Dark Veil (The Society Series Book 3)

by Mason Sabre

  “We’ll make sure he is secure,” Raven said. “Have you got some tow rope in the back of this thing?”

  Stephen got the rope from the boot and they quickly secured Andy enough that Stephen felt a little calmer about leaving Phoenix in charge. Raven had tied Andy’s hands so that they were on either side of him. He wouldn’t be able to get them together to do anything. He had secured his feet, too, so there was no way the shit was getting out of this, at least not on the sly. Stephen gave him a once-over, pulling at every tie, every knot and piece of rope—anything that would ease the niggle in his mind. He leaned over the seat to Phoenix. “If you need to, if something happens and you need to go, I want you to get out of here. Forget this piece of shit in the car. If anyone comes, I want you to run. Do you understand?” When Phoenix hesitated, Stephen’s face set in a grim line. “Do you understand?” he repeated sternly.

  Phoenix nodded, but it didn’t calm whatever it was that was bugging Stephen. Something wasn’t right and, for whatever reason, he couldn’t put his finger on it. Stephen’s tiger stirred inside with unease, the same way he did when he knew there was a hunt coming. It was ready and waiting, but for what exactly, Stephen was unsure. With a cursory ruffle of the kid’s hair, Stephen turned and headed towards the house with Raven, forcing himself not to look back like a fucking mother hen leaving her chick behind. The kid would be okay. He was smart.

  The gravel crunched under his heavy boots and he paused, listening. No guards rushing out. No alarms going off due to intruders on the property.

  The house was surrounded by a large hedgerow, at least eight feet tall, behind which was a brick wall. It was about the same height, but nothing Stephen couldn’t climb over. That would put him in full view of the house, however, and he wasn’t going to risk that.

  He walked the parameter of the outside and Raven went the other way. They were looking for an opening—broken wall, damaged hedges—it didn’t matter, as long as it got them inside. There had to be one. What Stephen did eventually find was an old gate. It didn’t surprise him—most old houses had these. It was an escape for the residents to run into the woodlands behind the house. The door was covered in ivy, clearly unused in a long time. Stephen reached in, ignoring the thorns and twigs as they bit and clawed at his flesh. He clicked the lever under the handle … it was unlocked. He gave it a hard shove, but nature had tightly sealed the exit and created a barricade. He closed his eyes for a moment, and called to his tiger. He was already close to the surface, sensing the danger they were both in. His claws slid out and he sliced through the vines with little effort. He pulled them away, tossing brambles and weeds behind him as he cut and pulled until he could see the door. With one claw, he traced along the edges, breaking away the remaining vines until he could ease the gate open.

  It opened onto the back lawn of Patterson’s house. The garden was lavish and luxurious, more for show than actual practicality. Typical Humans—all money and no fucking sense. There were statues of no use, opulent-looking plants and trees, and a pool that probably never got used. This was fucking England, not the States. Swimming outside in the north of England was something that only ever happened in the movies. But for Patterson, and others like him, it was all about money, status and social standing—establishing their eminence and power. That was what his father had always taught him. No matter what, it didn’t matter if you were down to your last power, act rich, act like you own the world, and you will own the people in it. People were greedy, Humans and Others. Those with money held the power, and they showed it off like idiots.

  There was a hatch at the back of the house—the kind of hatch where the wooden slatted doors opened outwards and the barrel men would roll the ale for the bar. Except there was no bar here anymore—there may have been once. That was Stephen’s way in, but the problem was getting over to it. The back of the house was lined with windows that reflected the sunlight and gave them the appearance of darkened holes in the brickwork. It also meant that it made it impossible for Stephen to make out any movement from behind any of them. That didn’t mean no one was there, though. If that was the case, he was in danger of being seen the moment he tried to sprint across the lawn. He muttered a curse under his breath. The risk wasn’t worth it. He needed to find Gemma and Cade, and he couldn’t do that if he got himself caught.

  He slipped in through the gateway and kept low, his back to the wall. His tiger roamed at the surface, like a comforting growl just under his skin. This would have been so much better if he had been able to shift. His senses as a man were sharper than that of a common Human, but as his tiger, his skills were greater, his senses keener.

  From where he stood, the house appeared empty, but he was careful to keep himself pressed up against the wall as he slid sideways. His attention stayed focused on each window, making sure to notice any peculiarity or catch the slightest movement. When he reached the part that had the shortest distance between wall and house, his eyes ran over each window once again before silently racing towards the house. He kept low as he moved, ducking under the back window and shimmying along the wall towards the hatch when he reached it.

  There were no locks on the doors. He quietly laughed at their overconfidence in their own power and complacency that that they had nothing to fear from Others. They actually believed they didn’t need locks. Didn’t they realise that if all Others came together and there was a revolt, they’d be screwed before they even realised it. On the other hand, maybe they realised that no lock or gate would really stop any Other who wanted in.

  He eased open the door, half-expecting the hinges to creak and give him away. The putrid stench of Humans hit him with a force, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He curled his lip in disgust then cautiously peered into the darkness, his acute eyesight giving him the ability to see despite the black obscurity.

  Finding no one down there, he lowered himself onto the clean concrete. The place was packed with masses and masses of boxes. Boxes of greed, that’s what this was. Rows upon rows of so much shit that they didn’t need. He caught a glimpse of some of the labels—Christmas decorations, books, clothes. The Humans and their ever-consuming gratifications of just one more thing, one more want and demand, all cast aside in boxes where they would be forgotten. They were all the same, like termites. They devoured and consumed, buying more and more paraphernalia, decimating the earth and all that it had to offer, polluting it, destroying it. One day it would turn in on them, and they were so oblivious they would never see it coming.

  Andy had lied. There was no Gemma or Cade here, and they never had been. Stephen didn’t pick up any of their scents, and if they had been there, he would have. There was a door at the end of the basement, but there was no need to go for it. Stephen turned to leave, but the logo on one of the boxes caught his attention. He shoved the other boxes out of the way so that he could read it—Norton Bio. His blood ran cold and heat seared his skin, leaving a trail of cold sweat. Norton was one of the up-and-coming corporations which made biological weapons against Others. They were the creators of war and everything filthy and sordid. So this was what Patterson was into. Stephen pushed the box out of the way and read the next. It was the same—in fact, all of the boxes lying behind them were branded with the same company’s name. He pulled one down, but by its weightlessness, he could tell it was empty. He tore it open anyway then swore when he found he was right. “Fucking piece of shit,” he muttered under his breath. But what did this all have to do with Gemma and Cade? Why take them? For money? It didn’t make sense. He’d be an idiot to announce that he had taken Gemma.

  Giving the rest of the boxes a heave, he realised they were all just as empty. Deciding he was wasting his time here, he climbed out the same way he had got in. But as he was hauling himself out, his skin suddenly prickled with unease and his senses went on high alert. Cautiously scanning the area for a moment, he hesitated before eventually turning to shut the door once more. It wouldn’t do to alert Patterson to the fact that his allian
ce with Norton had been discovered.

  Something struck him hard on the side of his head and he stumbled sideways, then fell back into the basement and landed on his side with a thud, knocking the breath from him. Pain speared through his head and ricocheted down his body. He rolled instinctively, ready for the next attack. It wasn’t a Human who stood there, or even a Shifter.

  “Fucking witches,” he muttered as he glared up at the woman standing there. God, how he hated them. This witch was young, maybe Stephen’s age, her powers still in their infancy. Stephen raised a hand to his head, expecting to see blood, but there was nothing. Not even the indent of whatever she had used. It wasn’t even tender. She flicked her hand up in the air, making a circular motion, and when she flung her hand out, something slammed into his jaw, sending him reeling and sputtering.

  She leaned into the doorway. “Mind your manners,” she said sweetly.

  Stephen rolled back, sitting against the boxes. He cradled his jaw in his hand. “Oh, I’m sorry. What a beautiful fucking witch you are.”

  She lifted her hand again and he laughed. “This is your idea of how to get people to be nice to you? Hit them until they are? You’re a witch, get the fuck over it and get out of my way.” He pulled himself up and brushed himself off, paying no further mind to the witch standing there. She could cast all she wanted, but he’d get back up and he’d wish she had never come down there.

  “Do you know who I am?” the witch asked.

  His eyes raked over her, flickering gold. He cocked his head to the side. “Can't say I do,” he drawled in a bored tone.

  Something crashed behind the door at the other end of the basement, and Stephen spun around.

  “Oh, don’t worry. No one is coming,” the witch said. “Do you really think that they didn’t know you were here?”

  “If they know I am here, why did they only send you?” Realisation suddenly dawned on him and he laughed. “It is you who doesn’t know who I am, isn’t it? You have no fucking idea.”

  “You're a trespasser. That is who you are. And you are on Human property.”

  “No, darling. I fear you have been gravely misled. I am Stephen Davies.”

  A flash of fearful recognition crossed the witch’s features and she froze.

  “That’s right, darling. You’ve come to fuck with the wrong shifter.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Stephen couldn’t be certain whether the shocked expression on the witch’s face was because he had told her his name, or because Raven had come up from behind her and wrapped one of his big hands around her throat. Wide-eyed, and a look of Oh shit, I’m screwed on her face, she raised her hand in a desperate bid to cast another blow at Stephen.

  Raven’s grip tightened around her throat, forcing her head back. “You might want to reconsider,” he said silkily, leaning in close to her ear. “My fingers will be in your throat before the last of your spell is cast.”

  She paused mid move as if she was still considering her options. Her eyes darted to Stephen and Raven dug his fingers in deeper, making her gasp for air and rise onto the tip of her toes or choke.

  “I’d do as he says if I were you. He doesn’t tend to ask twice,” Stephen said as he lifted himself out of the basement once more. She quickly dropped her hand. “Smart girl.”

  Stephen dusted himself off and then tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowing. “Do you hear that?”

  Raven frowned, his hand still gripping the wheezing witch’s throat. “Hear what? I can't hear anything.”

  “Exactly.” They had made a lot of fucking noise, yet no one had come running. Stephen stared at the wide-eyed witch with disdain as she struggled to breathe. They had had it right years ago, burning them at the stake. “Did you come here of your own accord or were you sent here to deal with me?”

  The witch tried to talk, but Raven’s grip was making it virtually impossible. “Let her breathe a second, will you?”

  Raven scowled, his displeasure at easing her torment evident. “Just for a second,” he muttered. Stephen might hate witches, but Raven straight out despised them—and with good reason. It was rumoured that his mother had been a witch, and she had offered him up to the Humans to spare her life. Raven refused to talk about his childhood to anyone—even Stephen, with whom he’d been friends for years, had no idea about his upbringing. All he knew was that it must have been a shitty ordeal.

  “Answer me, witch,” Stephen demanded. They were running out of time, but his gut was trying to tell him something. “How did you come to be out here? Was it by chance that you stumbled upon me?”

  The young witch stiffened as if someone had just rammed a steel pipe up her spine. Her expression hardened and her mouth set in a determined line. She was going for anger, but the scents emanating from her were so rich with fear that they were almost palpable.

  Such a façade.

  “I don’t have to answer your questions,” she grated out.

  Stephen inched closer so that she was forced to tilt her head back to look up at him. Being stuck between two big, dangerous shifters was a precarious place for a witch to be—especially when both shifters shared an intense dislike for her kind. “They sent you out here, didn’t they? All by yourself, I bet, too.”

  She didn’t flinch, her gaze unwavering as she stared back at him.

  “I wonder,” he murmured thoughtfully, “were they sending you to end me … or sending you so that I could end you?”

  Her stare wavered for a fleeting second before she swiftly slammed shutters down over her features. It was the only indication that his words had startled her. He watched the calculation flicker in the depths of her hazel eyes and then the tightening of her jaw as realisation settled in.

  “It’s the latter, right?” He didn’t need her to answer. Her reaction had been enough. This was so fucking typical of Humans, he mused. Use Others and then off them at the first chance. Stephen took another step towards her and she instinctively tried to move back, but she was met with the large, solid wall that was Raven. She stiffened, and Raven chuckled from behind her, taking pleasure in her distress.

  Stephen took a deep breath, then lifted a hesitant hand to hover near her face, making her shrink away even though she had nowhere to go. The answers were in there, but did he really want to do this? Did he really want that part of his mind fucked up this way? “What does Patterson want with my sister and Cade?”

  “How should I know?” she muttered breathlessly.

  He hesitated then slowly nodded in acceptance. “Then I guess we have no further need for you,” he said flatly before looking at Raven. “She’s all yours, mate.”

  The young witch tensed as he turned his back on them and left her to Raven’s mercy. “Wait,” she shouted out hastily, and the panther behind her sighed disappointedly. “They don’t want your sister … or Cade.”

  Stephen slowly turned back to her and waited.

  “You really think that is their goal? They were just an opportunity that came up. Like fate.”

  He frowned as he listened. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  The witch gave a short laugh. “Maybe it is you who doesn’t get it after all. They don’t want your sister ...” She looked him straight in the eye. “They want the kid … the half-breed.”

  Stephen’s heart plummeted. “Phoenix?”

  The malevolent smile that formed on her lips made his blood run cold.

  Fuck. He had left him on his own, defenceless and unprotected. He heard Raven’s soft oath from behind the witch but he was already running in the direction of the car.

  When he neared the car, Stephen forced himself to slow, putting out feelers for any danger lurking about. After he was satisfied no one was waiting in the shadows, a gun loaded with silver pointed at his head, he ran for the car. Before he had even reached it, he could sense that everything was just … wrong. “Phoenix,” he shouted, heart thumping wildly in his chest.

  No reply.

  The back door
was wide open, and no one seemed to be around. He ducked his head to look inside and swore viciously at the sight before him. Andy sat in the car, or at least the remains of what looked like Andy. Where his eyes had once been, there were now two bloodied sockets of nothing. Blood poured from his eyes, nose and ears, and one of his limbs were missing. He was still tied up, his hands bound to the door, but one of the arms was no longer attached to his body.

  He spun around, scanning the area in desperation just as Raven sided up to him, the witch still in his grasp. “The boy?”

  “He’s fucking gone,” he growled. His arm shot out and he grabbed the witch, snatching her from Raven’s grasp as if she were nothing more than a rag doll. Her short, dark hair whipped across her face as he jerked her around. “Where is he?”

  But the witch wasn’t listening to him. Her eyes were riveted to the sight that lay behind him. She shook her head desperately, and Stephen could feel her pulse throbbing under his grasp. She pushed back against him, trying to get away. “No,” she breathed. “Oh god … Andy.” She lunged for the lifeless body in the car, but Stephen jerked her back. She started to struggle wildly in his arms, her eyes filling with tears. “Andy,” she cried out, trying to reach him.

  “He’s dead,” Stephen told her harshly. “There’s nothing you can do for him.”

  “You fucking did this,” she yelled at them. “The both of you. It’s all your fault.” She glanced at Andy once again and covered her mouth with the palm of her hand. “Why? He … he was my friend.”

  “We didn’t do this to him. This was done by the people you call friends. The people you’re protecting,” he spat.

  She tried to pull away again but Stephen yanked her back around to face him, his patience worn. “Tell me where Phoenix is.”

  “I don’t know,” she cried. “Let me go.”

  “Phoenix is nothing to them. Tell me why they want him,” he demanded.

  She glowered at him. “He’s a damn half-breed. Why do you think they want him?”