by Amy Patrick
HIDDEN DANGER
Book Five of the Hidden Saga
Amy Patrick
Dedication
For my Hidden Honeys—the incredible readers who love my books and give me so much encouragement every day! You mean the world to me.
Contents
Dedication
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Epilogue
AFTERWORD
Hidden Desire- Chapter One
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
The Hidden Saga
Copyright
Chapter One
Not For Us
The blood rushed to my head, making it hard to think.
All I knew was one minute I was sitting at one of the three stoplights in this dinky little town, and the next my car was being blown across the intersection as if it was a cardboard paper towel tube rolling in a windstorm.
I wasn’t hurt—at least I didn’t think I was. I was still strapped into my seatbelt. In fact, it constricted my chest and ribs uncomfortably as I hung suspended from it, my hair in my eyes, my trembling hands still clenching the steering wheel.
Trying to get my bearings and figure out what was going on, I glanced to the right—oh God. The passenger side was crushed. That’s why the car was tilted to one side. I seemed to be in the one pocket of the front seat that remained intact.
Chunks of glass protruded from the frame of the windshield like the few remaining teeth in a bare-knuckle fighter’s mouth. Through the opening, the upside-down view of the street portrayed a chaotic scene. Debris was strewn across the road—things that did not look like car parts. And people running. Everything looked orange. Maybe I had a head injury after all. No—the orange glow was fire. I could smell it.
Something—a building, or maybe a huge truck—was engulfed in flames. I could feel the heat of it, though I didn’t have a clear view of exactly what had exploded. Yes—an explosion. That was what it was. Had to be. I remembered something slamming the car, rocking it up onto two wheels. And then, just as the car righted itself again, another blast hit and sent me rolling side-over-side.
Maybe one of those big fuel trucks had crashed into a power pole and blown up. I strained to see more but in my restricted, and increasingly uncomfortable, position, I couldn’t spot what was burning. What if it was a fuel truck and it was right next to me? My car could catch on fire, too. That thought brought me out of my dazed state and spurred my heart rate into an agitated clip.
I need to get out of here.
Pressing one hand against the ceiling for support, I fumbled for my seatbelt clasp, pressed the button. Nothing. Ugh. It was stuck or something.
There was a metallic screech as someone wrenched open my car’s door, which now that I was looking at it was oddly bent.
“Ava? Ava!” Asher’s face peered through the opening, shockingly pale and creased with concern. His sea-blue eyes were huge and wild. Then his expression relaxed. “Oh thank God you’re alive. When I saw your convertible on its top...”
Elation and relief rushed through me in a cool stream. “Hi,” I said. “Can you get me out? My head feels like a water balloon that’s about to burst.” My voice was shaky. Before I’d seen his face, there had been no tears threatening, but now it was all I could do not to lose it.
“You bet. Just hold on a minute, baby. I’m gonna getcha.”
Dropping to his knees, Asher slid an arm under me, taking some of the pressure off of my chest. I drew in a breath, the first full one I’d been able to take since the crash. The influx of oxygen was heavenly.
As I had done, Asher pushed the seatbelt’s release button then pushed it again. He turned his face toward mine. At this angle, our noses practically touched and his eyes were a bit out of focus. Beads of sweat covered his forehead.
“I’m gonna have to get something to cut this with, okay? I’ll be right back. You hang in there.”
“Ha ha.”
He smiled at me. “That wasn’t meant to be a joke, but I’m glad to see your sense of humor didn’t suffer any damage.” His eyes scanned me quickly. “Anything else hurting?”
I shook my head, jostling what felt like the entire volume of my body’s blood content. “No. I’m just shaken up. And it’s a little hard to breathe.”
The creases came back to his face. “Okay. I’ll be right back.”
“Don’t take too long, okay?” The words were an anxious whine.
“I won’t. I promise. You can time me if you want.”
He withdrew from the car, and I watched as he got to his feet, watched his boots retreating. Because I had nothing better to do and I was starting to feel a bit claustrophobic and panicky, I did count. “One, two, three, four...”
By the time I got to twenty, Asher’s boots were back in sight. At twenty-five, he was once again crowded into the squashed front seat with me, this time holding an open pocketknife.
“How’d I do?” he asked as he slid the knife under the seatbelt near the clasp and began moving his hand in a sawing motion. His other arm was beneath me again, I supposed ready to catch me when the belt was severed. I could hear his rhythmic breathing as he worked.
“Twenty-five seconds. Not bad.”
He grinned and shook his head then paused in his sawing motion. “You know, before I finish up this heroic rescue, I’ve got to say something.”
I furrowed my brow. “What?”
“Well, correct me if I’m wrong, but... I do believe you’re having a problem.”
In spite of my bizarre circumstances, I laughed. Which hurt my ribs. “Maybe,” I conceded.
“No, come on now. Admit it. You’ve got a problem, and as promised, I’m helping you solve it.”
“Are you going to leave me hanging here all day if I don’t play along?”
“Maybe.” He smiled.
“Then yes, Asher, I have a problem. Now would you please get me the hell—”
Before I could finish the sentence, he made the last cut and sort of dived beneath me so when I dropped the short distance from the belt, I fell onto him and not the car’s roof or the shattered windshield. For a second we lay there, his arms wrapped tightly around me.
“I got you,” he said into my hair. “I got you. You’re okay now.”
I allowed myself to soften against his chest and breathe deeply. He smelled like freshly cut grass and yummy guy shampoo and smoke. Oh yeah, the fire. I lifted my head and looked around.
“We should move—”
“It’s okay,” he said. “The fire’s across the street—the factory. You lie still. I’m going to slide out and bring you with me, in case you’ve got a broken bone or something and don’t realize it yet. You may be in shock. Just pretend I’m a stretcher.”
I nodded and clung to him, feeling my pulse recede and wondering for the first time why a teenaged boy was performing my rescue instead of a firefighter or someo
ne more qualified, someone with an actual stretcher for instance. Not that I was complaining—I couldn’t let human paramedics examine me anyway.
And then we were free of the wreckage, and I understood.
The scene outside the car was utter pandemonium. Gingerly, I got to my feet, taking inventory of my own body before looking around. The beautiful church I’d been admiring was blackened on one side, those multi-colored windows in jagged pieces or missing altogether. Across the street, a low, stretched-out building was fully engulfed in flames. It looked like a factory or a one-story warehouse.
Several other wrecked cars were scattered on the street, in various stages of annihilation. Mine hadn’t gotten the worst of it. Or the best.
I turned to look at the wreckage of my little convertible and all the air deserted my lungs at once, leaving me struggling for breath once again. It was smashed. How had I even survived it? Feeling dizzy, I rocked on my feet.
Asher’s arms came around me again. “You okay? You should sit down until the EMT’s can take a look at you.” He walked me to the nearest curb and guided me to sit, his supportive arm still around my back.
“What happened?” I finally thought to ask the obvious question.
“I’m not sure. That’s the Magnolia Sugar Tea Company. I was down the road near the park when I saw the blast. I drove up as close as I could and got out to see if anyone needed help, and then I saw your car. That’s as much as I know.”
I stared at the flames, the black smoke pouring from the open roof of the building. The heat of it was immense, even here across the street. It was hard to look at it without squinting.
“Do you think anyone was inside?” If they had been, it was unlikely they’d survived.
He shook his head. “No. I don’t think so. It’s closed for the night. My buddy’s checking inside the church.” Lifting his eyes, he scanned the fiery scene. “Oh man, Ryann’s gonna be torn up. Her grandma, too.” He turned back to me. “She’s one of my classmates. It’s her family’s business.”
A cold sensation seized my heart. Ryann’s tea factory. Culley’s mission. Was that what he’d been talking about? Had he been sent here to take out the source of the tea that was freeing humans from Elven influence? I twisted away from Asher and dry-heaved over the sidewalk.
His hands came to the back of my head, sweeping my hair back from my face. After waiting for my spasm to pass, he said, “I’m gonna see if I can get somebody to check on you. They’ve got their hands pretty full, though. God this is a mess. You’ll be okay here for a minute?”
I nodded weakly, but I was not okay. How could Culley have done this? I didn’t know him well, but after spending the past week or so with him, I didn’t think he had this kind of evil in him. Yes, he’d advised me to simply do my job, not to “think about whether it was right or wrong.” He said that was what he always did. But this was so extreme. He might have killed people tonight.
Asher hustled toward a nearby ambulance, where uniformed paramedics were loading a writhing man into the back. I glanced around again. It seemed like everywhere I looked there were shocked faces, some people crying, others running toward the destruction or away from it. A mother shielded her young child’s eyes from a pool of blood in the street near another one of the ruined cars.
Within two minutes Asher was back, kneeling in front of me. With a hand under my chin, he tipped my face up so our gazes met. Those incredible turquoise eyes were so serious, so full of concern.
“Listen, they know you’re here, and they’re going to get to you as soon as they can. There are a lot of people who need help—a lot of people hurt. I need to help out—there aren’t enough emergency personnel to handle it all. You stay right here, okay? Don’t get up and wander off. You need someone to check you out. I’ll be back for you as soon as I can.”
I nodded, but he wasn’t satisfied.
“Promise me Ava. Don’t leave before I come back.”
“Okay. I promise.” It wasn’t a hard vow to make. I had no way to leave. My car was a lopsided pancake in the middle of the road. I didn’t feel like moving anyway. I was sort of numb and disconnected. This was horrible. And I felt responsible, like I should have prevented it or something.
Maybe it had been an accident? My spirit lifted for a second then immediately sank again. Not likely. It was too coincidental that Ryann’s factory had blown up the night after Culley left Altum. He must not have headed for L.A. right away as he’d said he would.
I’d been wondering how he planned to get home anyway. I had picked him up from the airport in Memphis last week after driving cross-country myself. He’d had a modeling gig in New York City and couldn’t drive out with me from the west coast—not that I’d wanted to share a three-day car trip with him. Now I was hoping I never saw his face again.
From somewhere behind me I heard the screech of car tires. Another town resident getting a first look at the carnage, no doubt. At the sound of footsteps hitting the pavement at a dead run, I turned at the waist to look. I’m not sure why. I guess that’s just what you do when you hear someone running toward you.
It was Culley. Great. I got to my feet, now feeling stiff and sore all over, prepared to walk away from the devil approaching me with his designer clothes and tense expression and treacherous beauty.
With his unnaturally good looks and tall, athletic physique, he resembled an actor on the set of an action movie more than a real person happening upon a real disaster scene. Of course he wasn’t a person, not in the literal sense of the word.
When he spotted me, Culley’s pace slowed to a saunter. And I didn’t walk away. No, I wanted to confront him, make him account for what he’d done.
By the time he reached me, his face had lost all traces of concern and displayed his typical nonchalance. His eyes roamed over me, assessing, perhaps checking to see whether his plot against the humans would lead to any unfortunate collateral damage. Then his gaze slid to the side, taking in my destroyed car, and back to me.
“Good thing you dumped me, Angel. If I’d been in that passenger seat, the world would be minus one Culley Rune.”
“Yes, that would have been tragic,” I deadpanned. “What are you doing here, Culley? I thought you’d be long gone by now.”
“I was. I made it to the airport in Memphis.”
“But then you decided to come back to the scene of the crime. I guess criminals do that sort of thing—I’ve seen it on cop shows.”
His eyes flared. “Criminals? You think I had something to do with this?”
“Didn’t you? Wasn’t this your mission?”
For a moment, I thought I saw a glimpse of hurt in his eyes, or insult, but then it was gone, replaced by flinty blue obstinance. “I did not. It was not.” He reached toward me, laying a hand on my arm. “So, you’re okay? You’re not hurt?”
I shrugged away from him. “No. I’m fine. I was lucky. Which is more than I can say for a lot of people here tonight.”
Across the street, someone yelled for help, and a couple of girls Asher’s age ran toward him. Culley didn’t even turn his head. He was still focused on me.
“And what about back at Altum with the Light King? And Nox? They didn’t punish you? Or did they just throw you out?”
I shook my head. “They did neither. Listen, I don’t really have anything left to say to you, okay? You’ve verified that your bomb worked, or whatever, so you should probably get back on the road.”
Now Culley’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t do this, Ava. I’ve already told you that. Do you really believe I’m a... a terrorist?”
The word no leapt to my mind, but what other explanation was there? Why else would he have come back here? “I believe you do what your father commands you to do. And I know you’re good at making people see what they want to see.”
I’d discovered Culley’s unique glamour on the day I’d met him—we’d been on a shoot together, and it quickly became obvious why he was the world’s most in-demand male model. He w
asn’t just attractive. He’d explained it fell along the lines of the old adage “beauty is in the eyes of the beholder.” No matter who was looking at him, male or female, child or adult, human or Elven, they all saw their ideal—he was literally the best-looking guy they’d ever seen.
Culley smirked. “Believe it or not, Ava, my glamour and my moral center are two separate things. I’d think you would understand that, if anyone would.”
Ouch. The comment jabbed my insides and left a stinging gash. But he was right. For years, I had used my own glamour to hurt people in service of Culley’s father Audun, the head of the Dark Council. I’d erased their memories or implanted new ones, and it had made me feel like scum. I was seriously hoping that just because a glamour could be used for evil purposes, that didn’t mean it had to be.
In fact I was making my break from the Dark Court and setting off on my own when my car had been caught up in the crossfire of this tragedy.
“It doesn’t matter what I think. You should be worried about what these deputies milling around here are going to think,” I said. “You’re a stranger in a very small town at the wrong time. So am I. We both need to go.”
Culley stared at me for a moment. Then he took my hand. “Come with me.”
I yanked my fingers from his grasp as Asher walked up. His eyes went from me to Culley, back to me again, clearly taking in the unfriendly body language.
He slid an arm around my shoulders. “Everything okay here? This guy bothering you?”
Culley bristled at his words—and his familiar handling of me—straightening to his full six-foot-three height. It put him at only an inch taller than Asher.
“This guy...” he said, his light Australian accent suddenly more pronounced. “... is her fiancé. So you can just nick off, farm boy.”
Asher’s hand on my shoulder tensed. “I wasn’t speaking to you.” Turning to look directly into my eyes, he asked again, his words gentle and low, meant only for me. “Are you all right, Ava?”
My heart pulsed hard, a sweet pain that tightened my throat. “He’s not my fiancé.” I wasn’t sure why it was so important to make the clarification at that moment. “He was, but he’s not anymore. It’s complicated.”
