by Cara Lake
Irina was still staring at him suspiciously. With her cheeks flushed and the indignant expression flashing in those beautiful eyes, she looked like some vengeful goddess of justice. His gaze was drawn to her luscious mouth as she licked her lips nervously, the cherry-red sheen a glossy enticement. He wanted to suck.
Before he could speak or act on his impulse, the booming sound of an explosion rocked the building and Irina stood frozen in shock as chunks of the ceiling came crashing down around them. Tyr moved fast, lunging over her, taking the impact of the falling masonry and forcing the solid weight of his body to curl around her like a cradle. Protecting, not crushing.
The sound of rapid firing gunshots in the distance had Tyr grabbing Irina, almost carrying her out into the corridor. He didn’t know what her involvement was in this scenario but his instinct screamed at him to protect. Protect what’s mine. The corridor was empty. There were no police standing guard outside the interview room. Surprise, surprise.
Tyr could hear the gunfire closing in. He knew without a doubt that the gunmen were here for him and that this was the extraction Abrasax had arranged. They wanted it high profile then, wanted to keep him in the crosshairs to ensure his cooperation. He would go with them because he needed answers but first he would make sure Irina was safe.
There were a number of empty offices and Tyr chose the one farthest from the exit. As he opened the door to push her inside, Tyr couldn’t help pulling her close for a moment. His hold tightened as he felt her small frame tremble. Protective instincts at the fore, Tyr’s lips stroked a reassuring caress across her brow. It was torture and it took all he had, but he managed to wrench himself away, his body protesting the loss of her warmth but her safety was paramount.
Releasing her almost roughly, Tyr practically shoved Irina inside the room cautioning her to hide.
“Don’t come out for anything!” he shouted. “Wait until all the gunfire has died down and you’re sure this is over.”
Her eyes blinked wide in shock. She was scared but not hysterical. Brave girl. He watched as she nodded and disappeared into the darkness of the room. Shutting the door behind her, Tyr headed toward the gunfire although every muscle in his body was screaming at him to go back and protect the girl with the amber eyes. Leaving was the best protection. If she was not involved with Abrasax and his corruption, then he did not want to bring her to their attention.
Tyr stayed on course reaching the foyer area, which was utter chaos. A bomb had decimated the entrance leaving a wake of carnage and debris scattered across the stairway. A few bodies lay amid the wreckage, bleeding. Dead. The security guards had been forced back into one of the side rooms and the space was now controlled by a group of six hulking mercenaries, dressed from head to toe in black, armed with semi- automatics. As soon as they saw Tyr, one of them threw a canister, which exploded, producing a wall of gray smoke. They motioned Tyr toward the exit, escaping out of the building and into a waiting black van, under the cover of more smoke outside. The van screeched away at high speed. One of the mercenaries spoke into his radio.
“Extraction completed. Target secured.” Pulling off his mask, Tyr’s rescuer scrubbed a gloved hand across his face. “Hello again, Bellor. Enjoying the ride?” His belligerent growl of welcome sliced through the shadow.
“Jaro Rodach,” replied Tyr, recognizing the dark-haired man. “I thought I’d seen the last of you.”
“No such luck.” Rodach smirked, silver eyes flashing with steely arrogance. “I’m like the proverbial bad penny. Always turning up when you least expect it.”
“I didn’t know you worked for Abrasax. The last time I saw you, you had your face flat on the canvas. Your nose was bloody too.”
“Don’t think I haven’t forgotten, Bellor, and that was a fluke by the way,” Rodach answered, a distinct challenge in his voice. “I’m up for a rematch. How about you?”
Tyr sensed some seriously hostile vibes beneath the urbane silvery tone of his banter. The guy did not appreciate losing. It had been a while, but Tyr had clear memories of that fight, one of his first after Sal started training him. He had been nineteen and unbeaten when they had traveled to a rival gym in the north. Jaro had given him a run for his money. He was a similar age and build and Tyr remembered being surprised by the brutal strength of some of his punches. He also recalled the unchecked rage that had emanated from Jaro as they fought. That had been Jaro’s weakness. His uncontrollable fury had left him wide open at times, giving Tyr the opportunity to use his superior tactical brain, anticipating Jaro’s next moves in advance to send him crashing to the floor. It had been a satisfying victory.
Clearly, Rodach hadn’t forgotten it either and was holding a serious grudge. Better watch my back.
“Pity I’m supposed to deliver you in one piece,” Rodach continued, stroking the barrel of his gun. “I can think of a number of other ways to spend this time with you. None of which would be good for your health.”
“In your dreams, Rodach.” Tyr could feel his fist clenching, nails digging into his skin. Not because of Rodach but because he could feel the thread that connected him to Irina stretching like elastic to its maximum, increasing the distance between them. Separating him from her. He tried to numb himself to the anxiety. Focus on his endgame. Silky chocolate curls and amber eyes were too big a distraction. Besides, it was unlikely he would ever see her again and that was for the best. So why did that thought cause a sharp spike of intense pain in his chest?
Chapter Eight
The sounds of gunfire had died down and were finally replaced by shouts and screams for help. Tentatively, Irina emerged from the small office and made her way cautiously to the door. The corridor was empty, so she hurried to the front of the building, staring in horror at the carnage that had been wrought. It was a scene of pure devastation. Choking back the lump in her throat, she immediately began to help the injured. A layer of dust and smoking rubble was scattered across the floor and Irina experienced a wave of nausea as she focused on tying a tourniquet around the arm of one of the officers who was bleeding. A paramedic arrived and took her place.
“Thank goodness you’re okay.” A hand touched her shoulder. “Leo!” she exclaimed, happy to see him. “Glad you’re still in one piece too. Have you seen Cassi?”
“Yes, a few minutes ago, she was looking for you so I sent her to the interview rooms.” Irina breathed a sigh of relief. She could not bear the thought that anything had happened to Cassi.
“I thought you there with Bellor,” Leo queried. “Where is he?”
“I was, but he shoved me in a room and disappeared.”
“I see. Dammit!”
Realization sank in. This wasn’t another in the series of bombings and attacks on government and law enforcement. It had been a deliberate operation to spring Tyr Bellor from jail. Irina felt sick. This all pointed to his guilt. All this death and destruction. For him. “He’s gone, isn’t he? This was all a distraction to get him out.”
Leo nodded. “Doesn’t look good, does it?” He shook his head wearily. “I was hoping it was all a mistake, but there are two men dead and a number of injured. They wanted Bellor, badly.”
“I actually thought for a moment that he might be innocent,” sighed Irina. “How dumb am I?”
Leo rubbed her arm in comfort. “We all like to see the good in others,” he said, “but sometimes, it’s just not there.” He gave her shoulders a squeeze. “Why don’t you head home? I’ll get a statement from you tomorrow about what happened. I’ll find Cassi and tell her you’ve gone.”
Irina hesitated. Common sense told her to wait for Cassi but the urge to be on her own was strong. She needed time to sort through all the disordered thoughts in her head. Time alone. “Okay, Leo, and thanks.” She turned to go.
“Stay safe!” he called after her.
Outside the building, now a hive of activity with rescue services and media vehicles, Irina made her way toward the underground station, heart heavy with the knowledge
that Tyr Bellor was now a wanted criminal on the run. The lingering sweetness of his embrace as his lips brushed across her brow, curdled to bitter ash. How could she possibly have felt any kind of connection to him? It was unthinkable. Confused thoughts meandered to the night her parents and sister had died. It had been an ordinary Sunday evening. Irina and her sister had been getting ready for bed upstairs when Frida had decided to go back downstairs for a glass of milk. That was the last time she saw her alive. Her beautiful older sister had been butchered alongside her parents in a crime that appeared motiveless and was still unsolved.
Irina had heard the crash of the front door as it burst open, the screams of her family as they were attacked. She was still unsure why she had hidden herself in the toy box that night. Some instinct for survival had directed her to it, even though at the age of ten, she hadn’t been old enough to really consider what was happening downstairs.
Even now it was something she pushed to the back of her mind. Booted feet had rampaged around the house in a frantic search, but they had taken nothing. She knew that they had been looking for her, but this was a truth she had been unable to acknowledge for a long time, racked by guilt. She had known that somehow it had been her fault.
Crunching. Bones cracking.
Booted feet. Blood and death.
The hiding place, a toy box.
Eyes staring out through the hole her father had made because her sister insisted the toys would need some light.
Light in darkness.
A face scanning the room for hiding places.
“Bellor!” A shout. A name. “Look for the girl!”
The boy’s response: “She’s not in here!”
His face intent on the box.
Intent on her as if he could see through the wooden barrier into her soul.
Black eyes, dark as night.
Fingers to his lips.
Ssshh! A silent plea.
A light switched off.
It all came surging back at that moment. For years she had struggled to block the images that battered her psyche from that night. Images a ten-year-old child could barely comprehend and the truth she had for so long tried to deny. Tyr Bellor had been an integral part of her past. She was convinced he had been present that night, knew she had seen his face but had always tried to romanticize the memory, to blur the horror because she felt this sick connection, fascinated by his image of masculine strength and power. Witness her obsessive collection of press cuttings. How crazy was she?
After today’s events she was finding it hard to dispute the evidence that he was no innocent pawn as she wanted to believe, but a stone-cold murderer. And even if he hadn’t killed Saleos Black, he was somehow involved in his death. Otherwise, why spring him from jail? And he hadn’t denied it. But he had saved her as a child; she was sure of it. The tranquility she tried to maintain at all times fractured, betrayal and hope at war in her heart and head. She had tried to believe that redemption existed. Her job was proof of that. Now she felt completely lost. The tenuous thread connecting her to Tyr Bellor was in danger of snapping. Magnet. Repel.
“Miss Columba!” A rough voice slammed into the darkness of her memories. Irina jumped at the sound of her name. She turned to see Shax Tannin looking at her with concern. “I’ve been sent to make sure you get home,” he said.
“Oh, that was nice of Leo, but I’m sure I’ll be fine on the train.” Shax pulled a face. “You’ve had a helluva shock, and Leo will never forgive me if something happens to you, so come on, I’ve got a car waiting.” He gently nudged her toward the waiting black BMW with dark-tinted windows that was idling at the curb. He opened the door and Irina slid into the backseat. The door closed. It was then that Irina noticed the man in the front passenger seat. He turned his head, eyes of yellow glowing. Her mouth opened in a scream that froze in her throat, panic clawing her chest when she felt a pinprick jab in her upper arm. The interior of the car dissolved, dizziness descended and then there was only blackness.
* * * * *
Cassi called Merak. The evidence was irrefutable. She had seen the Taijitu mark on Bellor with her own eyes. Even amid all the confusion and chaos ofthe bomb blast, her perfect eyesight could not fail to see it as he ran past her hiding place in the corridor. It was on his right shoulder, a linear outline of the yin-yang Taijitu symbol, the complementary opposite of Irina’s mark.
She wondered if he knew it was there. The fact that Irina’s had appeared this morning after meeting him yesterday meant that he was definitely the one they had been looking for. He was one half of an Esseni pairing, and Irina was the other. Potentials no longer, their power could finally manifest and grow. The problem now was that he had disappeared. The Discordants had to be shielding him and the minute they saw Tyr’s mark they would be actively looking for his other half. Irina’s safety was now paramount. Cassi ended the call to Merak, having given him the details and went to find Irina, hoping she was unscathed.
Chapter Nine
Aamon Abrasax leaned back in his chair with a self-satisfied grin. Target one secured and he’d just heard from Shax that target two had also been contained. This was a welcome piece of news. Perhaps also a good time to make a call to Choronzon as his star appeared to be in the ascendant. At least he didn’t need to go to Chthonia again. Earth technology was improving all the time, even though they lacked the natural magick of Ophiuchus and Lyra, a tweak made here or there to their satellite systems using such magick, would boost the connection to reach other planets. Conference call time.
He dialed up the number and the large plasma screen crackled to life.
“My Lord Choronzon, I have news,” Abrasax declared, eager to make an impression. Two yellow orbs with red slits rotated in his direction. Scaly claws waved him on without comment. Choronzon was obviously engaged in other activities not evident on the screen. Really considering the guy was ancient, he acted as though he were a randy teenager! Abrasax was grateful the screen was directed only at Choronzon’s head. Abrasax curled his lips in disgust. “War my lord!” he announced triumphantly, intent on grabbing Choronzon’s attention. The red slits at the center flared with interest.
“You have him?” Choronzon’s hissing tones crawled over Abrasax’s skin eliciting a shudder of revulsion that instilled a sliver of fear deep in his bones. He could only hope his news would keep Choronzon happy.
“We have him contained.”
“Do we have his allegiance?”
“I believe so my lord.”
Eyebrows of black snapped sharply into a frown. “Believe?” Abrasax could sense the displeasure. “We also have Peace,” he was quick to reply.
“Well, Abra old boy, it’s good to see you understand the concept of the buy-one-soul-get-one-free deal.” Choronzon beckoned his long bony nails in the direction of the screen. “Do not let either of them slip through your fingers, Abrasax. Get control of War and ensure that the essence of Peace becomes ours. The sooner the extraction rite is performed the better. Do. Not. Fuck. This. Up.”
The screen returned to darkness with a blink. Okaay. I got this. It’s in the bag. Abrasax turned to the guard at the door. “Tell Rodach to get Bellor up here pronto—and tell Rusalka she is needed.” The guard headed off as Abrasax focused on one of the many screens in his office, watching with a grin as Tyr Bellor, his ticket to glory, exited a vehicle led by a vanguard of black-clad mercenaries.
* * * * *
The van finally came to an abrupt stop and Tyr emerged into the depths of an undergroundparking lot. Following Rodach and his men, he entered the lift, which ascended to the penthouse of what Tyr suspected was the Abrasax Tower. He was led through a plush foyer of white-and-black marble to large reinforced steel double doors. The doors swung open remotely and Tyr was left alone to enter Abrasax’s lair. The black-and-white marble theme continued into the room but inset into the marble surface was a pattern of swirling symbols that Tyr could have sworn appeared almost demonic.
Abrasax was comforta
bly relaxed behind a large ebony desk. Behind him, a huge expanse of glass led out onto a balcony and revealed a breathtaking view of the city below. Tyr saw that it was now dusk. To his right, the wall was covered top to bottom with TV monitors. Abrasax obviously had cameras posted at pretty much every part of the building. Some pictured other locations altogether and Tyr recognized the interior of Sal’s gym on one of them. He realized then that Abrasax must have watched him in training many times.
“Bellor, welcome. I see the extraction was successful.” Abrasax sat back in his chair surveying Tyr with intense blue eyes. Tyr caught a sudden flash of yellow that blinked across the two orbs and then just as quickly subsided. “Did it have to be quite so loud?” Tyr asked casually.
“Why, were you concerned for someone?” Abrasax retorted a sly look in his eye.
Tyr ignored his comment, unwilling to consider the possible insinuation. “Are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on here?” he demanded. “You were there the night Sal died, you framed me for his death, sprung me from jail and now you’ve kidnapped his family and threatened them. What exactly do you want from me, Abrasax?”
“I have you already, Bellor. I own you. You see I know what you really are and if you cooperate then I think you’ll find the situation of mutual benefit to us both.”
Tyr was seriously pissed off now. Sal had hinted all sorts of weird stuff about how Tyr was not your average homo sapiens and now Abrasax was alluding to something similar as he had also done on the night of Sal’s death.Tyr’s thoughts focused on that night, struggling to recall the bizarre events that resulted with his waking from darkness to find Sal bleeding and dead beneath him. It was the night after the big fight and Tyr had needed some breathing space, away from all the media attention. He’d ended up at the gym to find Sal working out.
