Immortals of Indriell- The Collection

by Melissa A. Craven

  “Allie and two Coalition. Front of the building.” Aidan stopped short at the sound of gunfire as a bullet hit the brick wall behind him, just missing his head. Quinn pulled them behind the cover of the dumpsters.

  “Aidan? What’s going on?” Vince called in the darkness. “Where’s Allie?” He ran to catch up with them. “Was that gunfire?” He joined them behind the dumpsters.

  At the same moment, two Coalition men stepped into the alley from the rear of the conference center next door.

  Sasha was on the verge of panic, but she looked to her brother for direction. Aidan was always quick to step into the leadership role. He would know what to do.

  “Quinn, go after Allie, now,” Aidan said. “Sasha, get past these thugs and circle the building. Get them to follow you. I’ll handle Vince and meet you in the front in two minutes. Let’s box these guys in.”

  “I don’t need to be handled,” Vince said. “But someone needs to tell me what’s going on. Where is Allie?”

  “Be careful, Sasha.” Quinn turned and darted around the dumpsters, disappearing under the cloak of his gift.

  Sasha ran straight for the men at the back of the alley, ducking under an arm and turning with a swift kick to disarm him. She fled down the back path along the rocky lakeshore, just beneath the gardens, hoping the men would follow her. Sasha was fast. She could easily outrun them and get back to Quinn before this turned ugly.

  Just as she rounded the corner of the building, she heard another gunshot and chanced a glance over her shoulder to see the two men were trailing far behind. Sasha slowed, giving them the illusion that they might be able to catch her.

  She circled to the front of the building and flung herself against the brick. The men following came flying around the corner a moment later. With them ahead of her now, she could finish boxing them in.

  But the Coalition agents didn’t seem to be looking for her.

  “No,” Sasha whispered as the men piled into a van.

  “Nice!” Quinn’s voice echoed across the empty parking lot. “Your aim sucks, Allie. How’d you manage that?”

  “Progress under pressure, I suppose.” Allie stepped up beside Quinn, facing the Coalition man in front of them. But they didn’t see the van heading straight for their backs.

  “Quinn!” Sasha shrieked at the same moment she heard Allie’s anguished cry.

  “Aidan! No!” Allie fell to her knees. “Aidan, please!”

  “Allie! What’s wrong?” Quinn shouted, not hearing Sasha’s warning cry.

  He didn’t even see it coming. Leaning from the open door of the van, the Coalition man struck him with the butt of his knife and Quinn went down hard.

  “No!” Sasha cried an instant later when the collar snapped around Quinn’s throat.

  She started running, heedless of her own safety.

  “Sasha, no!” Graham crashed through the front door of the banquet hall and pulled her back into the shadows just as one of the Coalition cracked a bat across Allie’s back. She looked like a broken doll, sprawled on the pavement as another man slipped a collar around her throat.

  “Let me go, Graham!” Sasha struggled against him. “We have to help.”

  “The best thing we can do for them is escape the same fate so we can go after them later.”

  She knew he was right, but as she watched them heft Quinn’s lifeless body into the van, she couldn’t sit back and let it happen.

  “Where’s Aidan? We have to do something!” She jerked free of Graham’s hold and ran, stumbling to her knees as the van’s tail lights faded in the distance. There was nothing any of them could do.

  “Quinn!” Her shrieks ripped from her throat like shards of broken glass.

  “Sasha, get it together. My brother needs you.” Graham grabbed her shoulders and pulled her to her feet.

  “How did this happen?” She shook her head, refusing to believe Allie and Quinn had been taken.

  “They must have followed us all afternoon. I’m pretty sure I saw those guys earlier today.”

  “The dove,” she whispered. “This is my fault.” Sasha’s hands shook. Just that afternoon, she’d healed a bird with her gift. Right out in plain sight, too full of herself and her power to think that it could ever lead to this.

  Sasha stood beside Quinn’s brother in the deafening silence, too stunned to speak. Did my arrogance just cost my Complement and my best friend their freedom?

  ~~~

  CHAPTER

  TWO

  Quinn: Summer

  Atlanta, Georgia

  “Time’s up, brother. She’s ready for him.”

  Quinn recognized the smooth-as-silk voice and knew it was a precursor to bad news. Nothing good ever came from Ryan Conner’s visits.

  “I see you came prepared,” Michael replied, greeting his brother just outside Quinn’s filthy cell. The Conners were the only people Quinn had seen in years. Except her. She visited often. Too often.

  Quinn’s head slumped against his chest as he dangled from the ceiling, the chains digging into his mangled wrists almost to the bone. He needed to take advantage of whatever reprieve he could get while the brothers bickered. He had no idea how long they’d had him like this. Days. Maybe a week this time.

  After so many years, he missed his family. His friends.

  Sasha. It was painful how much he missed her. Their last moments together haunted him. If he’d known it would be the last time he would see her, he would have made it count. He would have made promises. Plans. Plans for a future he no longer had.

  As a captive of Soma, Quinn had two options. Submit to Livia’s will, immediately sign over the rights to his life and willingly become her slave. Or choose option B. Resist, and Livia would eventually break him anyway and he’d still end up a slave—against his will.

  Give in. The errant thought was never far from his mind. To give them what they wanted—unfettered access to his power, his gifts, and his knowledge—would set him free from this torment in an instant. But Quinn would never willingly become a Soma slave. That left him with option B—resisting until she finally broke him. But breaking an Immortal was no simple matter. It would take more than just his desire for the pain to end. He would have to lose all hope and all ability to care about himself or anyone else. And that was why Quinn Loukas was no closer to breaking today than he was the day he arrived at Sterling Tower four years ago.

  Or is it closer to five years now? He’d lost count, but he’d lasted this long. He could make it another day. One more day….

  Liquid fire splashed across his back, shocking Quinn from his stupor and setting old wounds ablaze. The lashes never healed between sessions. Michael’s magnetite-laced whip saw to that, and now the raw, infected gashes sizzled and bled anew. A second splash of Michael’s special concoction—water mixed with alcohol and some sort of acid—peeled away what little new skin Quinn’s ravaged Immortal body had been able to regenerate.

  Raising his head, Quinn clenched his jaw shut, holding back the screams that burned his throat raw. With a glare, he met his jailor’s gaze, his vision fading in and out of focus. He would not give the brothers the satisfaction of winning this struggle. Not today.

  One more day.

  “He’s a stubborn son of a bitch. I’ll give him that,” Michael said, nodding at Ryan.

  The two brothers looked nothing alike. Michael was blond and cruel, where Ryan was dark and indifferent. He held himself above the violence his brother dished out so eagerly.

  “Lower him,” Ryan said as he fiddled with a wooden box in his hands.

  “You can do it where he is,” Michael insisted.

  “Lower him. I don’t want his blood and grime on my new suit.” Ryan brushed at his impeccably tailored jacket, cringing as he stepped into Quinn’s dungeon-like cell.

  “Fine, but make it quick.” Michael flicked a switch on the gray brick wall and Quinn landed with a thud at Ryan’s feet.

  “Where do you want it?” Ryan nudged Quinn with the he
el of his custom leather shoe, polished to a shine.

  Quinn stared up at him in confusion. Then the metal rod in Ryan’s hand suddenly glowed white hot and he understood. The brand. He’d seen it before. Quinn looked away, disinterested. He didn’t care where they put it.

  “If you don’t tell me, I’ll put it somewhere unpleasant.”

  Finally, Quinn gestured at the back of his shoulder so he wouldn’t have to look at it. They could brand him like cattle but they would never own him.

  The searing hot iron touched his skin, sizzling like steak in a skillet, and the screams finally came. There was only so much he could take. After all this time, why were they branding him now? Like it was only the beginning. Was this just another one of their tricks? Like the white room?

  For so long, his days had been the same monotonous torture. Almost predictable. But Quinn knew from experience that sudden changes were never good. Whatever they had in store for him next, it wouldn’t be an improvement to his current situation.

  “We’re done here.” Ryan lifted the branding iron from Quinn’s shoulder. “Never forget what that mark means, Quinn. You belong to Soma. Whether you want to accept that or not doesn’t matter.”

  Not for the first time, Quinn thought about giving them what they wanted. Submitting would be so easy and he had such little reason to keep fighting anymore. Quinn honestly didn’t know if he had it in him to remain true to the person he wanted to be, or if he would finally succumb to the darkness he’d always known was inside him.

  “Has he cracked at all?” Livia’s cold voice pulled Quinn from his thoughts.

  I hate that woman. His aching hands coiled into fists beneath him. He got to his feet, determined not to let her see him wallowing on the floor like an animal. Quinn’s knees buckled the same moment he remembered the blistering burns on his feet. He settled for sitting on the floor with his back against the rough brick wall.

  “Hasn’t cracked yet, but he will,” Michael assured her.

  “You’ve wasted too much time already. Your methods clearly aren’t working. Clean him up and bring him to my suite. It’s my turn.”

  ~~~

  “Get him on his feet,” Ryan said, snapping his fingers at the two goons who followed him everywhere.

  Michael’s version of cleanup was hosing Quinn off and sending him on his way in the same tattered t-shirt and jeans he’d worn for weeks. The gashes on his back oozed blood and pus, crusting over and making what was left of his shirt stick to his wounds. His shoulders were on fire now that his arms were free from the cuffs. He cradled his wrists against his chest, his stomach churning at the sight of the flesh hanging loosely around the bone.

  As the guards shoved him out of the cell, the blisters on his feet burst, but Quinn was determined to walk out of this place on his own.

  “Pick up the pace. I don’t have all day,” Ryan said.

  Quinn’s feet grew numb as he attempted to follow Ryan along the silent corridor. He made it about ten steps before he fell, his head cracking against the polished concrete floor. Ryan simply snapped his fingers and the two Soma guards jumped to pick him up. They dragged Quinn into the elevator and up to the top floor of Sterling Tower—Livia’s penthouse suite—where Quinn had spent his first night at Soma with Santi.

  Santi. He’d often thought about the girl who slept on Livia’s floor, tethered to the Immortal who controlled her power. Has she held on all this time? Santi showed him the ropes that first night—what little she knew then. She was a volunteer. She came to Soma under false pretenses after an “interview” with Livia. He’d struck her as naïve, but he quickly saw how determined she was to survive this predicament on her own terms. He was both eager to see if she was still there and dreading it, hoping she’d been a figment of his imagination and not caught up in the horrors of this place.

  “Liv’s not going to go easy on you,” Ryan said as the guards left them in the vestibule outside Livia’s apartment.

  Quinn sagged against the wall, smearing blood and grime on the expensive wallpaper. He’d likely pay for that once she saw the mess.

  “Pain is the easiest and often most efficient route to forcing a new recruit to see that total submission is the only way. But for stubborn people like you, pain doesn’t work. She will try other means to get what she wants. And she will get it. You need to ask yourself if it’s worth the price.”

  “Worth it? My free will is worth enduring anything,” Quinn said. It hurt to speak. He had distant memories of a broken jaw, but that was months ago. His face still ached—like there was permanent damage to the bones that had never healed properly. But if Ryan was right and the pain was at an end, Quinn could salvage what was left of his willpower and soldier on.

  “My brother is talented in many ways. The reality of that is going to hit you hard, Quinn. She’ll use that against you.”

  “Why bother with the pep talk?” Quinn glared at him.

  “Not everyone here is as soulless as they may seem. Not even Livia. My brother … he enjoys his job, but I find it disgusting.” Ryan rang the doorbell and returned to the elevator.

  “And your job? Do you find that disgusting too?”

  “I find it bearable,” Ryan said. “Good luck, Quinn. You’re going to need it.”

  The elevator doors closed, leaving Quinn alone for the first time in ages. He turned at the sound of footsteps inside the apartment. The door cracked open, revealing a green-amber eye through the slit. Santi. She’s still here. He had a sudden urge to hug her and weep on her shoulder. But as she opened the door, he saw how the years had taken their toll. Her face was gaunt with purple-black circles under her hollow eyes, like she hadn’t slept since he’d seen her last. Santi was on the edge of losing her fight.

  “Come with me. You don’t have much time before she arrives.” Santi pulled him inside and closed the door behind them. She limped as she hurried to the kitchen, dragging an elegant silver chain behind her. Santi’s right foot was shackled, the magnetized metal rubbing her ankle raw, letting the poison leach into her bloodstream slowly. The angry scabs along her calf indicated she was rarely without the restraint. Her tether, anchored somewhere within the penthouse, extended and retracted with her movements. She seemed to have the run of most of the rooms, but he wondered how long she’d been cooped up in this apartment.

  “This way. She wants you in the white room.” She shoved a protein bar and a bottle of water into his hands and ushered him down the wide, white marbled hall.

  “White room?” He halted. I’m not going back in that room again.

  “Muévete. I’m supposed to get you settled before she gets here.” Santi’s voice was firm when it probably should have been desperate. From the looks of it, she’d embraced her position and accepted her life here. It was probably how she’d survived as long as she had.

  “What’s going to happen now?” he asked, choking down the protein bar, wishing he had ten more.

  “That’s not important.” She turned to face him. “The reality of Michael’s psychological mind games is going to hit you soon. And it’s going to hit you hard. I’m sorry I don’t have time to soften the blow, Quinn. How long do you think you’ve been here?”

  “I don’t know. I lost track of time years ago. I guess four years? Maybe five? What do you mean think?”

  “You arrived here just three months ago.” She held his gaze, willing him not to fall apart.

  “Three months? That’s not possible.” Quinn grabbed the wall for support as his knees threatened to give out.

  “Your memories of the last five ‘years’ are never going to leave you. You must find a way to live with it and not let the confusion overwhelm you.”

  “How do I get through it?” Quinn struggled to wrap his mind around the time screw. Logically, he knew it was possible for a psychological gift to affect him this way, but the experience of the last five “years” was so vivid. The memories were seared into his mind and he wasn’t sure how to separate fact from that kind of
fiction.

  “Put it behind you. Pretend like you just got here. Everything from the last time you saw me to this very moment doesn’t matter. It wasn’t real, so suck it up and move on. It’s the only way.”

  “It feels real.” Quinn glanced down at his mangled hands. They were real enough.

  “You’ve not healed from anything they’ve done to you, Quinn. That’s not because of the magnetic weapons or your age. They’ve not given you time to heal. Think about it. How long has it been since Michael last flogged you?”

  “Weeks. Maybe more than a month.”

  “Don’t you think you’d have started healing by now? By the looks of it, it’s only been a few hours.”

  Quinn nodded, staggering down the hall behind her. Inside he was reeling from the lightning bolt realization that it had only just begun. What felt like years of torture was just his initiation into Soma. That alone was enough to break him—which was exactly what they wanted, but Quinn made a habit of not giving them what they wanted.

  “Deep breaths,” Santi said softly, pausing in front of a closed door. “You don’t have time to come to terms with it. Don’t give them the satisfaction. Don’t make it easy for them. You understand how her gift works, right?” She reached for his arm to give him some support.

  “She’s like a parasite.” Quinn latched on to the change in subject like a lifeline.

  She nodded, fumbling with a ring of keys. Her hands shook, but she managed to get the key into the lock. “She’ll dig even deeper now. She’ll want to understand every nuance of your gift she controls. She owns it. You won’t have full use of your power as long as she’s latched on to you. But you’ll have some. She’ll keep you bogged down under the weight of her gift so you’re almost useless. Her power works like a defense mechanism. If you attack her with one of your gifts, she takes control of it. You know that, but she’s going to sift through your mind to see everything you’re capable of. She’ll discover things about your abilities that even you haven’t discovered yet.”