by Sarra Cannon
“What about the PCD agents?” she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. Her worry trickled to the surface. “You have me. You don’t need them.”
Matt’s laughter echoed a high maniacal cackle in the warehouse. “Oh sweet Seraphim.” He mocked the angelic nickname in a ridiculous singsong tone. “Don’t waste your energy on them. Selflessness doesn’t suit you.”
The phage advanced. Their jaws snapped open and shut. The closest of the creatures drooled over her arm. Its eyes possessed an animal’s mindlessness, but behind that a glint of something more, something akin to...sorrow? As its teeth descended, she hesitated, holding the fire at bay. Sharp tips grazed her skin. Guy screamed in her mind. When she heeded his warning and let the fire free, tears stung her eyes.
Cries and howls of pain filled the cavernous space. The phage threw their burning bodies to the floor, twisting and thrashing. Nausea clutched her stomach and she started to pull back the blaze.
No! Guy said. He controls them. If you don’t end them, he’ll use them to kill you. A heartbeat of time passed. He dropped his voice to a harsh reprimand. Or worse, turn you.
Sweat beaded her brow as she held the flames steady. She squeezed her eyelids shut to block the gruesome sight. “Gods forgive me,” she prayed as the creatures burned.
A piercing cry broke her resolve and her eyes popped open. Matt walked between the flames. His face brightened in the fire’s glow, highlighting the deep grooves. He tore at his shirt, shedding it fast, baring his chest and the scars that littered his body. “Take a good look. See what you’ve done.”
Her senses swam. Smoke bellowed and heat swayed the air into a gray haze. She locked her eyes on his battered body. The vapors transformed his scars to ripples like fractured water. She sucked in a breath and sputtered on the fumes. The phages’ charred flesh soured the air. “Matt, I-I never—”
“Save your apologies and pity.” He stepped over a body—the same female he’d flung to the ground earlier. He spat at her, then fixed his blazing eyes on Sera. “I don’t need either, but I’ll take your tears.” His upper lipped curled back in a cruel half smile, half snarl. He lurched forward, wrapping his callused hands around her forearms. “Cry, Sera. Beg. That’s what I want from you.”
His short nails dug into her flesh. She flinched at the contact. The contained fire heated her skin, but he didn’t let go. Dragging her in a circle, he threw her to the ground. Shocked, her hands shot out on instinct and took the brunt of her fall. She cursed as jolts of pain racked her from wrist to shoulder. He descended on her without a moment’s hesitation. His disfigured arm curled around her neck and yanked her head back. She clawed at his skin and struggled for a breath.
Fire called to her, beckoning her. Even as she fought for air, she couldn’t bring herself to burn him, not again. Guilt cut her windpipe worse than his attack. Yet, she valued her life enough to fight dirty.
As she slammed a fist into his groin, a snort thudded across her mind. Low blow, pet. But nicely done.
She crawled on hands and knees toward a row of boxes. Her fingers clutched the stack for support. She used one hand to massage her throat and the other to get on her feet. It took costly seconds to accomplish the task and standing proved a challenge as dizziness consumed her. The smoke thickened even in the vast room, making it twice as hard to breathe.
As Matt recovered from her well-placed strike, she spread her feet shoulder width apart and prepared to face him. The rational part of her brain screamed at her to use her power. As he moved toward her with hatred in his stare, she couldn’t help feeling she deserved his anger. The thought of adding to his pain, after seeing the consequences of her actions in his physical and mental scars, stayed her hand. The heat fled from her skin.
“I won’t fight you, Matt. I’m sorry you were hurt.” She put up her hands in a sign of peace. “I never meant for it to happen.”
“Shut up.” His hands balled into fists as he drew closer. “I told you, I don’t want anything from you but tears.”
A rush of sorrow swept through her, but not the way he wanted. Her inner turmoil had nothing to do with her own predicament, and everything to do with the boy she’d known, the boy who was lost. In a choked voice, she said, “Well, you won’t get those.”
“We’ll see.” He swung at her head, but connected with the top of her ponytail. She ducked low, rolled forward, and sprung to her feet. He spun around, nostrils flaring. His fists punched blindly. She stepped backward with each swing, keeping her hands up to protect her face. One strike connected with her temple and she went down hard. He loomed over her, spitting vile curses. “I can’t burn you, but I can make you suffer, Sera. You deserve to suffer.”
Red dots danced in front of her eyes and her cheekbone throbbed from the impact of his fist. She cradled her head. Matt’s face swam in her vision surrounded by the skipping circles. His breath, like stale coffee, stung her nose as he leaned close. Fisting a handful of her hair, he jerked her upright.
“Now that the foreplay is over, it’s time to have some fun, don’t you think?” He clawed at her breast through her sweater and nudged his knee between her legs.
Her lungs ceased to function at the assault. She blinked, trying to focus. A horrible ache pummeled her head like a battering ram. He pushed her into the far wall and jerked at the waistband of her jeans. Not bothering with the button or zipper, he yanked. Her insides burned and her thoughts shattered. But, as her pants caught on her hips, the flames rose in her palms. Grabbing his face with both hands, she let the fire bore into his cheeks.
“You fucking bitch!” He swore a high-pitched cry as he stumbled back. “I’ll kill you.”
“No, you won’t.” A woman’s voice floated from the aisle.
Sera’s eyes widened at the new intruder, but she kept her gaze locked on Matt. Not about to be caught unaware, she ensured the fire remained at her fingertips.
“This is none of your goddamn business.” He whirled around as a pair of high heels clicked along the floor. His hands clenched his cheeks. Red welts puckered between his fingers.
Sera didn’t know how he still had the strength to talk. Her fire should’ve rendered him in agony. What the hell?
“Actually, it is.” A tall blond with green eyes and long legs appeared through the smoke. Dressed in a burgundy skirt suit and black pumps, she looked ready for a day at the office, not a life or death meeting in an abandoned warehouse. “You’ve violated our agreement.”
“I’m not giving her up. You promised me revenge.” He angled closer to Sera. She stepped back.
“No, you see, I promised you justice.” The blond held up her pointer finger. “Big difference.”
“Not to me.” He hissed.
“Ah, but it is.” She ran a hand over her tidy bun. “Our arrangement gave you the use of my phage for your purposes. However, the girl, as you may recall, belongs to us.” She tapped her chin. “Alive.”
“That was never part of the deal.” He stomped forward like a petulant child. He pointed to his face. The imprints of Sera’s palms showed in his cheeks, but the wound already looked healed. Almost as if the new burns faded into the old scars. “Look! Look what she did to me.”
“I’m not unsympathetic to your plight, Mr. Simon. You’ve been given a new chance at life as few of our kind receive.” She sighed. “But you’ve squandered it and broken our deal. Your mind is too warped. Now, I’m afraid, you’ve come to the end of your usefulness.” Before Sera knew what happened, the woman pulled a gun from behind her back, aimed at Matt, and shot him between the eyes. He slumped to the floor, blood seeping from the fatal wound.
Sera didn’t even have time to scream. The woman pointed the gun at her, and said, “I’m well aware of your abilities, Ms. Benenati, and I’d hate to have to drag you out of here bleeding.” Her head titled to the side as if measuring Sera. “But if you don’t come with me now, I will shoot you.” Her arms tensed and her brows pulled together. “So, easy way or hard way?”
>
Sera’s muscles tingled. The adrenaline and her natural fire ran in her blood. Something inside her snapped.
You know I’m all for spunk, pet. Guy’s pestering centered her mind. And while I’d dig the name, Super Guy, for obvious reasons, I know you don’t think we’re faster than a speeding bullet.
Sera nodded. The fear that she’d held back rolled through her. A wave of unease transfigured her fire to ice. Not even Guy’s taunts could shake the terror of staring down the barrel of a gun.
Chapter 24
PARADISE MOBILE HOME PARK, CALGARY, ALBERTA
Drake knelt beside a busted and broken trailer, staring at the dilapidated window and filthy siding. He choked down laughter. If the dumb schmuck thought he could keep two PCD shifters locked up in this thing, he had a nasty surprise in store.
Two steps more and he’d pull the door from its hinges. A firm grip on his arm deterred him. “They’re in there,” he said, hissing at the owner’s offending hand.
“I know, vampire.” Valkyrie crouched low, causing him to bend with her movement. “But this criminal’s not stupid. He wouldn’t set up another location for the meeting without securing his hostages.” She held up her cell. “Meg’s scanning the area with the satellite system. If it’s booby trapped, we’ll disarm it first.”
“Bloody waste of time.” Drake rocked on his heels, waiting for the signal. No point pissing off allies; if they wanted to ring up the eyes in the sky, so be it. The little techie could give it a go as long as he had first shot at the son of a bitch inside. There’ll be no where for him to hide if he’s hurt Jame. His fangs retracted, stabbing from his gums.
“Ease up, vampire,” Shooter said low as he edged to the other side of the door. The butt of his shotgun rested against his shoulder. His fingers tapped the outside of the trigger. “We’ll catch the pendejo.”
“Dumbass indeed,” Drake said.
Valkyrie snapped to get their attention. “Got it, Meg. Thanks.” She stuffed the cell in her back pocket, then turned to them and whispered, “Our girl disabled the security system and shut down the electrical grid. The perimeter’s safe. But keep your eyes open when we get inside.” Pointing to Shooter, she motioned him to a spot five feet from the entrance. He nodded and took up position; his shotgun aimed at the entrance. She shifted to Drake, tapped her chest then his shoulder, and pointed at the door. “On my mark,” she mouthed.
Drake nodded. His eyes locked on the doorway. Time slowed to a crawl. Blood roared in his veins. His palms tingled, skin itching for action. By the time the signal came, he sprang like a beast uncoiled and threw his full power into the charge.
The door blast open, ripping from its frame and sailing across the room. Drake surveyed the space with a quick sweep. It contained nothing but ragged furniture. A saggy orange loveseat and a TV with a bent antenna sat in one corner, and a scratched up table with one chair, a single kitchen cabinet, a mini frig, and a microwave sat in the other.
He shook his head and inhaled. A coppery tang hung in the air. His muscles froze as dread seized his senses. Jame’s sweet orange scent mingled with the aroma of blood. He swallowed the alarm threatening to choke him. Where the hell’s it coming from? His eyes swept the area again.
Valkyrie followed a step behind, sniffing the air as well. “Sweet mother of—” A hissing noise stopped her short. It snaked along the outer wall, skirting the border like a set of dominos. They tracked the sound to the back of the trailer. “The space is too small. Something must be behind here.” She tapped the wood panels. A low ticking permeated from the other side. With wide eyes, she grabbed his wrist and screamed, “Duck!”
They hit the floor as the wall exploded, raining fireballs in its wake. Sparks covered Drake’s jacket, altering the long trench coat into a blanket of flames. Valkyrie sprung to her feet as he struggled out of the coat and beat it on the floor. The fire licked the walls and ceiling, morphing the trailer into an oven.
“We’ve got to find them.” He shouted over the crackling wood. His cold skin heated too fast for his comfort.
Valkyrie held up her finger for silence. Her hands floated as graceful as an orchestra conductor. He watched, mesmerized by her strange yet fluid movements. Shooter burst onto the scene as she worked her magic, but stilled, caught in the same spell.
A soothing wind permeated the room, extinguishing the blaze and replacing the repugnant odors with fresh air. A small cyclone stirred in the middle of the floor. It gathered the debris into its center. Chunks of wood and metal flew together as if drawn by a magnet. Valkyrie parted her hands, palms facing each other. The soaring currents followed her actions as she pushed them out of the trailer. She waved her arms, motioning to the ground, and the winds dissipated. The trash settled to the dirt.
“Easy enough.” Valkyrie said to them smiling. “Now, let’s find the team.”
Drake held out his arm as moonlight filtered dusty rays inside. “I’ll go first.”
The hidden back room held an array of devices. Chains, cuffs, and straps hung from the ceiling at different lengths. Drake scented leather from the straps, while the chains and cuffs revealed either silver from the material’s shine or metal from the dull luster.
“Looks like an S&M chamber,” Valkyrie said as she slipped inside.
“Or a torture cell.” Shooter stood a breath behind her.
A muscle in Drake’s jaw ticked. If he didn’t find Jame soon, he’d tear this place apart.
Scratch. Scratch. The noise barely reached his ears. “Did you hear that?”
Both agents raised their brows. Valkyrie spoke first. “Hear what?”
He strained to pick up the sound. Scratch. “It’s there.” Three steps to the far wall. He scanned the surface, looking for a clue. The smallest of lines ran from the floor upward, ending at Drake’s waist. If he hadn’t heard the scratching, he’d never have found it. He flicked a knife from his pocket and jammed the tip into the crack. “It’s a false wall.”
“Lemme,” Shooter said. His nails dug into the slit as they extended into curved black claws. The pinky finger snapped and recoiled into his hand. Brown feathers covered his wrist and forearm. The talons sunk into the wall and ripped hard. A hidden three-foot high door cracked open.
Drake smirked. “Nicely done, Bird Boy.”
“I suppose I should take that as a compliment from a sanguijuela.” Shooter’s hand shifted. The pinky reformed, cracking with the bone growth. Bronze skin replaced the feathers.
“And here I thought you lacked a vocabulary.” A single low laugh escaped him. “Bloodsucker. It seems you can say it in any language. Think they’ll add it to the dictionary?”
“They already did,” Valkyrie said with a cheeky grin. “Technically, it means leech.”
“Have they added—” A feminine moan cut off the banter. He squat low and threw his shoulder against the door. It gave enough for him to slip inside. As he rushed through the opening, he emerged into a darkened room. A stringent odor saturated the air. The dry vapor coated his lungs like sandpaper and switched the visibility to zero. He coughed to clear away the grime, then shouted to the shifters outside. “Get away from the door. Don’t breathe this shit in.”
“What’s up?” Shooter called from the other side.
“The air’s foul. Probably poisoned.” He placed a hand on the left wall and reached toward the right. Two short strides and he touched the opposite wall. “It’s narrow in here and can’t be too deep.”
“We’re coming after you.” Valkyrie’s hand appeared, wrapping around the door’s edge and pushing it wider.
Drake grabbed her wrist and flung it off. “Use your head.” He pushed the door to a sliver and yelled into the small opening. “If this asshole caught shifters, he’d be using a poison geared for them. You two halfwits both have shifter blood. You’re susceptible.”
Another moan drew him in.
“Wait here.” He closed off the agents’ entrance—and protests—with a definite slam, sealing the en
trance. The time arguing allowed too much of the toxins to seep into his bloodstream. He slowed his breathing. If he was wrong and the venom affected him too, well, detox would take on a whole new meaning.
The darkness spiked his frustrations. Vampire eyesight provided near perfect night vision, but not good enough to see through toxic clouds. He muttered a curse, skimming the wall with his fingertips. The steady contact allowed him to maintain direction as he moved forward. His boot slid across a metal vent that seeped the rank air from its center. The poisonous stream hissed and howled from the grating like a malevolent spirit. “Bleeding hell.”
“Drake?” The softest whisper called his name.
He rushed toward the sound, caution cast aside. He’d been praying to hear that voice for too long. He fumbled in the pitch black until his knee bumped into something. Bending down, he risked a deeper breath. Her sweet orange scent cut the muck like a knife. “Jame?”
“Yeah.” Her voice sliced him to the core. It drew ragged, bleeding raw pain. From what he could make out, she sat leaning to one side with her knees to her chest.
“It’s okay. You’re okay.” He ran a hand through her hair and met a sticky substance at her scalp. Placing his face close, he inhaled again. Dry blood. “I’m taking you out of here.” He ran his arms under her knees and around her back. She felt light—too light—in his hold.
“Wait.” The simple command held him captive. “Slick.”
He crouched again, straining his eyes and sniffing. Jame moaned in his arms, but her limbs fell useless as she tried to stir. “Shh. It’s alright,” he whispered against her hair. “I’ll find him.”
The air thickened as he moved deeper into the room. He dared not risk inhaling anymore of it. So far, he’d been lucky to remain unaffected, but he had no idea if that good fortune would last.
