Elemental Hope

by L. M. Somerton

  Symeon cackled. “Behave yourself, Evrain, and I will make sure that Damon’s hand stays steady. Try and escape me and I will not be responsible for the consequences. It would be a shame to mark Dominic’s beautiful skin, wouldn’t it?” He produced a jeweled dagger. “I can’t wait to use this on you.” Symeon bent over Evrain, wound a fist into his hair and dragged him upright. He used the dagger to slice the nylon suit from Evrain’s body, leaving him bared to the waist. He ran a hand across his chest, viciously pinching a nipple before running his tongue down the side of his face. “You and I are going to have such fun together.” He thrust a hand into the overalls and groped him. “I have nothing to lose and it’s time you learnt that resisting me is futile. You will regret ever thinking you could defeat me, boy.”

  “Get your hands off him!” Dominic fought Damon’s hold. A burning line across his neck told him that the knife had broken skin.

  “Don’t fight him, Dominic,” Evrain ordered.

  “Good advice.” Symeon shoved Evrain toward the door. “Bring the puppy, Damon. If he bites, smack his nose.”

  “Ever heard of karma, Damon? I hope it comes back to bite you in the ass,” Dominic whispered. Symeon and Evrain were a few meters ahead. Damon shoved him against the wall.

  “Shut your mouth.” He winked, then grinned. “Not everything’s always as it seems.”

  For the first time since he’d arrived at the Coven’s premises Dominic allowed himself to hope that he and Evrain might just escape with their lives.

  Chapter Twelve

  Imelda Krenick counted down the minutes until she could return to the young warlock’s cell. She prowled the corridors of the office building owned by the Octis Coven under the cover of several shell companies registered in the Caymans. Multiple businesses controlled by Octis members operated out of the tower block in downtown Portland. If anyone ever remarked on the levels of security it was easy enough to cite the dangers of corporate espionage. There was some truth in it. The network of witches in North America was extensive and they were not all allies. Evrain’s blood would give her organization a significant advantage over its competitors for many years to come.

  She was taking a risk allowing Evrain time alone with his partner but she would prefer to gain his cooperation without violence. If anyone could convince Evrain to donate his blood, it was Dominic Castine.

  “It’s time, Imelda.” One of her assistants approached her.

  “Indeed. I’ll go to the viewing room first.” She walked in the direction of the elevators. She wanted a few minutes to spy on the two young men. Their actions might give her a clue as to how to proceed—with carrot or stick.

  Imelda stared at the monitor in the small dark office. She clenched her fists and felt her cheeks begin to heat. For a while she wasn’t prepared to accept the fact that the white room was empty. In an uncharacteristic display of temper, she slammed a fist against the table. She thrust her chair back, knocking it over. She twirled on a sharp stiletto heel then swept out of the door, trailed by her assistant.

  She made her way to the basement in silence. People she passed didn’t make eye contact or attempt to speak to her. They knew better. When she reached the white room she examined every corner of the bleak space, her assistant shadowing her every move. Other than a couple of spots of blood on the floor, there were no clues. Imelda dipped a finger into one of the spots then tasted it. A few entirely unladylike words hissed from between her crimson painted lips. “This is Dominic’s blood. They didn’t escape. Someone took them. I’m going to flay Symeon Malus alive.” She tapped her foot impatiently. “Get me the video from the last hour,” she ordered her assistant. “We may not have been watching them, but we were certainly recording. I want to know everything they said, every word that passed between them. I want confirmation that Malus was involved. There’s no possible way he could have gotten both of them out of here without help. When I find out which treacherous bitch was involved, she will wish she hadn’t been born.”

  Imelda returned to her office. She sat stiffly waiting while the video was retrieved and turned on. Fury filled her when she realized Dominic and Evrain had moved away from the camera’s field. Much of their conversation was inaudible. “They were whispering, damn it.” She could only make out one or two words and they didn’t help. She did see the door open, Symeon’s arrival and the subsequent exchange between Symeon and Evrain.

  If she’d had a weapon to hand, Imelda would have destroyed the monitor. “I should have known that double-crossing bastard was not to be trusted. He’s an addict just like any other and not in control of his senses. He might come running back when he needs more of my potion but he’s had his last drop. He can kiss goodbye to any further cooperation from me no matter what he promises. I don’t intend to wait for something to happen either—we’re going to go after him. Vast amounts of time and money went into bringing Evrain Brookes here. I intend to have his blood one way or another. I won’t be thwarted by Symeon fucking Malus.”

  Imelda squared her shoulders and pursed her lips. She could barely hold back her rage. She began snapping out orders and making plans. Her assistants made urgent phone calls and text messages were stabbed into phones as she gathered her resources. “They will all soon know that I am not to be trifled with.” The declaration was laced with venom.

  * * * *

  Dominic and Evrain made their descent to the sub-basement parking garage in the service elevator. Dominic really wanted to wipe the smirk from Symeon’s face. The man made gloating an art form. In contrast, Evrain’s expression was carefully blank, despite the fact that Symeon was gripping his arm hard enough to bruise and taking every opportunity to touch and grope. Dominic hadn’t gotten an opportunity to let him know that Damon was still on their side. He hoped that Damon’s presence meant that Nathaniel was also nearby.

  There was a black van parked in the far corner of the garage behind a pillar and it was toward this that Damon pushed Dominic. Dominic pretended to stumble. Damon cursed and pressed his curved dagger’s wicked blade into Dominic’s throat, nicking his skin enough to allow small droplets of blood to trickle down his neck.

  “Don’t fuck with me, Castine.”

  Symeon was watching them both.

  “I’m not! I stood on a piece of glass…”

  Symeon turned his attention back to Evrain, ignoring him. “Sit on the floor, hands on your head. I’ll take a look,” Damon snapped.

  Dominic sat, allowing Damon to inspect the sole of his foot. “We have to get that collar off Evrain,” Dominic whispered.

  “You think I don’t know that? I have the key. I haven’t been able to get close enough.”

  “I have an idea. Give me the key.”

  Damon hauled him to his feet, using the move to press a small key into Dominic’s palm. He grasped it tightly then let Damon lead him toward the van.

  Symeon was barely keeping Evrain under control despite his bound hands. He cuffed him hard around the head a couple of times but Evrain ignored the blows and continued to struggle. Dominic guessed he was trying to delay Symeon. Once they were in the van, Gregory and Nathaniel would have much less chance of tracking them down. It was good motivation to fight.

  Dominic had a significant height advantage over Damon so with little thought for the damage that Damon’s blade might do to his neck he suddenly dropped, twisted and threw the smaller man over his shoulder. Damon’s grunt of pain as he hit the concrete floor of the garage made Dominic feel a little guilty but his bruised ass was in a good cause. The knife had been thrown loose from Damon’s grip. Dominic scrabbled on the floor to reach it, the rough concrete grazing his knees through the thin nylon overalls. He finally grabbed it. He turned one way then the other to see if Damon was coming after him. Damon was still on the floor, holding his wrist and groaning.

  Symeon circled an arm around Evrain’s neck, pulling him away from the scuffle. Dominic held the knife up, mesmerized by the glint of the dim garage lighting on the blade. He
wasn’t so distracted that he didn’t take note of Damon climbing unsteadily to his feet. He held the knife out in front of his body then backed toward Evrain.

  “Deal with him, Damon,” Symeon snarled. “We don’t have time for this.”

  Dominic braced himself. Damon charged toward him. They made contact, Damon driving him back like a footballer in tackle practice. Dominic let the momentum carry him. The two of them crashed into Evrain and Symeon and they all ended up on the ground. Dominic scrambled free first, trying to get a picture of who was where. He still had hold of the key but the knife was gone. Evrain had rolled toward the van. Symeon seemed stunned and was holding his head. Damon lay on the floor, moaning. The knife stuck out of his chest.

  Dominic froze. He needed to free Evrain. Once the collar was gone and his hands were free, he would be able to use his power. Symeon would have no chance against him. He needed the knife.

  Dominic knelt by Damon’s prone form, blocking him from Symeon’s view. “Jesus, Damon. What have you done to yourself?” He couldn’t see much blood.

  “Stab vest. Nathaniel insisted,” Damon murmured, keeping his voice low. “Pull the knife out.”

  “Fuck, you scared me!”

  “Hurry up. Symeon won’t use his power, he’s drained and he hasn’t had any potion in twenty-four hours. This is your best chance.”

  Dominic pulled the knife, which came free easily. Damon screamed and clutched at his chest. He was acting his heart out. Dominic stood, gripping the knife. He stared at Symeon, who was scrambling to his feet. Rather than rushing to his lover’s side, Symeon backed even further away, muttering an irritated curse. Dominic took steady paces toward Symeon who, as Damon had predicted, made no attempt to use his power. He had no other weapon that Dominic could see.

  “Don’t hesitate, Dominic!” Evrain shouted the words even as Symeon made a grab for him. Symeon forced Evrain across the garage so he stood with his back to a wall with Evrain in front of him. Evrain twisted in Symeon’s grip, fighting hard.

  Dominic was at a loss. This was stalemate and he had no idea what to do next. Symeon had a firm grip on Evrain and though the knife still glinted in his hand, Dominic couldn’t see a way of using it without hurting Evrain. Behind him Damon’s groans were getting louder.

  “Symeon, help me.” Damon’s words were slurred and difficult to understand.

  Dominic wondered if there was a sliver of compassion in Symeon’s psyche that he could appeal to. “He’s dying, Symeon. It sounds as if he’s bleeding to death and he’s going to drown in his own blood if you don’t help him.”

  “Shut your mouth! Damon has never been anything more to me than a convenient piece of ass.” He focused his red glare on Dominic. “Now give me that knife, boy, then go and get in the van. Neither of you are going anywhere without me and if we don’t move soon Imelda will have people down here looking for us. I’m sure you don’t want that. I’m a far better option than that bitch.”

  The knife in Dominic’s hand wavered for just a moment as he thought about the consequences of Imelda getting her hands on Evrain once more.

  “What do I do?” he asked urgently, hoping that Evrain would have some kind of inspiration. Evrain’s beautiful green-gold eyes flashed but he could only shrug.

  “I hate to say it, but we have no choice. We need to get out of this building. Give him the knife, Dominic, there’s nothing else you can do.” His words said one thing but his expression said something completely different. His eyes bored into Dominic, making his intent absolutely clear. Dominic gave a minute nod of his head to show that he understood and took a couple of steps toward them.

  “Not so fast!” Symeon snapped out the words and gave a vicious yank to Evrain’s hair. “Throw the knife onto the floor, then turn around and walk slowly toward the van.” Dominic made sure his expression was perfect, part desperation, part frustration. He did as he was told and cringed at the metallic clatter of the knife hitting the floor. He avoided Evrain’s eyes and turned toward the van, praying that Evrain would not be hurt by what was going to happen next. Dominic kept walking, nudging Damon’s body with his foot as he passed. Damon gave a faint moan of acknowledgement.

  Behind him he heard a sharp scream and whirled back to see Evrain twist violently from Symeon’s grip then throw himself forward on to the ground. Fingers slicked with blood grasped for the abandoned knife. He had launched himself forward with no thought for his bound hands or the fact that he was still shirtless, and as he rolled Dominic could see severe grazing up his arm and across a pale shoulder. His bare feet scrabbled for purchase as the knife skittered just out of reach.

  Dominic turned and ran as fast as he could back toward them. Symeon had dived at Evrain’s legs and was clawing his way along his body, pinning him to the concrete floor. Dominic reached them in seconds. He grabbed a fistful of white hair then pulled. Symeon screamed but didn’t let go of Evrain, so Dominic yanked again and this time Symeon rolled away. Evrain still hadn’t managed to grasp the knife so Dominic picked it up. He sliced through the plastic binding connecting the cuffs around Evrain’s outstretched hands. He winced at the damage that was left beneath the ties, but Evrain looked up at him and grinned. Adrenaline flooding his system, Dominic grinned back. He displayed the small key in his hand. There was a key-shaped indentation on his palm where he’d been gripping it so tightly. Fumbling a bit in his haste, he unlocked the collar around Evrain’s neck. Evrain pulled it apart then threw it, Frisbee style, across the garage floor. He struggled to his knees.

  “Start the van,” he urged. “Damon probably has the keys. I’ll deal with Symeon.” He scrambled toward the other warlock. A blast of power sent Symeon spinning toward the wall where he banged his head, slumping into unconsciousness.

  Dominic searched around for Damon, who appeared next to him.

  “I have the keys.” He jangled them. “Can we get out of here now?”

  “What the…” Evrain stood. “I thought you were…I mean you had a knife sticking out of you. Didn’t you?”

  “He’s with us,” Dominic said. “Sorry—didn’t get a chance to tell you.”

  Keys in hand, Damon ran to the van, yanked open the door and started it.

  By the wall, Symeon moaned.

  “Fuck, he’s coming round.” Evrain gave Dominic a push. “Van. Now!”

  Dominic ran to the vehicle. He jumped in next to Damon. Leaning from the open door he yelled, “Let’s go, Evrain!”

  Out of the corner of his eye Dominic thought he saw a flash of flame and when Damon pulled forward he could see that Evrain was taking full advantage of access to his power. He wasn’t channeling—this was uncontrolled wild magic. His eyes were glowing, green as a cat’s, and his dark hair was blowing in a supernatural wind. Dust was flying around his ankles. As he brought his arms up he laughed when the pipes above his head burst and water came flooding down. Symeon cowered against the wall, his fingers flickering rapidly, but there was little he could do against such enormous power. In the end, half drowned by water, harassed by wind and dust, all he could do was cover his head and whimper.

  Dominic hoped that Evrain had his abilities under control. Symeon must have been praying for his life. Evrain was frightening, standing amidst the elements, blood-streaked arms held aloft, his lips murmuring words of power as he threw water, wind and fire around the basement. Dominic understood his fury but he couldn’t let it continue. He scrambled out of the van and got as close as he dared. The wind buffeted him so hard he could barely remain upright.

  “Cut the pyrotechnics and get in the damned van, Evrain!” He yelled in Evrain’s direction. For a few moments Dominic thought that he was going to be ignored, but Evrain stilled and his gaze flicked toward Dominic. He gave a slight nod. He lowered his arms and stared at Symeon’s pathetic figure huddled in the corner. Evrain took half a step toward him and Dominic wondered if things were going to get bloody. Evrain didn’t speak. He deliberately turned his back on Symeon—a calculated insult—then wal
ked over to Dominic. Holding out his arms, he remained still until Dominic walked into his embrace, accepting a thorough, passionate kiss.

  “We need to go.”

  “Sure. Let’s get out of here,” Evrain agreed. “Imelda can deal with what’s left of Symeon.”

  Dominic got back into the van, sliding across to sit next to Damon. Evrain climbed in next to him before slamming the door shut.

  “Kissing? Really? You think we have time for that?” Damon snarked. He put the van in drive then headed for the exit ramp.

  “For someone who was just supposedly stabbed, you’re remarkably talkative,” Evrain replied. “And opinionated. Brat.”

  Dominic glanced from Evrain to Damon and back again. They were both grinning. He sighed. “Can we please just get out of here? I really don’t want to spend any more time in Imelda’s company and she can’t be far behind us.”

  Damon drove toward the exit door but it didn’t open.

  “Fuck. She’s locked down the building. Evrain—can you do something about it?”

  “My pleasure.”

  This time Dominic felt the discomfort as Evrain channeled his power. He gathered the air into a spinning whirlwind then threw it against the door. The metal panel blasted outward. Damon revved the engine then tore up the ramp. He skidded into the street and the van filled with the smell of burning rubber.

  Emerging from the underground parking garage into the light of a sunny afternoon was blinding. Dominic blinked into the sun and tried to get his bearings, surrounded as they were by anonymous office blocks.

  “You were right,” Evrain said. “We’re in Portland.”

  “You didn’t know?” Damon asked.