“One that is bleeding and will draw unwanted company.”
The leech was right.
Nicholas stood still while Tynan worked his mojo, closing up the small wounds. As soon as the searing heat faded from his cheek, Nicholas went to wash away the blood. When he got back, they were all going to have a serious talk about what the hell had just happened.
Rory had managed to fight off the smaller monsters that had come for her, but she was no match for this one. It was huge—easily three times her size. Its skin was covered in a slimy layer of filth, pulsing as if something was crawling beneath it. It stood upright; the lower half of its body was submerged. Above the waterline, it widened as it went up, getting bigger and thicker as it neared the ceiling. Its nostrils were above its eyes, leaving an odd, empty spot in the middle of its face. Fleshy lips protruded from its jaws, the bottom one sagging under its own weight.
Beyond the mottled gray lips, she could see the glint of teeth. Not that it needed those. The wicked claws extending from its flipperlike hands were more than enough to kill her.
It regarded her with a kind of curiosity, blinking and sniffing as it neared.
Rory didn’t think she could be any more afraid than she had been since she’d been dumped down here, but this thing was proving her wrong. Her body found the strength to send a spurt of fear rocketing through her system.
She gripped her makeshift weapon harder, until the edges of it dug into her palm. She’d sharpened the tip by rubbing it on the concrete walls, and now that tip was caked with the black blood of the things she’d used it to kill.
As she looked at the two-foot length of metal, a bubble of nervous laughter rose up inside her. There was no way she could even get close enough to this thing to hit it without it being able to strike her first.
But as the thing glided closer to her, parting the dirty water, she realized it was going to make her test that theory.
A shrill whistle sounded from somewhere outside this room. The monster spun around and sank below the water, swimming out the door. Four thick tentacles broke the surface as it fled. It didn’t have legs at all.
Rory had no idea what had happened, but she didn’t question her good fortune. She was too busy trying to think of a way out. She couldn’t be here when that thing came back. Her last attempt to crawl over the ceiling tiles had ended in disaster. The stairway was blocked by more monsters than she could possibly kill, and so far, she’d found no other means of escape. No windows, no tunnels, just an endless stretch of concrete walls and cold, disgusting water.
She heard the slosh of that water as something came her way. She crouched into the corner and lifted her weapon.
One of the guards who’d thrown her down here came into view. “You’re still alive. Good. Come with me.”
She tried to tell him to go to hell, but her mouth was too dry to speak. She hadn’t been able to get back to the leaking water pipe at the far end of the building today, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to drink the muck these things lived in.
He motioned for her to come. “Hurry. The food I gave them will hold their interest for only so long.”
What choice did she have? There was no way out down here. At least if she went with him, she’d have a fighting chance to escape. Or at least a chance to die warm and dry. Even that would be an improvement.
Rory hopped down from her perch. The cold water sucked the life from her and stole her breath. The guard grabbed her arm and practically hauled her through the sludge.
As they neared the stairway door, she saw a throbbing mass of twisted bodies fighting a few yards away. She didn’t want to see what they were fighting over. All she cared about was getting out of here.
Her legs barely worked to push her up the steps. She was weak from dehydration, hunger, and exhaustion. There was no way she could run in her condition—at least not without falling on her face.
Even her curse—or her gift, as her grandma called it—had quit working, which she counted in the pro column of situational accounting. At least without it, she didn’t have to see the horrible things that were going on around her.
Funny. She’d prayed to be released from her curse for years. She’d spent the last two shadowing the only person in the world who had made her feel normal—the only person who seemed to be able to block her visions. So either that person was here—which seemed unlikely—or the whole time, all she’d had to do to get rid of the visions was to get captured, tossed into a den of monsters, starved, and to live in constant fear.
It was such an easy fix. She should have done it years ago. Or not.
Rory would have giggled at her situation had she had the energy. As it was, she was swaying on her feet, not even bothering to look for an opening to escape.
Stupid.
She gathered what little strength she had left and lifted her head. Standing in front of her was the asshole who’d taken her hostage, the one who ran this place like some kind of freakish cult. He was surrounded by adoring humans, most of whom were covered in ragged bite marks that burned red with infection. The women were mostly naked, staring in rapt attention at the ugly guy on the throne.
“Kneel,” he ordered her.
“I’d rather go back downstairs, fuckhead.” Her voice was rough and dry, but she stayed on her feet and that was what mattered.
He waved a scaly, three-fingered hand and two guards dragged a woman forward. Her head was covered with a dirty pillowcase, which shifted with her rapid, frightened breathing.
They ripped the pillowcase off, revealing Sister Olive, the nun who ran the homeless shelter where Rory sometimes ate.
Shock shot through Rory like a stroke of lightning. It jolted her, stealing her breath and melting her in place.
The guards forced Sister Olive forward until she was standing at the foot of the asshole’s throne. Her eyes were wide, but the set of her mouth was hard. She hadn’t given up hope and she hadn’t been broken like the other women here. Yet.
He reached out and wrapped his scaly fingers around Sister Olive’s throat. There was a malicious gleam in his eyes, one that told how much he enjoyed Rory’s shock. “Kneel, or I’ll kill her.”
Sister Olive closed her eyes and started praying. Quiet, fervent words spilled from her mouth as she called upon the God she believed in so deeply.
Rory had seen the woman’s faith run through her actions. She’d seen how kind and selfless Sister Olive had been. She’d devoted her life to others, and now that life was in Rory’s feeble hands.
She couldn’t fight. She couldn’t run. She couldn’t even call upon her rebellious streak and lip off in the hopes that he’d kill her. If she died, Sister Olive would suffer, and that was something Rory couldn’t stand. She had to swallow her pride and do the right thing. Chances were it would be the last thing she ever did—at least of her own free will.
Rory knelt.
“You know better,” chided Tynan.
Logan was not in the mood for a lecture. “She was in pain.”
“It was foolish. A waste of power.”
Logan didn’t care. He couldn’t stand to see Hope hurt like that, not if it was in his power to fix it. “Why are you here?”
“You said you had blood to share. Grace’s condition is getting worse and I need more power.”
Logan looked away, focusing on the slim lines of Hope’s back. She was resting peacefully now. He could hear the steady beat of her heart and her even breathing. “I’m sorry. I used much of it.”
Tynan’s mouth flattened in disapproval. “You squandered it.”
“No. She was grieving. Too much. It wasn’t normal.”
“It would have passed.”
“Not soon enough.”
Tynan looked at her, and it was all Logan could do not to block sight of her with his body. “Is she well now?”
“Yes.”
“Fine. Then I will feed from her myself.”
Rage coated Logan’s vision. It took over his body, compell
ing him to act. Hope’s heavy grief still hung over him, but it faded in comparison to the ferocious need to kill.
The sound that came from Logan’s throat was not normal. It was feral, vicious. “I will kill you if you touch her.”
Tynan tilted his head, unfazed by Logan’s threat. “Is that so? You seem too weak to do anything of the sort.”
“So are you. Don’t test me.”
Nicholas came back in, his face clean of blood. “What the hell is going on here? I’ve never seen you two act like this.”
Tynan kept his eyes on Logan as he spoke. “Logan has absorbed the human woman’s emotions. It’s making him cranky.”
“Absorbed her emotions?”
“Her grief,” said Logan, hoping Nicholas would understand and take his side if they came to blows. Which was a definite possibility.
“Ah,” said Nicholas. “So that’s what you were doing.”
“It’s incredibly dangerous,” explained Tynan. “And foolish. The woman would have healed on her own. Eventually.”
“I don’t know,” said Nicholas. “She was pretty upset. If Logan here helped her out, then good for him. Way to take one for the team.”
“What team?” asked Tynan.
Nicholas rolled his eyes. “It’s a figure of speech. We’re all on the same side here, right?”
Tynan gave Logan a steady gaze. “Perhaps.”
“Whatever. It’s over now. It’s done. Time to move on already.”
“He does have a point,” said Tynan. “The power cannot be recovered now. I’ll have to find a new source.”
“Not Hope. She’s off-limits.”
Tynan smiled as if Logan had told a joke. “Off-limits?”
Logan heard Hope’s heartbeat speed up a second before her eyes opened. “What’s going on?” she asked, her voice groggy.
Nicholas lounged against the door frame, smirking. “These two were just having a pissing contest over you.”
She pushed herself upright. “Really?” she asked looking at each of them. “Who won?”
“How are you feeling?” asked Logan, stepping over anything else Nicholas might say.
Hope rubbed her temples. “I had the worst dream. There was a fire at my studio and the shelter. Everyone was locked inside.” She swallowed twice before continuing. “The woman who took me in years ago died.”
Logan sat down, needing to touch her. He used the gentlest voice he could. “I’m sorry, but it wasn’t a dream.”
Her forehead wrinkled in confusion, and a moment later, sorrow overtook her expression as his words sank in. “It was real? Sister Olive is dead?”
“We don’t know that,” he offered. “But the fire was real.”
Hope slid past him to stand. “I need to get back and find her. See if she’s . . .”
“You can’t,” said Nicholas. “The fire was set on purpose.”
“Then whoever set it will think I’m dead.”
“Or maybe they did it to flush you out of hiding,” said Logan.
She looked at the trio of men gathered. “The closest thing I have to a mother may be dead and you’re telling me I can’t even go and find out?”
“I’ll make a few calls,” said Tynan. “Perhaps we can learn of her fate without risking your safety.”
“I don’t know you,” she shot at Tynan. “Why would you help me?”
“Because your safety is of great importance to me. As is your well-being.”
Logan cupped his hands over her shoulders. The slender lines of her body called to him, even through his hunger and fatigue. He wished everyone else would simply go away, evaporate into space so he could be alone with her.
His thumbs smoothed over her shirt. “I trust him. Please, let him do this. If we can’t find out about Sister Olive, then one of us will go investigate. But this will be quicker.”
Hope nodded. Sadness radiated out from her, but it was no longer the gushing, unnatural grief that had been there before.
“You stay here and rest,” said Tynan. “I’ll go make my calls.”
“I want to help.” She began to move forward, but Logan stopped her with his body.
“He doesn’t need any help.” Tynan would use his powers of persuasion over the phone to get the answers he needed. Hope would only get in the way.
Before she could argue further, Tynan left.
Nicholas shot Logan a meaningful look. “Are you going to make it? You’re looking a little pale. Even for you.”
Logan was weak from his efforts, but that weakness was nothing new. “Give Tynan your blood if you’re willing to share. Grace won’t survive without him.”
Nicholas nodded and left the room, shutting the door behind him. Whether he’d meant to offer them privacy or he’d done it in an effort to protect Hope from hearing any bad news, Logan wasn’t sure. But he was glad of it all the same.
“Who is Grace?” asked Hope.
“A human woman who sacrificed herself for the sake of another. She’s not likely to survive.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“I refuse to dwell on it. We’ve had enough sadness for one night.”
“Nicholas seemed worried about you.”
“Would you believe me if I said he’s just a mother hen type?”
“Hardly.” A faint smile curved her lips, making him ache to kiss her again. He knew it was wrong, but that didn’t stop him from wanting it anyway.
Logan smoothed her hair away from her face. The honey blond strands were tangled and damp from her tears. “You should rest. It’s been a rough night for you.”
“For you, too. You need more blood. I can tell just by looking at you.”
“Not yours. It’s too soon.”
“You did something for me, didn’t you?”
“What do you mean?”
“If that wasn’t a dream, then neither were the feelings I had. I felt you inside me. I felt you hold me.”
He wished he could hold her still, but every second he spent touching her was another betrayal. “I’m going to go check in with Tynan.”
She pushed to her feet. “I’m going to do the same with Jodi. Is she awake yet?”
“No, but she’s fine. We want her to sleep as much as possible to prevent her from forming more memories we might have to remove.”
“I told you I’m not going to let you—”
He pressed a finger to her lips to keep her from saying something she’d have to take back later. “We’re going to do whatever is best for her. You’re her friend. I know you want that for her.”
“She has a right to her memories.”
“She also has a right to stay alive and not be haunted by the things that have happened to her. So far, I believe she’s only seen a human, but if I’m wrong, or if that was to change, I’d have no choice.”
“And I’d have no choice but to stop you. Don’t push me on this.”
This argument was getting them nowhere. He’d do what he must to save Jodi’s life, and if that drove a wedge between him and Hope, then so be it. Anything that pushed her away from him was for the best, anyway, because he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to walk away from her.
“Go to her,” he said. “It’s a waste of time to argue with you over possibilities.”
Hope left, her spine rigid. Logan found Tynan at the kitchen table, speaking on the phone. He waited until Tynan hung up.
“So?” asked Logan.
“The human authorities know nothing yet. The fire burned hot and they haven’t yet been able to get in to investigate for bodies.”
“Are you sure they’re not simply hiding the truth from you?”
“I’m certain. The police chief was easy enough to compel to give me the truth.”
“So we don’t know if Hope’s Sister Olive survived.”
“No.” Tynan gave him a level look. “Does Nicholas know you’ve slept with her?”
“How did you know?”
“Your scents cling to each other. Along with the
scent of sex.”
“I was weak.”
“Based on your reaction in there, you have not yet worked her out of your system.”
He said it like she was some kind of toxin—a malady to be remedied. That was not the case at all. Hope was no disease. She was a balm to his soul, comforting and infuriating in a way no other woman had ever been.
Logan loved her. There was no more denying it, and no matter who she ended up mated to, he believed he would continue to love her. “I will do what is right for our people.”
Tynan laid a hand on his shoulder. His fingers were cold, the chill sinking all the way through to Logan’s skin. “I know you will. I trust you.”
“You’re cold.”
“Keeping Grace alive has been taxing, but it’s Tori who’s taking up most of my strength. I have yet to find a way to filter her blood and I fear that if I don’t find an answer soon, her sanity will be the first casualty.”
“She’s lasted so many years. Certainly a few more weeks is not too much for her to stand.”
Tynan shook his head. His mouth flattened to a grim line. “She has dark, violent urges and they’re not getting better with time. I think being inside Dabyr with its protective wards is somehow irritating the Synestryn infection, bringing it to the surface.”
“You can’t take her outside the walls. Zillah would find her within hours.”
“I know. I also know that nothing I’ve tried has worked. I’m going to have to put her to sleep in the way of our people. Maybe if we find and kill Zillah, whatever influence he has over her will die with him.”
“Are you strong enough for that?”
Tynan sighed. “Not while Grace still lives. But I can’t let her die, either. Without her, I have no clue what Torr might do. And as violent as Tori’s urges are, I promise you that Torr would be much more destructive. He’s losing leaves every day now.”
“Grace can’t save him. She’s human, not Theronai.”
“No, but if she dies, I fear that Torr’s hope will die with her. I truly do not know what to do.”
“You need to save them both. And for that you need strength. Take some of mine. I don’t have as much to offer as I should, but what I have is yours.” Logan held out his arm.
Blood Hunt (Sentinel Wars Book 5) Page 29
