by BETH KERY
She ran past second base and kept going even as she heard Saint call out in his deep, ascendant-rich tone behind her, ordering Aidan to come back. With his supernatural speed, he was just ten feet behind her when she crashed through the tiny opening between the hedges. She was so concerned for Aidan’s safety that she ignored the scraping branches on her face and bare limbs in addition to Saint’s barking command for her to return.
What she saw on the other side of the hedge struck her like a physical blow. What happened next occurred so quickly, it later became a blur in her memory.
“Aidan,” she screamed, but the thin body of her son remained unmoving in the arms of the tall, muscular, chestnut-haired male Christina had seen on the subway. He wore a long, thick, black leather coat and gloves, despite the summer sun.
Javier Ash.
Ash snarled at her like a rabid animal, exposing his fangs.
In the distant part of her brain, Christina saw that the Scourge revenant’s pale, usually flawless cheek was mottled by a web-work of dark purple blood vessels. Aidan had left his mark on the monster before he’d been knocked unconscious. She remembered what Saint had said about her touch, how she’d felled the Scourge revenant without having any notion of her power.
She flew at Javier Ash.
“Let go of my son,” she seethed, fist cocked to strike.
Ash obviously recognized the threat of her. He leaned back, hissing as he avoided her fist. The abrupt movement caused him to slip in the sand. Christina took advantage of Ash’s instability and snatched her son. She yanked until Aidan’s body fell against her and spun, sensing that Saint was directly behind her.
Saint grabbed instinctively for Aidan’s limp body when she shoved him in his arms. A large shadow fell over them. At the exact moment Christina released Aidan to his father, Ash hooked his leather-covered forearms beneath her armpits.
And she was being lifted, the ground soaring away from her at an alarming rate.
“Saint,” she screamed, experiencing a moment of total disorientation as she rose through the air, flying when her feet had just been on the ground. She glanced back and up, shocked to see that she and Ash were clutched in the bony claws of a huge nightmare bird, the same bird Christina had seen take flight in the subway tunnel. The animal shape taken by—
“Teslar,” Saint bellowed, his eyes blazing as he looked into the air above her. He handed Aidan to Fardusk, who had just raced onto the beach. Saint took a running start and leapt, his facial muscles rigid with fury and the great exertion of his impossibly high, flying jump. Christina reached for him—a beautiful, avenging angel—but Ash jerked her back against his body.
And her angel had no wings.
Saint’s grasping fingertips brushed fleetingly against hers.
“Better luck next time, Saint,” Ash taunted in a rough, snide voice.
Saint let out throat-ripping roar as he fell away from her. His wild, desperate gaze never left her face as he plummeted to the earth. Christina never looked away either. Not even when her struggles caused her to slip in Javier Ash’s hold. The revenant cursed viciously and readjusted her, trapping her arms next to her body with his squeezing, steely embrace, forcing her into immobility.
Only when she could no longer see any of the small figures gathering on the beach, only the gray, choppy waters of Lake Michigan, did she look up again.
She saw the underbelly of the blood-red bird and a pair of beating, leathery wings that encompassed a twenty-five-foot span when spread. The deadly bird—Teslar—dipped its head and pinned her for a moment with its blue-eyed stare.
Christina felt heat rise beneath her skin.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Aidan lay in his bed in the coach house, his hand clutching Saint’s tightly. A purple bruise had formed just beneath the skin on his right temple where Ash had struck him.
“Javier bashed him a good one, but he’ll suffer no long-term damage,” Fardusk proclaimed after he’d finished examining the boy.
“But what about Mom?” Aidan muttered, the wild concern in his aquamarine eyes cutting at Saint.
“I’m going to get your mother back. Don’t worry about that,” Saint stated grimly. He let go of Aidan’s hand. “I have to go. You’ll stay here with Fardusk.”
The boy sat up abruptly, wincing when he jolted his injured head. Their eyes met in the dim room and Saint heard the boy’s plea in his mind.
“No. You stay here, son,” Saint said softly. Firmly.
He hadn’t planned to say it. It’d just fallen out of his mouth in that tension-laden moment. He watched as Aidan’s confused expression slowly morphed to one of radiant wonder.
Saint cleared his throat gruffly, more affected by the boy’s open-mouthed, amazed stare than he ever would have dreamed. He stood next to the bed. “Your mother and I will explain when I bring her back.”
“Do you promise you’ll bring her back, Saint?” Aidan asked.
“Yes.”
“Because it’s my fault that Teslar took her,” Aidan said, his voice cracking with misery.
“It’s no one’s fault but my own. And Teslar’s,” Saint declared. He glanced from Fardusk to the boy. Fardusk nodded almost imperceptibly, agreeing to guard Aidan with his life.
Saint exited the room.
There was one other person at fault, but Saint thought it was best not to bring that up to Aidan at the moment.
He stepped onto the front porch, already knowing who approached.
Isi stalked around the corner of the coach house, a fixed, furious expression on his face. He didn’t bat an eyelash, despite the armful of kicking, screaming female he carried.
He tossed Alison down on one of the padded recliners so hard air whooshed out of her lungs.
Alison scurried into a sitting position. When she tried to stand from the recliner, Isi bared his fangs and hissed. She jerked back like she’d been burned.
“I found her sneaking through the woods toward the city. I saw Marcellus and Anthony Teethum waiting for her in a car on Sheridan Road,” Isi reported furiously. His voice dropped. “You’re the biggest little idiot I’ve ever laid eyes on. Don’t you know they would have ripped you to shreds the moment they got you in that car?”
“Shows what you know!” Alison shouted. Tears wetted her pale cheeks as she gazed up at Isi with defiant, anxious, midnight blue eyes. Saint was reminded of a tiny, spitting kitten backed into a corner by a fierce wolf. At any other time, he might have felt a thread of compassion for the vulnerable young woman.
But her betrayal had put Christina in grave danger, and for that, he would not forgive easily.
“Move aside, Isi,” he ordered quietly.
It must have been something in his tone that made Alison go entirely still. Her eyes grew enormous in her face when he stepped toward her.
“He…Teslar made me do it, Saint,” she entreated in a whisper. “He talked to me…in my head. I had to do it.”
Saint studied her for a moment, sifting through the young woman’s chaotic emotions with his mind. His lip curled in disdain. Alison’s tears flowed heavier down her face.
“You thought because you could communicate telepathically with Teslar, you were special. Special to Teslar. Special like Christina.”
Alison’s gaze skittered over to Isi. Her entire body sagged.
“You have a right to be ashamed,” Saint accused. “Sacrificing a life just so you could feel like the special girl, the unique one.” He was immune to her bitter tears. He turned up his ascendancy to full throttle, caring little about the discomfort it might cause the young woman. Her spine straightened and she winced. Tears flooded down her cheeks.
“Where did Teslar take her?”
“He…he never told me,” she sobbed.
“Why would he?” Isi asked harshly. “Teslar had no use for you other than as a tool to flush Aidan and Christina out of Whitby’s boundaries. As soon as your purpose had been served, you would have been dinner.”
Ali
son’s face crumpled in misery. “I’m sorry, Isi. I didn’t want them to be hurt. Especially Aidan. But Teslar made me—”
“You are a rare-enough human, Alison,” Saint interrupted. “You actually do have the ability to fight off Teslar’s ascendancy. You let Teslar into your mind consciously, because he made you feel special. You will let me in now because it’s the right thing to do. Do you understand?”
Alison’s wrenching sobs ceased when she gaped at Saint. She nodded once.
Saint plunged into Alison’s memories with his mind, making sense of threads and sensations that were just meaningless fragments for her. It was something he rarely did, as it was an aggressive assault on the senses. But he had no choice.
He had to find Christina. It cut at him like a twisting blade in his belly to consider what Teslar had planned for her.
He heard Teslar’s voice in Alison’s memories, heard his clone speaking to her, and so much more. In the distance, he made out the sound of a boat’s horn and a male voice speaking on a microphone. Saint strained and sensed Alison’s discomfort as he made sense of what was mere sensory debris to the girl.
A moment later, he pulled himself out of Alison’s mind, the sensation like peeling off his own skin. Both Alison and he panted in the aftermath of the mind-blend. It had been just as painful for Saint as it had been for her.
But worth it.
“I think I know where they are,” Saint rasped.
“Where?” Isi asked tensely. Saint glanced at him, considering. He knew how much the Iniskium warrior wanted to slay Javier Ash, but Saint couldn’t afford any mistakes on this mission.
Intense feelings of revenge were likely to cause mistakes.
Saint sighed heavily. He trusted Isi. “They’re in the freight tunnels beneath lower Wacker Drive and the river. I didn’t think Teslar knew of that branch of tunnels, but apparently he’s discovered them recently. I could hear one of the river tour boats in the far distance. You go to the crystal chamber and bring back the Iniskium. Leave all but a dozen behind in the chamber. That will be sufficient to guard it. I’ll meet you in the freight tunnels. Gain access at the storage dock under the Fairview Hotel on lower Wacker Drive.”
“Wait,” Isi protested when Saint turned to depart. “You can’t go into Teslar’s den alone.”
“You’ll be there with the others shortly.” He read Isi’s unease at the plan.
“You know Teslar. I can’t leave Christina there with him a minute longer than necessary.”
“But…can Teslar even touch Christina?” Isi asked, and Saint recalled that Isi, Fardusk, and he had discussed the surprising development of the revenant not surviving Christina’s touch.
“I’m not sure. Either way, he could drain her until she’s a husk without touching her. Teslar is not a revenant. I can touch Christina, after all. And are Teslar and I not one and the same?”
Saint saw but chose to ignore the shiver of unease that went through Isi’s muscular chest.
He turned, willfully entering Teslar’s world, and embraced the night.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Christina lay on her side and watched as Teslar paced back and forth in front of her. The room where she found herself was surprisingly luxurious. Apparently, Teslar and the Scourge revenants lived like gypsies. They moved around frequently to avoid Saint and the Iniskium, but they carried Teslar’s treasures around the tunnels of the underground. The dark, subterranean space had been decorated like a sheik’s chamber for Teslar, with rare carpets covering the floors and walls. As well, a velvet couch, rich pillows, flame-lit brass and glass lanterns, several ornate mirrors, and gold-leafed ornaments were spread about the room.
If she weren’t scared shitless, Christina would have laughed at the ludicrousness of Teslar’s vanity.
She shifted on the carpet, testing her strength. Earlier, Ash had tried to force her down a metal ladder into the tunnels. He’d been clearly frustrated as to how to get her down the shaft without dropping her and so anxious about not touching her that he’d let down his guard. Christina had landed a thwacking punch to his temple.
Ash had howled in pain and knocked her reflexively with the back of his hand. She’d fallen down the thirty-foot shaft, hearing Teslar shout in anguish and fury. Just before she hit the hard earth, she felt hands enclose her shoulders. She’d been falling face-first into the hole. Whoever grabbed her had prevented her body from striking the base of the tunnel, but hadn’t fully cushioned the blow to her head.
She must have blacked out for a period of time, because she’d awoken in the luxurious chamber to the sounds of Teslar cursing and the dull thuds of bone against flesh. The scene that greeted her had been an ugly one—Teslar punishing Ash for causing Christina harm, beating him about the face and head with vicious blows. It horrified her to see the way the powerful revenant kept standing and righting himself after each of Teslar’s punches, patiently waiting for each blow, despite the snarl of pain and fury that shaped his bloody mouth.
Teslar must be using his ascendancy to turn his first lieutenant into a flesh and blood punching bag.
Her breath had frozen in her lungs when Teslar paused in his beating, his stare meeting hers across the room.
“Get out,” Teslar bellowed at the bloody Ash. “You and all the others stay away from this chamber.”
Ash stood from his kneeling position, swaying on his feet. When he’d steadied himself, he rushed out of the chamber, obviously concerned Teslar would change his mind. He lifted a hanging crimson, black and beige carpet to find the exit.
Christina had surveyed the chamber with her eyes, trying not to move and draw attention to herself as Teslar washed his hands in a golden bowl. Perhaps there was only the one entrance to the room, but there could conceivably be a tunnel or doorway behind any one of the hanging carpets.
She watched Teslar warily as he tossed down a towel and turned toward her. His blue eyes blazed as he pinned her with his stare. She didn’t know what to make of the way he began to pace in front of her like an anxious, caged animal.
Christina couldn’t help it. She was fascinated by his singular male beauty. He wore only a pair of black leather pants that looked like they’d been tailor-made for his long legs and narrow hips. His bare feet padded across the carpet. His lean, muscular torso was a work of art, just like Saint’s was. Smooth, golden skin covered rippling, sleek muscle. She couldn’t keep her eyes off the narrow path of light brown hair that ran down his flat abdomen into low-riding, supple leather.
She forced her eyes away from the compelling sight and looked into his face.
“Saint will find me.”
Teslar paused in his pacing and for a tense moment, just stared at her. If she had to describe the expression on his face, she would have called it slain. She pushed up slowly with her arms, cautious of her aching head, but also wary of Teslar’s strange manner.
“You don’t need Saint. I can make you love me, Christina,” he said hoarsely.
She paused in pushing herself into a sitting position, not liking the feeling of lying on the floor while this dark angel towered over her.
“With your ascendancy, you mean?” Her voice sounded level, but her anxiety ratcheted up several levels at his threat. Saint had implied that she could throw off his ascendancy if she chose, but what if her ability to do so related to her and Saint’s deep connection? What if what Teslar said was true?
She shivered.
“Is that what you want, Teslar? Another slave for your army? Another sex-doll for your couch?” she taunted, her mouth twisting into distaste.
“No.”
She paused, surprised by the passion in his deep voice. It was impossible not to be affected by the pain and anguish she sensed exuding from him.
“Then why did you bring me here? To draw Saint into your trap so that you can kill him?”
Maybe she was an idiot, but Teslar looked genuinely confused by her questions. She felt pretty damned perplexed herself when he ran his hand t
hrough his lustrous, burnished hair, pulling at it as he grimaced in frustration.
“How can you ask why I brought you here? Don’t you have any idea what you look like in my eyes?” he asked incredulously. He began to pace again, like a graceful, trapped beast. “You might as well ask why someone wants love.”
“Please,” Christina muttered sarcastically, forcing herself with difficulty not to be moved by Teslar’s supposed anguish. The man could act, she’d give him that. “There are some words you should try to avoid altogether when you’re on the stage, Teslar, and love is one of them. Really brings the audience out of the experience with a crash, if you know what I mean.”
He stopped abruptly. She stilled an effort to cover her breasts when he glanced down with those hot, soulful eyes. Heat rose to the surface of her skin, but her nipples pulled tight beneath her T-shirt as though she were cold.
Her body’s betraying reaction to a sociopathic killer infuriated her.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Teslar said quietly. His weighty stare returned to her face. “It’s true that I hunt humans, Christina, but it’s in my genetic make-up to do so. Not just mine, Saint’s as well. We feed off humans, true. But in doing so, we’re only acting out our nature. I don’t suppose you blame a lion for its hunger for flesh?”
“No,” Christina replied coldly. “But a lion is an animal, incapable of higher thought. You, on the other hand, know precisely what you’re doing when you cultivate fear in your victims. You don’t need to kill as you do. Saint has found a way to survive without resorting to murder.”
His facial muscles clenched in pain and he resumed pacing again. A groan vibrated in his throat.
“It hurts when you say his name, Christina.”
“Do you think I care if it hurts?” she demanded. She glanced around the chamber, her irritation rising as her fear diminished. She knew it was foolish not to be scared of Teslar, but his behavior reminded her more of an angst-ridden teenager than a crazed killer at that moment. “Why don’t you let me go?”
