His beast vibrated with excitement. Fuck it running over his hands, he’d fucking bathe in it.
Hopefully the traitor in Katoom, or Rich himself, couldn’t access Kaid’s link. If he did, and Rich turned up, Xylvar would have to gut him, an act of vengeance that would majorly piss off Jaz off. She would want her own retribution.
Xylvar zoomed in on and rescanned the aerial map of the valley the Pures bus drove down earlier. The beep of a steady dot showed Jasmine and her group of blood drainers were in a building under the cover of a woodland thicket.
He loaded up with every knife and blaster in the van. Back in his seat, blood and adrenaline roaring in his ears, he searched for an on-ground view of where the cabin stood. A ground view would give him an arsenal of best access points, areas to hide, and zones to avoid so he couldn’t be seen before he wanted to be. “Damn it.” The area had been mapped from the air only.
The choice of building location made it clear this torture cell began their preparations long before the kidnappings became known. A surge of kidnappings might be occurring now, but some planning had gone into it. What was odd was the sudden numbers. No slow buildup, just a few weeks of subs, especially Crea, disappearing. Something had triggered the rush of blood harvesting.
Xylvar ran his finger over a knife, testing its point, the strength of the steel. The Pures had a plan. And they needed credits urgently to proceed.
Xylvar’s scalp tightened. The Pure movement had been around and slowly gaining momentum for some months, but this level of organization spoke of zealots recruited well before anyone had realized the movement existed beyond a few bigoted rednecks.
Time meant organizational growth. Could they be facing not just hundreds or a few thousand zealots, but perhaps tens of thousands?
And growing. An army of ordinary people, led by someone with an expensive plan.
#
A black van pulled up behind Xylvar’s. Kaid sent a “we are here” message to Xylvar’s link. Xylvar triggered the wheelchair lift and exited. On the ground, he rolled toward it. Rooster and Dan stepped out, Dan pointing to the back of their van.
“We have a ramp for you in the back.”
Inside the van, eight other Eli waited, several giving him the “who are you really?” predatory eye.
“No Crea?” Xylvar asked.
“Our tracking suggests our Katoom leak might be Crea-based.” The male who spoke with a French accent thrust out his hand. “We haven’t met. I’m Tariq.”
Dan turned around. “Also known as, French fry.”
Tariq held up a middle finger. A large, older male put out his hand also. “Tom. Don’t you worry, we’ll get your lady out alive. Have some fun doing it.”
Xylvar passed over his link to Dan. “We head toward the glowing green dot. I can’t get an external view. Aerial image only.”
Another van pulled up behind them as Dan checked the link. “Excellent, we’re all here. We’ll work out ground logistics when we hit the scene. How many inside, any idea?”
“From the visual Jasmine’s wearing, I think there’s fifteen to twenty, and most appear to be pure human. About eight armed with blasters. Also, eight prisoners contained in cells, plus Jasmine.”
As the van headed for their destination, they discussed where to park and pile out, and brainstormed attack strategies. Medivans were already on their way. Injuries and deaths, hopefully only their enemies’, were expected.
Tom handed another blaster to Xylvar, along with two throwing knives and a small stack of throwing stars. “Heard you’re good with knives.”
“Could be.” Along with the ones he already had hidden on his body and in his chair, he held a substantial arsenal, but had no problem with adding to the stash.
With Tom’s and Tariq’s help, Xylvar wrapped extra straps around his thighs and hips to secure him to the chair. The last on in place he smoothed the Velcro with steady hands. If his chair tipped, he could get it back upright, but if he fell out of the chair, he’d be too vulnerable.
A blaster taped onto each arm of his chair gave him un-droppable firepower, and the ones he’d palm gave him aim. He tucked the knives and throwing stars into various pockets. A seething mass of murder festered in his heart, which beat with a keener edge as he slid every knife and gun into place.
Kaid, on a seat in the back of the van, handed Xylvar two small blasters. “Latest model on the market, twice the recharge.”
Xylvar nodded, weighed and tested how his hands fit on them, training himself in the best way to handle and aim.
“Thanks.” The van came to a quiet stop. Seconds later, the back door flew up, and Elis, blasters in hand ready to shoot, jumped out, crouched, and spun. Xylvar moved to the van’s edge.
Four Eli grabbed his chair, lowering him on the ground. “Don’t wait for me. Go.” They took off, and Xylvar shifted his chair into auto and glided down the rough, flagstone-style path. At the edge of the small woodland he stopped, surveyed his route, and headed away from the other males.
He’d be the element of surprise, the back-door guy, and the one most ready to kill and die.
His beast, pushing his mostly human body to be stronger, faster, more ruthless, was furled and ready to pounce. The shadow of trees and the telltale glow of artificial light from the building beckoned him like a red flag toward his prey.
At the rear of the cinderblock building, he eyed the simple steel door and the old key lock and grinned. He’d be going in the old-fashioned way. He lifted one of the Kaid-supplied blasters. On a touch on his thumb, he blew a hole the size of his fist through the lock. He did love a good blaster.
A tiny shift of his shoulder thrust his chair into top speed. The base of his chair hit the door, a wheeled battering ram ramming it open. Two blasters at the ready, he flew forward. Kaid and his soldiers surged in from the front.
To be met by men and woman aiming blasters at them. So much for a surprise attack.
Their quarry had received a heads-up. When they caught their traitor, Xylvar wanted to witness their death.
Xylvar spun out two stars. One embedded into the hand of a man. The man’s blaster fell and he screamed. The other bit deeply into the flesh of a large man’s pectoral muscle. Hand on a strapped-on blaster, Xylvar gave a slight shift of his right shoulder, spinning him toward the cells.
Jaz lay on the floor, a large Crea male standing protectively over her prone form. Xylvar recognized the male from his halo. The way the male protected her gave Xylvar hope of life.
Laser lights and shots flew, and the crack of an old-fashioned pistol. Xylvar spun and threw his chair backward, so it rode on only two wheels, aiming the blasters on the chair arms at chest and head high. He grabbed two blasters from his lap, throwing them with dead accuracy through the bars to Ramine. The Crea caught them, and like a cowboy in a hundred-year-old vid, flipped them into position and blasted away.
Xylvar spun, blasting with one hand, using the other to pull out a stack of laser-sharp stars. A flick and he spun two at a woman holding a blaster aimed at Rooster. One struck her, blood spraying from the wound in her neck instantly, the other hit her wrist, nearly severing it.
One piece of shit down. She’d bleed out in minutes.
Two more stars buried themselves into a man’s torso. The man dropped his gun, clawing at the metal protruding from his chest, mutilating his hands in the process.
An Eli, blood blooming on his stomach, dropped to the ground. Dan darted sideways, shooting his blaster wildly as he stopped and stood over the man. A wild look in his eyes, he blasted anyone who headed or aimed their weapons at the fallen.
Tariq and Kaid went back-to-back, wheeling in a circle as one while they blasted.
Behind him he heard the slide of a battery being removed from a blaster. Xylvar whirled, pulled out, and threw one of his knives before the man could slip the new charge home. The blaster and battery both clattered to, and spun across the floor. The man grabbed his throat. Xylvar’s beast raised its head
and roared. His silver flushed his skin warm. Every Eli and Crea in the room was a glowing beacon of wild emotion.
Ramine blasted the lock on his cell before kicking it open. Then he aimed at a man with no chin and a hell of a nose and blasted him in the center of his head.
Xylvar unhooked one of his blasters, shooting a woman heading for Jasmine. The woman Xylvar recalled as Jen dropped her blaster. Right arm disabled, she pushed herself toward Jasmine. He aimed to kill, pausing when Jen put her hand to Jasmine’s neck. She was checking for signs of life. She nodded, looked up and met Xylvar’s glare, and nodded again.
Jen might be a Pure POS, but he’d let her live today.
Scuttling on her hands and knees, another woman darted from behind a cupboard, trying to scurry behind Xylvar to escape.
A quick flick embedded the tip of a star into the cement floor an inch in front of her hand. “Don’t move, bitch.” The woman froze. Ramine hurried over, extracting a set of cuffs from Xylvar’s chair.
When he reached the woman, Ramine kicked the star, glancing at Xylvar. “Fuck man, who the hell are you?”
When Xylvar didn’t answer, Ramine hauled the woman to her feet and dragged her into the cell he’d evacuated to lock her to one of the bars.
The last blaster zinged. Harsh breathing and moans of agony filled the air. Blood tried to out-stink the smell of the cells and the captives, but failed.
Xylvar spun his chair. The enemy were either, dead, injured or tied up. Xylvar hurried toward Jaz. Ramine, covered with cuts and bruises, hurried past him and shoved Jen aside.
Jen pressed her hand to the blast wound in her shoulder, gave Xylvar and Ramine an excellent rendition of the stink eye. “Hey, I’m trying to help.”
Ramine bent, gently rolling Jaz over, feeling for a pulse.
“I already checked, strong pulse.”
“Alive.” Xylvar could barely squeeze the words out from the relief. Though he’d known, knowing for sure calmed his beast. “Who are you?”
“Genevieve O’Hara. Criminal Justice Department. Undercover.”
The plot didn’t thicken, there were too many players. Xylvar stared into her eyes, saw the truth. This whole mess was becoming beyond complicated, a stew with too many ingredients to guess at the recipe. “Why’d you try and recruit her into the Pure movement?” He pointed Jaz.
“Thought it was odd the neighbor of two of my newest operatives turned up on my undercover op, undercover.”
He rolled closer to Jasmine. He wanted to bend and pick her up, hold her against his chest. “What did they do to her?”
“They fried her with an electro-prod, then pumped tranqs into her like she was a fucking dartboard.”
Ramine nodded toward the man with the nose. “He’s the one who ran this chamber of Hell, but he’s not feeling too good right now. I shot a hole in his head. Shame, I would have liked to have dragged that pleasure out. But life often disappoints.” He eyed Xylvar. “I know who these two females are, but what I don’t know is who you are.”
The distant sound of sirens signaled the imminent arrival of the much-needed medical units.
Ramine picked Jaz up and turned. Xylvar cupped her bruised cheek. “A friend.”
Ramine gazed down at Xylvar, gold streaks of metallic lightning flashing over his skin. “Yeah, sure. Friend.”
Several of the sirens ended outside in the woodland. Xylvar followed Ramine outside through the bodies and injured. Dan and Kaid already had their Eli friend outside, hurrying for aid. Tariq held his arm while blood oozed through his fingers, but medi-seal and painkillers would soon fix him up. Medi-seal burned like acid, but it sealed off blood vessels, joined flesh, and killed germs while it glued flesh back together.
Xylvar waited while the injured were seen to, members of the bloodletting cell arrested, and the bodies carried out, bagged, and tagged. Among the dead was an Eli male.
Kaid’s grim face followed the bagging process. “How do I tell his mate, his parents?”
Dan sat rubbing his thighs. “That he died saving lives.”
Kaid grunted while he studied the long cut across his shoulder and down one arm. “All the medi-seal needed for this is going to burn.”
Dan kept rubbing his thighs. “I’m sure the pain will go away when Bliss starts fussing. At least you can go home to someone who gives a shit.”
Kaid watched Dan still rubbing his legs. “You okay?”
“Yeah, no fresh injuries, bar a graze on my ass. Just the first time doing anything strenuous since Dempster blasted my legs.”
A female Eli came over and put her hand on his shoulder. Dan went from silver to red to silver, then flashed a mix of both.
Xylvar had never seen an Eli male blush before. He looked up at the female. She was tall and lean and sweet of face, and Dan didn’t seem to know where to look. The female fancied Dan. She obviously hadn’t caught on that Dan was shyer than a blind mole. Xylvar wasn’t sure who to feel more sorry for.
He watched the medics assess Jaz and nod toward one of the medivans. “Non-urgent. Observation until she’s conscious.”
Jaz’s head rolled. She met Xylvar’s worried look and closed her eyes slowly before reopening them. “I…watch it.” He spun, palming a knife as he did, caught a movement near a tree and threw. The knife spun through the air, landed with a sickening thud in a man’s chest.
Kaid lifted a blaster and shot the man in the head. “Dan, get two guys to case the woods, check for any more suicidal nutters.”
Xylvar, starting to sweat and feel a little light-headed, turned to Kaid and Dan. “We need to find our traitor. Whoever it is had access to the links we sent to you on your private line. Or the information you shared from there.”
Kaid’s mouth was a grim, tight line. “Only I have access to my personal line. Tightened up protocol, including new wiring, after Lucus tried to kill Bliss. But these guys being armed means it’s not the Crea with a leak, but us.”
“Or it’s someone who can hack. I want permission to pull your private line apart cyber-wise and trace all incoming and outgoing messages. If he or they are only listening, there will be a shadow.”
Ramine turned up. “I’m Ramine, one of Jasmine’s fellow agents. Thanks for the rescue. Being caged got old really quick. The night after I was brought in here, a Crea turned up. He was only here for a minute. He handed the guy running the place a paper note. I have to go to the medical center, but I’d like someone from Katoom clan to send me halos of every member or non-clan member so I can identify him.”
“Can do. Although he’ll probably be long gone now,” Kaid said.
Xylvar, sweat running down his back, his head spinning, still managed to croak out, “Heads-up. Jaz caught a meeting where your boss, Rich, had a private chat with a known Pure blood drainer and organizer.”
“Rich?” Ramine’s scowl was thunder black. “Shit. That how I got taken? I think I owe that man a couple of beatings.”
Kaid gave him an understanding nod. “Probably. The Crea, did he see you notice him?”
“Nope. They didn’t think I was conscious.”
Kaid turned chrome-bright eyes to Ramine. “I look forward to finding out who it is.”
35
Chapter Thirty-Five
The medics positioned Jaz’s gurney for loading into the medivan. Sweat running down his face, a burning pain in his stomach, Xylvar headed over. “I’m going with her.” He ran his hand behind his head and found his hair and neck sweat-slick.
She half lifted a hand. “I good.”
The medic stopped moving Jaz’s gurney. “Bloody hell. You’re not going anywhere. We need to check that out.” The medic pointed to Xylvar’s back. Xylvar twisted his head spinning wildly, but couldn’t see anything. “What?”
“You have blood down your left shoulder.” The medic walked over and pulled away Xylvar’s shirt. “Shit, you don’t feel that?”
Well, he did feel kind of shitty. “No.” The man hurried around to Xylvar’s front and
scowled, then pulled away the thick straps Xylvar had used to lock himself into his chair. “Blast hole.”
No wonder his gut hurt.
The man grabbed some medi-seal and pumped the painful stuff into the wound in his shoulder. It seared the shit out of it while it flowed through the wound, the pain stopping the moment it hit the lower front exit wound. “Guess I feel it now.”
“Boys, this guy’s first. He’ll have internal injuries.” The man grabbed Xylvar’s chair and started rushing him toward a different medivan. “Call this one in. He’ll need surgery. Urgent”
The medic stopped at the back of the van, waited for another medic to help him lift Xylvar onto the gurney. “This is a bad wound. The surgeons might leave a small scar.”
His guts cramped, but still Xylvar almost laughed. Like any more scars could make a difference.
“Well shit.” Xylvar turned toward Jasmine. “I want to stay with her.”
“She’s not going to die from her injuries. You will if yours are not sorted, fast.”
#
The next morning Xylvar woke to pasty, washed-out yellow walls, the stench of chemicals, medication, blood, and the horrifying feel of over-starched sheets. He thrashed, needing to escape the confines of the bed, and the medical ward. Heart hammering, sweat prickling his skin, silver blooming and receding erratically, he wanted to scream, to escape the body-cast and run—but the doc said…he looked down.
A drip stuck out of his left arm, his heart monitor beeping wildly as an iron band of true terror compressed his chest.
His right arm, strapped firmly to his chest, made him blink. No body cast. Right, right, he’d been out of the hospital for more than two years. But he couldn’t move his arm. Leaving him nothing more than his left arm to move with. His heart started to race again. Only one arm.
Trapped.
What had they done?
A nurse hurried in. “Mr. Johanneson, stop thrashing about. You have to heal. You’ve had extensive surgery.”
Flames of Hope Page 28
