Sentinels: Leopard Enchanted (Harlequin Nocturne)

by Doranna Durgin

  They let you go. If they hadn’t, she wouldn’t be here. And they were looking. With Lyn on the track, they’d find him.

  She shook her head again. “Believe me, Ian. They’re not coming. I know Lyn thought she could follow me, but I used a working to cover my tracks.”

  The reality of it hit harder than he’d expected. He struggled to breathe past the hard, cold disappointment. “Why?”

  She scowled. “Why do you think? Lerche is already preparing to run. If he sees them coming, he’ll cut his losses—he’ll kill you outright and be gone.”

  He tried to absorb her words and ended up absorbing only the sincerity of them—the realization that the courage he saw in her face, the determination, had come from her need to protect him.

  Or to try.

  “You could have stayed.” He couldn’t help the bemused tone in his voice. “You would have been free.”

  “Ian Scott.” She said it firmly, her hands closing around his wrists and holding tight. With meaning. Her face uplifted to reveal the honey depths of her brown eyes, and he saw the truth there, absorbing the impact of it. “You’re here because of me. Because of the way I feel about you. What makes you think I could have walked away, and ever truly been free again?”

  Ian Scott, rendered speechless.

  She was the enemy. She had betrayed him. But she had always been sincere. She had given him everything of herself that she’d been able to give—and now she’d gone beyond. Now both of them were captive.

  He opened his hand, turning it over, and she slipped her own into its grasp. Ignoring, for the moment, the cameras. “Ian, I—” But she stopped on a gasp when he tightened his hand around hers, a grip too firm.

  “Not here, Ana.” He hadn’t meant for his voice to have so much grit. “Not under Lerche’s terms.”

  Even if it meant saying those words never.

  She didn’t respond immediately—and then her hand gave his the faintest squeeze in return. She sat back on her heels, her demeanor nothing but practical. “Then let me see what I can do for you before he gets here.” This time she did glance at the camera, if only with a flick of her eyes. “I’m sure he’s on his way.”

  She poured him a glass of water, unstrapped one hand so he could drink, and sat on the side of the bed while he downed it in a series of deep gulps. Then she exchanged the glass for the container he could use from the chair and turned her back to stand between him and the camera, giving him what privacy she could.

  Not that Ian cared. If Lerche wanted to watch him pee into a bottle, that was his problem.

  The necessities finished, Ana fetched a damped washcloth from the bathroom and allowed Ian to wash his face around the healing areas, even to wipe down his arms and chest.

  The big cat in him appreciated it.

  But in the end she returned his wrist to the restraints. “I have to,” she said, though she didn’t tighten the strap nearly as snug as before—and she took a quick moment to loosen the other one, very nearly loose enough for his hand to simply slip free. “For the same reason I always have. If he sees you unrestrained—”

  “I get it,” he told her. Their interactions had become remarkably tacit, a quiet teamwork in an untenable situation. “He’ll come down all over both of us. It takes things out of our hands.”

  Not that things were very much in their hands to start with, especially not with distant footsteps on approach, perfectly clear to Sentinel ears. Ian let a piece of his attention slide away, returning to the amulets that had been left to intimidate him. Feeling their various natures, the sick taste of them on the back of his tongue and the slick feel of them beneath the touch of his mind. Amulets of pain and persuasion. Amulets of sickness and power. And a number of amulets that served no purpose in this context—a noisemaker, a spy-eye, even an amulet of pleasure.

  She lifted her head as she finally recognized the approaching footfalls as headed for this room. Her calm deserted her in a blurt of words. “Try to hold on,” she said. “You know your people are looking—and I think they’ll find us. This place stinks of Core. I just needed some time to be ready for them. And to let you know, so together...somehow...we can try to last that long.”

  That’s the plan. But it didn’t mean he didn’t have a backup. Because Lerche had his friends surrounded by silent amulets, and Ian was the only one who knew how to find them.

  “Ana, listen.” Ian pulled on reserves to bring the room into sharp clarity, his thoughts with them. “Listen,” he said again, enough urgency to it that he pulled her attention from Lerche’s approach. “Lyn had every reason to believe she would be able to follow you. If there’s Sentinel energy out there, she can find it—along with almost anything Core. Sentinel energy, Ana.”

  “Oh,” she said, and flushed, her hand over her mouth. “I can’t believe I forgot...so much to say—”

  He understood in an instant. “They told you.”

  Her eyes shone in a way he hadn’t expected. “It explains everything,” she said. “It explains my life.”

  “Then you know she can find you. You just have to hang in there.”

  “She should be able to find you, too,” Ana said, a certain stubborn note coming into her voice.

  “Yeah, yeah. Here’s the thing.” Ian didn’t hesitate. He should have told her this first thing, before the personal stuff, before the wash up. But he’d been groggy and hurting, and, without those very personal moments, he simply hadn’t been willing to trust. And now Lerche was at the door. “My team needs to know I can locate the silent amulets.”

  Ana gave him a startled look, freezing as the doorknob turned. “That’s not possible.”

  “There’s a reason Lerche was so happy to get his hands on me. I’ve been working on this for over a year—and I got the last piece while I was out on that mountain.” Ian lowered his voice, drawing her in closer even as Lerche entered the room, his musclemen behind him. Noisy and self-assured. “Tell them to use sonar.”

  But he saw from her expression that she absorbed only the implication that Ian wouldn’t be able to tell them himself. “Ian, no—”

  He clamped his hand around her wrist. “Tell them to quit listening and—”

  Ana cried out as a huge hand landed on her shoulder, another on her arm—tearing her away from Ian and sending her sprawling into the corner to collide with the chair. A growl burst from Ian’s chest; he jerked against the restraints, leather scraping skin, freedom only an inch away—

  But already the posse muscleman returned, his hands clamping down over Ian’s wrists, his weight grinding bone against the thin padding of the chair arm. The second man entered to tighten the straps hard—looking back at Lerche for approval.

  “Not so tight that his hands fall off,” Lerche said. “I need him able to answer questions.”

  Together the men loosened the straps by a single notch, retreating to stand outside the door of the small room and relieving it of their bulk.

  Ana pulled herself upright, steadying herself with the chair and pinning Lerche with the wariest of looks, sparing only a glance of apology to Ian. Apology and a quick scowl of demand. Survive, Ian Scott.

  Well, that was the plan.

  It just wasn’t a very good plan.

  “I expect you to pay attention when I enter a room, Ana dear.” Lerche’s mild tone belied the look on his face. “Sit, please. I’m quite sure you’ll want to take notes for this.”

  Slowly, Ana sat, bending to pick up the clipboard and its disarrayed papers but never taking her eyes off Lerche.

  “Ian Scott,” Lerche said, playing to his tiny audience. “Southwest Brevis AmTech.” And then smiled, as if just thinking of the words that followed. “And former snow leopard.”

  Ian let the leopard show, lifting a lip to expose the canine tooth that wasn’t quite human.

 
; “Excellent,” Lerche said. “Bravado. Let’s see how far it gets you.”

  * * *

  Lerche had changed.

  Or maybe he’d just revealed himself.

  Ana stared at him from the chair, shocked by the rough handling—her arm stinging from impact, a myriad of small pains pricking at her mind. Pains she would normally have tended, but which suddenly seemed insignificant.

  For Lerche had lost his classically condescending mien and now displayed a harder expression. A meaner one.

  He wasn’t holding back any longer. He was looking forward.

  They’d run out of time.

  Ana cast a frantic look at Ian, and found that he already knew.

  Lerche ran a caressing hand over the amulets, plucking one up along the way. “You’re familiar with this class of amulet, I’m sure.” He let it dangle from one outstretched hand, spinning quietly at the end of its cord.

  Ian gave it a glance. “Targeted,” he said. “Point and shoot, so to speak. And if I’m not wrong, it’s a series working. Turn it on, turn it off, rinse, lather, repeat.” He shrugged, but Ana saw a faint tension on his face and knew there was more to it than just that.

  Whatever this amulet did, it would be ugly.

  “Excellent,” Lerche said. “Then you see this coming.”

  Cloying bitterness from the invoked working flooded the back of Ana’s tongue, pushing a sound of dismay from her throat. Ian’s eyes widened ever so slightly—and then his body stiffened and his head jerked back. His features contorted, a grim, involuntary sound harsh in his throat.

  “Stop it!” Ana screamed at Lerche. “He can’t tell you anything like this!”

  Lerche dropped the amulet into his waiting hand, closing fingers around it with satisfaction. Ian slumped forward, sucking in air. And Ana scrambled not only to make sense of it all, but to understand where it was going next.

  She flinched when Lerche reached into his suit coat pocket, and then again when he extended an object in her direction—only to wilt in relief when she recognized his fancy phone. “You don’t seem to have yours active,” he told her, a patently gentle tone that felt more like a lash. “Use the app to monitor him, please.”

  Gingerly, she took the phone, fumbling it—risking a glance at Ian, who lifted a face wet with involuntary tears and drew the deepest of breaths.

  Preparing himself.

  “Excellent,” Lerche said once more. “Please keep notes, Ana.”

  Ana dutifully scribbled a line of unintelligible nonsense—knowing she had to pull herself together or she’d be of no use to either of them.

  She’d known Lerche to be cruel. She hadn’t known him to be a monster.

  A monster nurtured by the organization in which she’d been so eager to excel.

  Lerche dangled the amulet again, letting the cord slip through his fingers with appreciation. “Ian Scott,” he said, clearly relishing the moment—his glance at Ana told her as much. “Would you care to share your progress regarding detection of the silent amulets? And while we’re at it, who else has been working that project with you?”

  Ian showed his teeth, as clear a threat as Ana had ever seen.

  “You see, my dear,” Lerche said. “He has no intention of answering questions. Not yet.” He smiled, raising the amulet in an entirely unnecessary fashion. Ian’s head snapped back, his hands splayed and body jerking within the restraints.

  Ana knew better than to cry out this time. She pressed her mouth closed and breathed through her nose in careful, even rhythm, refusing to acknowledge the hot and steady tears that ran down her face and dripped from her chin.

  And she made herself watch. Because this was her fault. Her responsibility. She’d drawn Ian in, and she’d never seen this coming. Seeing his agony was her penance. Watching him slump in the restraints as Lerche released the amulet—seeing that this time his eyes fluttered open to a dazed expression, and blood trickled from a bitten lip, and from his nose.

  At that she couldn’t help but whisper, “What are you doing to him?”

  Lerche affected a modest expression. “Hurting him, mostly. But yes, there will be cumulative damage. To the small vessels...and then to the large. It’s always a question of which will go first—the heart or the brain. Won’t it be a shame to see your brilliant friend turn into a vegetable?”

  Ian’s gaze sharpened with obvious effort, even as Ana drew a sharp breath—understanding better than she would have, days earlier, the depth of that threat.

  “I’d wanted to experiment with the new workings, of course,” Lerche said. “To see how carefully I could peel the layers of his Sentinel other away.” He glanced at her. “It’s a shame you couldn’t serve me in that capacity, Ana dear. Once again, a failure.”

  Ana stiffened at this blatant reference to the Sentinel blood he’d not mentioned to her directly. Her mouth felt clumsy in response. “I don’t understand—”

  “Of course you do.” Lerche shot her a look of false patience. “They told you, didn’t they? They’re like that, and since they’re looking for your friend here, they surely sent someone who could easily sniff out your insipid nature.” He smiled. “I’m honestly surprised you returned to me, Ana.”

  “You shouldn’t be.” She snapped the words at him, the fervency not coming at her bidding, but simply welling up from inside. “I’ve always been loyal, Lerche. And now I have reason to be. It’s just not to you any longer.”

  Ian managed to shake his head. Barely. His voice came ragged. “Ana, no. Don’t.”

  Lerche laughed right out loud, short but delighted. “Excellent,” he said. “You’re still with us. The truth is, I don’t want your mind destroyed before I have the chance to sift through it—and although we’re dealing with your Sentinel friends at the retreat, I’m sure more will be along quite promptly. So I have very little time.” He set the amulet aside, quickly plucking out another—a smaller thing, with less complicated knotting and rough, scribed surface. He sent Ian a meaningful glance. “I’ve warmed you up nicely. Now let’s see how you feel about watching Ana suffer.”

  Ana sprang to her feet. The clipboard fell from clumsy fingers; the chair toppled backward. Protest sprang to her tongue and she swallowed it—terrified, knowing herself not strong, not brave and nowhere near as well-trained as Ian.

  But she would not give Lerche her terror.

  At least, not yet.

  “Don’t do this,” Ian said, and his voice was gravel. Not desperate...not pleading. Warning.

  Lerche’s expression shifted to the one that frightened Ana the most—his response to defiance. The one that meant he would reassert control. Swiftly. Decisively.

  The one that had always left marks on Ana.

  He lifted the amulet, the subconscious little tell of his triggering effort. Ana drew breath, bracing herself—knowing she was defenseless even as her senses flooded with the ugly stench of the amulet invoked.

  One of the men behind Lerche made a startling sound of surprise, lifting to his toes as though by some invisible force as he staggered backward and bent over himself. In the stunned silence that followed, he straightened with extreme effort—his deep olive skin tones gone pale, his expression still stunned.

  Lerche scowled, pinning Ana with a scowl—focusing on her with deliberate effort and lifting the amulet—

  The second bodyguard jerked, his arms flailing as he fell back from a faintly audible pop of impact, as though the very air before him had exploded in directed force.

  The amulet steamed, used up and darkening into tarnish. Lerche eyed it with an expression Ana might have called baffled if she’d seen it in him often enough to be sure. She sought Ian, looking for answers, but he met her gaze only briefly before resting his head against the high chair back.

  Lerche dropped the amulet onto the table a
s his men recovered themselves, looking both sheepish and still a little startled. “Not a great loss,” he said, but frowned nonetheless.

  Ana could well understand their confusion. Directing an amulet to a specific target took practice and a certain focus, but someone like Lerche took the ability for granted.

  With less ceremony than before, Lerche selected another amulet from the case. “I do hope you’re not awash in relief, Ana dear. I still want my answers.”

  He displayed the amulet to Ian, smiling as Ian’s jaw tightened. Ana wasn’t close enough to see the details of the thick metal disk, only that it was more complex than the last. Lerche said, “Nerve pain can be a terrible thing.”

  “I know what the amulet does,” Ian said, his voice still stuck in that gravel register, his throat working.

  Lerche tipped his head at Ana. “She didn’t. And now she can anticipate. Are you ready, Ana? Or perhaps your friend would like to discuss his progress on the silents, or share the name of the colleague most likely to pick up on that work.”

  Ian rolled his eyes at that prospect, and Ana wanted to cry no! Because here came that look on Lerche’s face, fury lighting his eyes into something not quite sane. Ana found herself backed up hard into the corner, bracing herself.

  But it was Ian the working struck, stiffening his body, forcing a choked cry of what sounded so very much like laughter that Ana stopped breathing for an instant, too torn by threat and fear and horror to take in the moment.

  Lerche clutched the amulet hard, his fury at the misfire giving way to satisfaction as Ian made another sound, a more primal thing of unendurable pain, and Ana covered her face with her hands, dropping to a crouch and rocking slightly in the awfulness of it all—as if she could simply wish it all away.

  “Stop it!” she cried. She lost her balance, dropping to one knee. Something hard ground into her kneecap, a trivial pain. “What kind of man are you? Just stop it! He’s not going to tell you anything, and the Sentinels will surely be here any moment—just pack up your things and go!”