by Jane Cousins
Squinting through the dust haze he found them locked in a three way struggle, Cara still kneeling on the lid of Apep’s sarcophagus, Sek and Mot on either side of her, gripping her by the arms. Could these guys teleport? He didn’t know but he could see clear strain on their faces, huh, maybe like the sand creature all this debris in the air was interfering with their mojo. Or just maybe Cara was too strong for them.
Fuck, she looked like an avenging Angel as she knelt there, conviction and vengeance giving her face an icy regal look. He could understand what she was feeling, these two fuckwits had just admitted to killing her mother, they didn’t deserve to live… but not at the cost of her life.
Erik winced as the mega-high ceiling above their heads buckled and groaned, Goddess, she really was going to bring it all down. Not stopping to think, Erik charged forward, veering to the untouched sarcophagus on the left he yanked the thick stone lid right off of it, as if it weighed no more than a piece of cardboard. Still moving fast, he swung it back like a bat, and followed through with all his might.
Dickwad or dipshit… he didn’t know which one and didn’t really care at that moment, never saw him coming, as the lid hit him in the upper body and sent the demi god hurtling off across the room like a feather being hit by a hurricane.
Erik dropped the lid, pulled back his fist, leaned across the sarcophagus and punched the other one right in the mouth. Thankfully the adrenalin pumping through his veins prevented him from feeling any damage he might have done to his hand. But he had a feeling he was going to be paying for his stupidity later. He should have hit him in the nose, like Odin taught him, but he’d been caught up in never wanting to see the dickhead give him another one of those shit-eating smug grins.
Still, his punch was effective enough to send the other man reeling back down the stairs to the debris covered floor.
Erik lifted Cara off of the lid and half carried, half dragged her down the stairs. Overhead the roof groaned again, a track of lighting falling to the ground somewhere in the disaster zone off to their right.
“Cara...” He kept pulling her forward. “…do not bring the ceiling down on our heads.” He continued to drag her towards the exit. Weird how suddenly he could hear the alarms blaring when a moment ago he hadn’t even realised they were on. Shit, they needed to get away before the emergency crews arrived and demanded a mundane explanation for this decidedly supernatural phenomena. To do that, he needed Cara to wake up out of whatever trance she’d gone into and move her nicely shaped ass. “Cara!” Fuck, she was still practically boneless, her steps leaden, her mind clearly focused elsewhere.
Just outside the exit of the Egyptian wing he turned to face her. He’d been thinking about slapping her, seeing if that would wake her up. But as he stared into those big blue sapphire eyes of hers, filled with pain and seething rage he could think of only one thing to do.
He pulled her in close and kissed her. It wasn’t a gentle kiss as he pressed his lips to hers. It was a demanding one, insisting that she come back… come back to him.
He sunk into the kiss further as he felt Cara relax into him and participate… returning his kiss. The heat they generated between them was practically scalding. He could have sworn he felt a wave of something hot and chaotic punch out of her, through him. Inside the Egyptian wing half the roof caved in with a tremendous deafening crash. Erik pulled back from her, looking nowhere else but into her eyes.
“What happened?” Cara asked, the hurt and pain replaced momentarily with dazed heat.
“Questions later. Come on Angel, we need to make a run for it.”
Chapter Sixteen
Cara stumbled, pulled along in Erik’s wake. She couldn’t seem to focus. Her mind kept replaying over and over Sek’s emotionless declaration. Those bastards had killed her mother. She bit her bottom lip to stop the tears from falling, her current state was bad enough without adding sobbing to the list. And tears wouldn’t bring her mother back. She had to stop thinking about it, or she’d go mad.
Even though they’d managed to snap the plastic tie binding her wrists the two of them still must have made a sorry sight as they fled from The Met. She wondered what the New Yorkers roaming the sidewalks that evening thought of them. Probably they didn’t even registered on their radar. They were New Yorkers, they’d seen it all. Even a man and a woman covered with grit and dust from head to toe. The man’s t-shirt ripped and torn into such a shredded mess that it was only just barely staying on him by a thread.
Funnily enough, Cara did note that more than one woman took a second glance Erik’s way as they passed by, but from the admiring looks she didn’t think they were seeing anything but his rippling muscles and the rigid hard planes of his abs and chest… floozies, the lot of them.
Erik turned down another brightly lit street, they were moving too fast for her to make out the name on the signpost. It was wide, lots of trees, the buildings looked solid, old and very, very expensive. They passed more than one doorman who looked vastly relieved that the filthy couple, wearing torn clothes and sending puffs of dust into the air with every step they took, didn’t wish to enter their establishment.
They passed a woman wearing a mink coat walking a dog that was as tall as she was, the woman sending them a haughty look, sniffing derisively. All Cara could think was that the night was too warm for a mink coat. It was the end of summer in New York, the night air tainted with the faint smells of garbage, engine oil and expensive perfume.
Erik turned abruptly down a narrow cobbled walkway, Cara obediently trotting along fast behind him, his grip on her was like iron, she doubted she had much choice in the matter of where they were headed. They emerged onto another street, she tensed, that was Central Park across the road, they were still too close to The Met for comfort.
Merda, The Met! What had she done? Destroyed a National Landmark… and all those Egyptian treasures.
She felt a wave of shame and embarrassment flood through her followed swiftly by a hollow desolate wave of misery... Sek and Mot had killed her mother… murdered her. The car accident hadn’t been an accident at all. What had happened at the funeral… all those months she’d spent on the run. They were to blame, it had all been some experiment to see if they could trigger her as the next chaos focus.
They’d managed that in spades, hadn’t they? She was the chaos freak of the century and she’d just destroyed The Met to prove it. In the distance she could hear the blare of emergency vehicle sirens, she was pretty sure she could guess their destination. The Met! She’d destroyed The Met.
She was so caught up in her misery vortex that it wasn’t until Erik bought them to a halt in front of a large gleaming elevator that she realised they’d entered a building. She glanced around quickly at the gleaming dark grey marble tiled floors, high ceiling and huge expensive artwork that lined the lobby walls. There was a doorman standing outside on the pavement, he must have let them in. Did that mean he knew Erik? Where were they?
The elevator doors swished open silently. Erik pulled her in gently to stand beside him, using his other hand, the knuckles of which were raw and bleeding she noted, to punch in a security code. The doors closed immediately and the lift rocketed upwards.
“Where…” She had to swallow hard, her throat so dry and dusty. “Where are we?”
The elevator doors swished open, Cara numbly following Erik as he stepped out. Wow, as New York apartments went, this was a stunner. The large arched windows that ringed the room providing spectacular views of the dark park across the street and the surrounding high priced area.
They had stepped from the elevator directly into a large living space, lit by three large round globes that hung from the high ceiling. The wooden floorboards were dark in colour, complimenting nicely the two large dark grey sofas that took up the majority of the room, decorated with light grey and orange cushions. Someone knew their decorating palette.
Cara took it all in; the cashmere throws, the brass lamps, the large gas fireplace and t
he gorgeous, remarkably life-like, marble sculptures of two girls on either side of it, depicting Winter and Fall. It was amazing how real the fallen leaves looked at Fall’s feet, as the girl danced whilst she collected nuts and berries. And Winter, wow, the artist had done amazing things, the statue’s gorgeous face upturned, revelling in the first snow of the season. Cara couldn’t be positive but it almost looked as if tiny individual flakes clung to the marble girl’s eyelashes. Seriously beautiful artwork, and probably filthy expensive too. They must make an amazing sight, lit by the crackling fire on a cold New York winter’s day.
“Come on.” Erik tugged her forward. “The kitchen is this way and I’m betting you could use some water.”
Cara could only nod.
The kitchen was just as nice, but sleek with modern appliances and lots of expensive dark marble countertops. Cara released a soft sigh of relief as Erik led her over to a bar stool, propped her there and moved to the fridge, pulling out bottles of water.
“Is this your place?” She asked after her first long drink of water.
Erik, now seated on the barstool next to her, shook his head. “My brother’s place… Locke.”
“It’s beautiful and really, really…” Cara searched for the right word.
“Clean.” Erik provided. “Sometimes I think he sneaks over here when Serena’s busy.”
Cara coughed slightly on her next mouthful. “Your brother is cheating on his wife?”
“What? No!” Erik looked vaguely shocked by the idea. “I meant that he comes here to clean. He’s a bit of a freak when it comes to dirt and germs and stuff.”
Cara looked down horrified to see the clear outline of her dusty footprints intermingling with Erik’s marring what would have been pristine wooden floors. “How upset is he going to be at us for getting this place dirty?”
Erik shrugged. “Nah, don’t worry about it, he loves any excuse to get the German made steam vacuum cleaner out that Serena gave him for his birthday… he adores that thing, it costs more than most people would spend on a car.” Erik drained the last of his water and glanced over at Serena’s half-finished bottle. “Want some more.”
“No.” She shook her head, suddenly very aware of a number of sore muscles and aches and pains.
“What about a beer?” Erik headed for the fridge again.
Hmm, alcohol, probably not the best idea, but she found herself opening her mouth anyway. “I don’t suppose there’s any white wine?”
Moments later Erik watched Cara chug back over half the contents of the glass of wine he’d just handed over. She was making faster progress on it than the water he’d given her. “You okay?”
“I destroyed The Met.”
“Not all of it.” Erik leaned back against the marble bench top and took a long cold pull of his beer. Absently he held the chilled bottle against his aching raw knuckles. “Just the section about Egypt… and who visits that wing anyway?”
“Everyone… everyone, visits that wing.” Cara drank more wine. “It’s one of their most popular exhibits.”
Erik shrugged philosophically. “Then you did them a favour, it was getting old and tired. Just think… with all that insurance money they can buy some new stuff and give the place a once over with some fresh paint… and a new ceiling.”
“Buy some new stuff? They were ancient treasures Erik, irreplaceable probably. Merda…” Cara added in a few more Italian swear words… petering to silence as she noted Erik eyeing her with heated cobalt blue eyes.
“Damn, I do love it when you swear in Italian.”
Cara drained the rest of her glass, her head spinning slightly as the wine hit her empty stomach. The way Erik looked at her made her feel uncomfortable, she fought not to shift nervously on her stool. Her pulse had picked up and that warm glow between her legs was making itself known… oh, no, not her chaos powers. Not here in this gorgeous pristine apartment. Breathe Cara. It will be fine, just breathe. Placing her empty glass down on the marble counter she made the mistake of glancing over at Erik one more time, the stem of her glass promptly snapped in two.
Erik chuffed a laugh, staring at the broken glass. “Making you nervous, huh? Anyway…” He shifted his gaze away from Cara, Erik didn’t want her setting the place on fire or doing any more damage. “Trust me, I know my marble and stone, and most of the stuff The Met had in there were just very good reproductions.”
“You think?” Cara reached up to wipe something off her cheek, then realised that was a futile gesture, if anything she was just smearing more dirt around her face. “I don’t suppose there’s a shower I could use?”
“Good idea, I could use one too. I’ll show you the master bedroom and see if we can’t find you some fresh clothes and I’ll clean up in the guest suite. Let’s say we meet back here in thirty and have something to eat.” He flexed his sore hand.
“Is that wise? Hanging around here? Shouldn’t we be calling for help or finding a way to get back to Haven Bay and let everyone know what’s going on?”
“I’d like to wait and catch the late news, I don’t think either Sek or Mot are dead but let’s watch and see. Plus, I think we need to take some time to catch our breath. We can speak to Hadleigh and the beefcake warriors in the morning. The demi god shitheads don’t know about Locke and they certainly don’t know about this apartment, so let’s take the time we need to regroup.”
* * *
It took Cara more like forty-five minutes to clean up. A lot of that time was spent drying her long heavy mass of hair. It had been all kinds of filthy and the expensive products stocking the ridiculously spacious shower had just been too tempting not to use.
On bare feet she left the sumptuous main bedroom, very conscious of the borrowed clothes she was wearing. Locke’s wife might have been curvy but she was still more petite than Cara. The best she could do was some black stretchy pants with an elasticized waist, the cuffs ending just below her knees and in desperation she’d pinched one of Locke’s black silk shirts. Even then, she could only manage to button the shirt up just enough to cover her bra.
All thoughts of how silly she must look disappeared when she walked back into the dimly lit living room. Crossing the room, she stopped at one of the large arched windows and peered off to the side. News and police helicopters swooped and jockeyed for the best position above a bright orange glow that coloured the night sky. Oh dear, she clasped her arms around her upper body. That wasn’t good, that wasn’t good at all. Turning she trudged towards the kitchen.
“I think I set fire to The Met.” She announced as she entered.
Erik, who’d been watching a news story on that very subject quickly picked up a nearby remote and turned the TV off. “The good news is they think it was an underground gas explosion.”
Cara sat down at the small round table across from him, pushing her mass of ringlets back over her shoulder, wishing she had a tie to braid it back. “How can that be considered good news?”
“Well, for one thing they’re not saying the damage was caused by a dark haired man and his blonde companion who were seen fleeing the scene.”
Cara contemplated that thought for the moment. “I suppose so. What about Sek and Mot, any news on them?”
“Yeah, the emergency crews are reportedly looking for two missing security guards.”
Cara ground her teeth together. “Could they be dead?”
Erik shook his head, opening up the first aid box he’d found under the sink and extracting the hydrogen peroxide. “I doubt it, being demi gods and all, it would take more than a ceiling falling on them to kill them. Though it will put an interesting news slant on the story when they finally get a chance to get in there and view the damage. Should take the pressure off us if anyone witnessed us high tailing it out of there.”
Cara frowned. “Pressure off?”
“Think about it. Once the site cools down and the emergency crews get in there, what are they going to find? A missing priceless sarcophagus and two AWOL security guard
s. They’re going to put two and two together and think robbery, inside job.”
Cara nodded. “And that all the damage was just a distraction, part of their grand escape plan.” She huffed a small sigh. “I’d still rather they were dead… or at the very least, badly hurt and in lots of pain.”
Erik nodded in sympathy. “Still, they’re on the run, with Apep’s sarcophagus. Their faces will be plastered all over the news soon enough, may make their lives slightly more miserable.”
“Only seems fair that they have insurance investigators hot on their trail now. Small solace for what they did.” Cara watched as Erik began to dab at the cuts on his sore hand with hydrogen peroxide, except he kept jerking his hurt hand away at the last moment and didn’t seem to be making much progress.
“Ouch… fuck… ouch…”
“Oh stop that, you big baby.” She grabbed his hurt hand gently but firmly and took away the applicator. “Here, let me do that for you.” It was all she could do not to laugh as she noted his face tensing up in anticipation. Damn, it was kind of endearing and the man looked way too cute in borrowed formal black dress trousers paired with a dark silver shirt that he’d left untucked and barely buttoned. His hair was down, the very ends still damp from his shower and like her, his feet were bare. “So, you want to tell me how you can escape unscathed from a knife being jabbed into you and metal things falling on your head, but you go to pieces because you have an owie on your hand?”
“That is not an owie, these scrapes were caused by dipshit’s teeth breaking against my fist. Do you know how many germs are carried in the human mouth? …Ouch.” He winced as Cara applied more peroxide.
“Yes I do know, librarian, remember. But you still haven’t explained how you can be bleeding from simply punching Sek in the mouth when you bent back his knife when he tried to stab you?” Cara let go of Erik’s hand and put the cap back on the bottle.
