She froze in shock and disgust, unable to comprehend what had happened.
Staring up at the headless body, she snapped out of her daze. Escape, she had to escape. If guards showed up now, escape would never happen. Her life was forfeit once they saw how dangerous she was. They’d pump her full of silver bullets without hesitation. Quite frankly, if they didn’t, then they were morons.
Using her considerable strength, she flipped the body off her and yanked. Damn it, her paw was still stuck. A few more hard tugs finally released her. Her paw was soaked in sticky liquid. Sylvia shook her body, and red droplets flung around the room, giving it a horror-show motif.
No. No licking. Do not look. Do not lick.
More blood in her system would push her over the edge. Nausea took up residence in her stomach, reminding her of what she’d already ingested.
She shifted to human form, unable to work the doorknob with her paws, and she found it unlocked. Why was the door unlocked? Perhaps Revenant had left it open for her. After a swift glance at her naked body, she shrugged away any feelings of embarrassment. Sylvia didn’t plan on staying in human form for long, and those who did see her naked would soon be dead by her hand.
A loud wailing assaulted her ears as the emergency sirens went off. She snorted. Took them long enough to react to the bombing – or whatever the hell it was – that shook the building. Idiots.
Bloody handprints decorated the door and wall as she leaned against the wall and peeked out. Would there be a welcoming committee?
The hallway was deserted. Surely they had some guards down here. Or did they trust their drugs that much?
As if her thoughts cued them, heavy footsteps echoed through the empty hallway, getting closer. She ducked back into the room, not wanting to give away her position. As she crouched by the door, she squinted between the slight crack. Several heavily armed men jogged past. This was one of the rare times she wished it was possible to shapeshift into another creature, like a mouse. Scurrying past them would’ve made life so much easier.
The small army passed and turned right at the end of the corridor. In total, she’d counted fifteen men in a formation of three by five, too many for her to take on alone. No stragglers either, so she couldn’t pick any off as she went.
Weapons other than her teeth and claws would have been nice. With that in mind, she turned and frisked the dead men, hoping against hope they had something useful, but came up empty. Not even a tranquilizer dart.
Damn them, she thought as she kicked the nearest scientist. Childish, yes, but it made her feel a little better.
Back at the solid wood door, she listened. The loud sirens blasted her sensitive ears, but her training included muting distractions. With the healing Revenant had cast on her, she didn’t have the usual aches and pains to also ignore.
Filter out the wailing and focus.
No other sounds reached her ears.
Once again shifting forms, she nosed open the door and padded out. All the other doors remained shut. No hint of peeking, no eyeballs glaring at her. Seemed they had emergency plans in place. Scientists stayed put, safely hidden in their labs where they had less chance of being held hostage or becoming a casualty.
At the end of the hallway, she turned right and followed the path of the other men. They had to be moving towards the disturbance, and if it was her rescue team, then there had to be an exit in that direction.
The thought of escape lent wings to her heels, and she flew down the halls. Each turn was the same as the guards’, their scent trail a glaring road map for her.
The next turn had her skidding to a stop.
Three men carrying assault rifles were guarding a main door. They spotted her and shouted for her surrender. As if! Freedom was within her grasp.
Sylvia ducked behind the wall and ran back the way she had come. Whipping her head around, she searched for an escape route and came up empty. Fighting was her sole option. First, though, she’d unnerve them.
Another shift back to human and weariness dragged at her for a moment. She shook it off, refusing to succumb. Revenant’s spell flared within her, beating back the slight fatigue. Damn, she wanted access to this spell on a regular basis.
Naked and seemingly vulnerable, she dropped on the floor to her side. Forcing a partial shift, claws only, she raked at her exposed ribs. Blood welled up and dripped down her belly and onto the cold tiles. A small pool formed under her, spreading outwards.
Her satisfied smile was hidden from view by her tangled hair.
She knew, without conceit, that most men found her desirable. Her flame-red hair was a perfect foil to her pale white skin, and at nearly six feet, she was all legs. Her job ensured her body was slender and sleek, a study in the contrast between soft womanly curves and hard, toned muscles. While the past few months hadn’t been kind on her beauty regimen, she’d seen the glint of desire, smelled the heavy musk of arousal from some of the guards.
Moments later, thudding footsteps halted a few feet from her, and their whispers reached her with ease.
“Who the hell is this?” a gravelly voice asked.
“She’s been ripped apart. The wolf musta done it,” a younger voice chimed in.
Peeking through her wild mess of hair at him, the speaker appeared to be in his early twenties. He had a nervous air about him. Sylvia inhaled lightly, and his scent was acidic with fear and panic. The other man maintained a calm façade, but she could smell the fear from him as well.
The third man was the dangerous one, however. A quick once-over showed him to be battle-scarred and icy. His dead, gray eyes assessed the situation and narrowed. Something bothered him about this scene, but what? She mentally viewed the area, seeing it as he would and then cursed. If a wolf had attacked her, blood would’ve been on the wolf’s paw, leaving a trail away from her. He needed to die first.
With a soft moan, she rolled onto her back and pushed her hair from her face. A sharp gasp came from the younger one, too green to control his reaction. Desire scented the air.
The cold air and lack of clothes caused her nipples to bead, and she ignored a twinge of embarrassment. She needed every weapon she could use against them.
The third man remained unaffected. Cold-blooded and wary, he was a dangerous foe. She had to take him out before he warned the other two.
Sylvia fluttered her eyes and asked, “What… what’s going on? What happened?”
Calculating the distance for her leap, she tensed her muscles and waited for the third to move closer. The younger one, forgetting his fear, loosened his grip on his rifle and stepped toward her. She almost smiled at how easy he was making this for her. One more step and she’d have her claws into him.
“Step back now, Jeff,” the third finally spoke, and she wished he’d kept quiet.
Jeff froze, used to obeying the cold one’s orders.
“Aww, D, she’s hurt. She won’t hurt no one. Let me help her up.” The whining tone irritated her, and her hand itched to smack him.
His scent betrayed him. His hospitable offer had less to do with assisting her and more to do with wanting an “accidental” grope.
Schooling her expression, aiming for innocent and pitiful, she brought her full attention to D. And immediately regretted it. An attractive man, it was all surface. His military brush cut emphasized his sharp cheekbones and square jaw. Discipline evident in the way he held his body, he’d look fabulous naked, all hard planes and strong muscles. This was a man who liked control, demanded it.
It was his eyes that disturbed her. The utter emptiness. The coldness was bone deep in him. She saw no empathy or compassion. He regarded her as less than human, less than a bug to be squashed. Never had someone dismissed her so utterly, not even the scientists. They, at least, felt curiosity towards her. The need to understand her physiology drove them. This man would kill her and not even spare her a second thought.
A total sociopath.
And he was the one with the rifle.
&n
bsp; She hadn’t even had the sense to bring a knife to this gunfight.
His eyes flicked over her body. He wasn’t assessing her sexual beauty. No lust from this cold bastard.
A slight tightening of his lips told her the truth. He’d noticed her tense muscles. As his hands gripped harder on the rifle, she pushed herself off the floor and sprung into the air. Claws raked out against Jeff, barely catching his face. A step closer would’ve sliced his neck through. Damn it. As it was, she managed to cut two deep lines from forehead to chin, narrowly missing his eyes. The blood, however, poured from his head and blinded him. She dropped into a crouch, avoiding the spray of bullets. D’s reaction time was a hair slower than a werewolf’s.
The middle guy, name unknown, started screaming. Sylvia nicknamed him Baby, as in big crybaby. Honestly, who screamed during a fight, especially when she hadn’t hurt him yet? Sure, blood had spattered across his face, alarming him, but it wasn’t even his blood. Therefore threat assessment of Baby was low, and she put him out of her mind.
D was the true adversary.
Sylvia jumped at D. Her shoulder hit him in the midsection, and she wrapped her arms around him. They crashed into the wall, and his back made solid contact. She hissed at the unexpected pain. The back of her hands touched the silver-threaded wall. Her slight distraction cost her as D slammed the butt of his rifle into her exposed spine. She roared in anger before shoving aside the pain. A small ache compared to the months of torture she’d endured.
She straightened and pulled away from him.
D slammed a fist into her side, aiming for the tender area. While the wounds she’d given herself had healed, her ribs were still sore. Air left her lungs, and she reacted on instinct. Her foot shot out and connected with his sternum.
A satisfying crack accompanied the breaking of his bones. That should put him out of commission.
His lips stretched upwards, a horrible facsimile of a smile.
“I hope you have more of a fight than that in you. I thought you were a werewolf,” he jeered at her. The crazy human actually liked the pain she caused him. “I’ll even give you a chance to beat me. I’ll put the rifle aside, and we can fight hand to hand.”
Now she knew he was insane. Didn’t he understand that, even weaponless, werewolves were deadly? But who was she to give up an easy kill, especially when he stood between her and freedom? She grinned viciously at him.
She waited until he put the rifle down. Once he faced her again, she leapt into the air with a roundhouse kick. Her heel caught his cheekbone. D’s head snapped around, and he spat blood onto the tiles. Approval glinted in his eyes.
As she touched down, she brought her foot backwards and landed a blow against Baby’s chest. He flew into the opposite wall and slumped to the floor. One less asshole to deal with.
D used one hand to wipe away the blood then slammed a straight cross into her jaw. The force of his blow snapped her teeth together. Luck was with her, and she didn’t accidently sever her tongue.
Sylvia pushed for a partial shifting, and her body denied her. She’d already shifted several times today, more than she should have, and a partial took extra energy to maintain. She was tapped dry.
They traded several blows, each trying to get the upper hand. D surprised her with his speed and ability to take the punishment she dished out. Like fighting against a werewolf except he didn’t heal from the wounds she caused. Blood streaked across his face and dripped on the floor. He winced a few times when she snuck under his guard and nailed his chest. Broken bones were a bitch in a fight.
With the siren wailing, she nearly missed the rustle of clothing behind her. Keeping D in sight, she twisted her head to assess the threat behind her. Jeff had succeeded in cleaning the blood from his eyes and was sneaking up on her. As she shifted her body weight to attack, cold steel brushed past her bicep.
A knife bristled in Jeff’s shoulder, not a mortal wound, but one that put him out of play. He stumbled backwards, landing near Baby. Too far away for her to grab the knife. Damn it.
She whirled back towards D, and he gave her a creepy, unsettling smile.
“This is between you and me. You’re mine.”
He lifted his hand and flicked his fingers toward himself, the universal sign for Bring it. She’d underestimated the depth of his insanity. He had no sense of loyalty or even care that he’d attacked a fellow guard.
And yet he hadn’t pulled any weapons on her. He could’ve attacked her with the knife at any time. He said no weapons, and he’d used no weapons against her.
She rolled her shoulders, not caring about his mental psychosis. Fucker was crazy and keeping her from freedom.
Sylvia placed her weight on her left foot, knowing he’d expect her to kick with her right. Instead she snapped out her right fist, punching hard into his side. Air burst from his lungs, and he fought against the instinct to double over. If he had, Sylvia had planned to meet his face with her knee.
She swiftly recalculated her next moves as she assessed his weaknesses. While his speed was more on par with a werewolf, his healing was all human. A sheen of sweat and a slight increase in breathing told her he was tiring.
Drawing on her energy, she let loose a flurry of punches, attacking his face and chest. Unable to block all her punches, D began to sway, loss of blood and pain finally overwhelming him. A hard jab to the stomach and finally he doubled over for her. Instead of kneeing his face, she laced her fingers together to make one giant fist and slammed it down onto his back.
A groan slipped from his lips as he dropped to the ground unconscious.
Chest heaving and the end of her endurance threatening to envelop her, she glanced around. Baby stayed slumped against the opposite wall, unmoving, with Jeff next to him. Shock kept him still. Neither of them were a threat now.
Racing down the hallway, she continued past the checkpoint they had been guarding. Caution kept her tread light, her body tense and ready to attack.
Chapter Eight
Victor and Zmitro followed close behind Markus and Derek as they exited the holding room. Lights in the hallway near the entrance had gone out due to the blast. The werewolves didn’t need any extra illumination, and Victor had great night vision due to an ancestor.
The mages, though, needed a light source. Stumbling occurred behind him as mages lost their footing on the uneven ground. Rocks and chunks of the ceiling littered the floor.
A few curses broke the heavy silence before a mage – ah, Jackson, the only one now without invis – conjured a small ball of light, letting it float low to the ground. The sighs of relief were the last noise heard from the group as they picked their way through the rubble.
Halt, Markus sent the command to the group, although he continued forward with Derek.
Zmitro tensed next to him and pressed against Victor, indicating for him to stop. Werewolves, he thought. They love pretending it was their idea to do something.
Not caring who gave the order, he obeyed his friend and surveyed the area. The rest of the mages and werewolves had also stopped.
Scrutinizing the dark shadows, he wondered when Seraphina had disappeared. No spell casting had betrayed her intent. Well versed in glamours and other spells that took little energy or time to cast, the Fair Folk turned magic into child’s play.
The ease with which she had opened the portal was staggering. Never had he seen someone create a seamless gateway.
He would’ve admired her expertise if he didn’t hate her.
With a light shrug, he dismissed her. He refused to give Seraphina any more thought as long as she stayed out of their way. The Fair Folk enjoyed causing destruction and mayhem and didn’t care who they caught in the crosshairs.
Anger spiking again, he shut down that line of thinking and forced himself to think about Sylvia. He was here to save her and punish those who’d taken her. Her safety was more important than his hatred for an entire race.
An itchy voice filled his mind. His eyelid twitched an
d he rubbed at his head, trying to block the sound. Damn it. He recognized that horrible noise. Jackson’s imp, Xerix.
Mind-speak, while useful, was limited. A set amount of words or images could be sent before the spell dissipated. No sense wasting it on information the imp gathered when it had the ability to speak mentally. Its preference was whispering to its victims and driving them insane. Today, his ability was helpful.
“Guards coming. Human weapons. Smell no magic on them. Human victims, delicious.” When he started cackling Victor pushed him from his mind. The imp’s pleasure at attacking humans was unnerving.
Xerix shot forward, a dark streak in the shadows. Victor knew the bloodshed the imp could cause if Jackson didn’t keep a tight rein on him. Why Jackson kept the little bugger was beyond him. He would have melted down the ring years ago after banishing Xerix back to the demon plane of existence. For some reason, Jackson appeared attached to him.
He wondered what Julia, Jackson’s fiancée, thought of the nasty little creature. She was too sweet to actually tolerate a demon, let alone like one. Then again she did tolerate Victor, so who knew what went on in her mind?
Screams distracted Victor from his musings. He shook himself mentally and focused on the upcoming battle. It’d been a while since he’d engaged humans. Mainly he tracked down and banished demons – those breaking the law, of course. Not all demons were evil. He snorted at that thought. Yeah, right. The only good demon was a banished demon.
He ran through his spells, making sure they were all active. He double-checked the ones on Zmitro, not wanting his friend hurt in the battle. While Zmitro would heal quickly, loss of blood was a serious factor. Plus he wanted the wolf to have all the advantages possible. Shielding, extra strength and extra speed were the main defensive spells, but Victor had also added a few special ones.
When a human looked at Zmitro, they’d see a nightmarish werewolf, one with massive teeth, blood-red eyes and sharp claws, larger than the average werewolf. He also wouldn’t be in the same spot where the human would see him. Instead, he’d be a foot to the left. Other races wouldn’t be fooled by this spell due to scent and sound, but a human was much weaker and easier to deceive. They relied on what their eyes showed them and not what their other senses perceived.
Sylvia's Torment (Enforcers and Coterie Book 2) Page 6
