The crack of the door when it slammed open had Devlin off her in a flash, air freezing and wet against her flesh as she yanked the shirt down over her nakedness, blinking at the suddenness of her change in luck.
“Uh…excuse me. He’s been spotted, sire, just blocks from here. Greycloak…or the one we thought was Greycloak. Heading for Hyde Park. We sent three guards to pursue, but they lost him around the Hole in the Wall. We spotted him again on a camera feed just east of there, along the edge of the park. We believe he’s heading back toward the arch.”
Devlin’s gaze shifted from the blabbering man and back to her. “You’re back on duty, Monroe. Get that bastard on a leash and bring him here to me. You know his location—he’s what, twenty minutes away? Catch him before he makes it to the arch.”
Something resembling a smile twisted his mouth. “I’m giving you another chance. Consider it a favor, and if you fail, I’ll hunt you down and kill you. Bring me Greycloak and you might get a reprieve.
“And you,” he said to the red-faced guard. “You send a squad of guards to the arch. Nobody gets through the gate. Cut him off, herd him back into the park, right into Miss Monroe’s arms.” There was a slimy, knowing note to Devlin’s voice as he added, “Right where he ought to be.”
Lucas led the guards back and forth through Knightsbridge’s darkened streets. As if he were a tourist, desperately lost, trying to figure his way back to Hyde Park. All he needed was to show up on a few camera feeds, drop a few breadcrumbs and hope Devlin picked up on them.
When the second brace of guards came at him from the south, and he knew he’d at least gotten someone’s attention, he cut across to the park, praying the bastard would be arrogant enough to send Victoria after him. If only to prove he controlled her.
Praying Victoria was somewhere right behind him, that she was outside the doors of that hideous building, Lucas took off at a run, dodging heavy traffic, making for the green, verdant edge of Hyde Park. As he was swallowed by the shadows of the trees, his feet sank into the loam beneath them, while he wove like a snake through wide, thick trunks. Behind him he heard the erratic pounding of heavy boots, the coarse breathing of men, and then…
“Get out of my way, you bastards…he’s mine.”
Victoria’s warning slithered over the near-silence of her footfalls, fast and soft as she closed in on his position. He sped up, cutting through the thickest part of the woods, aiming for the gravel footpath cutting through the dense plantings. There would be a few seconds, ten, perhaps, where he’d be a sitting duck, where a sharpshooter might find his heart. But it was dark, and he hoped the guards’ orders were to bring him back alive, or that Victoria’s presence might force them to fall back.
Leaping over the low chain, he crossed the path in a heartbeat, heard Victoria land just behind him, and then he was into the second line of trees. Lucas knew the lake was just on the other side. He exploded out of the trees, raced for the shore and dove into the water, hearing the faint splat, splat, splat of gunfire as bullets struck the water around him. Maybe the orders are dead or alive. There was an explosion of bubbles, and then, suspended in the murk beside him, were Victoria’s huge, wide eyes, clearer than he’d ever seen them, as she tugged him deeper and deeper, further into the center of the lake.
The pressure of the water grew in his ears, pressing in and in, as she pulled him downward, the depths shutting out the light until he couldn’t see anything. Until he was following, not by instinct or habit, but with pure, blind trust.
“Trust me, Lucas. For this to work, you have to trust me. I’ve never failed. Not at anything I’ve done. And I promise you, I won’t fail tonight.”
Something in him relaxed as her grip on his hand tightened, and he allowed himself to be drawn to the very bottom of the lake, the cold mud against his knees, the dark entombing them both as Victoria clasped his cheeks, just as the last bit of breath escaped his mouth. Pressing her lips to his, she filled his lungs up. Wonderful, warm oxygen filled him, like the warmest summer breeze, carried on a phantom wind, and his chest expanded, over and over again, as they hovered down on the muddy bottom of the Serpentine.
17
Lucas’s lips were soft. Not at all what she’d expected.
Then again, she’d never kissed anyone before.
Oh, she’d been kissed plenty, but being the one doing the kissing? No, never her.
This was…delicious. He was delicious.
She concentrated on pulling oxygen out of the water, pushing it gently into Lucas. Doing it again and again. She might have kept at it forever, had his hands not tightened ever-so-slightly on her shoulders. Right. They were underwater and he was out of his comfort zone. It was probably maddening, she thought, to be down here, in such a strange place, to rely on someone else for every breath.
She stroked her thumb over his cheek to let him know she understood, pushed a bigger breath of air into him, clasped his hand and pushed off, aiming for the tiny island to the north. It wasn’t much, a small round of grass and a couple of trees, but the guards would probably search it last. And because it wasn’t a tourist area, it wasn’t lit up at night. Dragging Lucas through the water cost her, though. He was heavy. And she was tired, so, so tired after days of no sleep.
Kicking hard, she cut through the cold water, until finally her feet scraped bottom, and the two of them clambered messily up onto the bank, while on the far shore, myriad flashlights danced across the grass as hundreds of guards searched the grounds for Lucas.
“Now what?” Luc whispered, his lips pressed to her ear. “The arch is on the opposite corner. And it’ll be guarded by a dozen men.”
“Which is why we’re going there.” Victoria pointed to the right, to the other corner of the park, toward the smaller grey-white arch, barely visible through the trees.
“Any portal, anywhere,” Lucas said.
“That’s right.” Victoria replied, her gaze focused on the marble arch. “It’s hardly ever used, because it’s too archaic. And, I’ve heard, somewhat unreliable. We should emerge somewhere in your country, but I don’t know where. I’ve never gone through that way, and with no time to research…” She turned to him and searched his rugged, dripping face. “We’ll have to get past all of those men, Luc. And on land, a fighter I am not.”
She sucked in a steadying breath. “I’m a Tracker. And I have some magic tricks, sure. But I can’t fight, not really. Not on land, anyways. Which means you’ll have to get us across that field, and by my mark, daylight’s less than an hour away. Or…” Looking to her left, away from the marble arch, Victoria calculated the distance, the odds, what was left of her endurance. She nodded in the direction of water falling. “I can swim us through there, under the footbridge, and we can weave our way through the woods by the fountains. From there we may be able to circle behind most of the guards, since it looks like they’re concentrating on the water’s edge.”
When Lucas didn’t agree or disagree, she added, “Or we swim for shore and fight our way through?”
Slowly, so slowly she could barely even breathe, he brushed her hair back, out of her eyes, away from her face, gently, tenderly, before cupping her chin and drawing her close. This time, when their lips met, it wasn’t for survival, or air, or any of the reasons Victoria convinced herself were necessary under the water. This was for something else entirely. This was profound, deep, core-tingling magic. And when his tongue brushed her teeth, when he slanted his lips to go even deeper, she slid her hand behind his head and locked him to her mouth, and their tongues danced and danced and danced together, flames rippling down her spine, turning her molten.
Rolling him onto his back, she felt the give of his flesh beneath her as she straddled him; the muscle and the power and the thrill of having all of him beneath her, ready to be unleashed, threatened to turn her molten insides to lava.
Except…
Death prowled on the far bank, and the Devourer still held her leash.
In an hour, dayligh
t would break over Hyde Park and they’d be easy to find and even easier to track. Unless they were already through the arch. The unreliable, hardly-ever-used arch. With a regretful sigh, Victoria rolled off him, landing in the muck. “We swim for the end of the lake, then we figure out a way through the fountains. I can keep our scents from the guards long enough for us to get to the road. After that, it’ll be tricky.”
Lucas hadn’t taken his eyes from her, not once, that dark gaze completely unreadable. “After that, I’ll handle things. I’ll get us to the arch; you get us through.”
She gave him a nod and slipped backward, the water encompassing her, Lucas sliding alongside her as the lake swallowed them both whole.
Beneath the surface, she dragged him behind her, the progress slow, broken by stops, her clasping his face gently, blowing air in. The bridge was full of guards, the foggy, golden discs of flashlights cutting beams through the murky water, the depths swallowing every last fleck of illumination before it reached them. Victoria wound carefully between the shafts of light, then began the long, tortuous slog toward the fountains, the water as black as night, staying far below so not to disturb the surface with so much as a ripple. Lucas kicked every so often, his clothes and heavy gear weighing them down, while her energy flagged by the minute.
But the sound of the fountains was getting closer; the tinkling song as the spray hit the surface of the Serpentine made every kick possible, every breath she blew into Lucas doable, until, at last, they rose to the surface, their heads breaking the water with barely a sound. This part of the lake was so heavily treed that the guards couldn’t get very close, but sure enough, their lights shone erratically through the trees. When she sank beneath the surface, Lucas grasped her and yanked her back up, kicking to keep them both afloat. He wound his arms around her, concern in his eyes.
“I’m fine,” she whispered. “Let’s get to shore—the trees will hide us.” He did the swimming this time, kicking hard, and they clumsily reached the far shore.
Her legs were dead, her arms on fire. But she pushed herself to climb the steep bank, Lucas’s tight grip the only thing that kept her feet shuffling forward. But with her stumbling, exhausted body, they were too slow. “You…just go, Lucas. Please. I’ll tell you where my apartment is. Go there and hide. Send word to Kieran; they can find a way to get you back to the States. But…this is not working. Not for either of us.”
With a growl, he only tightened his grip, kept on dragging her onward.
The arch was a pale smudge in the distance, over the trees, the blush of dawn barely staining the sky. And from the shouting behind them, Victoria knew they’d been spotted.
They were out of time.
18
Lucas’s lungs burned as he dragged Victoria toward the gate. She was so exhausted that her feet were barely moving, but they were so close and the arch was right there. Stumbling past a few early-morning pedestrians clutching coffee cups and newspapers, he ducked his head, knowing full well what the two of them looked like. Probably smelled like.
“Vic. Come on, just a little further. You can do this. Only twenty more steps.” They didn’t make it a single one before two huge guards stepped in front of them, cutting them off as the sidewalk cleared. Another three closed in behind. The moment Lucas loosed Victoria’s thin arm, she slumped to the concrete, her gaze fixed on the guards, as they closed in a circle around them. One pulled out a radio, depressed the button…
And froze, as if he’d been hit with a spell.
At Lucas’s feet, Victoria groaned. “I don’t know how long that will hold them. Maybe a minute, Lucas. Now go. Please.” Her arms shook, then gave out, and she sprawled to the ground, her eyes glassy.
“I am not fucking leaving you.” Gritting his teeth, he picked her up, a sloppy jumble of legs and arms, heaved her over his shoulder and shambled for the arch, feet catching on cracks in the pavement, pain shooting through his calves. “We are going to make it, both of us, or neither of us.” The dark shadow beneath the gate promised freedom. Where it led to, Lucas didn’t know and didn’t care. Anywhere but here would be an improvement.
Besides, the further away they were from Devlin, the better, for the both of them.
“Lucas. No.” Victoria’s broken plea only made him stumble faster, shouting behind him growing louder, the shadow of the arch within a finger’s length…
The searing pain of the bullet cut through his side, piercing him, but propelling him forward, into the arch, through the portal, and then he was free-falling, both arms clasped around Victoria, as they spun and fell, twisting their way to fuck knows where as he blacked out.
Victoria tumbled to the ground in total darkness, scraping along gravel and dirt as Lucas lost his grip on her, the crack of the gunshot still ringing in her ears. But they were through. He’d done it and they’d escaped London, away from the guards and the Mage Circle and Devlin.
For the moment. Yanking the chain from beneath her shirt, she quickly sorted through the small tokens hanging from it, found the one to lock the portal and pressed it to the outside of the nearly invisible gate. She heard the faint whir and click as the doorway sealed shut. Under the light of a faint moon, she turned and saw the blood spattering Lucas and herself, and only then did she realize exactly how precarious their situation was.
“Oh God, Lucas…” Flipping, she crawled over to him, pressing a hand to his torso, searching for the source of all that gushing blood. At last she ripped open his shirt and yanked down his belt weighted with knives and guns. The bullet made a neat little hole, perfectly round, and crimson blood flowed from it like a river. She took a glance at his face. He was out. Good. That would make what she had to do easier.
The chain felt especially heavy as she chose the token she needed, the black one with the square hole in the center, the runes around it dirty from disuse. This particular token wasn’t from the Mages, the Circle or even Devlin. In fact, if anyone from Obsidian Hall knew she had this, her head would roll. In truth, she didn’t know where this token was from, only that it had appeared one morning atop her wet pillow after a terrible storm, as if it had been cast there by the sea itself.
But the magic contained within this little disc was immeasurable. She’d played with it for months before she’d realized what it actually was: a means to amplify her natural abilities.
Victoria pressed the token to her lips, and then to Lucas’s forehead. She sent up a little prayer to whatever god might be listening for this to work. There was something innately feminine about water magic, something she’d never even tried to understand. It flowed through her, as natural as the blood in her veins, more instinctual than intellectual. And right now, she was about to throw herself at the mercy of something she barely understood, in the hope it might save this man who had saved her.
Placing her hands against Lucas’s chest, Victoria willed herself to relax, allowed herself to meld with him, to feel the beat of his heart—too slow—the flow of his blood, the expansion of moisture in and out of his lungs. Humans were mostly made of water, and she was its master.
Once she’d connected to the water inside the man, Victoria willed him to heal. She pushed magic into Lucas, willing his body to reverse the bullet’s damage. She forced his flesh to knit together, skin to scab over, turn pink, heal. Victoria pushed and pushed and pushed, forced his body to her will, made it do as she commanded, until finally, she felt his heartbeats beneath her palms even out, his breathing ease and the bleeding stop.
Only then did Victoria rock back on her heels, one hand still on Luc’s chest, feeling its steady rise and fall. Only then did she look around.
They’d emerged from a portal somewhere out west.
All she saw were mountains, never-ending skies and the silhouettes of pine trees. Cold blasted her in the face. The air was still laced with traces of snow, the crisp scent of pine, a faint hint of winter still hanging on by its fingertips. They were high up, somewhere close to the tree line, because the pines were th
in, the rock of exposed mountainsides looming around them, cutting into the indigo blue of the star-flecked sky. She was in a t-shirt and jeans; Luc was in even less, now that she’d torn his shirt half off. Both of them were still dripping wet.
Somehow, she didn’t think she had a magic token to summon up a cozy cabin with a fire. Painfully climbing to her feet, she surveyed the area for signs of life. At least they’d landed on a road. It was only gravel, and barely one lane wide, but it still held a faint trace of the day’s heat. The warmth would help Lucas, so long as he remained stretched out upon it.
Searching Luc’s belt, she found a radio—shortwave—a cell phone that was ruined and enough firepower to outlast an invading army.
Kieran would look for them…look for Lucas, at least. He’d sense his twin, perhaps even over such a long distance. But how long before he might reach them was anyone’s guess. She was utterly exhausted. Two days with no sleep and hardly any food left her swaying on her feet. And once Luc woke up, he’d be in even worse shape. She had to find transportation. Shelter. A far-off howling had her turning, then fell to her knees as the world spun around, the mountains, sky, stars, all blurring into one.
She threw an arm over her eyes when a flash of light nearly blinded her, then quickly stepped in front of Lucas’s prone body before the oncoming vehicle ran him over. It skidded to a stop, the tires gripping the ground with a squeal, sending gravel flying. In the darkness the only thing she saw was a wild halo of hair beneath the dome light as the man opened the door, and when his boots hit the ground she braced herself, shifting so she was between Lucas and whoever got out of that truck. She could incapacitate this human, take his car and leave, but what then? She had nowhere to go, and in this strange country, she didn’t know a soul.
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