by Billi Jean
Beginning? Beginning when? When you woke up to find him in your home? Or found him hanging from a wall?
“I have a feeling we’re running out of time, Hunter.”
She swallowed and focused back on the issues facing them and not the sexy soldier next to her.
“Okay, I’m going to hardwire in and see what’s been going on,” she said, matching words to actions by pulling her computer from her backpack and connecting wires. She could do this without her laptop, but Kincaid wouldn’t be able to see whatever she found. She blew on her fingers and regretted losing her gloves somewhere along this wild journey.
“We need to think of getting more clothing. We’ve been at this for over four hours and no end in sight to this floor.”
“Really?” She was surprised. She knew they’d walked a long time, her neck was stiff from holding herself on constant alert but it hadn’t seemed like hours.
“Yeah, about. I’m getting hungry. It’s past lunchtime. How about the little immortal? Hungry?”
“Starved, but I can wait. I have some more trail mix,” she offered, grabbing it out of the backpack.
Kincaid grinned as if he’d hit a steak dinner, complete with all the yummy side dishes.
“Seriously? Hand it over. We need to stay on top of our game,” he added with a grin when she did. “So, trail mix. You like this stuff, huh? What else you got?”
“Uh, a few Snickers and maybe Skittles.”
He tore open the bag and tilted it toward her first. She took a handful and he lifted the bag to his mouth and poured some in. She laughed at that, but quickly got to work. He was always doing something like that—a gentleman thing, then just a guy thing.
“Candy junkie?” he asked, standing closer, which made her unease instantly return. “Or all you grabbed?”
“A bit of both,” she admitted, but concentrated on the lines. Power, the currents something she’d always felt, tingled at her fingertips, rushed her senses. She eased in like a diver into still water with hardly a ripple. Warmth met her and she soaked it in, feeling it ease her tired muscles and the bruises she hadn’t known she’d taken in her fight.
“Man, that’s something,” Kincaid muttered, next to her again, judging by the closeness of his voice. “You light up. Did you know?”
She blinked. He was inches from her right side. “No, I guess I didn’t. I usually have my eyes closed for this part so I can concentrate.”
“Good point. Go ahead. Don’t let me stop you.”
If she didn’t think she’d appear crazy, she would have rolled her eyes, but who knew if her milky white one would do that or not? Today she’d studied her face in the mirror and decided Kincaid must need glasses. Why else was he able to always stare her straight in the eyes—or eye?
Don’t go there. Concentrate on this—on this.
She took a deep breath. Kincaid eased back and scanned the area, munching on more of her trail mix, with one arm slung over his rifle in a relaxed position.
“I’m in now. Just hold on.” She scanned the lines of data. There were files here she’d never seen. She scanned them quickly, not understanding most of it, but searching for a word or phrase that would jar her to a stop. Nothing jumped out so she moved on, opening file after file. Something caught her attention. She flashed back, slowed and centered her focus on a blur. The computer she’d hooked into woke up, and a room took shape on screen.
“What is that?” Kincaid asked.
“Watch,” she breathed, and pulled the file to the right spot.
A man was tied down, his body tense, straining to break free from the clamps on his arms and legs. Balrick stood nearby wearing a white lab coat. A woman with black hair was by his side, another woman with brown hair in a bun waited with a tray carrying metal instruments.
“This was just days before we arrived.” She indicated the time-stamp. “That’s Balrick, but I don’t know who the women are.”
“That tray has these bottles on it.” He gestured to the cabinet nearest them.
She glanced over then back at the brown-haired woman’s tray, nodding.
“Yeah.” She winced, watching Balrick jab the man with the needle and push the stopper down. He and the black-haired woman discussed something, appearing not affected by the guy straining on the table.
“Oh, shit.” Hunter froze the frame. “See that?” She pointed to a ring on her right hand. “I’ve seen that before. My bet is she’s a Vampire. But Balrick? He’d be old school. I still find it hard to believe he’d willingly work with Vampires. But this puts a heck of a lot of backing on our crazy theory, huh?”
“I never said it was crazy, girlie. So, the Lykae-Vampire hatred thing?” Kincaid asked. “Does that still hold true?”
“Depends who you ask,” Hunter said. “Doesn’t matter. It might just be a ring and not—”
“Wait. Wait, if you think she’s a Vampire, explain why. It might be important.”
Hunter nibbled her lip. “I saw one of those rings on the Vampires at the club, the ones running the torture show there.”
Kincaid whistled. “That’s my girl,” he murmured and squeezed her knee again. “So this might be linked to that. Another point goes to your theory. And for the record, I think Trouble or Jack mentioned Balrick was mated to a Vampire.”
“He was…what?”
He tapped her nose. “Just keep up, will ya? And turn the show back on, Sparky. We don’t have a lot of time here for more of your genius to work.”
“Right,” she agreed, feeling such a rush of warmth at his praise that she had to focus hard on her magic or cry like a little girl. No one really ever said that kind of thing to her. Coming from a man who meant it felt good in a way she’d never experienced before.
The feed took off, and as they watched, the man on the table strained harder to reach the three people sharing the room with him. He was covered in tattoos that rippled as he tried to break the leather restraints. She knew that feeling, of being bound and unable to move. A rush of memories tried to come to the forefront.
“Those are criminal tats. Russian,” Kincaid said right near her ear. “So he could be from Siberia. This is becoming more and more like a group effort.”
She recognized a church steeple on the guy now that Kincaid had pointed them out. The film went black then quickly came back to the room, but some thirty minutes had passed on the time-stamp in the corner.
“Thirty minutes, why turn it off?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Kincaid mumbled from behind his hand. He was rubbing his lower face, watching the video closely. “They might have stopped filming then restarted.”
“So he’s a human, maybe a prisoner from Siberia?”
“He was human, you mean,” Kincaid said as they watched him start to tremble then shake, and foam bubble up from his lips. Balrick and the women were out of the room.
Hunter tightened her hands into fists, worried she’d have to watch the guy break his own bones. With a silent scream, he paled until blue blood vessels were clearly visible under the skin. Suddenly he bowed his back upward off the table and stayed that way until, with a suddenness that shocked her, he fell down limp and motionless. But he wasn’t right. He was so wrong that he was creepy wrong.
A few seconds later the brown-haired woman went in, wearing a hazmat suit. She checked vitals and shook her head. The tape cut off, then swung into action again before she could comment on the scene.
“Shit!” Kincaid jerked back.
“Oh!” Hunter covered her eyes with her hands, but it was too late to erase what she’d seen. The guy was alive, but shifting into a changeling—while he was eating the brown-haired girl from the earlier shot.
Hunter swallowed and tried to keep her stomach where it belonged.
Kincaid hugged her head to his stomach. “Don’t watch.”
She didn’t, she concentrated on breathing, reminded of too many horrible things she’d endured.
“It’s okay. It’s almost over,” he
murmured, surprising her with how gentle he sounded. He rubbed her back softly, as if she were fragile. “It’s over. He’s gone. Three hours. That took three hours and he was mad crazy. Red eyes. The works.”
She shuddered against his hard stomach. He eased away and lifted her chin. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” she breathed and faced the screen. Kincaid was right. The creature wasn’t the type of changeling they were used to “This means…those bottles somehow carry something that kills them?”
“And then brings them back like that. He was still a man when he was… Kincaid cleared his throat. “Or he was something. A zombie?”
She shrugged and worried her lip with her teeth. “I don’t think we have those. I mean, all we have are ghouls, which are like zombies, but not really.”
“So you can’t have zombies?”
She glanced at him and half laughed. It was painful and weak, but she tried, since she knew he was teasing her. “I guess we can have zombie-beasts.”
He raised an eyebrow and gave her a cocky grin. “Yeah, I guess so. But,” he sobered and concentrated on the screen. “Why? And how did the creature—or guy, whatever—get hold of that girl? Did Balrick send her in there to her death? It’s hard to believe that was an accident,” he said harshly.
“I don’t know. Those creatures are clearly stronger than Lykae, and if we’re to believe that tape, they are already dead, so—”
“Slow down. Breathe.” He took her hands again and rubbed them between his. “Let’s think here. Every single thing in this world has a weakness.” He took a seat across from her, keeping hold of her hands as he did. His blue eyes were far off, though, as if he were processing all they’d seen and discussed. “Vampires, sunlight, Lykae…”
“Maybe silver in their bloodstream,” she offered, “but demons? What’s their weakness?”
“Head removal, and I think witches can bind them. True?”
She shrugged. “Ghouls, strength and head removal, or stabbing them in their faces. Phantoms—catching them when they’re solid, I guess. Witches just about anything… But these things.” She shivered. “I’m not seeing a weakness.”
“Fire,” he said with surety she didn’t feel. “Fire will kill anything, right?”
She didn’t completely agree.
“And your electric zap does the trick,” he added, shaking her hands between his. “Right?”
“Not so well. They got up, remember?”
“Not all of them, Hunter. Don’t sell yourself short,” he reminded her, but got up, already scanning the area. “We need to move. One thing I’ve learned is to keep moving. Save it all to your computer—all you can,” he added.
“I’ve got it. Better, it’s here.” She tapped her temple. “There’s more, I think, so I took it all. I say we burn this place down. Just like the other place.”
“Have I mentioned how hot you are when you’re so smart?” he asked, then shocked her by curling his arm around her waist and plastering her body to his. He didn’t ask permission or wait for her to offer her lips. He tilted her head and devoured her mouth in a hot, passionate kiss that made her gasp and grab hold of his sweater.
Lust shot to her toes just like it had every time he’d kissed her. She couldn’t resist reaching up to thread her fingers through his soft hair. It was just as thick and silky as she remembered. He released her before she wanted him to, but he left her breathless and staring at him in amazement, sure she’d never understand the man.
“Damn, Sparky, just hold on to that thought until I can clear us up enough space to get that quickie taken care of, okay?”
With that outrageous statement, he squeezed her butt and ducked his head for a long kiss along her neck, then straightened and stood away from her.
She caught at his chest to keep her feet and tried to get her equilibrium back.
“How about we go search the rest of this floor and see if we can’t get to that door and close it?” he asked, helping her stand on her own with a cocky grin. At her speechless nod, he took her hand and headed them toward the door.
She followed, not sure what else to do. He wasn’t really asking anyway, not for the kiss, or the sex, or the hike through more hallways. But would you disagree with him if he did ask? No, probably not.
After what seemed like another million hours of walking through scary hallways and past empty rooms, they made it to the door to the outside. It was frozen open, but there were footprints near it and more outside. They didn’t encounter another creature, so the stress tightening her shoulders began to ease. Kincaid seemed as alert as ever, even though she knew they’d walked for the entire day. The air from outside was refreshing, but even that didn’t jump-start her energy.
“So, this is the entrance, and there”—he pointed up the snowy path they found outside of the door—“is why this level is both below and above ground.”
“It’s against a slope, but…those hills were miles away from the compound.”
“Yep, around ten.”
“This place is that big?” she demanded, thinking about all the walking and the constant strain of fear that came with it. No wonder her side hurt and her feet throbbed and her… everything hurt.
“Yeah,” he muttered from where he was kicking and banging at the door until it shut. “There, now they’re either in with us or out there,” he said gruffly. “I’m hoping on out there.”
“Me too,” she said faintly. “Kincaid—”
“I know. This is big, much bigger than we thought. So”—he squinted at her, the deserted room behind her, then back at her—“let’s talk about it tomorrow. First we need to break for the day.” He covered her hands with his and his strength soothed her even more than his passionate and unexpected kiss. “And it’s going to be sleeping, just sleeping,” he repeated solemnly. “Again.”
She had nothing to say to that, so she simply waited.
Kincaid walked over, his gaze so intense she couldn’t look away. She swallowed hard when he stopped in front of her.
“I hope you know sleeping with you is damn hard on me.”
For some reason that scared her more than if he’d said sex. She was tired enough to pass out again, that was for sure, but…would he spoon her? Did he last night? What should I do? Stop him? Let him? Ask for more?
“Last night I was uneasy being in L.A. Tonight I think we should go to your place outside of Boston.”
“Uh…I don’t like that place.”
“How many homes do you have, girlie?”
“A few.”
“Well, it’s Motel 6 or…”
She thought of a few places she frequented, worried over why he didn’t want to go to L.A. Suddenly it really didn’t matter. She was tired. Really tired. The constant thinking, and realizing that this was bigger than a quick mission, was draining her. So was Kincaid and her confusing reactions to him. “Okay.”
For some reason, her answer made him laugh.
“Go when I say go, okay?” she clarified.
“Yep, you just hold that gate open long enough so Little Rickie makes the trip.”
She snorted and formed the magic. Tired in body and mind, she didn’t bother being fancy with it, just accurate. As soon as her pad in Bangkok appeared, she motioned him forward. It was clean, neatly organized and small. Bonus was it was also in an area of town that was quiet, and no one broke in because it was rumored to be haunted by evil spirits.
“Where the hell is this?” Kincaid scanned the brightly-colored room.
She yawned so widely her jaw hurt. “Bangkok, so don’t leave the room. That’s the bathroom. There’s the bed.” She swayed on her feet, shocked at how tired she was.
“Damn, Sparky, you are tired. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m just sleepy. Magic always tires me out, especially when I use this much,” she muttered and tried to lie down on the bed. Kincaid stopped her.
“No, tonight, boots off,” he said with a firm frown at her. Of course he also forced her
to sit and he took them off her. “Hunter, what the hell should I do with you?”
Belatedly she remembered her hurting feet. Sure enough, her socks were bloody. Not as bad as they’d been this morning when she’d taken her boots off, but there was fresh blood staining her socks.
“Teamwork, I know you know the—”
“Rick. I’m tired.”
He froze with her foot in his hand and stared at her as if she’d just said she was going to do something crazy.
He shook his head after a second of that and chuckled. “Fine, pull that out now,” he muttered. “Go on, climb up there and go to sleep. I’ll clean you up.”
She grumbled under her breath about that, already barely able to do as told.
“Probably best,” she heard him mutter. “Only way to get you off your damn feet.”
“Sorry, sorry, just…” she yawned and heard him laugh again. The bed dipped and suddenly he was behind her. “I think we walked too far today. I’m tired.”
“I got that. Here, you sleep, I want to check your side, then I’m cleaning your feet, and if you don’t mind, next time, let me know when shit like that happens.”
“’Kay, and Kincaid—”
“Rick.”
“Mmm-hum, Rick, don’t let me sleep too long.”
“Ah, what’s that mean?” he asked, already moving her bandage down. It hurt, but she must have winced because he stopped. “I’m cleaning that. Keep talking.”
She tried. She really did, but the bed was soft and it’d been a long day.
Kincaid was safe.
She was hidden here, and those changelings and their creepy lab were far, far away.
Tomorrow, I’ll put distance between us. Tomorrow I’ll make sure there’s no more kisses or…anything else.
Tomorrow.
