The Last Unforgiven - Freed (Demons, #5)

by Simcoe, Marina

  “It-it can only be done by shutting off the water supply to the building.”

  “Then that is exactly what I want you to do.” Raim gave him another shake for good measure. “Shut the water off, and I’ll let you live. Where is it?”

  “By the stairs.”

  Dragging the whimpering human by the scruff of his suit jacket, Raim made it back to the hallway next to the staircase leading up.

  “Get out of here.” He shoved the man towards the stairs and turned the water off himself. “Hurry,” he added as the Monk scrambled up the stairs, tripping over his own feet.

  Back in the server room, Raim quickly collected the few explosive devices that the clerks had removed, and reattached them back to the equipment and furniture around him adjusting the tiny antennae on each. The devices were meant to connect with the detonator and with each other remotely. Once he detonated one of them manually, the rest would catch up within seconds.

  Those would be the seconds that he would have to escape the room and maybe even the basement if he hurried.

  “Stop him.” The order was given in a cracking, fragile voice, out in the archives room.

  Shots fired at Raim, again. Bullets dug into his vest, some burning through the muscles of his arms and legs before he ducked behind one of the cabinets.

  Peeking from around the corner, he saw the Elder. Sitting in a wheelchair, the old man held a glowing shard of soros stone in his hand. Several guards, their guns drawn, surrounded their leader.

  ‘He’s back early,’ the thought flashed through Raim’s mind as he tried to figure out if his plan needed adjustments, now that the Elder was at the scene.

  Raim carefully slid the barrel of his gun out, aiming it at one of the guards whom he could get into the line of fire, then pulled the trigger. Taking that one down, he quickly fired at another one before ducking back as the rest of them started shooting at him again.

  The Elder pressed a button on his wheelchair, rolling behind the wall for cover.

  “What are you trying to do, Raim?” the old man asked from his safe position when there was a lull in the gun fire. “Why are you here?”

  “It was awfully nice of you to share your plans with me.” Raim leaned against the cabinet. “I felt inclined to join you here, to return the visit, if you will.”

  “I did not invite you to come. In fact, I have taken every precaution to keep you out.”

  “I see that,” Raim muttered sarcastically.

  “From our last conversation, I understood you actually wished to leave this world. Why come here to stop me, now?” The Elder sounded genuinely confused.

  “Let’s say I’ve discovered a conscience and decided to do the right thing.” Raim checked the magazines of both handguns, to see how many rounds he still had left. Not many.

  “That is your best lie yet, Raim,” the Elder chuckled. “You’re getting really good at that, lying just as well as humans do. But you’re not leaving here in one piece today.”

  “We’ll see.” Raim considered the best way to end this.

  “You may be immortal,” resentment thickened the Elder’s voice, “but I’ll make sure you will soon wish you were dead.”

  More footsteps rushed closer. Then someone sprayed the room with automatic weapon fire.

  Humans had been perfecting the tools used to kill each other. This one was definitely impressive in its destructive power, the bullets chipping rock off the walls and filling the room with haze of dust.

  “Once we incapacitate you,” the Elder continued, glee slithering through the hatred in his tone. “You will be kept on display, all your bones broken, your skin burnt off—alive but not living, the true abomination that you are, the last one of them.”

  Another series of shots came, spraying the furniture around Raim with a rain of bullets. Two of them ended up ricocheting into his calf and shoulder, joining the rounds already embedded in his muscles.

  He winced from pain, shifting his legs.

  “You know what else I found in these archives recently?” the Elder asked, during another break in firing. “The very first human-Incubus couple was not the two who got together right under your nose at the Western Base two years ago. There was another couple, much earlier. The Priory managed to intercept and execute them about two hundred years ago. They were the ones who started the whole colony of offspring we are now tasking ourselves to exterminate one by one, now that the urn is destroyed. One way or another, sooner or later, rest assured we will get them all.”

  ‘The Priory managed to intercept and execute them . . .’

  This goddamn organization was behind Olyena’s and Gremory’s deaths.

  Rage and pain flooded Raim anew. The last piece of the puzzle fell into place. Humans had stopped burning each other at the stake by the time of that execution. It was The Priory’s intervention that resurrected that form of capital punishment, exclusively for the first human-Incubus couple.

  Not only had The Priory controlled his kind for centuries, holding the threat of the soros urn over him and all of the Incubi. They executed the two beings who meant the most to Raim in this world.

  “End this,” the Elder ordered his guards. “Do whatever it takes to incapacitate him. He can’t exit through here, I have a soros stone. There are no rooms behind the one he is in. The demon is trapped.”

  The firing changed from intermittent to continuous. The bullets whizzed by, bouncing off the cabinets and the equipment and ricocheting off the walls with a spray of rock dust everywhere.

  Rage burned through Raim, urging him to storm the rain of fire in his vengeance to reach the Elder’s throat since he could no longer get his hands on those who ordered the pyre for Olyena and Gremory.

  But then the Elder would win. Some of the bullets flying around would end up in Raim’s bones or lodge in his brain if he abandoned his cover. Incapacitated, he would be left at the mercy of the old sadist.

  He would not give the Elder that pleasure.

  Reining in his rage, Raim quickly went through his options. Trapped in this room, if he set the explosives now he’d burn, too. His only escape was through the ceiling, but that meant he would have to climb on top of one of the cabinets, opening himself to more fire from the guards.

  Bullets would not stop an immortal.

  Raim already had a number of wounds in his body, his blood soaking the material of his suit and staining the stone floor he was sitting on. A few more wouldn’t make much difference. Yet he needed to hurry if he wanted to get out of here and make it to the helicopter in time. With all of them waiting for him outside, every second he spent inside meant increasing risk to Dee and the others, making them sitting ducks out there in the open.

  “May you burn in Hell!” he yelled to the Elder over the noise of the shots fired at him. “However you may get there.” Either by dying the slow death from disease or by burning in here today.

  Sheathing the swords and sticking the guns back into his belt, Raim pushed the button of the explosive device closest to him.

  Leaping to his feet, he climbed up on the cabinet. Keeping his head low, he took shots in his arms, shoulders, and sides.

  His body went through the ceiling the moment he straightened on top of the cabinet. His head and shoulders emerged from the floor of the corridor on the ground level. The battery of bullets still tore through his legs before he pulled them up, climbing out from the server room completely.

  Scrambling to his feet, Raim limped towards an outside wall, ignoring the pain and leaving a river of blood on the floor behind him.

  At the end of the corridor he had to pause as intense dizziness overtook him, hindering his orientation. He was fairly confident he had not been shot in the head, not even once, yet his vision swam, impeding his balance.

  Grabbing on to the wall to stay upright, he tried to keep going. His feet tripped over themselves, his legs feeling too heavy to take another step, though none of his leg bones were broken.

  His body functionalit
y decreased, his energy level dropping fast, and both in spite of him having been fed better than he ever had before. Dee’s potent energy had been his only nourishment for weeks.

  Raim realized that for the first time ever he did not feel hungry at all.

  What an incredible feeling that was.

  Heavy tiredness spread through his body, his muscles felt leaden.

  Blood trickled out of his wounds, every drop escaping his veins making him more lightheaded. His fingers scraped the stone of the wall, losing their purchase on it, and he crashed down.

  As if falling off a mountain cliff.

  Then the world went black.

  Chapter 27

  THE LONG BLADES OF the helicopter swished over my head. The large sliding door on its side was open. Both members of the flight crew were working on my brother. Marcus had come to after they had strapped him to a field gurney and started an IV.

  “Marcus!” I leaned over him, searching his eyes. “How are you feeling, sweetie?”

  “I’ve been better.” He gave me a lopsided grin.

  “Are you in pain?”

  “Not really.” He blinked, looking a bit disoriented. “Dizzy.”

  “The drugs are working.” Andras pointed at the IV as the helicopter pilot said something in Russian.

  Both of the crew members seemed to have had some medical training. Sadly, I could understand none of the updates they were giving on Marcus’s condition as neither spoke English.

  “Shock and blood loss,” Sytrius translated for me, getting into one of the seats and strapping himself in. “Dmitry says Marcus is in stable condition. The bullets will have to be removed, but there seems to be no serious damage.”

  “Oh, thank God.” I exhaled with relief, kissing my brother’s forehead as his eyelids slowly fluttered closed.

  “The drugs will keep him under and comfortable during the flight,” Sytrius explained as the crew members secured the gurney to the floor before climbing into their seats in the front.

  The captain said something over his shoulder, getting his seatbelt on.

  “Dmitry says we can leave any minute now,” Andras translated from his seat next to Sytrius.

  “All right.” Standing outside of the helicopter, I gripped the edge of the door. “As soon as they’re here, then.”

  I kept straining my eyes, hoping to see the three dark figures against the beige stone wall of The Priory in the distance. But they still weren’t there.

  The loud thunder of an explosion ripped through the air instead, followed by a cacophony of more blasts right after. Thick smoke rose above the wall, churning and spreading through the crisp blue of the Alpine sky.

  He made it.

  I pressed a hand to my chest. Raim managed to set the explosives off.

  The question now was had he made it out in time?

  “There!” Sytrius pointed straight ahead.

  Although Incubi claimed to have regular human eyesight, his seemed to be still better than mine, as it took me a few agonisingly long seconds to spot the two dark dots in the distance.

  Two.

  Not three.

  “One is missing.” I pressed my fist harder into my chest, as if that would stop my worry from turning to panic.

  “He might have just fallen behind.” The tone of Sytrius’s voice did not convey much hope, though.

  Letting go of the door, I took a few steps towards the approaching figures who climbed down from The Priory grounds then up to the ridge where the helicopter stood.

  “Delilah.” Jumping out of his seat, Sytrius rushed after me. “You need to stay here.” He took my arm.

  “Come here,” Andras called from inside the helicopter. “We need to be on board.”

  “We have to get out of their way.” Sytrius tugged me by my arm, gently but persistently. “Come.” His voice softened. “There are three of them.”

  “Three?” Following his pull, I stumbled back to the door, not taking my eyes off the approaching Incubi.

  I recognized Ivarr’s blond mane and Vadim’s short chestnut tresses. Ivarr carried someone over his shoulder. The third person was dressed in the same charcoal grey uniform.

  Raim.

  “Why is Ivarr carrying him?” I muttered then answered my own question as my heart sped up, painfully beating inside my chest. “He’s been hurt.”

  “Get in, Delilah,” Andras ordered firmly.

  I climbed in, kneeling on the floor next to the stretcher with Marcus.

  “We’ll have to take off as soon as they’re on board.” Sytrius said, getting back into his seat. “I say let The Priory explain to the authorities what happened here.”

  Andras quickly gave a few commands to the pilots as Ivarr and Vadim approached.

  “What happened?” I rose on my knees when Ivarr leaned in, literally dumping Raim onto the floor of the helicopter. I managed to catch his shoulders, stopping his head from hitting the metal. “Careful!”

  “He’ll be fine.” Ivarr jumped in, followed by Vadim right before the helicopter lifted off, tilting through the air. The sliding door closed.

  “Raim?” I called softly.

  Cradling his head in my lap, I smoothed the few strands of his hair that had made it out of the tie on the back of his head. His eyes were closed, and his skin looked ashen.

  “What happened?” I repeated, doing my best to keep my panic at bay. “He is not replying.”

  “We found him on the floor just inside the church,” Vadim explained, glancing up from the cut on his hand he was inspecting.

  “Must have got his head smashed in.” Ivarr shrugged. “Or broke his neck. These would be pretty much the only injuries that would knock an immortal out.”

  “Just give it an hour or so,” Sytrius added calmly. “He’ll come back to.”

  ‘His head smashed in.’

  ‘Broke his neck.’

  The words freaked me out. However, the casual tone they all used when talking about it helped me keep relatively calm, too.

  I gently combed my fingers through Raim’s hair, feeling his head for injuries, and finding none. His neck seemed to be fine as well. His uniform, however, was full of bullet holes, the vest resembling a colander with flattened rounds embedded in every inch of it.

  “Jesus . . .” I whispered, taking in his motionless body. His legs must have been shot at the most. The grey pants appeared brown now, completely soaked with blood.

  “I’m shocked he made it out with no broken bones in his legs.” Ivarr shook his head. “Some demons have all the luck.”

  “He doesn’t appear to have any head or neck injuries,” I pointed out. “Why is he not awake?” Worry and anxiety vibrated through me from seeing Raim like this. I just wanted him to open his eyes and tell me what everyone else was saying to me, that he would be okay.

  The co-pilot said something in Russian before clicking off his seatbelt then climbing back to me. He unzipped a large duffle bag, displaying an extensive medical kit. Grabbing a pair of scissors, he cut along one of Raim’s sleeves, muttering to himself the entire time.

  “What is he saying?” I moved my stare from one demon’s face to another, their expressions much more sombre now.

  “Raim lost a lot of blood,” Sytrius finally translated.

  “I can see that. What does that mean for an Incubus? He is immortal, isn’t he?” I tried to read Sytrius’s face as he slid from his seat to the floor, next to the co-pilot, and started unbuckling Raim’s vest. “Isn’t he?” I insisted, staring at Andras now, since Sytrius didn’t reply.

  “Loss of blood would not have stopped an immortal,” Ivarr stated grimly.

  “Would not have made him pass out, either.” Vadim tipped his chin at motionless Raim.

  “Oh, my God . . .” The horror of this revelation choked me. “Raim, baby . . .” My voice trembled, and my fingers shook when I smoothed his hair again. My hands brushed the sides of his face. His skin felt so cool to the touch. “What do we need to do? What can I do?�
� I asked the co-pilot, needing activity to fight the freezing fear spreading through my chest.

  Ivarr translated my request then the man’s reply to me. “Alexey is putting in an IV now, but Raim may need a blood transfusion. He’ll also need to be assessed for any organ damage. We are on our way to a hospital already, which is good.”

  Sytrius removed Raim’s vest, tossing it aside.

  Andras got on the phone, speaking yet another language I did not understand. German, by the sound of it.

  “I’ll call Zayne.” Vadim punched in a number on his phone, too, letting the person on the other end know about a second patient.

  Using the scissors from the duffel bag, Sytrius cut both pant legs on Raim, inspecting the numerous bullet wounds in his calves and thighs. “Although the bleeding has slowed down, it’s hard for me to tell if any of the arteries have been damaged and to what extent.”

  “Anything else?” I unzipped Raim’s jacket, and Sytrius cut through the centre of his undershirt. Raim’s always flawless, umber skin had a greyish tone now. All over his chest bruises had begun to form, but no bullets appeared to have made it through the vest.

  Alexey passed to Sytrius an emergency thermal blanket, and he started wrapping it around Raim, tucking it under his legs and his torso. I helped him.

  “Now what?” I asked anxiously as Alexey zipped up his bag and climbed back into his seat in the front.

  “We’ll land in a few minutes,” Vadim explained, ending his call. “The ambulance will take them both to the hospital. Zayne will meet us with some clothes. You will need to change if you want to ride in the ambulance with them.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Andras added. “Do not tell anyone your real name, Delilah. I’ll have some fake passports couriered soon. It’ll make it easier for us to clean up afterwards if no one knows who you are.”

  I could only nod to show them I listened and understood. I did not trust my voice to say a word out loud.

  Tucking the ends of the blanket around Raim’s shoulders, I leaned over his face.

  “Raim, sweetheart, please hold on . . . ” I pleaded in a shaky whisper. “Please. You can’t leave now. I love you.”