“My enemy is behind this. I know it,” he said to Rémy, putting Lily’s weapons down to turn the two prone bodies over one by one. “These two were his lackeys.” He gestured toward both with a frustrated wave.
Sébastien was above them, lingering over the pile of ash on the top of the turret. He had Lily’s small stake in his hand. With a sigh, he floated down to land beside Sean.
“Ah, what a sad night for us all. My Améile is dead,” he said with a sniff. “However, at least I know she didn’t suffer in the end.” He opened his hand to show Sean the petite silver tipped weapon.
Rémy took the tiny stake from Sébastien’s hand, careful not touch the silvered tip. “Clever workmanship. Almost scary in its practicality.”
Sean nodded. “Lily made that, and I can assure you Améile did not suffer. My alpha female may be small, but she’s strong and smart, and her aim is flawless,” he replied, placing his hand on Sébastien’s arm.
“Yes. It is a precise weapon. It’s easy to see it was intended to be both lethal as well as compassionate. Not unlike its designer, eh.” He glanced at Sean’s pained face.
“As to the redheaded one, I guess we’re not meant to learn her identity, though I’m sure she died as quickly and as painlessly as my Améile,” Sébastien said, bending to pick up another stake. “But whoever killed Chen doesn’t deserve the same swift justice. Such a heinous thing, to take someone’s heart.”
Sean didn’t comment, just stared out at the black water.
Sébastien followed his gaze and slid his arm around the wolf’s shoulder. “You think me a hypocrite to say such a thing, considering a vampire’s nature. Well, perhaps, but some of us still hold respect for other species, and respect for living as well as for the undead. I have learned much from you this past night, my lupine friend, and it will not be forgotten.” The vampire turned to glance up at the turret head again. “Your lady has done us a great service, and soon your wolves will help us deal with the aftermath. I am indebted.”
Sean inclined his head. “Thank you, Sébastien.”
The vampire glanced out over the water towards the east. “The sun will be rising soon. I must get my people to shelter. I wish I could accompany you to Maine and help you avenge tonight’s treachery. There is nothing more unsettling than to learn those you have trusted and loved, are false. The crime deserves the most painful sort of death, in my opinion.”
Sean sighed. “Unfortunately, in this instance, I have to agree. I’ve already briefed my second-in-command. My problem is, I can’t reach Lily, I can’t feel her mind. It’s void, though I know in my heart she’s not dead.”
Rémy clapped him on the back. “She is a very clever woman and a talented little witch. Though I am loath for you to tell her I said as much.” He chuckled. “She will find a way to reach you, I’m sure.”
“Thank you Rémy. And I promise you both, if I find who is responsible for Chen, I will be happy to lay them at your feet.”
The vampire laughed out loud, his ruined face like a perverse version of the theatrical comedy and tragedy mask. “I will hold you to that.” He clasped Sean’s arm the way Sébastien had when he’d first greeted them. “Go. You have a long way to travel and wolves cannot fly!” With a mischievous wink, he launched himself into the air and circled around toward the western sky. “Goodbye, my friend, and Godspeed,” his voiced whispered on the wind.
Sébastien clasped Sean’s arm as well. “Godspeed indeed. And you are always welcome. No parlay necessary.” With a chuckle, he launched himself into the air, his call to his people echoing like a lark’s song in the air.
***
Lily’s chin was pressed into her chest, and her head throbbed. Half awake, she cracked one eye open, but closed it again, too tired to sustain the effort. Her shoulders ached and her arms were stiff. Unusual smells tickled her nose, and she sneezed, her arms jerking in the process from where she’d been bound. Completely awake, she opened both eyes, the realization dawning that she’d been strung up like a side of beef.
Why was Jack holding her in a barn? Didn’t he say she was the bargaining chip he and Parr needed to lure Sean back to the compound? Hell, she didn’t even know if she was in Maine.
Her mouth was a dry crust, and her tongue had cemented itself to the roof of her mouth, but she forced herself to look around, peeling her tongue down from her inside palate. A dull ache throbbed at the back of her skull, and tiny pins and needles bit into her hands and arms where she was tied at the wrists above her head.
Her head hurt so much, she must have smacked it on something. Probably Jack’s fist, the traitor, but truth was, her memory toward the end was sketchy. The last thing she recalled was Jack killing the redhead. It didn’t matter, though. She was here because of Jack’s betrayal, and that fact remained crystal clear.
She kicked at the dirt below her feet. She needed to concentrate and find a way out of here. There was nothing to the dilapidated building, and from the huge holes all around, she’d bet dollars to donuts the structure was abandoned. Blue tyvek paper covered the largest of the holes, but it was frayed at the edges and torn in places where the wind had forced its way through. Wood shingles dotted the ground from where they’d fallen from the ceiling, and gusts of wind from the gaps left in the roof stirred up dust and debris. The floor was nothing more than frozen earth, and stale hay hung in clusters from an upper loft that had definitely seen better days.
Half a dozen feet away, smoke curled from a hollow oil drum, the glowing embers inside the only thing keeping Lily from freezing to death. How considerate.
Her ears perked up at the distinct rumble of a tractor in the distance. With people around, it might mean a chance at rescue, though somehow she doubted it.
A warm, sweet scent rode just below the smell of barn debris, and her mouth watered just enough for her to swallow. She inhaled again, trying to identify the scent, and her chin jerked up at the olfactory memory it stirred. Terry’s grandparent’s farm and the scent of fresh milk! That was the scent, and it meant Jack was holding her for Parr at a dairy farm. Were there many of those in Maine? Christ, she hoped not.
Excited, she opened her mind to call to Sean, but slammed it shut again, forgetting for a moment about Jack’s telepathic road block. There was no way she could risk being incapacitated again. Fruitless anger suffused her body with heat. How did she miss the signs that Jack was working both ends? How did Sean? Nausea rose at the back of her throat. Because they both loved him, that’s why. She balled her fists together, ignoring the pain in her wrists from the rope. Jack was a dead man. That is, if she could figure out a way to reach Sean.
Resting her chin on her chest, she concentrated on what she had to work with. Not much with me half hogtied. Her head came up again. Half…
Lily gripped the rope above the knots at her wrists and lifted her legs straight out and waist height. The rope held. Thank God. Gritting her teeth, she swung her legs up and over her head, and wrapped them around the braided nylon. Ha! Sean doesn’t call me the flexible flyer for no reason!
The tension on the nylon was severe, and even with her in a jackknife position, her body weight just added to it, pulling the knots tighter. God, she could use a bowie knife or a straight edge about now.
Voices drifted past on the opposite side of the tyvek, and she froze. If Jack or anyone of Parr’s acolytes caught her now—she held her breath and held still. Her eyes darted around, but with her wrists tied she was helpless. Unless…
Six feet away on the bottom sill of one of the small egress windows, she spotted a small, thin box, red and gold with one word written on the cover in old fashioned lettering. Gillette. Lily grinned. Seek and ye shall find!
Pushing and pulling on the rope, she swung herself sideways, straining to reach the tiny box and praying, first—to get close enough to catch the box between her palms without dropping it, and second—that it had blades inside.
Sweat broke out on her forehead and she wiped it on the rope, grateful f
or the cold draft coming from the holes in the roof. One more pass should do it. Her luck held, and she palmed the little square box. Sticking it in her teeth, she let her feet drop back to the floor, dragging her heels in the dirt to slow the rope’s momentum.
Once the rope was steady, she hoisted her legs once more and hooked them acrobat style, bringing her face to her fingers. She took the box from between her teeth and opened the top flap.
Two straight razors. Thank God.
She closed the box with the spare blade inside and slid it back between her teeth before concentrating on the blade in her hand. Completely focused, Lily held the razor between her thumb and two fingers, glad for the tension on the rope, despite the pain it caused in her wrists.
With small movements, she cut fiber by fiber, each muffled tick a metronome counting off the minutes. Two thirds of the way through, she froze. The weakened rope groaned, and then pop, pop, pop, fibers snapped under her weight. The rope gave, and she dropped to the floor, landing with a whoompf in a cloud of barn dust.
Her head snapped back, making the dull ache at the back of her head scream. Her eyes watered, and she squeezed her nose to stop from sneezing, almost blowing out her eyeballs instead. She scrambled behind some old hay bales, and sat back on her heels. So far, so good.
“You can do this, Lily. You’re almost there,” she mumbled over the box still in her teeth. She turned the blade over in her fingers, and taking short, measured breaths through her nose, worked the largest knot closest to the top of her wrists. Her saliva had saturated the thin cardboard, and it tasted of dust and lord knows what else. Her throat spasmed and she leaned over to finally spit the wet box to the ground, swallowing back on her gag reflex.
Concentrating on the task at hand, she sliced methodically through the coils. They came apart and she slumped down, exhausted, dropping the blade to the dirt and rubbing the raw skin encircling her wrists. Closing her eyes, she let her head drop back, a murmured, “Thank you,” on her lips.
She sat for a moment just listening, before reaching for the limp razor box. The wet cardboard came apart in her hand and she pocketed the spare blade, just in case.
“Okay girlfriend, let’s blow this pop stand,” she murmured, as she pushed herself to standing.
Her eyes moved from wall to wall, and up to the loft. But nothing looked feasible, not unless she wanted to slash her way through the tyvek. The main barn doors were the only real way out. They stood thirty feet ahead, but for all she knew, Jack had probably wired them for motion and sound.
Looking around, she exhaled sharply. She didn’t come this far to wait like a sitting duck for Jack to hand deliver her to Parr. She wiped her hands on her pants, her eyes traveling back to the egress window where she’d found the razors.
The opening was small, but promising. She could definitely wriggle through, if she could find a way past the noise of having to break the glass.
Lower lip between her teeth, Lily maneuvered her way up the wall, wedging her feet between two side beams, holding her breath the entire time until she was sure they’d hold. She hooked her hands onto the bottom sill, and tried the window. Just as she’d thought. Stuck. Her head was pounding at this point. Tiny spots of light danced in her peripheral vision and she frowned. Now is when her concussion decided to kick in? I don’t think so.
Pushing the dull headache away, she squinted, and cocked her elbow. The aim was to tap the old glass. If the window frame was rotted enough, perhaps the entire pane would just give. “Please fall,” she whispered to herself as she tapped at the edges and corners of the glass. The wood frame cracked, and a muffled pop at one corner sent her adrenaline spiking. Control was the key. Her breath hitched in her throat, and with her fingertips splayed evenly across the glass, she gave the thin pane a gentle push. Lily cringed waiting for the sound of shattering glass, but there was nothing but a soft thud.
Hoisting herself up, she peered over the back end of the sill, not sure what to expect. Fresh air washed over her face and she looked down. The glass was intact, having fallen vertically into the winter-bare scrub growing along the side of the barn. If this wasn’t life or death, Lily would have laughed out loud.
She shimmied out of the empty window, careful not to break the glass with her torso as she skimmed the sharp, spindly twigs and crouched beside the bushes. As far as she could see, there wasn’t a soul around. The faint glow of the sun in the overcast sky told her it was well past midday, which meant she had a good three hours of daylight to help her find her way out of here.
A thick branch lay broken in half across rows of muddy tractor marks leading out toward a far field. Lily licked her lips, looking across both her shoulders before darting out to grab one of the halves. It was the perfect weight and length to do some damage, not to mention it fit perfectly into the palm of her hand. “Just a little longer than a Japanese Short Stick,” she chuckled to herself, twirling it up and then down in a practiced motion.
“Hey! Hey you! What are you doing there?” A deep voice yelled from the corner edge of the barn.
Lily’s head jerked toward the sound, and she stood motionless for a moment, trying to gauge if the man was a civilian or one of Parr’s men.
He took a step toward Lily, his eyes bulging with fear. “Holy shit! Quinn, get Marcus or for sure we’ll be Parr’s newest lab rats! The girl got out!”
Lily took off running, but it was too late. Damn it. What was she thinking standing there like an idiot? The alarm had been sounded, and it would be only minutes before wolves would be snapping and growling behind her. A lot of good that stick would do her now. She couldn’t out run the wolves, and she was too outnumbered to fight, but if she could make it to the road, she might stand a chance.
“I’ve got her scent. She’s headed toward the back pasture.” One voice growled.
“Good, keep her moving that way, and I’ll cut her off before she hits the milking shed and road east. If she hit’s that, she’ll be too close to the road and out of range.”
East. The road was east of here. She stopped and squatted beside a broken down tractor, squinting up at the sky to get her bearings. Finding her position, she crouched, running as best she could through a fallow field toward what looked to be a barren orchard. At least the trees would give her some cover. “Thank you, boys,” she muttered to herself.
Whoever they were, it was obvious they had phased to wolf form, but someone must have missed the memo that she could tap into the common Were path.
Jack would be monitoring the telepathic traffic for sure, but he couldn’t monitor everyone, the network was just too far-reaching to block. This time, she didn’t need to work the averages. He’d monitor only those he knew could help her—Sean, Mitch and the other hunters—Rissa, too. Lily smiled coldly. In his arrogance she knew he’d forget one very small, but very important detail. He’d never think to monitor Stephie.
Lily knew exactly how she would reach Sean. Now all she needed was to figure out where she was.
She hopped a low stone fence and headed into the orchard. The spread of trees wasn’t that deep, only ten rows, so her cover wasn’t going to last. She stayed low, running from tree to tree, and only stopping to check her bearings. When she reached the last row, she squatted down again to listen, using both her ears and her mind.
It was too quiet.
Cautious, she opened her senses to scan the area, but got nothing but static, just like she had two months ago, when Sean had first brought her to the Compound. Looks like Jack learned that trick as well from Volkmann’s notes.
Underhanded bastard.
She straightened, but the sound of leaves rustling pulled her attention and she glanced over her shoulder. A squirrel scurried along foraging in the leaves. She smiled at herself for being so jumpy and turned back, only to freeze in mid-motion.
Jack.
He wore his trademark half-smile as he leaned against one of the trees, his foot propped on a broken apple crate. She half expected him to tease
her or break into a full on grin at her expense. He looked the same as ever, but the reality was the Jack she loved like a brother, was gone.
Quietly stunned, Lily’s grin faded.
“What, not happy to see me?” he asked, pushing himself away from the tree, but his shift in weight sent his foot crashing through the rotted crate. He lurched forward, swearing and landed on his hands.
The scene unfolded in slow motion, and from the corner of her eye she noticed a stamped logo on the jagged edge of the crate. Bradford Farms Dairy. She finally knew where she was, but she wasn’t going to stick around to verify it.
She took off running, heading out of the trees and down an embankment. One hundred feet ahead, she heard the sound of cars passing on the road. If she could just reach there before Jack caught up to her… He was shouting as he ran, and then there was nothing but the wind and the sound of his growls. He had phased.
Horns blared as Lily skidded into the street, breathless, with Jack on her heels. They swerved to avoid hitting her, but no one stopped, not with a large grey wolf menacing on the grassy shoulder. Jack lunged, sending a blue ford sliding across the wet pavement.
Tires screeched, filling the air with the scent of burning rubber and the sound of metal crashing against a utility pole. A man was thrown from the vehicle, and Lily ran towards the steaming wreck, but Jack’s teeth sunk into her leg and she screamed, hitting the pavement as he dragged her back toward the shoulder. People shouted from the other side of the road, some with cell phones in hand. Whether they were calling the police or filming the horrific seen, she didn’t know. Either way, this place would be crawling with cops or television crews soon enough.
A black SUV skidded to a stop in the middle of the mess. Two men got out and grabbed Lily by her arms, shoving her into the backseat. Pain shot through her leg along with the warm, wet feel of blood slick on her skin. Fast and furious, they climbed in after her and took off, tires squealing on the pavement behind.
Twice Cursed Page 30
