by Anne Marsh
Cuthah looked over the boy’s head at one of the rogues. “What do you think?”
“Sire?”
“Do you think this human knows where our professor has gone?”
The rogue’s eyes flicked down to the student’s face. Paused. Moved back to Cuthah’s face. “Unlikely, sire.”
Cuthah sighed. “Undoubtedly, you’re quite right.”
God, maybe, this could end well. “Then,” Cuthah continued, “I suppose there’s really no point in my keeping him, is there?”
A single, casual flick of the ethereal blade sliced Brad’s throat open. When Cuthah released his grip, blood fountained, and Nessa hit send on the phone. God, let Zer be there. Bond or no bond, she needed the sound of his voice.
She needed his help.
His low, hard greeting made her pause. Would he still help her even though she’d refused to help him? He’d want to protect his investment, right? Even if he didn’t think she was his soul mate, he still believed she was a match for one of his brothers. Suddenly, watching one of her students dying on the floor of her lab, she didn’t feel like splitting those hairs with him anymore.
“Zer—” How did she start? Where did she start? She knew he had to hear the noise coming from her lab. The screams as the two women realized what had happened. She didn’t want to think about what the other noises meant.
He didn’t hesitate, didn’t waste time rehashing their early-morning argument. “Tell me what’s happening.”
Her throat froze up, but she still had her eye pressed to the crack of the door like a damn coward. She should make herself go out there, but she couldn’t.
“Nessa.” His low growl was all the warning she had before she felt him pushing at her mind through their mental bond, tasting the fear paralyzing her. He snapped an order to someone in the background.
“Tell me where you are, baby.”
“The lab,” she managed. “I came back to the university lab.”
“And then what?”
Her mind blanked, and she had to force herself to focus. To examine the evidence. It was just another experiment. Not real. “There was an explosion.” She whispered the sequence of events rapidly.
“How many of them are there? Tell me who did this, baby.” She could hear the sounds of Zer’s males in the background, a low rumble of sound that was strangely comforting. She wasn’t alone. “This is my job, Nessa, not yours, so you let me do it.” His voice was firm. “I’m moving now, so you keep your head down and stay put. We’ll be there in ten. How many of them are there? Give me a heads-up here, and it will be taken care of sooner.”
She pressed her eye to the crack again, counting once. Twice. “Four rogues. And one other.”
Snapping a vid, she punched the send button on the cell. Her efforts didn’t seem like much.
She felt rather than heard the short, pithy curse from the other end of the line. “You know him,” she guessed.
There was a telling pause. “Yeah, I do. That’s Cuthah. He’s not going to bother you for long, though. Are you doing what I asked? You got a place there to lie low?”
She looked around the small office wildly. Not as if she had an abundance of choices. Hiding under the desk seemed like a desperate measure. She looked out the door again. Cuthah and his rogues had secured her two female graduate students. One sharp gesture, and two of the rogues peeled off. The hallway suddenly seemed way too short to hold the rogues strong-arming office doors open.
Think. She had to think. “They’re coming,” she whispered.
Zer’s curse blistered her ears. “Eight minutes, baby. Buy me eight minutes. Tell me where you are inside the building.”
“My office.”
“Exits?”
“There’s just the door.” A door that led straight in a direction she didn’t want to go. “And the air vent.” Although she suspected that nothing human would fit up there.
She registered a momentary pause on the other end of the line, followed by the slam of a door and the roar of an engine. No way he would get here in time. “Can you fit up there?”
She eyed the narrow space, the distance between the ceiling and the floor. Impossible. Still, she hurried to flip the lock on the door. No way that would keep the rogues out for long, but since she had a feeling she was counting her life in minutes now, she’d take every second she could get.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Crashing the SUV through the glass doors of the lobby was remarkably satisfying. Fortunately, the university provosts were cheap-ass bastards who hadn’t upgraded the facility in years. The glass was old and the doorframes even older. When he hit, the frames pulled away from the building’s Sheetrock with a dull roar and the high-pitched shriek of twisting metal.
Showtime.
Rolling out of the SUV, Zer came up firing, Vkhin covering his back. The first rogue out of the chute went down hard and fast, temporarily disabled by the full clip in his lower intestines. Zer ignored the snarl of pain coming from the endarkened face glaring up at him and settled for taking full advantage of the bastard’s temporary incapacity. One clean slash of the blade, and the bastard’s head rolled from his shoulders. Zer was pissed enough to have done it barehanded, but the knife was quicker, so he used that.
Moving fast, Vkhin took out the second male while Nael pulled gear from the SUV’s trunk. Plenty of incendiary party favors for this little shindig.
“We’re in,” he snapped into the mouthpiece of his headset. “Get me rolling.”
He toed the body with his boot, but he’d done his job, and the rogue was still dead. He didn’t know where the dead Fallen went, and he wasn’t in the mood for philosophy, anyhow.
Keros’s familiar voice in his earpiece barked quadrants, and Zer flipped into full soldier mode. Right now, he knew precisely what to do. Whom he was going to kill to get to his bond mate. Right now, that was the plan. What he did afterward, when the mission was accomplished, he had no idea.
He’d figure it out later.
“Got it,” he acknowledged into the mouthpiece before relaying their new set of directions to Vkhin and Nael.
Reaching into the totaled SUV, he pulled out his duffel bag and slung it over one shoulder. The familiar weight made his back a walking arms depot.
He was getting his female out, even if he had to shoot the whole place to pieces.
Inhaling, he scented trouble right away. Another rogue was holed up, waiting for him to come sauntering down the hallway. As if this was some sort of gentlemanly hand-to-hand combat like the Archangels used to have. Well, the Heavens were a long way off, and none of them were the warriors they’d once been.
“I want a clear path,” he snapped. Dropping down behind the wrecked SUV, he took aim and fired, taking savage satisfaction in the dull thud of the bullet hitting flesh. One more down. A single shot like that wouldn’t be fatal, but the bullet would buy Zer time. Take the bastard a while to regenerate a spinal column.
In his ear, Keros barked a heads-up, the click of his fingers working the keypad audible even over the static-filled connection as he pinpointed incoming.
Sure enough, a trio of rogues edged out into the hallway. More, then, than Nessa had thought. Some tactical Einstein had dragged all the classroom furniture out into the hallway, and piled everything up to block off easy access. As if the tangle of ancient desks, portable whiteboards, and metal storage cabinets would stop Zer. Well-armed, one rogue was palming a sweet Glock while the second lay down covering fire. Ducking down behind the SUV, Zer sent up a quick prayer the rogues didn’t score a lucky shot and hit the gas tank. Baby was armor-plated, but that would only get him so far.
Beside him, Vkhin methodically squeezed off rounds. Up, aim, and fire—the brother’s weapon never stopped. The bark of each bullet was followed by the hollow, wet sound of lead punching through flesh.
“Move it,” Vkhin said, dropping down behind the SUV and holding out a hand for the reload Nael slapped into his open palm. Yeah. He’d noticed
that the rogues’ bullets were punching a Lite-Brite pattern in the SUV’s black paint job, trying to connect the dots with the gas tank.
“You know where we’ll find your mate. We’ll clear a way in.” Nael palmed his own weapon, laying down a thick hail of bullets when one of the rogues decided to take a chance during the brief pause. Bastard hit the ground hard and didn’t move.
“I need a route,” Zer hissed into the mouthpiece. Keros wouldn’t let him wait out this shit, and Nessa didn’t have time to burn anyhow. “Hook me up now, damn it.”
“Park your ass, and take a number.” Zer could hear Keros exchanging information with another brother in a low, hard commentary. Since bullets were kicking up the linoleum under the other end of the SUV, peeling back the faded checkerboard in short, hard bites of sound, Zer figured he needed some hurry-the-hell-up. They were in serious danger of being pinned down if they stayed here too long.
“Logical north,” Keros relayed. “You got one corridor clear of debris straight ahead. Take that. I’m uploading building schematics now.”
Zer checked his handheld. Shit. Of course, that laid a course straight through the welcoming posse. Couldn’t be helped. “We go through there,” he said, jerking his head toward the too-full hallway. “Nessa is that way. Upstairs.”
“Got it.” Jamming down the safety lever of a concussion grenade with one hand, Nael grabbed the pull ring with his teeth and lobbed the bugger nice and easy at the posse of rogues while Zer and Vkhin laid down a little covering fire of their own. Dropped flat as the grenade hit the rogues’ barricade and bounced. Three, two, one. The blast rocked the kill zone, generating five meters of hell as the TNT exploded out of its iron casing. The resulting shock wave rocked the lobby.
The grenade didn’t have the pincushion effect of a frag grenade, but Zer was more than happy to hit cleanup. Hell, yeah.
Vaulting over what was left of the SUV, he took out two remaining rogues: the first had been well within the ten-foot burst radius. Another bastard was staggering like a day-old drunk, hit hard by the shock wave.
Stepping forward, Zer raised his blade up and over his head, bringing the sharp edge straight down in front of him. Drew the blade through flesh and out as he stepped back.
The path was clear enough now. Silently, he examined the dead rogues at his feet.
The males were unfamiliar. Soul thirst had worked its usual carnage, twisting their faces to mirror the endarkening of their souls. Rolling the bodies, Zer sliced open the military-issue flak jackets to uncover the crimson tats on their backs. Sure enough, the bastards had cut a deal.
“Sending pics,” he bit into the mouthpiece, whipping out his cell to snap shots of the wing-shaped markings. “I’m going in,” he snapped, nodding toward the hallway Keros had called out. “The two of you are going to find yourselves a nice little spot for a diversion. I want every rogue left in this building headed your way—we clear?”
Vkhin’s hand tightened on the Glock he hadn’t bothered holstering. He would buy Zer some time, some space. But there was going to be plenty of fire to go around.
“Christ, Zer.” Nael didn’t look happy, but Vkhin’s eyes locked on Zer’s, cold and knowing.
“I need time,” Zer repeated. “You buy me that time, and everything’s good. Split off, and go around the other side. Blow some shit up. Do what you need to do. But. Get. Me. That. Time.”
Vkhin’s hard nod was all the acknowledgment he needed. He didn’t like sending Zer in alone, but the brother had never gone back on his word. Not once in three millennia.
“You go after her, but we’re going to be hard on your heels once we’ve given you this diversion,” he warned.
“Go,” Zer ordered, and Vkhin and Nael peeled off, headed down the opposite corridor at a quick jog.
The grenade had opened up the hallway nicely, blasting a new entrance. Fine. He’d take what he could get. His rogue was in full-on hunting mode, demanding out. It wanted to rend. Tear. He could feel his control slipping, but right now he needed to keep a cool head. In his ear, Keros spat more directions as Zer ran up the now-clear corridor.
“Upstairs,” Keros finished. “Two more rogues. And Cuthah.” Savage satisfaction filled his brother’s voice. This hunt was going well.
“Any civvies?” The information was good to know, but nothing was going to stop Zer from cutting his way to his mate and hauling her ass out of here. Today, he was listening to the instincts screaming for him to go in, guns blazing. The civvies could drop and cover—or not. Mentally, he added them to his checklist as he took to the stairs. He’d avoid it if possible, but he’d take the collateral damage, too.
“You got two closing,” Keros warned, and Zer inhaled, confirming the targets as he cleared the stairwell. “Nessa’s halfway down the corridor. Five doors. On the right.”
Moving down the hallway on silent feet, Zer counted off offices and lab space. Glass blown out of the doors littered the floor, and someone had stamped a bloody handprint on one wall. His rogue growled at the scent of blood and fear in the air, because everything screamed that humans had bitten it hard here. One body, but that was all he saw. He didn’t stop to check the stats. Maybe, the human was dead. Or not.
“Got one up ahead,” he acknowledged into the mouthpiece.
Showtime.
The rogue charged out of the blown-out laboratory door on Zer’s right, going straight for Zer’s throat. Sidestepping, Zer let his opponent’s momentum drive him into the opposite wall. The crunch of the rogue’s face hitting Sheetrock was satisfying.
The second bastard was already charging out the door. A quick look-see over his attacker’s shoulder revealed a windowless office, a soulless cubbyhole of space with no way out. Zer spared a thought for the poor bastard condemned to work there day in, day out. Should have taken today off, that was for certain.
The rogue came flying at him, pulling a fyreblade. Shit. He hadn’t seen that coming. Backpedaling, he swung his weight to the side, blocking the blow with his own blade. Space was too close for grenades—and he sure as hell wouldn’t be able to get off any shots with the Glock tucked into his waistband.
“Dance with me,” he growled.
Hand-to-hand it was. Baring his teeth, he grabbed his opponent’s wrist and twisted. The rogue backed up two steps, but not far enough. Bastard still had space enough to bring the blade back up. And down again.
A ribbon of liquid fire streaked along his side. “Hit,” he cursed into the mouthpiece. The angelfyre wound burned like a motherfucker. Only advantage to being Fallen was, he no longer had a soul. Sure, the injury hurt like a bitch, but it wouldn’t take him out. Not yet.
“Zer, my sire, you okay?” Keros’s voice came over the earpiece, hard and loud. “You want me to send in reinforcements?”
“I’m good,” he gritted out and then waited through the pregnant pause.
“You tell me if you’re not,” Keros said finally. “The rest of us will come. We’ve got your back, my sire.”
Yeah. That was the problem. They’d had his back when he’d taken on the Archangel Michael, and look where he’d led them. One-way ticket to hell, so he wasn’t making matters worse now.
“I bite it, you come in after Nessa,” he ordered. He could justify that much. She was too valuable to lose, and not just because he wanted her so bad, he ached with it. She had some powerful knowledge locked up in that brain of hers, not to mention her potential to be a soul mate. None of them could afford to lose her.
“Will do.” Keros paused, and Zer knew his brother was still considering making an end run around his sire. Hell, it was what he would have done.
“You stay there,” he ordered. “I need my gatekeeper. I need to know that this isn’t a distraction, that Cuthah isn’t unleashing his own personal hell on the rest of M City. I’m out, Keros.” Battle lust had his rogue struggling for freedom. “You hold the fort down for me, and I’ll be back.”
The rogue with the fyreblade was already making the retu
rn trip, swinging with everything he had, but the narrow space was hampering his blow. A hard kick to the chest sent him plowing through a specimens cabinet, the metal doors banging open and spilling a shitload of glass beakers and vials onto the floor.
“Sure as hell looks like our new sire can give us our wings back, now, doesn’t it?” The bastard facing him taunted. He had wings, all right, and his eyes tracked Zer’s quick up-and-down flick over his back. Hadn’t shifted, though, which made sense. Wings in this small a space could be a death sentence. “Yeah,” the rogue went on, “I figured, if there was a way to get my wings back, you could count me in. I spent three thousand years in fucking exile, and it seemed pretty clear that you weren’t going to get the job done. Every brother for himself, man, and I don’t plan on getting screwed. Again. This time, I’m aligning with the winner.” The rogue paused a beat, clearly enjoying what he believed was the upper hand. Since the intel was handy, Zer didn’t disillusion him. Yet.
“You come looking for someone?” The rogue smiled, a mean, hard smile. “She walked right into it, didn’t she?”
Cursing, Zer pushed back, wielding his sword in short, hard strokes. Pushing the rogue toward the wall until he’d wiped the smile from the bastard’s face and backed him into a corner where he couldn’t get that blade of his up. Only one of them would walk away today, and they both knew it.
“You shouldn’t have brought her into this.” He raised the blade overhead. “She’s mine.” The truth of that reverberated through him.
“She’s bait,” the rogue argued, but Zer was done conversing.
One clean cut through the spinal cord, and he was wiping his blade on the rogue.
“She’s mine. And you lose.”
Now, all he had to do was get in, get Nessa, and get out.
The image of her in his head was his only anchor, the only thing keeping him from drowning in the soul thirst. Violence rode him hard, his inner rogue clawing for release in mindless depravity.
