Untouched

by Sara Humphreys

  The two men watched as William circled high above the property. Strong waves of shock and confusion pulsed from Peter. Dante had to admit he was surprised that Peter took it so calmly.

  “Man, I thought I’d seen everything,” he mumbled, his eyes still on the sky.

  “Not quite everything.” Dante kept his sights on William and watched as he swooped down to the cottage.

  His sharp voice cut into Dante’s mind. He’s not in the cottage. It’s empty. There doesn’t seem to be anyone else outside of the house except us—Amoveo or human.

  Can you get a closer look inside the house itself?

  Of course. William flew behind the house and out of sight. Dante swore softly and glanced at Peter who was looking at him through narrowed eyes.

  “What’s going on, boss?”

  “The cottage is empty,” Dante said. He kept his glowing gaze on the sky. “William’s going to see if he can get a closer look and see inside the main house.”

  “Uh-huh. And how do you know that?” Pete asked warily.

  “Telepathy,” Dante said in a very matter of fact manner. “It’s how we communicate with each other when we’re in our clan form.”

  “Of course,” he murmured quietly. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

  Before Pete could ask anything else, William swooped down behind them. Startled, Pete swore softly and jumped involuntarily. William shifted back into his human form and squatted next to them. His intense, now human eyes, immediately landed on Peter. “Sorry if I frightened you.” A smug smile played at his lips.

  “You didn’t scare me. You startled me. There’s a difference.” He eyed William’s suit. “Aren’t you a little overdressed for this?”

  “Peasant,” William mumbled.

  Dante let out a frustrated sigh. “Could you two duke it out later?” He turned to William. “Did you see anything?”

  “Yes.” William nodded, his mouth set in a grim line. “I’m sorry to say I did. Samantha, Malcolm, and Kerry are all in their clan form. The women are caged, and Malcolm is tied to a perch like some kind of house pet.” His lip curled in disgust. “There is one human. A male. I didn’t recognize his energy signature. There were definitely two others. I couldn’t see or sense who they are, but they’re definitely one of us.”

  “One of us?” Pete’s brow furrowed in confusion.

  William sighed and rolled his eyes. “An Amoveo, you simpleton.”

  “Simpleton? Who are you calling a simpleton, you birdbrain?”

  “Both of you shut up,” Dante hissed. He furrowed his brow in confusion. “Why wouldn’t they shift? Malcolm and Sam could just transport themselves out of there. Damn!” He ran a hand through his hair and stared up at the ominous house. “What the hell is going on?”

  “I’m not sure. However, I know that Samantha saw me. I tried to connect with her, but I was unable to create a mental link. It was as if…” He trailed off, a look of worry etched deeply in his face. “It was as if she wasn’t there.” His somber eyes flicked back to Dante. “Just as you said.”

  “I don’t know what the hell is going on here… exactly,” Peter hedged. William shot him a look of doubt, which caused Pete to let out a frustrated grunt. “Okay. I have no freakin’ idea what the deal is, but I do know that Kerry is in there, and some sick son of a bitch put her in a cage. So how do you boys want to handle this? It’s getting pretty dark in this creepy-ass swamp,” he said in a loud whisper as his eyes scanned the surrounding area. “Can we please go get her, so I can go back to New York City and deal with the regular weirdos?”

  Dante nodded and sharpened his focus. “Pete, you stay here, and keep watch on the perimeter. William, I want you to fly up to the second story, and wait for my signal.”

  “What the hell are you going to do,” Pete asked incredulously. “Just walk up and knock?”

  A slow, deadly smile spread across Dante’s face. “Not exactly.” He stood, spread his arms wide, and whispered, “Verto.”

  Peter watched with wide eyes as Dante shimmered and shifted into his clan form. Slowly, approval and something that resembled admiration spread over Peter’s features. His gaze followed Dante as he trotted in his fox form noiselessly across the gravel driveway and whisked up the steps of the house in a dark red blur.

  “Holy crap,” Peter mused. “He’s a fox?” He laughed softly and shook his head. “Well, the ladies always did say that about him.” He turned to William, but his smile faded quickly at the look of his unamused face.

  William’s sharp dark eyes studied Peter intently. “You have to know that he will die to save her,” he said quietly. “His life will mean nothing if he loses her.”

  Peter turned to face him, a look of annoyance blanketing his face. “Look, I know. Of course he’d be upset. She’s his client.” Peter knew that they were more than just business associates, but this guy, whoever he was, didn’t seem to be a big fan of human beings.

  “She’s his mate.” William bit out the words, each one dripping with impatience. Peter’s blatant dislike of William rolled off him in angry waves and was now compounded by major confusion. William rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. “Never mind.”

  William’s head snapped up as Dante’s voice captured his attention. The door is open a crack. I’m going in. Which side of the house is that room on?

  The back far right corner of the house. The one closest to the water. I’ll fly around back now. Don’t do anything rash, Dante. Get your mate, and get out of there. I’ll get Samantha and Malcolm.

  Peter watched the intense concentration carved in William’s face and suspected he was speaking with Dante. He glanced to the porch and saw Dante slip inside the open door. A soft whisper behind him and cool breeze brushed past, as William shifted into his gyrfalcon and took flight. Peter crouched low at the edge of the fountain and positioned himself, so he had a clean shot of the door. If anyone or anything came out of that house, it better be friendly, or it was going to end up dead.

  He looked at the chipped cherub wrapped in vines. “Guess it’s just you and me kid.” Then he turned his full attention to the house. “Game on.”

  Dante stilled when he entered the enormous and oddly familiar front hall of the old house. His heart thundered in his chest as he inspected his surroundings. It was exactly as it had been in the dream realm Kerry created. Everything. Every detail of the mammoth gilded mirror and the faded pattern on the rug runner—all of it was just as it had been in the dream. She’d been right. She was definitely somehow connected to this place.

  He closed his eyes, stuck his snout in the air, and drew in a deep breath. He picked up her exotic scent immediately. His body flooded with relief. It wasn’t the mental link that he craved, but it was better than nothing. She was here.

  He padded silently across the old wood floors and paused at the foot of the grand staircase. The floorboards creaking above him caught his attention. Footsteps? His large ears pricked up, and he stood stone still, straining to hear more. He closed his glowing amber eyes and concentrated on the energy signature that pulsed through the house. The ripple or disturbance in the energy field was even stronger inside, and it was coming from upstairs. William had been spot on—as usual. Someone had put a mental shield around the house, but it was coming from upstairs. Whoever did it had taken Kerry. His lips curled back, and a low growl rumbled in his throat.

  Slowly, he crept up the curved staircase and paused just before he reached the top. His large bushy tail flicked behind him. The light sound of a woman giggling drifted toward him. A door creaked open and echoed through the halls. The snickering grew louder and bounced down the hallway from the right side of the house. He had to shift back to his human form. His fox was perfect for stealth movements in the dark of night, but now he had to be prepared for battle. Members of the Fox Clan were well known for their abilities to slip in and out of places without being noticed, but they were physically stronger in their human form.

  Dante whispered
the ancient language and shifted. He pressed himself against the wall and listened. He called up the acute hearing of his fox and kept his eyes shifted to take advantage of the sharper vision of his clan. Dante peered around the corner at the top of the stairs and found it empty, except for a soft light coming from the last door on the right. He needed a weapon. A gun would’ve been ideal, but that was far too complicated to visualize—too many working parts. Only the oldest Amoveo had the ability to do that.

  In his mind’s eye he visualized a large, steel hunting dagger with a leather-wrapped handle. Within seconds he felt the weight of it in his hand. Dante gripped it tightly in his right hand and smiled at the cold steel blade. Prior to connecting with Kerry, he never would’ve been able to visualize a weapon like this, let alone do it so quickly. Samantha kept saying he was the missing piece to Kerry’s puzzle, but the truth was that Kerry was his. They fit. He wouldn’t lose her. Not now. Not ever.

  With the dagger gripped tightly in his fist, Dante silently eased his way down the hall. He repeatedly attempted to connect with Kerry, but each time found nothing. He stayed close to the wall with its faded and peeling wallpaper and inched his way up to the door that stood open just a crack. Light flickered, and just as Dante was about to kick open the door, an unfamiliar female voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

  “No need for violence. Come on in, lover,” she purred. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

  Anger burned brightly in his glowing eyes. He held the dagger pointed out and swung the door open with his free hand. The hinges screamed their resistance as the room came into horrifying focus. Pasha Zankoff stood in the center of the gigantic bedroom bathed in soft, dancing candlelight. There must’ve been fifty candles lit and flickering throughout the decrepit room.

  Pasha, surrounded by her captives, had a smug, satisfied smirk on her face. Dressed in black from head to toe, she looked every bit the villain she had become. Her hair, an untamed mass of dark curls, framed bright green eyes that glittered insanely back at him. Each hand held a gun. One was pointed at Samantha and the other at his beloved Kerry. His gaze flicked to Kerry, who paced restlessly behind the cold steel bars in her panther form. Her bright yellow eyes stared pleadingly back at him, and a low growl rumbled through the decaying room.

  Dante held his ground in the open doorway and turned his harsh gaze back on Pasha. “Why are you doing this, Pasha?”

  She made a soft scolding sound and shook her head slowly. “Now, now. Why are you asking questions that you already know the answers to?”

  “You’re a Purist,” he spat.

  “Yes, lover, I am. But you figured that out too quickly,” she taunted. “Come on now, ask me something else. A higher level query, perhaps?”

  “I don’t want to play games with you.” He took one step forward, but stopped when Pasha cocked both guns.

  “No, no.” She shook her head and smiled. “I don’t want to have to blow their brains out quite yet.”

  He growled and gripped the knife tighter. “You sick bitch!”

  She stamped her foot and pouted like a child. “Oh, you’re no fun. Fine,” she said with a huge exasperated sigh. “I guess I’ll just have to show you.”

  Her gaze flicked to Dante’s left. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye two seconds too late. He took aim and threw the knife at Pasha with incredible force, but she moved with lightning fast reflexes and avoided his blade. The knife flew across the room and shattered the glass in the French doors behind her. Seconds later, he was blinded and choking on some kind of powder. Coughing, his eyes tearing, he felt the shift come on beyond his control.

  The familiar tingle and prickling sensation of shifting rippled across his skin faster than it ever had. His body contorted and twisted almost to the point of pain. Before he could leap on his attacker and rip her throat out, a tremendously heavy net came down on him like a lead blanket. Snarling and growling, he fought back. Dante snapped blindly, hoping to catch one of them with his razor sharp teeth. However, the unexpected trap was more than effective, and within minutes they tossed him into the empty cage next to Kerry’s.

  The heavy door slammed shut, and Dante looked helplessly at his mate as he wrestled out from under the tangled net. Kerry roared loudly and turned her attentions to Pasha. She snarled and threw herself at the steel bars, but to no avail. Pasha threw her head back and let out a loud cackle, but Dante barely heard it.

  When he saw the man standing behind her, the whole world went out of focus. It was as if he was hearing everything underwater. The person helping her was the kid from the hotel—Brent. What the hell? He’d scanned the boy’s mind, but found nothing. No evidence of Pasha or the Purists. All he’d seen was fear. Why would this wimpy kid be involved with Pasha? How could he have been so completely wrong?

  The boy stood there shifting his weight back and forth and shuffling his feet nervously. He looked at Dante and Kerry through sympathetic eyes. It was as if he didn’t want to be doing what he’d obviously helped her do. How the hell did this kid even know about the Amoveo?

  “You see,” Pasha began. “New Orleans is the perfect place for our people. It’s colorful, loud, and possesses a good deal of magic. If you know the right people and have enough money, you can get a spell for just about anything.” She practically sang it. “I have to admit this worked far better than I thought,” she said, referring to the glass bottle in Brent’s shaky hands. “The powder that’s stinging those pretty eyes and burning the inside of your nostrils? Well, that’s part of a binding spell. Although… I did have to be very careful not to breathe any of it or get it on my pretty skin.”

  She stood, grabbed the boy by the arm, and pulled him next to her. He looked at her with pure terror. “My boy Brent has been very helpful, to say the least.”

  She shoved him away from her, twirled in the center of the room, and let out a maniacal giggle. Breathless, she stopped and flopped herself on the rotting floral blanket on the four-poster bed. Dust puffed up around her. She sat up swiftly and struck an innocent pose on the edge of the bed.

  “You are all bound in your clan forms with none of your abilities. So really… you’re just animals.” She laughed and then sighed dramatically. “Sadly, it only lasts a month. You see, this was the only way to keep you all in one place. This way you can all watch each other die.”

  Disbelief flooded his mind as he looked around the room. Dante shook his furry head and let out a low whine. This couldn’t be happening. He wanted to scream at Pasha and the boy. To stand up and choke the life out of her and ask her how she could betray their people like this. His head swam with questions. First and foremost, how the hell were they going to get out of this? With all of his abilities gone, he was as powerless as a run of the mill fox.

  Pasha’s cold, calculating eyes peered at Dante. “You are really pathetic, you know that? Look at you. You are pissing your life away over this thing,” she spat with a look of disgust at Kerry. Dante snarled viciously in response. “It’s men like you that are killing our race.”

  Dante watched as rage and resentment bubbled under the surface and clouded her features. Bitterness tinged every word. Pasha stood up from the bed, sauntered over, and squatted down in front of the cage, putting herself eye to eye with Dante.

  She threw a glance and nod toward the glass in the door. “By the way, if you think you’re getting any help from William, you can forget it.” She leaned in closely and lowered her voice. “That knife that went flying through the window—” She smiled. “It hit poor old Willie. Yup, it knocked him right out of the sky.” She smacked her hands together. “Splat! He’s probably bleeding to death on the ground as we speak. Too bad there’s not a healer nearby who will help him.” She narrowed her eyes and made a scoffing sound. “Well, not one who can help him. He’s… otherwise occupied.”

  Dante’s eyes flared bright red. He snarled at the mention of Steven. He scanned the room and quickly focused on the cage that remained covered. Steven must be i
n there, trapped like the rest.

  She sauntered slowly over to Malcolm’s perch. “Polly wanna cracker?”

  Malcolm, still blinded by the hood, shrieked and flapped his wings desperately, attempting to claw at Pasha with his razor-sharp talons. However, the short chain kept him tethered to the post and garnered a cruel laugh from her. Still laughing, she walked to the one cage that remained covered. Dante couldn’t believe that this coldhearted, evil bitch had accomplished all of this on her own.

  Someone else had to be involved besides the sniveling kid. It had to be her brother, Boris. He scolded himself. How could he have been so blind? His gut instinct had told him not to trust Boris and Pasha. He looked around the room at his mate and his friends, trapped and helpless. Guilt flooded his heart. They were all here—in this situation—because of him, and at the moment, it looked as though they had no way out.

  Pasha casually placed one of the guns on a wing chair by the bed and slithered next to Brent, who flinched and attempted to slip out of her embrace. He looked as though he wanted to run right out the door. She wrapped one arm around his waist and held the other gun against her belly. She glanced down at the covered cage and smiled.

  “Shall we show them who else we brought to our party?” she said, placing a kiss on his trembling jaw.

  Brent licked his lips nervously. “I guess.”

  “You guess?” she sang. “Come on. They’ll love this.” Smiling, she grabbed the cover with both hands and made a drumroll sound. With a great flourish she tore the drape from the cage and shouted, “Ta daaa!”

  A massive striped tiger stood rocking back and forth, trapped within the cold steel bars. Thick muscles rippled under an orange and black streaked hide. A long tail flicked angrily, and large clawed paws swatted viciously through the bars. His burning golden eyes honed in immediately on Pasha, and he let loose a bone-shattering roar. It was Boris. Pasha was going to kill her own brother.