Visions of Chains

by Regan Hastings

  Marco pulled the hammer back on his gun. The sound was as sharp and stark as a gunshot would have been.

  Fender ignored the implied threat. “You’re fairly glowing with power, my dear. I could help you. I could—”

  “You bastard.” Deidre made another stilted move to get at him.

  “Dee—”

  A single gunshot exploded into the room and Fender dropped, a hole in his chest. Marco spat on the body. “My wife and baby girl are forced to live in Sanctuary because of people like you, you dick.” Then he looked at Finn. “Enough talk already. Fucker dies. Now. Besides, it’s time to motor.”

  “You’re right,” Finn said with a satisfied nod as he gave the torture master one last look. If he felt a little disappointed that he hadn’t been the one to end the monster, he put it aside. As long as the prick was dead, who cared who killed him? “Right about all of it. Grab Sam and go. We’re right behind you.”

  Sam was already on his feet, swaying and a hell of a lot paler than usual, but standing. Marco handed his friend a gun, then slung Sam’s arm around his shoulders and helped him back down the hall.

  Another explosion from outside rattled the walls. Finn smiled grimly. Joe was putting everything he had into it. Then he looked at Deidre and the poor semblance of a smile faded. She was staring down at Shauna and as he watched, the sheen of tears in her eyes froze over.

  “We gotta go,” he said softly.

  “I know.” Deidre went down on one knee, kissed her friend’s forehead and when she stood up again, she faced Finn coolly. Her eyes glinted with chips of ice. “I’m a witch.”

  “Yeah?” He didn’t know where she was going with this, but judging by the hard edge in her eyes, he was going to like it.

  “And I’m done being a good girl, Finn.” She squared her shoulders, lifted her chin and whispered, “Marco’s right. Fuckers are all gonna die.”

  Pride swelled his chest and a swift, hard jolt of something even more personal, more intimate cut at his heart. Deidre Sterling had just officially claimed him, body and soul. But now wasn’t the time. He grabbed her hand and headed out and as they raced back down the empty corridors the way they had come in, he promised, “They’re all gonna pay, babe. Starting tonight.”

  Chapter 32

  The WLF hit an internment center two hours later.

  They left Sam in the tunnels, under the care of Tracy, a former nurse. Then they loaded up on ammo and hit the tunnels again. Coming up at Massachusetts and Seventh streets, they organized fast. In the center of Mount Vernon Square sat what had once been the home of the Washington Historical Society. A Beaux Arts building originally built by Andrew Carnegie in 1902, for the last four years, the stately old white stone building with leaded windows had housed the local internment center.

  In the middle of the night, it looked quiet. Damn near serene. Snow covered the ground and there were no recent tire marks marring the snowy circular driveway. Lamplight shone from three or four different windows, but the guards wouldn’t be expecting an attack. And the skeleton night shift was rarely as alert as those on daylight hours.

  Deidre looked up at the beautiful building and all she felt was a cold revulsion. Here, they kept suspected witches under lock and key until they were ready for the kangaroo courts that would sentence them to torture, prison or death. No one was ever found innocent of all charges. And once you had been locked up at Internment Central, you never went home again.

  In the shadows, Finn nodded to Joe. Joe gave a thumbs-up to the teams waiting for his signal. Two bombs went off almost simultaneously, blowing out huge chunks of the building at both ends. The rattle of bricks and mortar hitting the ground was counterpoint to the blast wave that had Deidre’s ears ringing.

  Before the dust settled, their small army of well-trained guerrillas rushed through the gaping hole left behind in the north wing. They’d hardly entered the building before the gunfire erupted as guards tried to intercept them.

  Deidre stayed on Finn’s heels. She wasn’t scared. Wasn’t second-guessing herself. Didn’t feel guilty for her first real act of domestic terrorism. She knew the WLF was careful to avoid killing if at all possible. But as for the building? This place and all the others like it had to go. These women had to be freed. What was happening to them was wrong and Deidre was determined to do whatever she could to protect the innocent.

  Joe shot the first guard to get in their way, leaving the man on the floor, clutching his right leg, and they kept running forward, pushing ahead. Most of the night shift guards were still stumbling around in shock, so that gave the WLF the few necessary seconds to cross the widest part of the hall.

  The black-and-white tiled floors thumped beneath their feet as they ran toward the stairs that would take them to the second-story holding cells. The old building had been renovated countless times and changed hands just as often over the years. Tall columns looked stately and elegant, even with guards hiding behind them firing off what sounded like hundreds of rounds of ammunition.

  The WLF scrambled for cover.

  Someone shouted in pain and Deidre winced even as she reached for her magic, felt that now familiar burst of power and then held up both hands. Her magic swelled from her, pouring from her fingertips into the open room and, instantly, she halted the rest of the bullets in midair. She exhaled with a rush and smiled to herself. It was getting easier. She had more control. She had more confidence in her own abilities.

  She was becoming the powerful witch she had been once before, long ago. And at that thought, Deidre hoped to hell she made better decisions this time around.

  With a flick of her fingers, she let the metal projectiles drop to the floor with a loud clatter sounding like rocks rolling down a mountainside.

  Finn grinned at her, flashed across the room and grabbed one of the guards by the neck.

  The federal agents in their black and gold BOW uniforms were all stunned. They’d thought they were safe here in their little fortress. They hadn’t been expecting a frontal assault and none of them was prepared for real magic.

  “Which of you wants to die for your cause?” Finn’s furious shout rang out loud and clear and seemed to echo in the huge room. He gave the man in his grip a hard shake that had the guy gasping for air and clawing at the strong fingers wrapped around his throat.

  When the feds hesitated, Deidre fisted both hands, and every gun the guards held was yanked out of their grips and the barrels turned on them menacingly. Oh, she wasn’t going to fire the guns at them, but they didn’t know that.

  They got the message. One by one, they knelt on the floor and slapped their hands on top of their heads. Deidre kept them there by maneuvering their weapons to follow their every move.

  “You guys okay?” she shouted to the rest of their team.

  Marco called back, “Yeah, we’re good. Katie’s arm took a hit.”

  “It’s a flesh wound,” a feminine voice shouted from behind a toppled oak table. “Huh. I always wanted to say that.”

  Deidre choked off a laugh and found herself grinning at Finn. He nodded, dropped the guard he’d been threatening and ordered, “Pick up their weapons. Tie them up—if they try anything kill ’em.”

  “On it, boss,” Joe yelled and, with four of their men, sprinted across the tiled floor, carrying plastic zip ties for their prisoners’ wrists and ankles.

  In the distance, Deidre heard the wail of a siren and knew they didn’t have much time. Even with the city’s emergency-response teams split between here and BOW, cops and fire trucks would be here all too soon. As if hearing her thoughts, Finn used his magic to appear at her side, wrapped his arms around her and then flashed them both to the second story.

  As they disappeared in a pillar of flame, Joe laughed and asked an astonished guard, “Were you really thinking about fighting him?”

 
Upstairs, what had once been an elegant hall with dozens of small cells for private study had been turned into an open area, then outfitted with two dozen smaller cages. Only four of them boasted white gold bars. Apparently, BOW didn’t have a never-ending supply of cash.

  As her powers grew, so did her aversion to white gold, though. Deidre wanted to steer a wide berth around those particular cages. While silver enhanced a witch’s magic, white gold—because it was a man-made alloy filled with all sorts of different elements—acted in the opposite way. White gold could drain the power from a witch, leaving her weak enough that she couldn’t fight her attackers.

  Which, she told herself, was probably exactly what Fender and his bunch had done to Shauna. Her spine stiffened and tears that wanted to seep from her eyes were instead turned into chips of ice filling her bloodstream. Shauna wouldn’t want tears. She’d want Deidre to save these prisoners and that’s just what she was going to do.

  Women crowded the bars, all of them stupefied and excited, yet afraid to hope for the rescue that looked as if it was on hand. A rush of sound rose up from the women, all talking at once, pleading, shouting, some praying.

  “Free the ones you can,” Finn ordered and set off toward the four protected by white gold.

  Dee didn’t want to leave him. That alloy would affect him as much as her, but she knew time was slipping by too quickly. She sprinted down the length of the hall, starting in the back of the long room.

  Waving one hand at the lock, she heard the metallic swish and clank of gears turning. Then the door swung open, the young witch inside stepping free with a stunned smile on her face. Just like the others, she wore a white gold chain around her neck, designed to keep witches docile. They’d have to get those chains off, but it could wait.

  “That was . . . amazing,” the girl said.

  “Yeah, I know.” Deidre grinned. “Help me with the others.”

  One by one, they freed them all. Young women, girls hardly more than children and one woman who looked about a hundred and ten. All of them sitting on what was, in essence, death row and all of them now free. But for the last four behind the white gold bars.

  “Oh God,” one of the women whispered, “you can’t manipulate white gold, can you?”

  “No,” Deidre agreed, stepping up to Finn because she could see the tightness in his features. He had tried to pick the lock, then when that failed, he’d attempted to use brute strength to rip the door open. But it wasn’t working and the proximity to the white gold was beginning to drag at him.

  “I know where the keys are,” one of the women whispered hesitantly, then dipped her head as if ashamed of speaking up.

  “Where?” Deidre looked at her. Long brown hair, dirty and stringy around her pale, narrow face, the woman met her gaze with bruised brown eyes and fought back tears.

  “The guard’s break room. Down the hall. I saw them there when they—” She shuddered and another woman stepped up to drape her arm around her.

  “They’ve been taking Crystal in there every night. If she says the keys are there . . . they are.”

  Finn nodded grimly, clearly understanding exactly what the woman had gone through and why she hadn’t spoken up. Deidre knew why, too—she hadn’t wanted to admit to herself what had happened in that room with the guards. Hell, it was a wonder Crystal was walking and talking after being treated like little more than an animal for who knew how long.

  Bastards, Deidre thought. Not enough they had to lock women away, but they had to brutalize them, too. For one brief, fierce moment, she wished she had turned those guns on the guards downstairs and killed them all. It would have been more justice than any of these women had seen.

  “Stay here,” she ordered and looked at Finn. “I’ll be back.”

  “I can flash there faster,” he argued.

  She shook her head, alarmed at the paleness of his skin and eyes. Working with the white gold was draining him and she needed him as strong as possible. “No, just . . . get away from the white gold.”

  “For God’s sake,” a witch behind those gold bars screeched, “get us the hell out of here!”

  “Working on it,” Dee shouted and took off at a sprint.

  The freed witches gathered around Finn. Dee looked at all of them as she ran back to them, keys in her hand. A rush of something she’d never known before filled her, heart and soul. This was it. This was the place she had been looking for all of her life.

  Here, she belonged.

  She mattered.

  She made a difference.

  With the WLF. With Finn, she had found the home she’d always longed for. How weird to realize that in the middle of a life-and-death situation.

  “Yo, boss!” Joe’s shout from downstairs punched into the air. “Emergency teams getting closer! Gotta bolt!”

  “Go,” Finn ordered the women as he grabbed the keys from Deidre. They hesitated, but he shouted, “Friends are waiting downstairs. We’ll get you out but you have to go now.”

  He turned to the first white gold lock, jammed the key in and turned it. The door opened and the captive witch sprang free. She ran, grabbing one of the other women as she went and that was enough to get the rest of the nervous, terrified crowd moving.

  “Headed to you,” Deidre called down to Joe.

  “On it!”

  Sirens wailed, coming closer, sounding like banshees announcing imminent death. Another white gold lock sprung and one more witch was hurtling down the stairs. The last two opened just as easily and when the final two witches were running to freedom, Finn grabbed Deidre and yanked her in close to him.

  “You were incredible.” His pale eyes shone with pride and hunger and something she couldn’t quite identify.

  Her heart turned over as she realized that just maybe, Finn felt more for her than he was willing to say.

  She laughed, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him hard and deep. When she came up for air, she found him grinning at her like a loon. It was the widest, most sincere, most joy-filled smile she had ever seen on his face. And it went right to her heart and seared itself there forever.

  “Like Joe said,” Finn told her, grabbing her hand and threading her fingers through his, “gotta bolt.”

  He called up the flames to engulf them and Deidre asked, “Are you sure? You’re okay?”

  “I’m great,” he assured her. “Let’s flash downstairs and get those women to safety.”

  Deidre nodded, clung to him and laughed aloud as living flame erupted over their bodies.

  Then together, they vanished in a pillar of fire.

  Chapter 33

  Deidre worked like a dog to help settle the refugees into temporary chambers set up in the tunnels. Marco and Tracy went for food and Deidre made sure all of the women had plenty to eat and a change of clothes from the WLF stockpile.

  Finn watched her and was impressed as hell. She never stopped moving, never stopped reassuring the women who were balancing on a high wire between elation and fear. Released from their cages, the women were still in lockdown mode—uncertain about how to act, what to say. Their fears were ingrained and would take years to overcome.

  Deidre told them about Sanctuary and promised they would all be taken there in a couple of days. Finn watched as she assured them that the tunnels were safe and smiled when she promised they were even cozy once you got used to them.

  He figured she was making that part up, but it had helped the women so that was good enough for him. His heart broke a little as Deidre held the youngest girl in the group while she cried for the mother who had been killed by their jailers.

  And finally, Finn had left Deidre and gone to help Joe in the armory. There was cleanup to get done and lists made of ammunition they needed to replace. By the time he was finished, he headed back to their chamber and found De
idre there, curled up on the bed, sobbing as if her heart were being torn from her chest.

  Instantly, he gathered her up close, wrapping his arms around her and holding her while she grieved for Shauna and all the others like her.

  He didn’t speak. He simply gave her the comfort of his presence, hoping it would help. What could he say, after all? That everything would be okay? A lie. And unworthy of her.

  “Why would Max do that to her?” Deidre whispered, face buried in his chest. Her fingers curled into his shirt and held on with a death grip. “She loved him. Trusted him.”

  “I know,” Finn said softly, running one hand up and down her back in slow, smooth strokes. It cost him to bury the temper raging within him. But Deidre didn’t need his anger.

  Shaking her head, she gulped for air and released him long enough to swipe her tears away with her fingertips. More fell to take their place. “She told him she was a witch and he used it against her.” Her features fierce despite the tears, she said, “She told him everything about herself. She probably—”

  “—told him about that first raid we took you on?” Finn finished for her, a bitter taste in his mouth with the words.

  “Yeah.”

  “That thought occurred to me too,” he said, voice grim, eyes narrowed. “Shauna trusted him, so of course she would tell him. There’s my spy.”

  “She wasn’t a spy!” Defensive of her friend, Deidre’s eyes flashed and temper spiked a rush of color in her cheeks.

  “No,” he said, deliberately cool and patient. “She wasn’t. She trusted a man who claimed to love her. She was my friend too, Dee.”

  It took a moment, but her features dissolved into a mask of misery again and she laid her head on his chest with a fresh bout of soul-deep tears. His own unbeating heart ached for her as he held her tightly, letting her pour out her anguish and pain. Her body shook with the racking sobs and her voice was raw as she cried and talked and cried some more. He held her through it all. For her he would be a rock. Patient. Stoic. Loving.