by Bonnie Vanak
Biting her lip to suppress her tears, she started to leave and saw him throw the slave armband at the piano. It hit the vase of roses, sending them spilling to the carpet. Water poured over the pristine, polished cabinet of the Steinway, dripping to the carpet. Like his blood had dripped in the basement.
Sullivan accompanied her to the bedroom where Dale moved her belongings. Packing didn’t take long. She took the saddlebags and trudged downstairs, the ache in her chest turning into a stabbing agony.
Sullivan held the door open. She went through it.
She did not look back.
* * *
Money presented a slight problem. She had left the 3,000 dollars in cash Dale had given her on his dresser. She had enough cash to select a nice hotel on the beach for two weeks, but Keira didn’t worry about conserving her funds.
Without the armband’s protection, it would not take long for demons to capture her.
For two days, she took a towel and chair to the beach, sitting on the sand, staring at the lacy waves crashing upon the shore.
Remembering how Dale rescued her from the churning surf.
Remembering how they’d made love.
And then the memories became so thick and rich with grief, she wanted to bat them away, but did not. Soon enough, they’d become wisps, cobwebs torn in the wind.
All she had to sustain her through the long nights were memories of Dale.
On the second night, Keira walked outside into the warm Virginia Beach air. A restaurant a short walk away promised good seafood and an oceanfront view while dining.
Sandals dangling from one hand, she strolled along the sand, shuffling her feet in the warm grains, avoiding the crush of pedestrians on the boardwalk. A short set of steps led to the boardwalk and the restaurant. Keira trudged up the stairs and gazed at the diners eating outside, separated from the boardwalk by a low wall. It looked like a fun place, crowded, with lots of laughter and good times.
Perhaps here, she would not feel quite so alone.
A strong, masculine scent filtered through the briny air, drawing her short. Lifting her nose like a wolf to the wind, she gazed around. Pedestrians squeezed past, talking and laughing. She saw no handsome navy commander with piercing gray eyes.
But the spicy scent of his cologne, twined with the richness of his scent of crisp pine and cold snow, tantalized her senses like steak to a starving man. Keira stopped, panic and longing crashing together.
At a corner outdoor booth, Shay and Kelly sat with Dale and a blonde woman she did not recognize. The blonde’s hair was long and luxurious, and the tight black sheath she wore, along with a slim string of pearls, hinted of money.
Dale said something and the blonde laughed, squeezing his hand and leaning close to whisper into his ear.
A date, she thought, stricken. I haven’t been out of his life more than two days and he’s dating.
Keira swallowed hard. Yearning filled her, to draw close one more time, feel the warmth of his wide mouth pressed against hers, the strength in his arms entwined around her waist, sheltering her. Hear his whisper that nothing would tear them apart.
But it did.
She did not deserve happiness for her crimes. But this honorable Mage had done nothing wrong, except finally believe she was not evil.
He deserved joy, to find someone special who would cherish him.
As I did.
A sob wrenched from her throat. Two men in sailor uniforms glanced her way. Keira turned and scurried back to the hotel, her appetite gone.
* * *
They caught her the next day.
Keira struggled hard as the demon minions grabbed her arms in her hotel room. She tossed a white energy bolt at one, killing him. But then more materialized, dozens of them holding her down.
Flat nostrils twitching, they clapped a restraining collar around her neck.
They materialized inside a large, empty warehouse. The stench of old blood and death tinged her nostrils.
Seated at a card table was Antony, the oldest Centurion. Ghostly specters floated around him, the others still unable to take form, but freed from the bolt-hole. The minions threw her down to the cold concrete floor. The collar bit into her throat, making her gag.
“Nice to see you again, Antony. I see you’re still a glutton. Ever think about a diet and exercise?”
“Leave us,” Antony ordered. He thumbed a small device, the size of a cell phone.
When the minions dematerialized, he depressed a button on the device. Muscles spasming, she jerked and twisted on the floor. When the convulsions ended, she got to her knees and glared at the demon.
“I expected you to find me sooner. What’s wrong? Your GPS malfunction?”
“A slight delay in Nicaragua, opening the bolt-hole to allow my brothers to escape.” He studied his fingernails. “We had to wait until the armies under our control widened the doorway.”
If only she’d found the bolt-hole and the book of ancient spells that originally summoned the Centurions from hell. But Keira did not know where it was hidden.
Antony, the only Centurion to keep form since the demons were summoned by the soldiers fighting in the Contra war, hid the book well and kept moving it.
He gave a cold smile as she rubbed her neck. “Unfortunately, your new restraint does not work as effectively as the armband, but it will suffice. The Tasers Jimali stole for us make a poor substitute for controlling you.”
Hope surged. Without the armband and the proper spell to compel her to shift into wolf, Antony couldn’t force her to torture more victims.
“I can take whatever you dish out. I won’t torture any more men for you, no matter what you do to me. Go to hell,” she snapped.
“We know where your brave navy SEAL commander is. Tonight, I will take him captive.”
“He’ll fight you. He’s no longer defenseless, and no longer able to be lured into a trap. All his powers have been restored.”
He turned to a ghostly specter hovering nearby. “He will fight us. The base is secure. We cannot enter, even with Thad’s identification card.”
Panic tightened her chest. He’d already tested accessing the base. “Where is Thad?”
“He escaped when Jimali captured him. Unfortunately.” Antony seemed confident. “But we have the means to take out your navy SEAL commander. We know his weakness for his men, and will lure him into a trap once more.”
Antony seemed overly confident. He leaned forward, his belly spilling over the studded belt.
“Dale can’t be touched. He’s far too powerful.”
Antony gave a mocking grin. “Yes. And with his death, I shall live forever, and seize his team for my brothers to torture.”
Horror pulsed through her. “I won’t torment him anymore. You have no power to force me to do so. You’ll have to torture him yourself.”
“Ah, but my methods are so inconsequential compared to the lure of your demon wolf, who can make him scream with pain and pant with lust. You are the reason why I have remained alive these past decades.”
She was why the demon lived as a human. He had killed the one who summoned him twenty-three years ago, seized the Book of Spells used in the summoning and then tore through the fighting armies like a buzz saw, stealing the bravery they used to fight. But the energy infusion never lasted more than a few days. And then Antony had chanced upon her pack, and realized the riches of having someone else do his dirty work.
All those men she’d been forced to torment. Keira’s heart clenched. She must atone for her misdeeds.
“Only you can save your navy commander. What will you do to save him?” Antony asked. “Will you die for him?”
Keira squeezed her eyes closed. His men were strong and might rescue Dale, but until they did, he would suffer more torment, and the haunted, empty look would return to his eyes. She wanted him to live, be happy....
There was a slim chance Dale and his team would track the demons. Thad was alive and the team would find the Ce
nturions before other innocent men died. But they would probably not be in time to save her....
Fierce resolve filled her. She opened her eyes.
“I will. Spare him, and take me in his place. Leave him alone.”
“Such a rich prize, freely offered.” His thin, wispy laugh sounded like teeth chewing on tin foil. “Who needs a navy SEAL when we have you, Keira?”
Antony stood and reached into a small bag, withdrawing something. Horror pulsed through her as she spotted what he held.
The spiked whip from Dale’s compound.
“A lovely little decoration. I had the pleasure of removing it from Thad when he used it against Jimali as she attacked him. Unfortunately, I was too late to save her.”
He shrugged. “A pity. She served us well. But the whip is a good exchange for her life. How I have longed to test it on bare flesh.”
Don’t think of what will happen, she told herself. Think of Dale, his courage, his wide smile as he played the piano.
His happiness.
At the first strike upon her back, she arched and did not cry out, holding fast to the image of a brave navy SEAL commander.
You will not scream.
But a while later, she did...
Chapter 22
To try to cheer him up, Shay and Kelly held a small dinner party that week. Most of the SEALs from the Phoenix Force crowded around the table with their wives and girlfriends.
Kelly cooked a delicious repast, tender London broil with new potatoes and a delicate tomato basil soup.
Every bite of steak congealed like old grease in Dale’s stomach. No fault of Shay’s bride. Hell, a gourmet meal or an MRE tasted the same.
Ever since Keira had left, he found little enjoyment.
Shay had dragged him to a blind date with an acquaintance of Kelly’s, a pretty blonde from her aerobics class. Deidre was fun, he supposed. Her loud, horsey laugh grated on his nerves and the thick, cloying perfume made him gag.
Unfortunately, he’d told a small white lie, assuring her he’d had a great time.... Yeah, swell. And Kelly insisted Deidre join them tonight at their dinner party.
Seated around the long dining table, members of his team ate and laughed. No laughter rose in Dale’s throat.
I’ve lost her. For good.
Once again, his impulsive temper kicked in. His damnable, rigid code of honor had booted her straight out of his life. The same code of honor that refused to listen to his wife when she’d pleaded for him to listen for explanations about why she left.
I can never forgive such betrayal.
But had Keira betrayed him? The woman risked all to heal him, and opened her heart to him.
What hurts more, he thought. My pride at being a gullible fool, allowing myself to be lured into a demon trap, or my heart?
Bitterness rose in his throat like acid. But pride and stubbornness made for bad companions.
“You look so lost in thought. Anything I can do?” Deidre tossed her hair like a mane, and preened, displaying ample cleavage.
He thought about palming Keira’s much smaller breasts, her tiny, excited cries as he’d suckled her nipples and made her explode with pleasure. Unabashed and unrestrained, honest in every sensual reaction. He thought about the warmth of her smile, and how she’d trembled with passion in his arms, and how damn good she’d made him feel, how he wanted nothing more than to return the passion.
Hell, he thought. I have to find her. He thought of her alone, lost, wandering the world with demons searching for her.
Dale threw down his napkin and pushed back his chair and stood. “I screwed up, badly. I’m going after Keira, going to find her and bring her back. It’s not safe out there for her. Who’s with me?”
His men looked at him steadily, and one by one, they stood. Then Kelly whispered into Shay’s ear and, scowling, he stood, as well. The depths of their loyalty squeezed his heart. They’d follow him to hell and back.
Kelly smiled and touched her husband’s hand and Dale knew she’d talked Shay into it.
Suddenly her smile faded. A horrified look came over her. She arched, pushed back from the table and screamed.
Shay pushed back his chair so fast, it toppled backward. “Kel! What is it?”
But she kept screaming, horrible, anguished sobs of such pain, his heart dropped to his stomach. A person made those terrible sounds only for one reason.
He’d made such sounds in the dark, as his blood dripped off the platform in the basement....
Turning, Kelly stiffened, head thrown back, fingers digging into the table.
Streaks of blood dampened the back of her lemon-yellow blouse.
Bile rose in his throat. Shay’s desperate gaze snapped to him. “Curt, please, you’re a Primary, do something!”
Running to the screaming Kelly, he saw the silver triskele pendant around her neck glow with white light. Dale yanked the chain, pulling the triskele free. The pendant sizzled in his palm. Yelping, he dropped it.
And then a horrific pain lashed his back, a thousand burning knives sinking into his skin.
Just as quickly, the pain faded. Deeply shaken, he looked at Kelly slumped in her seat, chest heaving with each ragged breath.
The blood vanished from her blouse. An illusion.
Shay dropped to his knees beside her, chafing her hand. “Honey, what is it? What happened?”
Kelly lifted her gaze, no longer glazed with pain. “It’s her. Keira. She’s in horrible, horrible pain. I formed a psychic bond with her. It’s as if someone is...torturing her. I felt every single lash.”
Dale went still, his pulse racing. A terrible suspicion seized him.
The scars can be removed if the one who placed them there makes an enormous sacrifice.
Fingers unfastening his dress shirt, he opened it and looked down.
The scars were gone.
“Curt, whoa, what happened?” Dakota asked.
Not answering, he rushed to the large mirror over the sofa and stared. He tore off his shirt and examined his torso, the underside of his arms.
Clean, smooth flesh.
“Oh, gods,” he whispered. “Please, it can’t be so...she couldn’t have done it.”
He put his shirt back on, leaving it untucked and hanging open. When he returned to the dining room, everyone looked worried. All but Deidre, who looked totally confused.
“What’s going on? Is this performance art? Are you guys practicing for a flash mob?” she asked.
Dale waved a hand. “Dakota, wipe her memories, put her in a taxi and send her home.”
As the Draicon werewolf scrambled to comply, he turned to the other SEALs. “I want a fifty-mile perimeter psi search, using electromagnetic sweeps for demon energy sigs. Call in Thad.”
“He’s on leave for ten days,” Dallas said.
“It’s canceled.” He quietly regarded Shay’s still shaken wife. “Kelly, I’m afraid I’ll need your help to track down Keira, using your link to her.”
Shay fisted his hands. “You have me, Curt. But no way, no damn way are you using my wife to find that wolf who tortured you.”
Calm settled over him. Dale turned and regarded his SEAL. “Stand down, soldier.”
“The hell I will! You nearly died on that table.”
“I said, stand down.” Steel threaded through his quiet voice.
Raising a hand, he flicked a finger and drew the chair upright, and forced Shay to sit. “Calm down. You’ll be with her the entire time.”
Glowering, Shay shook his head. “She nearly killed you, man.”
“She also saved my life, and I was too stupid and arrogant to admit it.” Such intense sorrow pulsed through him, he nearly reeled from it. Dale kept a grip on his emotions.
He only hoped he wasn’t too late.
* * *
Twenty-four hours passed. Forty-eight. All his team’s finest minds, equipment and scanners resulted in dead ends.
Thad had been found, clinging to consciousness, badly beaten
but alive. He’d awoken in the hospital, murmuring about demons and whips.
Ordering security tightened on the ST 21 compound, Dale had a very bad feeling something nasty would soon unfold.
In his office he paced, ignored the phone messages, the stacks of papers requiring his attention. A knock sounded.
“Come.”
Shay entered, concern tightening his face. “Someone called 911 the other night, reported a woman screaming from a warehouse near the waterfront. Kel checked it out...we drove by. She felt something...but very, very faint. We think it’s Keira.”
Dale checked his SIG holstered at his waist.
“Guns and bullets won’t stop these bastards, Curt.”
“I know. But we’re going in with everything we’ve got. Get the team together. We leave in ten minutes.”
* * *
Tension coiled his stomach as their Humvees pulled up before a deserted warehouse at the wharf. Rust coated the aluminum-frame building. The entire area reeked of the stench of fish, brine and something foul, like raw sewage. And a far more ominous scent.
The metallic stench of blood.
Dale slid out from the driver’s seat. He checked his weapon and gathered his powers as they all crept toward the warehouse.
Holding up a fist, Dale signaled. Wait.
He sensed their tension, their eagerness to storm the warehouse and free her, but they were SEALs and knew to tread with stealth.
No telling what the hell lay beyond those doors, or if whatever held Keira would simply cut her throat and be done with it.
Hell of a chance, doing this in bright sunshine, risking not just some concerned Joe Citizen dialing 911, but without the cover of darkness.
Keira couldn’t wait until nightfall. All his senses warned him that by then she might be gone.
He pulled down on his fist and they rounded the door. Dakota, point man, shifted into a wolf as Dallas opened the door.
Anyone inside would think a large stray simply wandered in.
Dakota released a low howl, the signal for finding something.
They stole inside, into a small antechamber. Still in wolf form, Dakota growled, pawing at the ground.
Sitting at a wood table, guarding the door to the warehouse entrance was a corpulent man. Plates of half-finished food and empty wine bottles sat before him. He blinked sleepily at the SEALs.
