by Kait Nolan
“Hunters don’t habitually take their targets back to the Council.”
“Their targets aren’t usually potential leverage,” added Scarface.
A suspicion floated through Marley’s mind, a terrible, terrible fear, and she was pretty damned certain this was one of those answers she definitely wasn’t going to like.
“Leverage for what? Who are you?”
They were talking about her as if she wasn’t even there, but she couldn’t manage to interject. Her skin began to prickle again and she caught a glimpse of something in her periphery. Not the gold of the lion, something darker. Shadows, flanking them on two sides.
“Fudge—”
A chorus of metallic clicks made it perfectly clear their luck had just run out.
Chapter 11
“Nobody move!”
“Ah, shit,” said Scarface.
Marley expected Matthias to step out of the shadows, to show his true colors. But it wasn’t the ops commander who emerged. The newcomer was younger, dressed in black BDUs and body armor. He was thick-necked, with slanting reptilian eyes that darted over the group while he trained an automatic rifle at Ian’s head.
“Well, what have we here? We just came for you and the woman. Didn’t know we’d get lucky and score some accessories to treason. Aiding and abetting a known enemy of the Council. I expect we can come up with some charge or other that will get this crew tossed into a dark hole for a while.”
“That’s not the mission, Alarik.” A second Shadow Walker stepped into view, his weapon held at the ready but not actually on a particular target. Regret flickered across his face as he glanced at Ian. Suggesting that maybe he didn’t want to go through with the mission?
“Fuck the mission parameters, Auggie,” snarled Alarik. “This is about retribution.”
“This isn’t about Nico.”
“The fuck it isn’t!” another soldier exploded. Marley saw him phase in behind the warlock, a big, hard-faced beast of a man, with burnished espresso skin and eerie green eyes. “Nico’s dead because of this bastard’s poor decisions. It’s time we exacted payment for that, for our brother.”
“Just calm the hell down, Ridge,” said a fourth soldier. “Let’s be reasonable about this.” Marley twisted to see him stepping out of the narrow strip of shadow at the base of the rock face. He was fair, his auburn hair bound in a queue, revealing pointed ears.
Four. Ian said the squads are four. Is this all of them?
“A hell of a lot you know,” snarled Ridge. “You weren’t even fucking there.”
“Neither were you,” said Auggie.
“Nico was family, man.”
A tiny muscle twitched in Ian’s cheek. “Nico was a regrettable casualty.” His voice was even, calm.
“He died because he was trying to save your sorry ass,” proclaimed Alarik. “Because you didn’t take the shot when you had it. It should’ve been you who died in that blast.”
“I know.”
The simple acceptance of the statement chilled Marley’s blood.
“You think I don’t blame myself for his death as much as you do?” Ian went on. “He was a good man. A good soldier. But doing this won’t bring him back.”
“No,” acknowledged Alarik, “but taking you out is a nice side benefit. You committed treason. It’s our job to bring you in using whatever means necessary. And to ensure that you fight rather than come peacefully, seems only fitting to take out the little bitch who holds your misplaced loyalty.”
Marley barely registered the shift in Alarik’s aim. Ian was moving, shouting. But though he was fast, he wasn’t faster than a bullet. The gun fired. She didn’t hear the shot, but she saw the recoil against Alarik’s shoulder. Someone screamed, a high, furious sound. Then she was on her butt, staring at an explosion against a shield of shimmering green. A tawny flank bounded toward the shooter. Alarik went down, rolling, cursing and screaming as the cougar ripped into his shoulder. Beyond the barrier, the warlock’s hands glowed the same emerald shade, his mouth moving fast with words Marley couldn’t read. Behind him, Ridge took aim. Marley opened her mouth to shout a warning, but Scarface got there first, somehow impacting the gun just enough to throw off Ridge’s line of sight. The shot went wide, bullet slamming into the tree. The warlock leapt to the side, and the shield went down.
Ian rushed toward her. “Stay down!”
Marley flattened as he sailed over her, intercepting the Shadow Walker looming behind her.
Too fast. Too fast. Her brain couldn’t keep up, couldn’t keep track.
Fists flew, a blur of motion. Ian’s leg didn’t seem to slow him down as he struck, blocked, and spun. It was like a dance. A beautiful, deadly dance that edged closer by the second.
God, she was a liability. She needed to get out of the way, get armed. Though how the hell she was supposed to fight these guys, she didn’t know. She crawled, keeping low, making herself as small a target as possible. Something thumped at her leg and she jolted, almost rolling over with the force of her own reaction.
The stun gun.
Marley jerked it free of the case. It felt hardly more substantial than a flashlight in her hand, but she held tight and kept crawling. Lightning speared out of the sky, slamming into a tree not twenty feet away. The sound deafened her. The scent of ozone and charred wood burned her nose. Paralyzed, Marley watched as smoke curled up, flames licking their way down the trunk, along the branches. The gusting wind carried sparks to neighboring trees, until the forest went up like so much dry tinder.
Behind her, Ian continued to move, fast and furious, holding his own but not gaining the upper hand. A roar dragged her attention back to the others. Where Ridge had fought with Scarface and the warlock, a grizzly now reared up, swiping forward with deadly claws. The shaman had disappeared, but the warlock ranged himself…with the cougar? Blood stained the animal’s fur. Beyond him, she could see Alarik—or what remained of him. His head was all but severed, blood soaking the ground.
Sparks and burning needles showered down to hit the bear as the cougar and warlock drove him back into a tree. A branch above snapped, and all three of them dove to avoid being flattened by the giant torch. It hit the bear’s back leg and he kicked, bellowing in rage and pain before rolling free and swiping a massive claw toward the mountain lion. It danced out of range and screamed in what could only be challenge, tail lashing as it waited for the next move.
A pair of combat boots stepped into her line of sight.
Shit! She’d forgotten about Auggie, the reasonable one.
He’d shouldered his weapon, held up his empty hands. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, the apologetic air still evident, despite the bandanna he’d tied around his face to block the smoke.
It wasn’t guarantee enough that he wouldn’t or that he could stop the rest of his squad if they did. When he held out a hand to help her up. Marley braced herself and took it. “I don’t want to hurt you either.” She slammed the stun gun against his bare wrist.
His body bowed and he crashed down to one knee. Marley jerked her hand free of his clenching grip and kicked him over. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
She scrambled out of his reach, but stopped, looking over her shoulder to where Ian still fought with Pointy Ears. The other man closed in, forcing Ian slowly into a corner between the rock face and a nearby stand of flaming trees.
You don’t wait for me. You run.
She’d promised him, but run where? For how long? How was she supposed to survive out here alone? And even if she could get back to the car, how would she navigate the Mirus world without him? More to the point, how could she walk away from the one person who’d never left her behind?
Gripping the stun gun in one hand and covering her mouth with the other, she raced back toward them. No one was paying attention as she darted in behind Pointy Ears. But Ian sure as hell noticed when she jammed the stun gun against the guy’s shoulder, took him down to the ground.
“I told you t
o run!” said Ian.
“Yell at me later!”
“Move!”
Ian tucked a hand under her arm, dragging her up, propelling her to a run. Gunfire and shouting broke out behind them. Marley saw a bullet thump into his pack, another ping off and splinter a tree trunk a mere foot from her head. Ian kept moving toward the fire, into the gray haze billowing up to cloak the trees.
“Are you crazy?” She meant to shout it, but broke down coughing.
The heat beat down like a fist as they stumbled through the smoke. Did he honestly think they could outrun the fire? The whipping wind made certain it had the lead and would keep it. The air already scalded her throat, making it hard to breathe, and her eyes watered from the acrid smoke. Yet Ian moved through it easily, barely sparing the flames a glance.
Something cracked above them. Marley screamed and dove into Ian to knock him clear of the plummeting branch. They hit the ground, a tangle of limbs. The branch crashed onto her legs, setting her pants on fire. She had no breath to scream. Bucking free of the burning debris, she began to roll, frantically patting at the flames.
“Marley. Marley!” She could barely hear Ian over the roar of the flames.
He gripped her tight by the arms to stop her frenetic movement, then reached out to lay a palm to her cheek. His eyes flared silver. “See.”
His touch was a balm, strangely cool in the heat of the fire. He did…something. Marley felt him push. And suddenly the flames, the fire, even the branch that had crashed to the ground, were gone.
She stared, flabbergasted.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“What the hell?”
“It’s an illusion.”
“But it burned me,” she said, examining the hole in her jeans, the skin angry and red beneath.
“Your mind believed it was real, so your body responded in kind. I’ve extended my shields to encompass you, but the others are still in it.”
“Wow, that’s—you’re bleeding.” Dismissing the fire, her burns, Marley scrambled up to check his shoulder. Now that smoke wasn’t hazing her vision, she could see the blood running freely down his back and arm. “You’ve been shot!”
He brushed off her concern. “I’ve had worse. C’mon. We need to put as much distance between us and them as possible. Maintaining this is taking a hell of a lot of juice and I don’t know how much longer I can hold it. We’ve got to keep moving.”
~*~
Rain fell in heavy sheets, whiting out the view of anything beyond the entrance of the cave. As they ducked inside, Ian let go of the illusion and felt his nerve endings crackle from burnout. Too much, too long. Not the slow starvation of D.C. but an epic expenditure of power that left him hollowed out and raw, mere shades away from ravening animal. Not since he was first turned had it been this bad.
Adrenaline waning, he dropped the pack and fell to his knees. Blood loss from the bullet wound didn’t help. He couldn’t think past the burn in his shoulder, the ache in his leg.
“Ian, stay with me. If you pass out, I can’t move you.”
The rain would buy them a little time, help obliterate the scent.
“Ian.” Marley’s hand tapping none too gently at his cheek. “Tell me what to do.”
His head bobbed like a cork. A long inhale through gritted teeth helped just a little. “In the second pocket on the outside, there’s a med kit. Pull it out.”
As she dug, he fell back on his ass, legs akimbo. He managed to unfold the bad one with some extra help from his hands but decided the good one could stay where it was for a bit while he paid attention to the business of breathing.
“Jesus, Ian.” Marley unfolded the other leg, straightened it. “Now what?”
“Utility knife on my belt. Grab it.”
“Okay. Next?”
“You’ve got to cut the bullet out.”
“I what?” she squeaked.
“There’s disinfectant in the kit. Douse the knife and cut it out.”
“Ian, I don’t have any kind of medical training. I—” Her voice had gone high and strained and streamers of electric purple panic shot off her.
He hefted himself onto one elbow, gripped her shaking wrist. “Marley, look at me.” He waited until her gaze met his. “I heal at an accelerated rate. You have to cut the bullet out before the wound is closed up completely. It’s just the meaty part of my shoulder. You aren’t going to damage an organ.”
“Oh, sure. Just the meaty part of your shoulder. Because that’s just like carving a freaking roast.” Her face was ashen.
Ian squeezed his eyes shut to block out the view of her emotions. They called too much to the hunger. “Marley.”
“Okay, okay. Roll over.”
He tried and found his legs weren’t interested in cooperating. “Need a little help.”
“Oh God,” moaned Marley, tugging until he flopped gracelessly onto his stomach.
“It’ll be fine. Just get the bullet out. There are sutures in the kit too. Go ahead and lay them out, along with the forceps and cotton to mop up the blood. If I pass out, just keep going. Get the bullet out and stitch up the hole. My body will do the rest.”
Ian checked his reserves. Not enough power to maintain any semblance of control if he continued to scan for threats. His range was compromised already. With one last pass to assure himself no one had found them, he shut down his senses, going blind for the first time in decades.
The loss of input was staggering. In the wake of the relative mental darkness, a surge of panic crested through him.
“There’s not enough light for this.”
Have to hold it together for Marley. Ian dug deep, pressing his hands against the stone floor of the cave to ground himself. “Electric lantern. In the pack.”
“Is there a hospital johnny too? Because I just destroyed your shirt.”
“Funny girl.” Ian tried to laugh, winced instead. “Told you it paid to be prepared.”
The blue white glow of the LED lantern filled the cave. Marley set it beside his shoulder and crouched down.
“Shit, Ian. The hole’s barely big enough for a pencil.”
“Already healing. Use the knife.”
“Wait a minute.” He heard her moving, a brush of fabric, a faint metallic clink. She thrust something into his field of vision. “My belt. It’s leather. Bite down.”
Ian shoved it into his mouth and nodded.
Behind him, liquid sloshed as she sterilized the knife. The hand she braced on his shoulder around the wound was tentative, fingers pressing, probing.
“Do it!” he snarled.
The knife bit in. A bright new pain layered over the burning ache left by the bullet. His body bowed and the pressure was instantly gone.
“I’m sorry!”
Another ragged breath. Ian forced himself to relax. “Keep going.”
Her hands again. The knife. As he felt his flesh part, Ian was glad she’d thought of the belt. He bore down and fought not to tense any other part of his body.
“It’s healed more inside. I can’t see the bullet track.” The tenor of her voice had changed. Still anxious but committed now.
Ian said nothing, recognizing the statement for the warning it was.
The knife pressed deeper. Ian felt his eyes roll back, felt his grip on consciousness slipping in the face of the white hot agony. The knife clattered as she laid it aside. The forceps were cold. That was the thought lodged in his brain as she began to probe, shoving aside severed muscle in pursuit of the goddamned bullet. He lost the details, though he knew she’d be blotting, digging, cutting more. It was all more pain.
“Got it!” Marley’s triumphant shout roused him. She dropped the forceps, leaned down to put pressure on the wound. “You still with me?”
Ian managed a grunt.
“Do I need to sew up anything on the inside? I had to go pretty deep. Might have done less damage to come at it from the front.”
Too little, too late. He tried to focus on her
question. “Just outside. Stop bleeding. Disinfect.”
“You’re gonna want to hang on to that belt,” she said.
As the disinfectant hit, he was grateful to the torture training he’d endured so he didn’t bellow in pain. She went through more patting, pressing, until at last he felt the tell-tale pull of sutures as she stitched him back up. Somehow the whole process seemed to take longer than the actual bullet removal.
“I’m not worried about pretty, neat stitches,” he said. “You can see that’s never been a priority.”
A light finger traced some of the old scars, an oddly sensual gesture, despite the pain in his shoulder. “Yeah, well, you can’t be picky about your available nurse.” Scissors snipped. She laid a fresh stack of gauze pads over the wound, taped them down. “Done.”
Ian struggled to rise and roll, managed it only with Marley’s assistance.
As he collapsed back against the cave wall, she said, “You need to feed.”
“No.” The answer was instant.
“Ian, you said yourself you burned through everything.”
And so he had. Which made him about as dangerous as a pit viper. “I can’t feed from you just now. My control isn’t steady enough, and I’m not willing to risk you.”
Hands balled on her hips, Marley glared at him. “And exactly how is your control going to get any better if you don’t feed?”
It was a point, one he didn’t have enough brain cells left to counter. But he was not going to feed from her in this condition. Not when he wasn’t positive he could control how much he took.
“Need to eat,” he said. “Food. There are more MREs in the pack and some energy bars. And I need sleep. My body heals better if I’m under. Once I’m leveled off there, I should be steady enough to feed.” He hoped. “But not before, Marley. I mean it. It’s not safe. If you try to do what you did in Tennessee, I might not be able to stop.”
She dug through the supplies, came up with a bar and a bottle of water. Handing him both, she said, “Fine. But when you wake up, we’re taking care of this. You look like shit.”
Eying her bloody hands, she strode to the mouth of the cave, stuck them out into the pouring rain.
