by Zoe Forward
Kane cursed and retrieved his blade. “You’re lucky I missed.” He flipped on a lamp and wondered if he’d missed because the dragons threw off his usually perfect aim or because Markus’s remarkable luck had kicked in, as usual. He’d seen Markus prevail in more gone-to-shit disasters than he could count on both hands. Every single time they faced a guaranteed-fatality situation his brother strolled away from the incident as if all had proceeded according to his plan. If a nuclear bomb landed next to Markus, Kane expected his brother would stumble into the only radiation and bomb-proofed facility within a thousand mile radius seconds before detonation. “What are you doing crawling into my window in the middle of the night? On the second floor. Why not use the front door?”
Markus dropped a frayed backpack at his feet. “I didn’t want to deal with the bulldogs at the gate. Didn’t want to wake anyone. I figured the front door was probably alarmed, but the second story was most likely not. It was damned hard to scale that drainpipe and get up here.”
“How’d you know this was my room?”
“Dunno. Just knew.” Markus unwrapped a stick of gum and settled into a comfortable chew. “Where’s my how’re you doing? Or at least a good to see you?”
Kane barely heard him as he massaged his arm where the dragons moved. Based on their nonstop gnawing, his arm should be a pulpy mess of muscle and bone. But he’d confirmed the area on which they rested to be wound-free about a hundred times in the past few hours. His massaging hand shook. He fisted it and cursed.
“What’s wrong with you? First you miss and now your hand is shaking? I mean, thank God, your aim is off tonight, but that’s just…not you. What’s going on?”
Kane’s gaze popped to Markus. “What?”
Markus leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over a wrinkled white T-shirt with a cherry red stain down his left side that was probably the remnants of an exploded slushy, given his addiction to the synthetic crap.
Markus asked, “You get your head whacked or something? Do I need to speak slo-ow-ly?”
“Leave me alone.” Kane marched into the adjoining bathroom. He brushed his teeth and splashed his face, not feeling any more refreshed. And still just as jacked up. He stared at his reflection, unable to accept that he was now one of those cursed immortals expected to fight inhuman freaks. For eternity.
Aside from the dragons chewing his arm and new mid-chest triangular tattoo, he didn’t look or feel any different.
And then there was Astrid. Even after five years, one glance from her deep blues was all it took to tie his gut in knots. He’d tried to deny and then bury his distracting desire for the woman. She shut him down every time he got within a mile of the subject. He’d even filled out a transfer request four times this year—after each time she almost died—but chickened out on the actual submitting part. He needed to be there and do his damnedest to keep her on this side of the afterlife. Now he’d been commissioned to the task by a god.
He rubbed his forehead and ran a hand along his chin. She’d say he needed a shave.
The bitter truth hit him square in the chest with the force of a semi-truck. He might be head over heels for the woman, but she didn’t reciprocate. Maybe she never could. He couldn’t survive being near her and not touching for the rest of his life, which now promised to be a very long time, unless some daemon killed him. That blue-haired guy had implied they might be able to be together, but it didn’t matter. Where his mind was right now should she strip naked and grant his every fantasy, he couldn’t move beyond the image of her with another man. A guy who hurt her, and not just a little bit. And then left her pregnant. Every instinct in his body screamed she’s mine. Betrayal pierced through his brain, adding to its throb. That she could even consider another man cut deep.
Kane planted his butt on the closed toilet and pressed his thumbs into his eye sockets, desperate to halt the hum in his brain.
“You’re freaking me out, Kane.”
Kane blinked at Markus in the doorway. “Yeah. I know.”
“What’s up?”
“I’ve just been strapped into a rollercoaster from hell with no brakes.”
“I thought that shit you did in Sumatra going in with Astrid to free twenty kidnap victims was insane. After that stunt everything else is a downhill slide. What could be worse than that?”
“They made me one of them.”
“Who made you one of what?” Markus blew a green bubble whose small pop echoed in the bathroom.
“A magus. They made me a magus. Like Astrid.” Kane pressed his thumb into the side of his forehead. The easy way out of this migraine was to see Kira, but he wouldn’t.
Markus blew another bubble. It popped. He smacked a few loud chews. “Oh.”
Kane grinned. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got for me? And here I thought you might pull some piece of earth-shattering philosophy out of your ass to clear my mind fuck.” He shook his head and chuckled.
Markus lifted his shoulders and dropped them. He chewed his gum open-mouthed in a grin. “Could be worse.”
“How?”
“You could’ve borrowed a Persian sandstone icon from a sheik who got pissed and took out an international contract on your life.”
“I got you out of that one,” Kane said. “Not easily. It cost me a lot, but I got you free.”
“Yeah, but you hitched me a ride out of Turkey in a chicken truck. There were like a thousand of those scrawny turds in there with me. They’re mean little bastards when they’re hungry. One tried to eat my thumb. I still have nightmares that half my thumb’s gone, and I wake up with the smell of chicken shit in my nostrils.”
A snort laugh erupted from Kane. “You win.”
“I’m going to check out the refrigerator. Want a beer or something?”
“Nah. Why are you here, Markus? Really.”
Markus popped a bubble. “Felt like the right place to be.”
“The FBI is after you, aren’t they?”
“Damned Feds. I was on the up and up on this deal. This Columbian statue shouldn’t have been on their radar. It’s been underground for about four decades. But they showed. Everything went to hell with a lot of bullets. I think I saw your old boss there.”
“Colonel Greene?”
Markus nodded.
“If she was there, then they didn’t care about whatever you were peddling. They wanted to capture you to get to me.”
Markus nodded. “I thought so. That’s why I figured here was better. At least I hope the food is better. The only thing in the fridge at home are a few of your yogurts and ketchup. You know I hate yogurt. And ketchup’s only good if you have the fries to go with it.”
“That yogurt expired at least three months ago. I just never got around to throwing it out. The kitchen is downstairs. Back of the house.”
Markus saluted good-bye.
Kane pushed off the toilet and slipped back into Astrid’s dark bedroom. Hell, he didn’t even know why he was in here again, but he needed a visual.
A bit of light escaped under the bathroom door. She always left a light on. Long ago she explained it helped her locate intruders faster, but he suspected it reflected a deep need to stay out of the dark. He understood that.
She slept on her stomach, one hand near her head close enough to get the knife under her pillow, if needed. She’d pushed off the covers and her PJ bottoms had ridden up to her knees. Her pale hair glowed in the low light, invitingly soft. God, there were so many ways he wanted to touch her. So many things he could do to her body that would leave her gasping and immersed pleasure. This woman was trouble for him, and had been since the moment he met her.
He didn’t want her to fight against daemons with him, and definitely not without him. When she was on an op with him, he remained more intent on protecting her than on whatever danger threatened them. She was a distraction. It was why he should’ve followed through on that transfer. His distraction put both of them and their team at risk. Sure, he could pretend to
have his head in the game when on an op. He was a pro at maintaining the appearance of having his shit together. But usually he was totally and completely focused on her. At first he thought his preoccupation was normal since any time a woman was in the vicinity on a mission, a part of him looked out for her. Women were strong, especially Astrid. Resourceful and clever. But the primal male in him insisted they were to be protected. When it came to Astrid, though, this went way beyond protection and well into obsession.
His gaze swept over her perfect toned ass. He needed this woman in ways he didn’t understand. Ways that extended far beyond sexual and scared the hell out of him. He wanted to stretch out beside her on the bed and pull her into his arms. To hold her tight against his chest.
You’re an idiot, he told himself. She’d reject him. Again. He swiftly pivoted and vacated before he did something stupid that might shatter his soul.
Chapter Fourteen
Kane peered into the dark Arkansas megachurch from the upper level of stadium-style seating. “You’re telling me I’m supposed to fight some sort of inhuman otherworld beast in the dark? I can’t even see my shoes in this coliseum.”
“This is where seichim becomes important,” Dakar advised. “We shall follow the wall down.”
“Based on what Nate says he still doesn’t get that seichim crap. I’ve been at this five days. I definitely don’t get it.”
Dakar led downward. “Nate has not trained enough. The boy remains challenged by his abilities.”
“I heard that, asshole,” Nate grumbled from a few feet away in the darkness.
Kane asked, “How long have you been at this, Dakar?”
“A while. Where did you go, Nate?”
No reply.
Dakar asked, “Did you take note of Nate’s location?”
“Hell if I know. I still can’t see shit.” Kane did another scan of the darkness below, which was lit only by a few lights in the aisles. “Screw this. I’ll be right back.” Kane retraced their path to the exit where he’d dropped his bug-out bag. With a relieved sigh he put on his night-vision goggles. He easily wove his way between seat rows to Dakar. “There’s something hot to the west.”
“I detected it. Just remember to use your special sword to chest stab it and—”
“Cut its head off. Got it. But you said I was here to observe on this one,” Kane said, unsure how much he retained from his crash course with Eric yesterday on scimitar sword fighting. A gun, no problem. A small blade, even better. But hefting a sword longer than his arm that weighed a ton and seemed to have a mind of its own? He didn’t have a handle on that. He’d deal, when the time came, but he’d suck. Big time.
“Just be at the ready.” Dakar jogged downward toward the stage. Kane envied his ability to manage so easily without goggle assistance.
What was the plan? He despised team uncertainty in potentially violent situations. He longed for the organizational perfection of Astrid when she ran the team as the CO. Even though he outranked her militarily, she was damned better than he at organizing an op. With her at the helm, everyone knew their job and plans A, B, and god-forbid plan C. He unsheathed the sword and smiled. Glow in the dark. Nifty. He pushed the goggles onto his forehead, now able to illuminate his way with the sword.
He hoped Dakar killed the daemon alone. The faster they did this, the faster he’d get back to Astrid. Her depression funk worried him, but he’d let her have her space over the past few days, checking in on her daily, not that she said more than three words to him after giving him the sword. He accepted her atypically quiet unwillingness to interact. She hadn’t tried to off herself, not that he knew if that reflected maternal instinct or desire to live. Damn it…pregnant. Anger burned a hole in his stomach. How could she go back to an abusive bastard? He’d never pegged her as that kind of girl.
Dakar whispered beside him, “I shall engage it.”
Kane jumped. “Where the hell did you come from?”
Dakar chuckled. “Nate should be prepared to enter the fray, but if we are overcome, then it is your duty to dispatch it. However, I request no dragons, at least not until you can control them. Yesterday’s practice with them was not an optimistic exhibition.”
“They’re kind of cute. Just hungry.”
“Cute? They consumed all the outdoor furniture, two cars, and set six trees afire.”
“I think the shitty patio furniture gave them indigestion.” Kane chuckled, but jerked when one of the dragons bit his arm. They must understand him. Sorry, he thought to them.
****
Astrid propped her back against the wall in a sitting vigil a few feet away from the toilet. Was she supposed to be this violently ill when less than a week into knowing she was pregnant? She’d tried to make it to the bedroom four times in the past hour, each time ending in a one-eighty dash for the commode. Kira had not only confirmed her pregnancy, but also given her a computer print out on the do’s and do not’s during pregnancy. And placed an online order for a bottle of horse-pill-sized vitamins. The restriction of no soda, caffeine, and alcohol for nine months made her crazy. She dreamed of frothy beer and spent the entire day desiring a tall glass of sugar-free soda, even though neither had been staples of her diet before.
A wave of pain lacerated her side as if she’d been swiped with a blade. A glance down found only her pristine gray T-shirt, beneath which her skin was injury-free.
Fuck, that hurt, Kane’s voice ripped into her mind.
Kane was fighting? Without her? Why hadn’t he told her he was going into action? Maybe she hadn’t exactly facilitated an open line of communication in the past few days. Panic and fury coalesced. She shot to her feet, all nausea and indulgent self-pity forgotten. Kane might die in the type of unplanned free-for-all the magi daemon slaying entailed. She gargled mouthwash, spat, and rinsed.
She slipped on flip-flops, and checked and chambered the Sig Javen lent her yesterday. The weapon soothed her, even if it wasn’t her favorite model of gun. And it had no hope of doing anything against a daemon. To open the right doorway, she focused on Kane. Seconds later, she stepped into darkness. What were they doing in the dark?
Her eyes required a few seconds to adjust. The blue glow of a sword she recognized illuminated two fighters down near the front of the stadium-style building. She was two tiers up. They were quite a downward jog away. As she descended, a massive daemon lunged from the darkness and swiped its dagger-sharp talons at Dakar who wobbled to a stand after what must’ve been a head bender into something. Kane pushed Dakar out of the talons’ path, catching a glancing blow from the claws along his side. Astrid sucked air when his pain ripped through her.
A shadowed man moved a few rows to her left. She caught the flash of his facial piercings. She called out softly, “Nate, that you?”
“Yeah.”
“You hiding out up here or something?” she asked.
“The daemon launched me up here. I think I was out for a few minutes.”
“I need lights,” Astrid said, her gaze never leaving Kane. Move left, she thought hard to Kane. Miraculously, he stepped left out of the daemon’s reach.
“Power’s out,” Nate replied.
“I heard you’re Mr. Electricity. Turn on the lights,” Astrid ordered.
“Don’t know if I can do that.”
“Turn on the goddamned lights, Nate.”
The entire building blasted into brilliant illumination.
“Thanks.” She squinted to shield her screaming retinas and jogged down one tier of stairs to where Nate sat in the aisle massaging his head. Blood dribbled from a three-inch laceration near his hairline. She demanded, “What was your skill in special forces?”
“Sniper.” He pulled himself to a stand using a stadium seat.
She tossed him the gun, which he caught with one hand. “A Sig?” His tone dripped with disdain. He pulled a Kimber from his tactical vest.
“Yeah, I know. Not my choice either. Belongs to Javen.” She swiped her borrowed gun fro
m his hand and holstered. “When I get within fifty yards of that thing, blind it. If you think you can take off a few of those talon-things without hitting me, do it.”
Nate laid his scimitar on a pew and grinned. “Yes, ma’am. You’ll need to stay on its right side for me to have sight. You do realize those things aren’t nice.”
Astrid pushed up her boobs as high as the Christian-special push-up bra could take them, and pulled the shirtfront lower. She smirked. “It’ll be adequately distracted.”
Nate stared at her chest appreciatively. “That’s good. But it’s not human. So, I don’t think it’ll fall for that. You want to borrow my sword?”
She raised her eyebrows. “Nothing with testicles can pass up a boob scan. I’ll borrow Kane’s sword.”
She sprinted toward the pulpit, swiping the Sword of Neith, which lay discarded where it must’ve flown out of Kane’s hands. She mumbled the appropriate words to activate the sword. She yelled, “Kane, move your busted ass away from that thing.”
Kane whirled away from the daemon.
Astrid sauntered toward the daemon with a sultry smile on her face, sword behind her back. The daemon looked at her chest as if momentarily dazed. Now, Nate. As if on cue, two shots rang out. The daemon howled and clawed at its eyes. Another two shots and two talons gone. She hefted the sword into a wide arc. Surprisingly, it severed the creature’s head smoothly, unlike Javen’s sword the other day. With a chest stab, the daemon dissolved into mist.
She jumped away from the swirling malicious fog, twisting her ankle in the process. She landed on her ass. “Shit.” Talk about ruining a spectacular moment.
“What the hell was that about?” Kane yelled. He stalked toward her and pointed at her chest. His gaze lingered on her cleavage.
Astrid glanced up. “I blew out my flip-flop.” She held up the popped sandal.
He frowned at the sandal. “What was that about you flashing a daemon? What are you doing here?” Kane held out his hand to help her to a stand, his action at odds with the furious tone.
