now, we can’t have you doing that, Mr. Storm.’ He uttered a disappointed tut-tut. ‘Not after all the time and resources we spent finding you.’ He took the cap off the needle.
Ethan clenched his jaw and concentrated on the shackles. A buzzing noise filled his ears. His knees suddenly collapsed beneath him.
Cursing the drug dulling his senses, he shook his head dazedly and pushed himself up just as the man reached him.
‘No!’ Ethan shouted. He stepped back until he hit the wall, shocked at how weak his voice sounded and the shudders of exhaustion racking his body. ‘Get the hell away from me!’
He kicked out at the man in the coat. The stranger sidestepped smoothly.
Steely fingers closed around Ethan’s throat. He found himself lifted off the floor and choked on the tightening band across his windpipe, legs thrashing feebly midair.
The man in the coat held him aloft and studied him coldly. ‘Things will go better for you if you cooperate, son of Jared.’
Before Ethan could make sense of the stranger’s cryptic words, he felt a sharp prick in his neck. The man depressed the plunger on the syringe. Cool oblivion washed over the immortal.
It was dark inside the cell when Ethan came to. He opened his eyes and blinked.
He was lying on his side on the cold stone floor. A rock wall swam into focus a couple of feet in front of him. He stared at it for a moment.
Hope welled inside his chest when he realized they had unchained him from the wall. He pushed up on his elbows. Metal clinked in the gloom. He looked down.
His heart sank when he saw the cuffs around his wrists. He raised a hand to the heavy collar around his neck and followed the iron links leading from it to the ring on the floor.
‘Shit,’ he muttered.
There was movement to his right. He turned and met an intense blue-green stare a couple of inches from his face.
‘What the—?’
Ethan scrambled backward awkwardly.
‘You’re awake,’ said the bearded prisoner.
Ethan clutched his chest. ‘Jesus, man! You almost gave me a heart attack!’
Chains jingled as the prisoner sat back on his heels.
‘Somehow, I suspect you will survive such an attack of the heart,’ he professed calmly.
Ethan studied the man with a frown. ‘I take it you’re also an immortal?’
The man cocked his head and eyed him shrewdly. ‘And what makes you say that, pray tell?’
The prisoner had an old-fashioned, cultivated way of expressing himself that Ethan had not heard in some time.
He scowled. ‘Well, apart from the obvious clues from those soldiers, your wounds are healing pretty damn fast.’
The prisoner raised his fingers to the scabs on his face. ‘Ah. Yes. I suppose there is no hiding that fact.’
A wave of dizziness suddenly struck Ethan. He shifted on the floor, pressed his back to the wall, and dropped his head between his raised knees. He concentrated on his breathing until the sickening feeling passed; he was evidently still under the influence of the latest injection.
He clamped down on the panic threatening to overwhelm him and raised his eyes to the bearded prisoner. ‘So, what the hell gives?’
The man looked at him blankly. ‘I am afraid I have no knowledge of such an expression.’
Ethan bit back a curse. Seriously, what is wrong with this guy?
‘What’s going on?’ he rephrased with as much patience as he could muster. He indicated the interior of the cell with a weak wave. ‘Why are we here? What do these people want with us?’
The immortal watched him for a beat. ‘If I may ask, how exactly did they apprehend you?’
Heat flooded Ethan’s cheeks. The subject of his capture was a source of great embarrassment to him.
‘They put something in my drink when I was in the company of a…lady.’
He still felt chagrined for having fallen for the oldest trick in the book. A day after he had finished his latest assignment in Los Angeles, he had travelled to Vegas to enjoy the hard-earned cash that had been wired to one of his accounts. His suspicions should have been aroused when an attractive brunette bumped into him in the lobby of his hotel, spilled coffee down his shirt, and invited him for a drink in the bar as an apology. Had he not already consumed a fair amount of alcohol before the flight that brought him over from LA, he would have been in a better state of mind to smell the obvious trap.
The woman had been exactly his type, with dark hair and eyes, and all her curves in the right places. Ethan would have pondered his uncanny luck if he had been in full possession of his faculties. And he would have noticed the men watching them from various discreet places around the bar while he and his companion drank and flirted with each other.
It wasn’t until he took the woman up to his room that the penny dropped. Halfway through undressing her, the bed started to spin alarmingly beneath him, much more than could be explained by the alcohol he had imbibed. A moment later, four men burst through the door, pinned him to the mattress, and jabbed something in his arm. The next thing he remembered was being lifted off the back of a truck in a large, brightly-lit hangar and being dragged through what felt like half a mile of underground tunnels to the room where he now found himself chained.
All this he haltingly related to his cellmate.
The other immortal leaned toward him, eyes glittering intently in the gloom. ‘This place you saw before they brought you here, can you describe it to me?’
Ethan hesitated. ‘You’re not gonna mention that I was an idiot for being so easily deceived?’
‘Of course, you were a complete fool for falling prey to your baser animal instincts.’ The prisoner shrugged. ‘There is, however, no point weeping over shed milk. Now, about this place you spoke of.’
Ethan’s jaw sagged. ‘“Weeping over shed milk?” What are you, an old lady?’
The prisoner’s eyes narrowed slightly. ‘There is no need to be discourteous, boy.’
‘I’m starting to find “boy” slightly insulting myself,’ snapped Ethan.
There was a flash of teeth in the dark. ‘That’s because you are but a child in immortal years.’
‘Oh yeah? And you’re like what, four hundred or something?’
Ethan could feel strength flowing back into his limbs. Arguing with this irritating guy seemed to be doing him some good. He almost missed the pained expression that flashed across the other man’s face.
The prisoner dropped his head back on the bare rock wall. ‘What year is it?’
Ethan stared at him, nonplussed. ‘Year?’
‘Yes. Jonah and
his men have taunted me with so many half-truths in the last decade, I don’t know what to believe anymore.’
Ethan wondered at the undertone of bitter dread in the man’s voice. ‘It’s 1969.’
The prisoner went deathly still. Muscles worked in his throat.
‘Then I am seven hundred and thirty-nine years old, boy,’ he finally whispered in a tortured voice.
Ethan startled. ‘You don’t look a day over four hundred and fifty!’
The prisoner’s knuckles whitened where his hands rested in his lap.
‘What the hell happened to you? Were you frozen in time or something?’ said Ethan.
The older immortal stiffened. ‘You are correct.’
Ethan blinked, perplexed. ‘What?’
‘You asked if I had been frozen in time. The answer to that question is yes.’
Ethan shivered at the expression in the older immortal’s eyes. The latter looked like someone who had survived the very depths of hell itself.
He looked away from the intense gaze and studied the manacles around his wrists. Wondering if he had enough reserves left to get himself out of this mess, he tugged at the cuffs. The iron was old and thick. He took a deep breath and concentrated on the locking mechanism.
‘Jonah referred to you as a son of Jared,’ said his companion. ‘Who is Jared? Is he a member of your special Crovir ancestry?’
Chapter Two
Ethan’s head snapped up, any notion of manipulating the metal fleeing his mind. He lunged toward the older man and groaned when the cell reeled around him. He collapsed on the floor and swallowed the bile rising in his throat. A shudder racked his body.
‘What the hell do you know about that?’ he spat out once he could lift his head off the ground.
The other immortal reached for something in the gloom. There was a clink and a faint slosh. He passed across a wooden ladle full of water.
Ethan grabbed the handle and swallowed a mouthful of the cold liquid. Some of it spilled over and dribbled down his chin.
‘From what I witnessed earlier, and our captors’ persistence in keeping you under the influence of some sort of mind-altering substance, I can only surmise that you are an Elemental,’ said the man. His gaze dropped to the birthmark on the back of Ethan’s left hand. ‘I have only ever heard rumors of your kind. You are a rare breed indeed among the Crovirs.’
Dismay flooded Ethan at the man’s words. With it came a familiar rush of anger and sadness. He flopped down, his cheek pressed against the chilly, wet stone.
‘You don’t know how rare.’
He felt the other man tense.
‘You are the last of your kind?’ his companion asked harshly.
Ethan closed his eyes and sagged on the bare rock under a fresh wave of exhaustion. ‘I believe so.’
When the other immortal spoke again, a trace of compassion tinged his tone. ‘It seems Jonah has been looking for you for some time. You did well to stay out of his reach for so long.’
Now that the drug was slowly clearing from his bloodstream, Ethan could no longer ignore the deep-seated fear that had plagued him ever since those men burst into his hotel room. More than a century after they had ripped his family apart, the invisible enemy who had been chasing him all over this godforsaken world had finally tracked him down.
In the wake of the terror that gripped him, Ethan was surprised to discover a reserve of rage. His nails bit into his palms. He sat up slowly, the face of the man in the white coat swimming in his mind.
‘Is Jonah the name of the guy who stabbed me in the neck?’
‘Yes. His true name is Jonah Krondike, although currently he appears to be using the alias Jonah Resner. He is a Crovir noble.’
‘What does he want with me?’
The older immortal drew his legs up and rested his arms on his knees. ‘I believe he is intending to use your body for some sort of experiment.’
Ethan stiffened. ‘Experiment? What kind of experiment?’
His companion hesitated. ‘That I do not know the answer to, boy.’
Ethan narrowed his eyes. He could not help but feel that the older immortal had just lied to him. ‘There seems to be some kinda history between this Jonah Krondike and you. How do you know him?’
‘It is a long tale and one I am afraid I will not have time to relate.’
Ethan arched an eyebrow. ‘Why? You going somewhere?’
The immortal nodded. ‘Yes. We both are.’
Ethan gaped at his fellow prisoner. ‘Huh?’
‘We are about to escape from here,’ explained his companion. ‘It has been twelve hours since they gave you that medication. They will be back to administer another dose soon.’
Ethan felt blood drain from his face.
‘So, how are you feeling, Elemental?’
There was a clink from the chains as the older immortal rummaged around in the dark.
‘Like shit, now that you ask,’ mumbled Ethan.
‘I meant, how are your immortal powers?’ his companion asked patiently. ‘Do you think you can use them?’
Ethan took a deep breath and stared at the cuffs around his wrists. He concentrated on the metal. Blood thundered in his ears. A grunt left his lips.
There was a faint noise from the locks.
He gasped and bent over, alarmed at how much the act had taken from him.
‘Not bad,’ said the older immortal. ‘Now, see if you can open them all the way.’
Ethan panted where he crouched on the floor. He turned his left hand over and slowly extended his middle finger at the other man.
‘There is no need for that kind of gesture.’ There was a dim noise outside the cell. ‘I would hurry if I were you.’
Ethan detected a glint of metal in the shadows as his companion placed something on the ground. He swallowed the lump of panic clogging his throat. ‘What’s that?’
‘It is a shot from that idiotic infantry man’s gun.’
The immortal maneuvered the handle of the ladle into the base of the wall behind him and carefully extracted a piece of rock the size of an orange.
From the marks around it, Ethan suspected it had taken the man weeks, if not months, to carve out the lump of stone. Despair swamped him at that thought; he did not want to end up locked in this hellish dungeon for eternity.
A low mumble of voices reached him from the other side of the cell door.
‘It is the change of the guards,’ said the older immortal. His eyes shone in the gloom. ‘Are you getting anywhere with those fetters?’
‘No. At least, not fast enough for it to be of any use.’
Beads of sweat dotted Ethan’s brow and pooled at the base of his throat as he centered all his energy on the metal bands binding him. Had he been in full possession of his senses, he would have been out of them in seconds.
‘This might help,’ said the older immortal.
Ethan looked up. ‘What—?’
His companion slapped him forcefully across the face.
Ethan’s head snapped to the side. He turned and gaped at his cellmate. ‘You bastard! Why the hell did you do—?’
The immortal lunged toward him.
‘Use that anger! Focus!’ he hissed inches from Ethan’s face.
He struck him again.
Ethan’s ears rang from the second blow. Numbness bloomed on his cheek. A wave of fury flooded his body.
The older immortal made a satisfied noise at the back of his throat and shuffled backward. He lifted the rock above his head and brought it down sharply on the rim of the bullet. Sparks flared in the gloom when stone met metal. He raised the rock and hit the base of the cartridge a second time.
There was a flash and a loud bang as the casing exploded.
An alarmed curse sounded outside their prison above the dying echoes of the detonation. A key jangled agitatedly in the lock. The door slammed open, spilling faint, yellow light across the floor.
A guard stormed inside the room, rifle in hand. He flic
ked the switch on the wall and blinked as brightness flooded the space.
‘What the fuck was that?’ he barked.
He raised the weapon stiffly to his shoulder, the barrel swinging between the two prisoners. A sudden clatter made him jump. His gaze moved to the iron shackles and collars lying open on the floor. His eyes grew round.
Ethan smiled savagely. The rage blazing through his veins had burned away the last vestiges of the narcotic in his system and allowed him to unlock the restraints holding him and the other immortal captive.
The guard swore. His finger moved on the trigger. Ethan zeroed in on the gun. With his mind clear, it took but a single breath for him to perceive the structure of the metal. He altered it.
The barrel of the rifle twisted sideways with a tortuous creak. The guard gaped at the buckled weapon. He cast it aside and reached for the army knife on his hip.
There was a blur by Ethan’s side as the older immortal bolted to his feet and dashed across the room. He reached the soldier just as the latter raised his blade, ducked under the swinging arm, and drove his shoulder into the man’s chest. Air whooshed out of the guard’s mouth in a harsh grunt as the immortal tackled him to the ground; the knife fell from his hand and skittered across the floor as he landed heavily on his back.
The soldier lay stunned for a heartbeat before struggling against the man atop him. His eyes darted fearfully toward the half-open door and he opened his mouth to scream for help. Ethan tensed.
The soldier barely had time to utter the beginning of a cry before it became a choked gurgle; the immortal had straddled his body and was digging his thumbs into his windpipe. The man’s face flushed to a deepening red as he punched and pulled at the prisoner’s rock-steady arms, body bucking futilely beneath his attacker’s weight and heels kicking at the ground.
The immortal remained silent, his face a study of fierce concentration and his knuckles white where they lay against the guard’s neck.
It was a matter of seconds before the soldier stopped struggling.
Only when the man lay completely still, bloodshot eyes staring unseeingly at the ceiling and limbs relaxing in death, did the immortal finally move. He sat back on his heels and dropped his hands to his sides, his posture rigid.
Legacy Page 2