by Petra Landon
The Alpha stood by the door to the room, his head cocked to listen.
She walked towards him. “Look what I found” she whispered triumphantly.
He glanced at the small evening purse she held out to him.
“Phone?” he inquired.
“Yes.” Tasia nodded.
“Good. We’ll need it.”
He listened for another moment before turning to her.
“Here’s the plan” he said. “We’re going to make a run for it. There’re six men in the building. Stay behind me until we get to the street. Once out, we get as far away as we can. Then, we stash ourselves somewhere safe, and you call Duncan.”
Tasia nodded. She wasn’t to use her magic — he’d do the heavy lifting.
“Do you have Duncan’s number?” he asked her.
“No.” A puzzled Tasia shook her head. “I have Hawk’s” she offered.
“Once you’re safe, call Hawk and get Duncan’s number. Tell Duncan where we are and ask him to come get us. Don’t show yourself to anyone else. Alright?”
“But …” She hesitated. He seemed to suggest that they might be separated.
“Here.” He pulled off his tattered shirt to hold it out to her. “Put this on. It’ll be cold, and this is better than nothing.”
Tasia accepted the shirt, knowing that he would not feel the chill while she would. She wished their captors had dumped her jacket too, along with her purse in the room.
“I’m running on adrenaline and air” he admitted abruptly. “I’ll get us out of here, but once on the street, I might not be of much help. They’ll be looking for us. Like I said, stash us somewhere safe and call Duncan. He’ll handle it.”
Tasia studied him, the shirt hanging limply over her dress. “Are you hurt?”
“Silver poisoning. I can feel it in my blood. Those bastards pumped me with silver.”
He reached for the edges of the oversized shirt that hung over her slight frame to tie the ends together securely. Now it would not flap around her, hindering her.
Sensing her anxiety, he took a moment to reassure her.
“I was exposed to silver in the past, and survived to tell the tale.” He was back to his implacable self, but the voice had gentled with more than a hint of reassurance.
Tasia nodded, somewhat reassured.
“Alright?” he asked again.
“Yes” she said softly.
“Here goes.”
He stepped back to swing at the door powerfully with one foot. The door splintered, with a few mighty blows from the Shifter. Reaching through the broken remnants of wood, he unbolted it from the other side.
“Come.” He held his hand out to her, kicking clear the hanging wood frame of the broken door.
Tasia stepped gingerly through the door into a poorly lit hallway outside. The Alpha guided her unerringly down it to a staircase. As they approached it, two men rushed at them in the dark. He made short shrift of them, his fists pounding relentlessly and with precision, while Tasia hung back. As the Wizards went down, he reached for her hand again to lead her down the stairs.
Tasia, blinded by the near darkness, followed carefully in his wake. Somewhere midway down the stairs, three dark silhouettes rushed at them.
“Wait here.” He placed her hand on the rails before leaping forward to deal with the men. A few loud thuds, a shriek, and the sound of a body tumbling down the stairs was all Tasia could hear. Disoriented by the impenetrable darkness around her, she tried to stay calm.
“Done.” He clasped her palm again to guide her down the stairs, their progress agonizing slow in the darkness.
“There’s one more Wizard in the house” she whispered.
“I can smell him” he acknowledged. “Probably calling for reinforcements.”
Tasia sighed in silent frustration. Her pumps had modest heels, but they were not meant for what she was attempting here. Plus, in the near total darkness, she was afraid to go any faster, lest she wrench her ankle or break something — that would inevitably slow them down even more.
“Hang on.”
That was all the warning she had before he swung her into his arms, leaping down the stairs as Tasia held on for dear life. Suddenly, she was set down to feel solid ground under her feet. A door loomed large before them. He undid the latch expertly, his night eyes an advantage, to pull the door open. Two steps and they were out on the street with the moonlight bathing them. He clicked the door shut behind him to clasp her hand again.
“Let’s go.”
Tasia would remember that final dash from the house on Russian Hill, their path barely lit by street lights and the moon. This was one of the steeper parts of San Francisco and the going was tough for her, still under the effects of the drugs in her system. The wind whipped at her as she ran, trying to keep up, even though she knew that he slowed down considerably for her. She lost all track of time as they ran, her hand clasped in his, her heart pounding from the rush of fear and danger. The adrenaline and exercise helped temporarily to keep the worst of the chill at bay.
Just as she was flagging, he pulled her into an alley to pause before a wooden gate. A shove and the gate swung open, its rusty latch no match for him. He led her inside, careful to swing the gate back into position to look undisturbed. They were in a small shared garden of the kind familiar to residents of the city where old homes were being converted into multiple single-family apartments at breakneck speed, as the neighborhoods gentrified. He led them up the stairs to a small entryway with a door. It was a good vantage point to keep watch — they’d see anyone coming through the gate they’d just broken through.
“No one’s in here.” He pointed at the door behind them. “But there’re two people downstairs.” He pointed to the apartment below whose door she could vaguely see.
Spent, Tasia flopped down on the top step, gasping for breath after the mad run.
He held out his hand. “Phone.”
Tasia reached into the purse she’d kept a death grip on, to pull it out. Unlocking it, she placed it in his hand.
He punched in a number quickly to hold the phone to his ear.
“Alright?” he asked her.
Tasia nodded, too winded to spell it out. She studied him, bathed more clearly by the moonlight than he’d been in the cage. Now, she could see the strain of the poison coursing through him, unsteady on his feet and almost off balance, the handsome face ashen and haggard. She sensed that only his incredible iron-will held him back from staggering. Tasia studied him in awe for breaking them out and getting them this far by a combination of sheer grit, tenacity and resolve. Only now could she see how exhausted and drained he was by his tryst with silver and the cage. At least he seemed sanguine and unconcerned by the prospect of pursuit. She concluded that they’d made it safely out without anyone following them.
“Duncan” he said the name simply into the cell, the single word reiterating to Tasia how much the Alpha trusted the English Shifter.
They were more than comrades, after all, she reminded herself. From what the Alpha had hinted, Duncan had been with him through some of the Alpha’s toughest times.
“Where are you, Raoul?” The urgency and relief in Duncan’s usual placid tones came through clearly. “Are you all right?”
“The witchling and I were ambushed.”
“I know. We found your car this morning, riddled with bullets.”
“They pumped me with silver — I can feel it” Raoul explained succinctly, confident that Duncan would get the implication.
“Where are you?” Duncan inquired calmly, after an infinitesimal pause.
“By the alley on Leavenworth. Near the coffee place you like.”
“Sit tight. I’m on my way.”
“I can’t hold on much longer, Duncan. The silver’s too strong.”
“Understood. How’s Tasia?”
“She’s safe. This is her cell I’m using. Use it to find us, Duncan.”
“Rest easy, my boy. The cavalry is
on its way.”
Raoul hung up to hold the cell out to her, before planting himself on the step beside her. He’d told her the truth. The silver sloshing around his system would have felled another Shifter. His hard-won immunity to the poisonous metal was what had saved him. Otherwise, he’d be toast now. The irony of it, he mused bitterly.
The realization of how close to the brink he’d come tonight had urged him to get them away, giving him a final spurt of strength when he’d believed himself spent. But it was the thought of how vulnerable she would be without him that had spurred him on. Running on fumes, the additional exposure to silver from the cage had not helped his cause.
“Duncan’s on his way.” He closed his eyes wearily to lean against the staircase.
With her cell clutched in her hand like a lifeline, Tasia watched him, alarmed by what she glimpsed on his face. The good-looking face of hard angles and shadows hinted at vulnerability for the first time since she had known him. His lids hid the remarkable gold eyes that could switch from cold indifference to glacial implacability in a heartbeat. Those eyes occasionally provided a window into this enigmatic man. For the first time, she wished she could see them. Teeth chattering in the bracing cold, her eyes searched his face in repose. He was a man who would go to great lengths to hide any sign of vulnerability from the world. Thus, to see him like this, curiously defenseless, alarmed her, awakening something deep in her heart she was not yet ready to acknowledge.
The gold eyes opened with an effort, perhaps sensing her regard.
“You’re cold” he remarked, holding out his hand to her with the last of his strength.
The thought popped into her head that there was something so profound in such a casual gesture from him. Perhaps, the cage had brought down a few barriers between them. Tasia grasped his hand, allowing him to draw her to him.
He put his arm around her to clasp her to him as he slumped back. Tasia allowed her head to rest carefully on his chest. The bare skin on the hard chest was unaccountably hot to the touch. He was burning up.
“It’s the silver” he muttered against her hair. “It’s an infection my body needs to fight.”
She lay still against him, allowing the heat from his body to warm her as he wrapped a second arm around her to hold her closer. His heart raced under her ear, his breaths uneven as they huffed against her hair. They sat entwined in silence with the night surrounding them, a kind of peace between them for the first time since Hawk had escorted her to the Pack Room on a night months ago to meet his Alpha.
Suddenly and without warning, the arms clasping her went slack. Tasia, warmed now from the bone-chilling cold by the extraordinary heat emanating from him, moved away to study him in concern.
“Can’t hold on anymore, witchling” he muttered, his eyes unfocused as if he were almost gone.
He turned to her urgently. “If anyone but Duncan comes through that gate, you run like hell. Use your magic, if you need it. I’ll deal with the consequences …” His voice trailed off as he slumped against the rails.
Tasia held his head up, trying to make him comfortable as he slumped into deeper unconsciousness. She knew nothing about Shifters and how they dealt with silver in their system, but Tasia was relieved to note that, though the gold depths had been curiously unfocused this last time, the wildness she’d glimpsed in the cage had been completely absent. Duncan would be here soon, she reassured herself. He would know what to do. Until then, she would watch over him. His last words to her reverberated in her head. If in any danger, she was to run and leave him behind. And to use her magic to protect herself — he would deal with the consequences. Something squeezed at her heart as she watched him, his words playing through her mind. His chest rose rhythmically with his breaths and in sleep, he looked serene and young, even a little vulnerable. Tasia, bereft of his warmth, felt the chill come back to claim her in the thin dress and shirt wrapped over it.
What had happened tonight, she wondered, trying to make sense of it. He’d clearly come very close to the edge in the cage. Her frequent nightmares of the shed had made her appreciate a Shifter’s constant struggle between his two counterparts, but watching him struggle in the cage tonight to not go under and lose himself had had a profound impact on Tasia. The nightmares had helped her understand the physical pain, the constant vulnerability of a Shifter, the desperate struggle to survive and the debilitating effects of silver on a Shifter’s control. But after tonight, she could also understand the bitterness of a Shifter against beings who would force him into a death struggle for his very sense of self. How could any creature, especially a Chosen who understood the unique challenges that Magicks faced, inflict such torture on another?
A Shifter, by his very nature, would always engage in a lifelong struggle for control and balance between his beast and human. That was the conundrum of a Shifter’s existence. But what Tasia had witnessed tonight was a Shifter forced into a horrendous battle for his very soul on a precipice where life and death teetered in an intimate embrace. She was shaken by it — no creature, human or Chosen, could be this cruel to another, surely, she wondered. The camera in the room had been no coincidence. Not content with making the Alpha struggle for his soul, they had also intended to make a public spectacle of a very personal struggle, their goal the public humiliation of a private and reserved man.
Tasia felt the beginnings of an unfamiliar rage unfurl in her. What kind of person would intend harm to another in such a grievous manner? What kind of Chosen would exploit intimate knowledge of a Shifter’s very psyche to destroy his soul?
When Duncan showed up thirty minutes later, Tasia waited for him by the stairs. By then, the Alpha was out to the world, slumped by the stairs and watched over by an anxious Tasia. Duncan’s presence was like a balm to a Tasia, who’d had her world turned upside down in many ways tonight.
“Raoul?” he inquired tersely.
“He’s unconscious.”
She led the way up the stairs to where the Alpha lay slumped on the step.
Tasia watched the burly English Shifter check on the Alpha, before lifting him up in a fireman’s hold. She took a moment to appreciate Duncan’s phenomenal strength. The Alpha was a big man, but Duncan made it look easy.
Duncan looked grim as he stashed his burden in the back seat of the SUV, taking the time to make the Alpha comfortable, before ushering Tasia into the passenger seat.
“Is he …?” She hesitated.
Tasia had assumed that the uneven breaths meant that the Alpha was merely fighting off the silver. To her, his very breaths were evidence that the silver had not had a fatal effect. It had helped her to hold herself together while she waited for Duncan in the dark.
“Too much silver in his blood” Duncan confirmed. “It’s knocked him out. This will allow him to heal faster. What happened?” he asked, starting the car. “We found Raoul’s car this morning. Since then, we’ve been searching frantically for you both.”
“This morning?” Tasia looked nonplussed. “We were ambushed on our way back from Atsá’s party.”
“The party was last night.”
“Last night” she murmured. It meant that she’d been out for an entire day.
That was how the Alpha had come so close to the edge, she realized. He’d been exposed to silver for almost twenty-four hours. How had he survived that, she wondered anew. A stunned Tasia wondered how he could muster the strength to hold on, despite the massive dose of silver, and eventually break them out.
“Sorry.” She glanced at Duncan, patiently waiting to hear the story. “I’m not sure what happened. I remember an ambush on our way back from Atsá’s. There was a garbage truck blocking our way. Some men in it shot at us. The Alpha used his body to protect me but he was bleeding. He said they were shooting silver at us. When I woke up a couple of hours ago, my head felt heavy and there was a weird taste in my mouth.”
“You were drugged” Duncan said.
“That’s what I guessed” she admitted. “The Alph
a and I were in a cage.”
“A cage.” There was an undercurrent of palpable fury in the usually placid tones.
“Yes.” Tasia now understood why a Shifter would find the idea of being caged an outrage. “The bars burnt his skin when he touched them. The Alpha said the cage was reinforced with silver. There was a camera pointed at us. He took out the camera, got us out of the cage and the house. Then, we waited for you.”
Tasia kept the explanation brief, with just the relevant details. There’d be time later to discuss the details. She felt a curious reluctance to reveal the Alpha’s struggle in the cage. Duncan, she knew, was as close to the Alpha as he allowed anyone to get, but to Tasia’s mind, it should be the Alpha’s decision to share the details of his experience.
“How’d you get out of the cage?” Duncan asked.
“He bent the bars enough to allow me to crawl through and I opened the door to let him out.”
Sensing Duncan’s silent regard, Tasia offered him more. Like the Alpha, Duncan was aware of the power she could command. And she trusted the English Shifter.
“I protected his hands from the silver, but he was forced to lie on the bars when we tried to pry open the cage door.”
“Were they Chosen?” Duncan’s laidback manner was missing tonight.
Tasia nodded. “There were six Wizards in the house with us, Duncan. The Alpha flattened five on our way out.”
“Wizards” Duncan repeated grimly.
“None that I’ve met before.” Tasia knew that Duncan would understand. Her power allowed her to sense the inherent magic flowing through a Chosen’s veins, almost like a signature.
“Powerful?”
“Magic level six to seven, I’d say” Tasia said slowly, attempting to recall what she had sensed amidst the chaos and the terror.
Duncan was silent for a few minutes, ruminating on what she had revealed.
