“One Fireball coming up.” He grinned and hopped forward like an eager puppy. Boys. She was probably ten years older than he was. Truth be told, she had no idea how old she actually was. She’d looked like this since she was twenty-two and had made her first jump. After that, despite her parents’, and Bran’s, protests, they hadn’t been able to stop her. She’d spent two weeks here, three days there, planet hopping between Earth and Itara, and exploring both the future and the past. After a while, her birthdays got kinda hard to track. When she’d jumped the first time, her oldest brother had been nineteen. And, since she always jumped back home to the same anchor point, the same time and day she’d left? Twenty-two? Fifty? Who cared? Time was kind of irrelevant to her anyway.
“Do you have to work all night?” She smiled at him and lifted her hands to the bar top so she could “accidentally” brush the fingers of her left hand over the back of his when he gave her the shot glass.
“No. I’m off in fifteen.” He lingered as she lifted the glass to rub it along her bottom lip before throwing the cinnamon schnapps and Tabasco sauce back. She placed the empty directly into his hand.
“Another one.” Fifteen minutes. She could survive for fifteen minutes. Right? But if she was going to have to put up with a strange man groping her so she could get the hell out of here, no matter how cute his black hair and dimples, she was going to need another drink.
She’d let him drive her to his place, go in, and knock him out with the telepathy she’d inherited from her father. The talent had come in handy since she’d been stuck here. Saved her life more than once. She’d just have to come back for her car tomorrow. Or not. It was a ten-year-old piece of junk she’d bought for a couple thousand in cash. Thanks to Bran’s meticulous planning, and years of visiting Earth herself, she had millions of dollars stashed in bank accounts under various names, and the identification to go with each one. She’d closed one account when she first arrived and stashed the cash in several safe deposit boxes scattered around the city. She had more than enough money to buy a new car.
He poured her another shot and she lifted the small glass again, slowly this time, so she could rub it all over her lips and make sure the man got the message. He stared at her mouth like he was hypnotized by it.
“You want to wait around a few minutes? I’d love to buy you a drink when I get off.”
She smiled and leaned forward. “I thought maybe I could just fix you a drink at your place.”
He straightened and stared at her a few seconds. She was dead serious. “Sure. That sounds great. Don’t go anywhere.” He tapped the bar and moved down the line to the rest of the patrons he’d been ignoring to flirt with her.
Emma sighed and poured the shot into a half-empty and abandoned beer mug on her left while his back was turned, and resigned herself to waiting. Fifteen minutes and she had her ticket out of here. Her friends would miss her, but she couldn’t see them again anyway. Time for a clean break.
The cinnamon alcohol made her throat burn, but she didn’t mind. She needed a jolt. But two shots, and she’d get that warm fuzzy feeling that made her careless. Not a good idea tonight, not with her jump ability broken and Hunters tracking her like bloodhounds.
Surely, she could hide for fifteen minutes. She tried to look outside, past the glass garage doors, into the shadows in the streets. But it was dark out, and the bright lights from the interior of the bar held nothing but reflections. She saw her reflection, the brown wig and big, sad eyes. Was that really her?
Well, that forlorn little lost girl couldn’t be the auburn-haired beauty everyone told her was destined to tame a King.
Yeah. She could hide for a few more minutes.
She turned back to face the bar and lifted her head, scanning the line of faces sitting or standing around her. Some were drinking, some waiting for their alcohol fix. All smiling and laughing, no sluts or players here. Mostly older, married people, in jeans and T-shirts. Most of the people in this bar knew who they were and already had what they wanted.
And then she saw him.
Dark green eyes devoured her with their gaze from the other end of the bar. He had gorgeous hair that shone like polished mahogany in the bar’s faint light. A deep shade of brown, it was just long enough to frame his face, and just long enough that she could wrap her hands in it and not see them again until she released him.
He was Itaran. An Immortal. She was sure of it. She’d seen enough of the gorgeous males growing up to know power when she saw it. The knowledge had been hard-won, as both Bran and her parents had been determined to keep her as far from the Immortals on Itara as they could. Which she’d always thought was a cruel joke. They expected her to rule the Immortals one day, but never see one? Ridiculous.
She was a jumper. And curious. And she’d taken her chances on more than one occasion, jumping to the few cities on Itara where she knew she’d be one more human among many, lingering in places where the human government and the Itaran mingled. Straining for a glimpse of the elusive Immortals. Humans outnumbered them on Itara, by about a hundred thousand to one, which just made catching a glimpse of one in person equivalent to a human in this bar meeting a rock star or famous actress in person.
In other words, nearly impossible, if you were a normal, everyday citizen.
She wasn’t. And neither was the male sitting across the bar, staring at her like he knew, like he could see her through the wig and contacts.
The Mark on her ankle sent a jolt of pain through her leg, like she’d just been stung by a bee. She jumped in her seat. Scared. Surprised.
No.
Not now. She wondered what the Immortal would do if the Triscani walked in. Help her? Or walk away?
She was afraid she was about to find out. Too bad, really. He was hot. Smoking hot. Tangle me up in the sheets and not get out of bed for a week hot. Not that it would do her any good. No, her whole life, the only thing her parents or Bran had told her was that she had to wait, meet the Lost King, fall in love, save the world, and live happily ever after. Not once had her dad said, “Go hook up with a smoking-hot criminal in a bar and have some fun. It’s all right, honey. Just get it out of your system.”
Shit. She had to get the hell out of there. Now. She’d have to take her chances with the Hunters. If she waited for the human bartender to try to take her home, she was afraid she’d be in deep, deep trouble with that sexy Itaran across the bar. She couldn’t touch him, even accidentally. If her Mark jumped onto his ankle, there was no way she could get it back unless he chose to reject it, and her. And if not? Lifelong commitment to an Immortal criminal, one who was most likely linked to a Triad on Earth? Marriage from hell wouldn’t even come close to an apt description.
He had to be living here. Which meant he was in exile, a criminal condemned to the chute. The Itarans had few absolute laws, and only two punishments for their people. Execution by Angel’s Fire at the hands of the House of Judgment, or shot off into a trans-dimensional portal like an egg down a tube. Destination? Permanent exile on Earth. Earth was their freaking penal colony.
If he lived here, he’d arrived via option number two. Which meant he’d survived the other Immortals already here, and joined one of the dangerous and very territorial Immortal ruling Triads. From what Bran told her, they made the human mafia look like kindergarten bullies.
There were three crimes that ensured an Immortal’s automatic execution on Itara, murder of another Immortal, possession of a soul stone, or treason to the Queen. The rest, the millions of possibilities, from rape to theft, got the chute. Most died as soon as they arrived here, hunted and executed immediately by the Itarans already here. Every Immortal who survived the chute was a threat to their rule, their power base here on Earth.
Bran had explained it all to her years ago, said she needed to know everything if she was going to rule with her Lost King. Said she needed to know what she’d be up against if she survived the battle with the Triscani.
But there was no King here
, just a sexy-as-sin Immortal criminal, two run-of-the-mill Triscani Hunters, and the other, the patient one, the captain. The evil being who stalked her dreams and called her name while she slept. He was close. She could feel his anger and frustration. Maybe he couldn’t deal with the fact that she continued to elude him. And she would again.
Four Immortals at one damn bar was waaaaay over her limit.
Chapter Two
Emma tossed a twenty-dollar bill on the counter and ducked down below the bar top to grab her bag. She’d make it to the bathroom and replace the wig she wore with the shorter, blonde one she always carried in her giant shoulder bag. She’d switch her short, black leather jacket for the dark green and gold Oregon Duck’s hoodie, wait for someone to leave, and fall in behind them like a leech. As soon as she cleared the parking lot, she’d run like hell. Time for a new everything.
Nothing but dust and a few clothes at her apartment. And her job at the Daily? Nothing. Something to keep her busy. The thought hurt, but she didn’t dare even say goodbye to her friends. If the Hunters were outside, watching her, and she spoke to any of them, she’d just be putting their lives in danger. Better to leave with a clean break.
She might not be able to jump at the moment, but she could hide. For a long, long time. She was beginning to suspect that she’d be Hunter chow if she stayed in this town one more night.
Emma picked up her shoulder bag and decided to skip the bathroom. She really didn’t have time for that. The Immortal who watched her from across the bar followed her with his eyes as she abandoned Holly’s beer in front of her and made a beeline for the door. She grabbed her still wet rain gear, threw it around her shoulders and walked out into the cool night air. She had a fifteen-minute walk to her apartment at the Crane Lofts and to her car. She’d have to leave her clothes. The loft came furnished, and she wasn’t willing to die for shampoo and toothpaste, and a few shoes.
She put her hood up in her chin down and walked like she was late for an appointment. The sharp clip of her boot heels on the concrete sidewalk kept her company and she put several blocks behind her without looking up. It was only nine o’clock on a Friday night. That was early in the Pearl District neighborhood and there were many people out enjoying the warmer weather. She increased her pace to a light jog and ignored the odd looks of the people she passed. She had one destination in mind, her car.
Emma laughed when she touched the hood of the ten-year-old sedan, her relief so great that it needed an outlet. She pulled the car keys from her pocket and had the door unlocked when the dark shadow appeared in the corner of her right eye.
The Hunter was huge, but not the biggest she’d seen. He walked straight toward her, but stopped a few steps away. His hideous face looked like melted black wax, and the hands that peeked out from the sleeves of his long trench coat looked like they’d been carved from black onyx, the claws on his fingertips sharper than a samurai sword.
“Get away from me. What do you want?” Emma wanted to shout at it, scream in its face. But she wouldn’t give her enemy the satisfaction of seeing her fear. She knew the creature was immortal, and that he would hear her even if she whispered the words from a hundred yards away.
“Come.’ The monster held out his hand to her as if he were a gallant gentleman caller and not a killer.
“No. I don’t think so.” She took two steps back, ready to bolt, when she heard the strange metallic hissing of the second creature behind her. Two of them. So, she’d been right about that. Where was the third? And why weren’t they attacking?
“Come.” The creature standing near the trunk of her car took a step closer and waited.
Emma risked a glance back over her right shoulder to find the other Triscani Hunter standing squarely in the space between her bumper and the car that she had parked next to. There would be no getting past him. She ran every day to keep in shape, but her five-foot-two frame wasn’t exactly equipped to start jumping over cars. Which left her with option number two, burning them up.
“I wish that you Hunters would just leave me the hell alone.” Emma dropped her bag and pulled the hood off her head. If she was going to fry these evil cretins, she’d have to touch them, skin to skin. She looked at the hand that the first Triscani still held out her. Or, skin to stone. Or whatever the hell these things were made of.
She dropped the rain coat, pulled her thin leather jacket off her shoulders and let it slide to the ground, then pulled up the sleeves of her sweater past her elbows. The wig she wore covered the sides of her face and her neck, more skin she might need them to have access to. The trick was going to be getting them both to touch her at the same time. Because once she started to burn, she wouldn't be able to move until she was done. She needed to kill both of them now, not fry one and let the other escape with her secrets. But that was the best case scenario.
Worst case? The second would stay, and wait, and discover that after she burned one of them up she lost consciousness for a few minutes. She was a sitting duck. If she didn’t get them both, she was dead meat.
No, she had to get both of them at once somehow. She felt like she was trapped between two rabid wolves. “Okay. Come on. Come and get me.” She stood between them with her back to the car. One arm raised in each direction. She wiggled her fingers at them.
“Now why would they do that?”
The voice came from behind her, and Emma spun around to see another Hunter standing at the passenger door to her car. The captain. He looked almost human, and he terrified her more than the other two combined. He wasn’t a dim-witted monster. He was a calm, calculating adversary. And he had her outnumbered three to one.
“Who are you? Why are you following me? What do you want?"”Emma lowered her arms to her sides and focused on the leader.
“My master would like to meet you.”
“Thank you, but I think I'll pass.”
“I’m afraid that’s not an option, Timewalker. He sent seven Hunters to retrieve you, and not one of them returned. Why is that?”
Emma put her hands on her hips and tilted her head to look at him. He might’ve been handsome once. “I don’t know. Maybe they got lost.”
“You’re coming with me, whether you want to or not.” He raised his right arm over the hood of her car. He held an oddly shaped gun in his hand. She didn’t fully comprehend the situation until the first tranquilizer dart hit her just above her left breast.
Another dart hit her in the ass and she looked right to see an identical firearm in that monster’s grip. She flipped the rest of the way around and slid, with her back against the door of her car, to sit on the pavement.
Guns. Shit. With supernatural powers, portals, and the ability to kill with a touch, she had never thought the Triscani would resort to a human weapon. And tranquilizing her like a wild bear? Brilliant. She’d been reckless. Now they had her. She just hoped her mistake wouldn’t end up getting her killed.
<><><>
Ajax finished his whiskey and looked around at the innocent, frolicking fools. Why the hunters were here, he had no idea. But they watched the building now, waiting like spiders for a fly. And for once, they weren’t interested in him.
The human female, who studied him from across the bar, temporarily caught his attention. She did not look at him with desire or awe as most human females did, but calculation and fear. She knew what he was. Her brown hair and brown eyes were unremarkable, but her face was beautiful. Unable to tear his gaze away, he watched her raise a shot glass to her lips and tease the human male who served her.
The little female had the human wrapped around her finger in a matter of minutes and had agreed to go home with him. She offered her body to a stranger and he found himself wondering if she would be willing to offer it to him.
The moment the bartender’s back was turned, she poured the second drink out without touching it and the flirtatious expression left her face. Smile gone, she looked scared and turned to scan the bar crowd, the entry, and the windows before turning
back to the bar. She raised her gaze to his and he felt trapped. He couldn't look away.
Instead, his mind asked questions. Why was she afraid? Why was she wasting her time manipulating the human male serving her drinks? How had she learned to recognize his kind? Did she intend to lie naked with the bartender? Or was she playing a game to which he’d simply never learned the rule?
Her flirtation annoyed him, but he called himself a fool and tried to dismiss her from his mind. He did not have time for humans, female or otherwise. He had Triscani to kill.
The Hunters were here. They followed him everywhere. They were relentless and probably believed that their master had sent them to track him and return him to their world, to deliver him like a stuck pig to the Immortal’s table.
But Ajax knew the terrible truth. Droghan had sent the Hunters after him to die. They were sacrificial pawns in a game that Ajax couldn’t afford to play. He was hanging on to his sanity by a thread, the soul stone in his pocket the only thing that kept him moving, kept him running. Because it was hers.
Angeline. His Queen, lost to him now, turned to ash while he’d screamed in rage. When he saw her go down beneath the Hunters, he’d lost control and ashed over a hundred Triscani trying to reach her. Gods, she’d been beautiful and sweet, highly intelligent and cultured, she had been his ultimate ally at every diplomatic meeting. His one true supporter on Itara, where the idea of a male King after several thousand years of matriarchal heredity had rankled the Immortals and met with resistance.
He’d loved her and she’d loved him back. A gift beyond measure. And he’d been helpless as he’d watched her die.
The stone in his pocket belonged to her. It had to. That was the only explanation that made any sense. He’d been trapped in a living hell, poisoned and chained by males that he loved like brothers and had trusted with his life. They’d kept him chained, with poison burning like acid in his veins for centuries.
White Fire: Timewalker Chronicles, Book 5 Page 2
