Guardian (The Protectors Series)

by Nancy Northcott

  Rubbing her arms and keeping her knees bent, tight against her body, wasn’t doing much to conserve heat, either.

  Her captors had talked of having comrades here, and they’d discussed her fertility. Breeding. Mel shuddered. They outnumbered her. If they chose to rape her, she couldn’t stop them, but she could hurt some of them before they pinned her.

  A key rattled in the lock. Mel pushed herself to her feet. Fists loosely clenched, she balanced her weight in a ready stance.

  The opening door revealed a burly man with the same yellow-tinged skin and muddy eyes as the others she’d seen. He leered at her.

  Oh, God. Mel swallowed hard, tried to control her breathing. Clearing her mind had never been so difficult.

  The male jerked a half-dressed man—Stefan!—into view, then shoved him through the door. She rushed to him.

  “Mel. Thank God,” he said against her hair. His arms closed tightly around her. The warmth and the forest scent of his bare shoulder eased the chill in her bones.

  The guards slammed the door, leaving them alone.

  Fighting tears of relief, she clung to him. He was alive, and they were together.

  Stefan tipped her chin up. His eyes were steady. Determined. But he was shivering.

  Before she could ask why, he kissed her. Mel threw her soul into the caress, welcoming him, trying to show him all she felt for him.

  “It’s okay,” he told her, holding her close. “It’ll be okay.”

  Maybe he had reason to think so, but… “You’re shaking.”

  “I’m a little sick.” His face looked pasty, and lines bracketed the corners of his mouth. Four round wounds arced across his right shoulder, another four across his left chest.

  The room spun. Mel gulped air. She couldn’t pass out, had to take care of him. A quick look at his side showed no damage in the area of his liver. That was one good point.

  “Sit here.” She eased him down to the mattress and asked, “Do you know where we are? Why we’re here?”

  Scabbed over in crusty brown, his wounds smelled like the attackers at Cinda’s house. Like the toxin in Cinda’s blood and Wiley Boone’s. When she rubbed a gentle finger over one, Stefan flinched.

  “Sorry.” Mel slid her hand down to his forearm. “They’re like Cinda’s and Wiley’s, just not in the same places.”

  “They were meant to disable, not to kill.” He hooked his arm around her. “Come here and listen. I have a lot to tell you, and they won’t give us long.”

  They sat together on the mattress. If she rested her nose against his neck, his forest scent drowned the acrid one of his wounds. “What is this awful collar? Why put one on you and not me?”

  “You can’t use energy the way I do. They’re afraid of that.”

  Mel leaned back to look at him. “In the swamp, you killed a man…was that—”

  “Energy? Yes, but most of us just call it magic.”

  Her eyebrows rose, but Stefan didn’t seem to notice.

  “The collar blocks my power.” With a weary sigh, he leaned his head back against the wall. “I was going to tell you, sweetheart, I swear. I only needed a little more time.”

  “I know. We can worry about that later.”

  “Part of it’s important now. Without the collar, I can get us out of here. I can translocate, shift us from here to someplace else.”

  “Seriously? You can just…poof us out of here?”

  “I can.”

  He looked too earnest to doubt. Frowning, Mel traced his collar with a finger. “If we had something slim and sharp, I might be able to pick that lock. Lean forward and let me see.” When he did, she wrinkled her nose. “It’s longer in back. You won’t be able to turn it to the front, even if you get a chance at picking it.”

  “I don’t know how, anyway, but since you do, what do we need? I can keep an eye out.”

  “A thin, narrow piece of metal will do, though I need two of them sturdy enough to press the tumblers. A couple of big paper clips would do.” He nodded, and she continued, “What’s going on, Stefan? Who are these people and what do they want?”

  “They’re called ghouls. They want me to do research for them, on the toxin, I think. As long as I do, they won’t hurt you.”

  “But you…” She stroked gently beside the chest wound.

  “That happened in the driveway. Do what they say, don’t make trouble, and I’ll figure out a way to get us out of here.”

  “They talked about breeding me. I figured they might be human traffickers.”

  His arm tightened around her. “They’re worse. Don’t push them, sweetheart, please. Keep your head down and don’t challenge them until Burton can find us.”

  “If he finds us, you mean.”

  “I prefer to think about when. Besides, my friends will be looking, too.”

  She took a deep breath. “Can they do the kinds of things you can?”

  “Some of them, yeah. I was getting to that, too, damn it.” He turned miserable eyes to her. “I was working up to telling you everything.”

  “I believe you, but we have more pressing issues.” Mel laced her fingers through his. “These people have kidnapped a federal agent. The FBI will be in Wayfarer now. They’ll be looking, too.” That was some comfort. Her fellow agents, always tenacious, would be relentless in finding one of their own.

  “You’re strong and tough, Mel. We’ll get through this.” He kissed her softly, and she clung to him, needing the comfort, the little bit of normal.

  Stefan tucked her head against his neck. “I need to tell you about them—”

  The lock rattled again.

  Hastily, he said, “Don’t eat any meat unless you know for certain what it is.”

  “Why? Stefan—”

  The door crashed open. The same two burly men tromped inside, their eyes running over Mel with calculating lust. She bit down on a wave of nausea.

  When she and Stefan stood, he tried to shoulder in front of her, but Mel stayed at his side.

  One of the guards pointed an Uzi at her.

  “Time’s up,” the other said. “Mage, come here when I tell you.”

  Mage? Mel turned to Stefan, but he shook his head.

  “C’mere.” The guard snapped his fingers and pointed at a spot directly in front of him.

  Before walking to it, Stefan squeezed her hand and silently mouthed, Remember.

  The duo hustled him out of the room. When they’d locked her in again, Mel sank to the mattress.

  Mage. As in magic? If Stefan could fight with energy, shield against it, and magically take them out of here…yeah, magic fit. Wow. All that was tough to envision, but their captors wouldn’t have put that collar on him unless they thought he was dangerous.

  Mel gathered her wits and steeled her resolve. Her world was reeling, everything she’d believed turned on its edge. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, steadying herself.

  Survival was the first priority. She wouldn’t sit here and cower. Although physically outmatched, she had observation skills and a mind for strategy. She would watch, learn, and try to plan. The more she and Stefan knew about this place, the better their chances of escaping.

  * * *

  Stefan’s guards marched him across an open area of trampled dirt. Sticks and rocks jabbed the soles of his feet. Despite the queasiness, he tried to focus. He needed to know the layout if he and Mel caught a chance to escape. Seven or eight residential buildings, each big enough to house up to ten people, made this a big nest.

  Floodlights broke the darkness, but his inner sense said morning wasn’t far off.

  Hills ringed the cluster of buildings. Could be foothills or the sides of a mountain valley. The light, crisp air hinted at mountains, but it could also mean this nest lay far north of Georgia.

  Pretending to stumble, he sneaked a glance over his shoulder at the breeding shed, which was about a hundred feet across the front. It was windowless on the ground floor, but not above. What was up there?
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br />   A big propane tank stood in the center of the compound. That could be useful if he could get out of this damn collar. Around the dirt space in the compound’s center stood half a dozen four-door pickup trucks with extended beds, all parked haphazardly. Maybe the keys were in some of them. Who’d be around to steal them out here?

  The usual double fencing of chain link topped by razor wire surrounded the nest. No easy way through that without his magic. With it, he could simply translocate himself and Mel away.

  His guards walked him to a long, low cinder-block building set a little apart. They pushed him up a single step to a slab front porch and then into a small room mostly filled by the massive desk in the center. A blond female stood behind it.

  Looking Stefan up and down, she squeezed around the desk. “This is the mage doctor?”

  When the guard nodded, she said, “Bring him.” Her pale hair looked rumpled, as though she hadn’t bothered to comb it. She wore a dirty white lab coat over tight jeans and a red T-shirt that left nothing, including her bra-free state, to Stefan’s imagination.

  He and his companions followed her down a corridor and into a long room with a counter running down one side. Four disordered desks occupied the center of the room, and three computer monitors flashing abstract screen savers sat on the counter. Pointing to the one farthest away, she nodded. “There.”

  The guards shoved him over to the spot she indicated and locked a shackle around his ankle, anchoring him to the counter. Then they retreated to the far side of the room. The darkness outside was fading, giving way to predawn gray. Sunrise would be balm to his soul despite the frustration of not being able to draw in the sunlight and recharge because of the damned collar.

  The female jiggled the wireless mouse. The screen came into focus, displaying a chemical diagram. “You may have noticed we’ve grown stronger.”

  Her ammonia breath jarred Stefan’s nose and his unsettled gut. He swallowed and tried not to breathe deeply.

  “However,” she continued, “the effect eventually burns out the Transformed. Fix it.”

  She stalked out of the room, but Stefan hardly noticed. Had they actually given him the formula for the new venom?

  He clicked back and forth between files, scanning rapidly. References to Teachers, to an Old One. To demon blood and the Transformed, better known to magekind as superghouls.

  As a species, ghouls were impatient, quick to anger, and hedonistic. How had they become smart, focused, or patient enough to come up with something like this? Had they forced other captives to do it, or had they found help from mage traitors? Or was the Old One responsible?

  This file might hold all the answers, but that wouldn’t do anybody any good unless he and Mel could escape with the information.

  Chapter 20

  You’re slacking, mage.” The female scowled at Stefan. “Three days, and you’ve given me nothing. Better come up with something today if you want to protect that cow.”

  Yeah, he’d been stalling a little to buy himself and Mel some time to plan their escape. Sliding off his stool, he kept his face carefully blank. “There’s a lot of material here. I can’t help you unless I know what you’ve already tried. That means I have to read everything before I can do anything.”

  At least the prohibition on talking without permission didn’t apply in this room. He felt better, too, with the puncture wounds healing and his system finally clear of venom. Because the wounds had gone untreated, they would scar, but that was a minor consideration.

  Knowing how their captors created the superghouls was worth something. The toxin’s purple came from a mix of ghoul venom and Void demon blood, which was a very bad sign. You couldn’t get Void demon blood without a living demon in a body, whether its own or someone else’s that had played host long enough to change the physiology at the cellular level.

  He had to get that info to the Collegium. At least the ghouls had him working in the daytime, when he was potentially at his best and they were at less than full strength. Now if he could only remove this damn collar—

  Scowling, the blond female jabbed a fingertip into his chest, with the talon, luckily, not extended. “Only results will save either of you.”

  Bite me. “I don’t see blood tests on your fatalities. Did you run any?”

  “Those are awaiting processing. Get to work.”

  There was a blood analyzer here, but maybe no one knew how to use it. Odd that she didn’t tell him to, unless she was lying about having the samples.

  He turned back to the computer. The only good thing about that bitch’s interruptions was the excuse they gave him for facing the room instead of sitting with his back to it. Those little chats and his marches to and from the workstation or the john were his only chances to look around.

  The cluttered desks sometimes held paper clips, except for the one closest to him. With low, tidy stacks of paper on its top, it appeared to be unoccupied. If he could find a way to knock some of the clips off, grab a couple without being seen, maybe Mel could unlock his collar.

  If.

  At least the work helped him manage his worry for her. She was smart, and steady under pressure. She would cope. Yet he ached to be with her, to look out for her. He hadn’t had time to explain fully what they were up against.

  He turned back to the computer and clicked through another file. Without lab studies on the people who’d undergone the transformation, he couldn’t devise anything to stabilize it. Or figure out exactly how it worked.

  The ghouls here demonstrated more self-control, more strategic thinking, than he’d expected, more than anyone had gleaned from computers seized in raids. Because of the Old One? Or had mages simply not realized how much their foes had evolved? Captive breeders or mages wouldn’t see what he had. They would experience only lust and rage.

  Captive Mundanes, or even mages, though he hated to think it, might collaborate with them, as he was doing. Losing hope, they might grasp at any chance to protect themselves or those they loved. And there were still mage traitors running around, though he hoped their numbers were dwindling.

  It was clear the ghouls were smarter than expected, or else had clever allies. That was a strike against the mages’ efforts to defeat them. On the upside, the superghouls among them also had weaknesses. He’d learned a fair amount about the enhanced ghouls from the computer files. Some could shoot energy bolts, like their weaker comrades, while others couldn’t. They could translocate but not screen or, for some reason, talk. No indication whether they could scry, an important point if Stefan and Mel managed to escape.

  The injections that created them ramped up their metabolisms, so they burned out in three or four days. The ghouls who’d killed Cinda and attacked Wiley were dead. The one the deputy hit and Mel shot must’ve been more vulnerable because it was already burning out. The why of the burnout was what Stefan’s captors wanted him to figure out and prevent.

  His lips tightened against a curse. They could want whatever. He wouldn’t give them any more than was necessary to keep Mel safe.

  He did have answers to some questions. The ghouls hoped the blood of a gifted person would stabilize their deterioration and give them some sort of power boost. They’d drawn it from the nerve junctions in hopes it would be more energized—in what way, he couldn’t tell.

  The female’s footsteps sounded behind him. The guards moved in to join her. “Bring him,” she said.

  Holding his arms in the usual uncomfortable grip, they forced him back inside the breeding hut. Instead of going to his cell, they turned right, marching him down a different hallway with doors at irregular intervals. How big was this place?

  The guards shoved him through an open doorway and remained by the opening, watching. On a table inside lay a very pregnant woman with her feet up in stirrups and a sheet draping her body. Sweat drenched her brown hair. She wore a collar like Stefan’s, and shackles held her red, chafed wrists close to the table’s edge.

  Bastards. Stefan set his j
aw against the rant bubbling up his throat.

  The lanky male standing between the stirrups narrowed muddy green eyes at him. “The whelp is backward. Save it.”

  Stefan took the woman’s hand. When he touched her, he felt the familiar vibe of magic, as he’d expected because of the collar.

  She knew what he’d sensed. Misery filled her eyes, and she turned her head away. Stefan stroked her matted hair with his free hand. “Easy.”

  No one punched him for that. So talking was allowed.

  Tears trickled from her closed eyes. She didn’t respond in any other way.

  “I’m a doctor. I’m going to examine you.” He kept his voice gentle. “I’m Stefan. What’s your name?”

  She didn’t acknowledge him. Considering the fetus had to be a ghoul hybrid, he couldn’t blame her. She was probably suffering from severe clinical depression on top of everything else. Helplessness—and hopelessness—could do that to a mage as easily as to a Mundane.

  The male ghoul shoved a bottle of hand sanitizer at him. Damned poor substitute for a proper scrubbing and gloves, but arguing would accomplish nothing. With the male hovering behind his shoulder, Stefan cleaned his hands as best he could.

  He needed only a moment to confirm breech presentation. With the baby buttocks first, turning it was next to impossible.

  Facing the male, Stefan said, “I’ll need to perform a C-section. That means an operating theater, anesthesia, and a possible blood transfusion.”

  “You’ll operate here, and we don’t waste anesthesia on breeders. Get my whelp out.” The male shrugged. “If the cow dies, we can always grab another.”

  Stefan went cold all over with fury. “You fucking son of a bitch. I won’t operate without anesthesia.”

  “You will,” the male said, smirking, “or I fuck one particular cow tonight.”

  Stefan’s vision literally went red as he lunged. He had his fingers around the scum’s throat and shoved him against the wall before the guards’ fingers dug into his arms, dragging him back.

  The ghoul he’d attacked calmly strutted up to Stefan and backhanded him across the mouth. His neck rocked back hard, and pain flashed through his head. The follow-up punch to the gut left him choking. The coppery taste of blood flowed over his tongue from his lip being driven into his teeth, and flecks of blood landed on the floor as he wheezed.