After I finished relating the tale, the line muffled as though he covered the phone with his hand. I swore I heard him let loose a string of curses.
When he returned to the phone, his words came out slow and measured. “You are to stay put and wait for me and my team. Send me your GPS coordinates. You said it was a satellite phone? There’s an app in there that should tell you your location.”
“Cash, we’ll be fine. I didn’t call you so you could rescue me. I just thought you might be worried. We’re not here to engage or anything. Just getting a location of the lab. Then we’ll come back and hand over the details so you and your crew can go in and do your thing.”
His voice turned deathly dark. “Marc’s antics in Buenos Aires Airport were broadcast on the internet. People know where you are.”
“He was caught on camera dematerializing?” Unease unfurled in my stomach. “But I’m not there now.”
“All you need is for one more slip and Players from around the globe will be coming for you. Worse, Urser gets wind of you being so close to his base of operations and his entire darkling army descend. Stay put. Stay out of range of cameras and—”
I made a choking sound.
“—Roo? Are you there?”
“Yes, I…”
“What is it?”
“These kids took a photo of me and, hang-on”—I brought the phone down from my ear—“let me check something.”
I scrolled through the open apps on the phone. There was no way they’d uploaded the photo of me. The data bandwidth here was probably non-existent. My heart leapt into my throat. There it was.
A photo of me. Slightly see-through top.
Posted online. Geo-tagged.
“Oh my God.”
“Roo?” Cash’s urgent voice punched through the phone speaker. “What?”
I put it back to my burning ear. “I think it’s too late. Search: Chica mojada hace Perú online.”
The silence was worse than Cash’s wrath. Nothing came down the phone at all but perhaps my imagined sense of his heavy breathing, bulging forehead veins and steam blowing out of his ears.
“Let me speak to Marc,” he finally asked.
“Cash—”
“Put. Marc. On.”
“Okay, okay.”
I wedged the phone between my shoulder and ear, gathered my old clothes and nudged the hut door open with my hip. Marc couldn’t have gone too far.
When I stumbled out and into the mud, I found myself surrounded by a group of men wearing black ski-masks pointing automatic rifles at my face.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
AT LEAST TEN men surrounded me. On further inspection, some of them could’ve been women. All had wiry, malnourished shapes and desperate eyes peering from behind crudely cut holes in black masks. No, they weren’t ski-masks, but black strips of fabric wrapped around their heads like sinister mummies. A few of them had Kevlar vests over their dirty clothes. Each had an automatic weapon of some kind. Some had machetes, and one man… he had a white, hand-painted skull and crossbones on his vest. With a guttural voice, he barked an order to the men at his right. Two of them stepped forward and grabbed my upper arms, dragging me forward.
I lost control of my package. It dropped to the floor, including the phone. They pulled me forward and my legs dragged in the mud behind me.
My heart kicked in my chest. Wildly I looked around for Marc.
He wasn’t there.
They dragged me over fallen stacks of colorful clothing. The old woman who’d served me was gone. The toothless man was no longer there. The naughty teenagers were gone. Even the animals in the forest seemed to have run off in fear. Silence had descended over the market. Oh God. Was that blood on the canvas ceiling? A fine mist of red arced in a line, as though someone’s artery had been hit and a macabre impressionist had painted on the roof. The closer I peered, the more red splashes and smears I found. Behind, at the fruit and vegetable stand. Further along, the livestock… dead. It was then I noticed the blood dripping from the machetes of the soldiers. No.
My heart refused to comprehend the sight before me.
No.
Then I saw two small, dirty feet with gnarled toenails sticking out from underneath the market stall.
“What have you done?” I screamed and kicked behind me, twisting and writhing to get a foothold. I gathered the life-force blistering from my captors and pulled it into me, until I filled to the brink.
And then agony lanced the back of my head. I blacked out.
I came to in the back of a Jeep bouncing along a path as it drove deep into the jungle. Well, that’s what I surmised. I had no idea of our location, except to see endless forest and gray sky whipping past at frightening speed.
It seemed I was in the roofless trunk of the car. Every bump and divot caused my body to jostle and hit the sides. I caught glimpses of the backs of guards in the seat in front. They hadn’t noticed me coming to. Quickly, I assessed my situation. My feet and hands were bound together in a hog tie, and I had a dirty rag stuffed into my mouth, tied in place. It tasted like chemicals and inhaling the sickly sweet smell made me woozy. Must be drenched with a drug of some kind to keep me docile, or asleep. On another whiff, my eyes and my brain rolled and I gagged. My sluggish body refused to do my bidding. Energy was beyond my reach. Everything felt heavy, but one thought stabbed through the mist: Say Marc’s true name, and he’ll know which direction they took me. He would come for me.
If he was alive.
“Egnatius,” I tried to say, but it came out a garbled mess through the mouth gag.
The two guards heard my sound and turned. They said something in Spanish to each other. One of them jabbed my head with the butt of his gun. Pain lanced but I didn’t pass out. My body worked overtime to heal. They hit me again. This time, I felt something crack in my skull and oblivion swallowed me whole.
When my eyes opened, it felt as though I’d been asleep for a long time. Lethargy coated my bones like chains and dragged me down. It was an effort to breathe, and pain still throbbed at my temple. Gingerly, I raised my fingers, testing, half expecting half my head to be caved in. I couldn’t move.
Still hog tied.
A chemically soaked rag covered my mouth.
I blinked and took a moment to let my situation soak in.
The scent had dimmed. Must be why I’ve come awake. It was drying out and weakening. That and my wounds had healed, hopefully.
If my captors were human, they wouldn’t expect me to be awake. If they weren’t human… they could be coming any minute.
I forced myself to focus on the rag in my mouth. Telekinesis worked via an extension of energy, and all I had to do was form it into a thin, sharp line to cut like a blade. I sent it from my mouth, outward. Easier said than done. It took me a total of twenty-six tries before I was able to get it to work. The rag sliced in two and fell from my face. I gulped in air then gagged at the rank, sour atmosphere. Quickly, I sliced my bonds apart and released my hands and feet. My head throbbed. I tested the wound site at the back of my crown with gentle fingers.
I hissed. Definitely a lump. It was hard, sore and a lot better than I expected. No crushed bones, at least, not anymore.
I flexed my fingers, free of constraints. Fat load of good that did me. A quick survey of my surroundings had me placed in a small, plain wooden room that smelled like urine and defecation. The only source of light came from cracks under the ramshackle door. The room appeared empty, no other life-sources with me, only the shadow of a disgusting metal pot in the corner. I could only imagine what that was used for. The foul smell curled my nose.
Focus, Roo. Focus. Survive.
I covered my mouth and closed my eyes, intending to send my senses out for reconnaissance, but flashes of the bloody village hit me and a cry of anguish ripped from my soul. Those people. The animals. The entire village—all gone. It was my fault because surely they were after me. Shame washed over me. I came here, thinking I could help, and it cost these people the
ir lives. Time to get out of here. Cash was right; I should’ve stayed at the refuge.
I squeezed the tears away, wiped my eyes and tried again. I sent my awareness beyond the confines of the hut. Wherever I was, so were about twenty other people. My guess was they were the soldiers who took me. But were they Player, human, or did they work for Urser?
Anger churned. If they worked for Urser, if they damned well brutalized the village on his orders… My eyes burned. My chest ached. I thought of the old couple who’d helped me. The muddy feet poking out from behind their table. The ache spread and my throat closed up.
The whittled macaw rocking gently on the floor.
My hands curled into fists.
They would pay for this.
The way the soldiers had taken me, leaving no survivors as witnesses, suggested my existence was to be kept secret which meant my captors were under the control of a Player, or even Urser. Normal humans wouldn’t give a damn if the general public knew I was here. It had to be like Cash said; Players saw Marc’s antics online, then linked the photo of me and had come to finish me off. Another assassination attempt to score them evolutionary points for being the fittest in this game of survival.
Already a part of me linked to the energy signatures outside. I extended that reach to connect wholly with my surroundings. Nature reacted to my call, quivering on a plucked string. Life teamed down the live wire I’d sent out. It slid down the line until it leached into me. With my soul supercharged, my awareness grew. I could hear birds cawing in the trees, frogs croaking, insects chirping… and something else.
Souls. All kinds of souls—many with the gritty taint I’d come to expect from darklings or witches. They were gathered close by.
One split from the group and headed my way. Direct and with purpose. Human.
I hesitated.
I had to be smart. Why obliterate these people if it made me just as bad as them, plus they could lead me to the instigator… to Urser.
As the person arrived outside my hut, I powered down.
“Egnatius,” I said quickly and then the door to the hut opened, flashing me with blinding light.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“YOU’RE AWAKE,” CAME a deep gruff voice.
I shielded my eyes.
“How did you get free?”
I dropped my hand and my vision took a moment to adjust.
It was the leader of the group, the one with the white skull and crossbones painted on his Kevlar vest. A single drop of red had landed under one eye of the skull like a bloody tear. His mummy mask had been removed to reveal his face. Matted black hair hung around his head and came to his collarbones. He had olive pock-marked skin, a handlebar mustache, and a white puckered scar running down one side of his face and through one white eye. The other brown eye glared.
I wanted him angry. Angry people made mistakes. “I can see why you wear the mask.” I indicated to his face. “Someone got hit with the ugly stick.”
His fist struck me on the cheek and numbing pain exploded.
I tasted blood in my mouth and spat at his feet. “What do you want? Can’t you see I’m busy?”
He grunted and grabbed a fistful of my hair. He yanked and pulled me out of the hut so fast I toppled into the mud at his feet. Rain splattered next to my hands, pooling around my fingers. I bit my lip to stop myself retaliating. I had to keep him angry. If he remembered I wasn’t drugged, he’d put the gag back on, and then I’d be weak.
I’d end him first.
He kicked me in the gut, knocking the wind out of me. While I wheezed and gathered my breath, I checked my environment, looking for Marc. He wasn’t here. The rain came down heavier than before, but I could see more huts. More importantly, there were solid brick buildings that looked completely out of place in the Amazon jungle. From within them, I sensed a multitude of souls, including some larger, more virulent souls. Seraphim, or Nephilim. Must be.
“Get up,” the soldier said.
When I didn’t move, he kicked me in the face. I coughed blood onto the mud and tried again to whisper Marc’s true name again, but the swelling in my lips made it warble. It sounded more like Neeshus than Egnatius. I winced. If he didn’t show up soon, I was on my own.
First, I needed to know where Urser was. Then I would obliterate this compound.
“I said, get up, you filthy whore.” He kicked my side.
I saw stars and spluttered, then laughed, rolling onto my back. “You kissh yo moffer wif dat filshy mouf?”
“What?” he crouched down to my level. “Speak clearly, whore.”
I swallowed. Took a breath and allowed my body to heal. The pain in my lips lessened, itching as cells knitted together. The man’s eyes were glued to my mouth, no doubt watching the phenomenon of Nephilim healing before his eyes. Part horrified, part fascinated, he straightened.
“I said,” I wheezed, “you kiss your mother with that filthy mouth?”
He pulled a knife from his belt and slammed the blade into my shoulder, pinning me to the ground.
“Ah, Jesus.” Agony clouded my mind and I squeezed my eyes shut while I managed the pain. When I could breathe again, I opened my eyes and stared him down. “I’m surprised you even have a mother,” I continued. “With a face like that, my bet is you spawned from a snake.”
He growled and twisted the knife by the hilt, burying the blade deeper into my flesh. My scream ended in a stilted choke.
“If it weren’t for the money, I’d kill you right now,” he said and yanked the knife out. He wiped the knife clean on his thigh.
My eyes narrowed. So he was a mercenary for hire. Human, too. Seeing him wipe my blood on his thigh gave me an idea—I could hex him. I just needed to get my hexed DNA into him. The blood on his thigh had no directive in it, and it wasn’t anywhere near his skin or mouth.
While I scrambled to my feet, I formulated a hex in my mind, repeating words until all I thought of instructions to implant in his body. While I thought, I bit my lip and let blood pool with saliva in my mouth. I spat in his face.
My pink saliva landed on his cheek, ricocheting into his exposed eye. He squinted and recoiled then wiped it with the back of his palm. But it was in his eye. That was as good as getting it in his mouth or straight into his blood system. Hopefully the rain didn’t wash too much away before the hex had a chance to mesh with his biology.
He yelled out to some companions I couldn’t see.
Someone with rough hands lifted me from behind, under the arms. Initially, I resisted. I scratched at their fingers to pry them off. Curses spat from their mouths but, before they retaliated, I made myself go limp and dangle, compliant. It wasn’t hard. My stab wound still hurt. An injury like that would take time to heal. Plus I needed a moment to arm myself with my second hex. I stared down at my palms and willed the skin open to reveal red flesh underneath and repeated my directive in my mind. I held my bleeding palms to their scratched fingers under my armpits. The hex passed unchallenged and I waited for evidence it had worked.
“Vámonos.” The one-eyed leader indicated for the men to follow him and walked toward the brick structure.
The building was two stories high and completely sheltered by trees, hidden from any satellite or drone trying to pick up new buildings. No wonder Cash had a hard time isolating the complex. It was modern which led me to believe it had been built recently. Briefly, I considered breaking free using telekinesis, but as we grew closer, I recognized some of the energy signatures inside. Urser was there. I frowned. That can’t be right. I sensed other, more familiar signatures: Wren, Lincoln, and another coming toward me.
The double doors opened in unison, splitting in the middle to reveal Eve on the other side, one hand on either door handle, holding it wide.
The sinister smile warping her features told me all I needed to know.
I shrugged the soldiers off to stand tall. They complied, as I knew they would. The hex had them in my control, waiting for my orders.
“You so
ld us out,” I said to Eve.
“Come, come, now Roo. Don’t tell me you’re surprised.”
Her words hit me squarely in the chest and wrenched. She was wrong. I was surprised. Part of me trusted her. I believed her when she said she was on our side.
If Marc was free, he’d be coming. So would Cash. They’d walk right into a trap.
“You fucking bitch.”
She smiled. “Are you going to come without trouble, or do I need Fernando and Raoul to drag you. I know Eduardo is itching to get his hands on you.”
I glanced over my shoulder.
The two soldiers, Fernando and Raoul, I assumed, still had their masks on. They cradled their rifles like babies, eyes expectantly on me. Eduardo, the scarred leader, bared his teeth. I couldn’t tell if my hex had worked on him so had to confirm. I just needed an order that wouldn’t seem suspicious to Eve.
“Take me to Urser,” I said, looking him squarely in the eye first, then settled on Eve.
Almost simultaneously, Eve indicated for Eduardo to take me and he launched toward me. But I saw him move first. And if he moved first, chances were he was mine.
Fernando and Raul urged me forward with the butts of their guns.
We followed Eve down brightly lit corridors with white walls. I caught glimpses of medical labs and equipment through the windows of doors as we passed. That could be where they did their initial testing. Occasionally, I saw bodies in there, some alive, and some not. A few were darklings and others were human. Not all of them were alive.
There was one room, completely open as if they wanted me to see. It had a metal table with a cadaver on it, chest cracked open like a butterfly. The sight was horrifying enough, but when I caught the toes wiggling on their own, I almost vomited. That person, or Nephilim… or darkling was alive. The lab attendant looked up as I passed—two eyes peering at me from over a surgical mask—then someone shut the door to hide the experiment.
A warped sense of reality swirled around me. This was worse than we’d imagined. How many people had suffered in the name of perfecting their dark serum? I couldn’t tell if it was my nervous energy, or the ghosts of the experimented, or perhaps I worried that the surprises weren’t over, but the sick feeling grew. I’d already gotten one thing wrong. Eve wasn’t the kind woman she claimed to be. Despite Marc’s insistence of her rotten core, I’d paid it no mind. Idiot. I was an A-grade idiot. How many of my instincts were wrong?
Game Over (Game of Gods Book 4) Page 10