by Lisa Ladew
“Ok, you got me. We were really playing Dungeons and Dragons. I’m a level 20 bard. He’s a level 2 barbarian. Guess who won.”
Rex put his hands on his knees and bent down to stare right in her eyes, his expression nasty. He reached for her and Rogue hated that she flinched, but all he did was pull her shirt away from her “Those marks on your neck say different, Rogue.”
He said her name like it was stupid. She would really kill him for that.
“You were getting claimed, weren’t you? No wonder Soren liked you. He saw something in you I didn’t. You’re a promised, aren’t you?”
Yeah, promised to kick your ass, dickhead. Somehow.
His eyes narrowed as if he could hear her thoughts. Then he nodded. “That’s what you must be. One of the angel-born, created for the shiften? Soren’s a shiften, too, you know. I wonder what he could do with you.” He stood up straight and walked around a bit, picking a piece of metal up from the table, then placing it back down, deep in thought. Then he faced her again. “What I really should do is take you straight to The Father. If I needed his favor, you would be perfect, but luckily I don’t right now. I’ll hang on to you, use you for my own ends. The big show starts in a few hours.” He looked at his watch. “Your buddies over there at the SPD are all gonna have bigger things to deal with than trying to find one wayward promised.” His face tightened. “If there’s any of them left.”
Rogue squirmed, trying to think clearly, trying to reason her way past the fog the pain was placing over her mind. A searing, jarring knowing forced its way into her head, that she was missing something, something important, that she’d heard the first time she’d eavesdropped on Rex and Soren talking. SPD. Lombard! Oh no! The sick realization of what Rex had planned slammed into Rogue like a wrecking ball.
The sound of a door opening came to both of them and Rex scrambled to get closer to her, pulling one of her own knives out of his back pocket. He moved behind her, and she saw Soren come around a corner and into the room, his silver-white hair and oversized moustache perfect, as always. His face went ashen when he saw her. “Rex, no,” he said, his voice stricken.
“Don’t come any closer, Soren. She’s yours. I brought her for you. But you must go to The Father. You must join us.”
“Not like this, Rex, never like this.” He clenched his fists tight by his side and challenged his brother. “Why doesn’t The Father just come and take me, if he wants me?”
Rex’s voice was low. “Don’t you see? If he has to come and take you, he’s going to kill you. He’s planning something, something big, and he won’t stand for questioning anyone’s loyalty. He doesn’t need you.”
Soren shook his head. “So be it. I’d rather be killed by him, than join the fight on his side. I’ve told you that, Rex. Why can’t you accept it?”
A hand grabbed Rogue by the hair and jerked her neck back, causing her entire arm to scream in pain and her vision to swim.
“You’ve forced my hand,” Rex snarled. “But you’ll thank me for this someday. Go to him, say the words, or I kill her.”
Rogue tried not to show how much she was hurting. The weight of all of her choices fell on her at once, especially as her own knife met the skin of her neck, pressing there, slicing, exactly as she’d done to Mac, making her own blood flow in a new place. She was the villain in this story, and even though there were worse ones than her, she couldn’t excuse it anymore. If she lived through this, she was done. She wanted to be the hero from now on. No more stealing, no more coercing, no more dealing with bad guys like this shithead who had ahold of her hair. She was done with it all. She tried to look Soren in the eye, maybe telegraph a little bit of that to him. Maybe he could make a few different choices, too. “No, Soren, don’t do it, not for me.”
Soren gave her a weak smile. “I would do anything for you. Remember me like I was.” He tried to wink at her, but it fell flat.
“No!” she cried, holding out her good hand. “Especially if-Are you… going to be changed?”
Soren nodded, his voice grave, as he motioned at Rex. “I think so. My brother didn’t used to be like this. So completely and totally without a conscience.”
Rex laughed softly, pulling her hair as his body moved.
“Maybe not,” she whispered. “I know a foxen who has the mark on his chest, and he’s a good guy. A simple guy, not evil.”
Her head was yanked backwards and she let out a part scream, part sigh through gritted teeth. Rex looked at her upside down. “Boe, you’ve seen Boe? Where is he?”
She stared at him, willing him to believe her. Boe didn’t need to be found by the likes of him. “Dead. He aged twenty years in two weeks and died in front of me.”
Rex’s eyes narrowed, but he gave her hair some slack so she could face forward again. He addressed Soren. “Go in the other room. If The Father crosses over, you don’t want him seeing her, or she really will be dead. Hurry. He becomes more accepting of that wolfen with his crazy tales every day. You must become more important to The Father than he is.”
Rogue squeezed her eyes closed as Soren did as he was told. He spoke in the other room so softly she couldn’t hear his words, but the weight of them was heavy. The smell of dead smoke drifted in to her, and she knew he was gone.
Chapter 46
Inside Soren Brenwyn’s library, Mac flung an entire shelf of books onto the floor, then gave the next shelf the same treatment. Nothing. Just bare wood, like you would expect to see. “Anything?” he called frantically over his shoulder at Bruin, who was pulling every placard and picture and trophy off the walls.
“Nothing.”
“Keep looking. She’s right below us. There has got to be some way to get to her.”
News from the surveillance crew watching the house was that Soren had not been home for several days, but he’d showed up only a few minutes before they had, come in the house like normal, but they couldn’t find him. A small search team was upstairs, checking for him there, and they were rallying the SWAT team to come in behind them, but Mac couldn’t wait for any of them. He could feel Rogue below them. The bastard was hurting her.
The library was huge, and he didn’t have the time or the patience for a proper search for whatever underground lair Soren had put behind the house. He had to find it, now. He stopped what he was doing, turned in a circle, and tried to look at the room as less of a library, and more of a cover. Something legitimate pasted over the top of something Brenwyn didn’t want anyone to even imagine was there. If it were his place, where would he put the secret door?
Shit. He strode to the pool table in the alcove and yanked at it. Pool tables were heavy, but not that heavy. This one was bolted to the floor. “It’s under here, Bru, gotta be.”
Bruin turned and stared, but he’d already ripped all the pool cues and triangle off the wall. Maybe something on the table itself triggered the thing to move? Mac started pressing buttons, flinging balls onto the floor, then realized Bruin had gone perfectly still.
“Hey,” Bruin said, staring hard at the full bar on the far wall. “This guy looks like a whiskey man, yes?”
Mac glanced over. Sure. Rows of whiskey. Corn whiskey, malt whiskey, grain whiskey, more. Whatever. “So what?”
“That one bottle of wine right in the middle just seems… out of place to me.”
Shit. Mac ran around the bar and tried to pick it up. It didn’t move. He yanked it forward like a lever. The entire pool table lifted in a smooth hydraulic motion and swung to the left. “Go, go,” Mac said, as he ran for the circular staircase that had been revealed. The two of them pounded down it, Mac in front.
“Tell me you’ve got Presley,” Mac said.
“Of course I do.” The bear produced the gun and even held it the way Mac would have held it. Mac pulled his own gun out of his holster. The bottom was still thirty feet below them, only a landing, and a door. Their footsteps pounded, echoing in the small space, but it couldn’t be helped.
“Pool table’s s
liding back in place, Mac. Chicago PD won’t even know where we’ve gone.”
Mac didn’t bother to answer. If their phones worked and they got a chance to use them, they’d tell somebody where they were, otherwise, they were going to have to deal with whatever was below here themselves. He wasn’t stopping for anything. The way he felt, he could take on Khain by himself. Or die trying. Bruin would save Rogue, if it came to that. Not that he thought Khain was down here. No, hopefully the most they were dealing with was two soon-to-be-dead foxen.
But no, that was stupid. “Bruin, can you contact anyone in ruhi, tell them where we are?” He was almost at the bottom.
“Ah, I can try. But it might not work because of the distance. The only wolfen I’m emotionally close to is you, and that connection matters when you’re not in the same room.”
“Try then, but don’t waste time on it. We’re going in the moment we hit that landing. I’m going low, you wait for a minute, then follow. You’ve heard the saying, shoot first and ask questions later? That’s what we’re doing.”
They hit the bottom, Mac wrestled with the door for only a minute, then pushed it open, gun leading the way. Rex Brenwyn stood there in a large open room, well-furnished, with paintings where windows should be. His hands were at his sides, palms facing forward, his demeanor relaxed.
Mac could feel Rogue in the next room, alive, pissed as hell, thank Rhen. He kept Rex in his sights while shooting glances along the far wall until he found the door that would lead to her. He spoke to Rex. “Stay right where you are, you piece of shit. If you so much as sneeze, I’m blowing your head off.”
Bruin came in behind him and Mac told him to cover Rex, as he edged around the side wall, itching to get to Rogue. He wouldn’t be able to help her until he had Rex incapacitated, though. He couldn’t count on Bruin to actually shoot someone. The guy was all for fighting Khain, but Mac was almost certain his soft heart would never let him shoot anyone else.
Rex disappeared.
“Motherfuck!” Mac shouted, pointing his gun at the floor and spinning in a circle.
Rex reappeared at the far wall, laughing softly. “Might as well put your guns away, boys. I guarantee you that you won’t be able to put any holes in me. Put your guns away and fight me fair. Like proper shiften.”
The air in the room became charged, heavy, and Rex took a step toward them. Mac leveled his gun between the guy’s eyes. He didn’t have time for any of this shit. He squeezed off a shot with no warning, but Rex disappeared, then reappeared two feet closer. The slug plowed into a painting behind where he’d been.
“I told you,” Rex snarled. “But you didn’t listen, and now you’re going to pay.” His body jerked forward, spasming, and he began to change, his eyes on Mac the entire time. Bruin stepped close to Mac, his own gun up. Now, Mac tried to telegraph to Bruin, and shit, somehow it seemed to work. They both fired three shots at the shifting foxen.
Or where the foxen had been. He disappeared again, somehow knowing when they were going to shoot, or just having the reaction time of a mongoose. He reappeared, and he was three steps closer, fully shifted, and the size of a motherfucking bear, with slobbering fangs that belonged in no mammal’s mouth. No, they were the fangs of a monster-sized snake, or a demon.
Bruin took a step backwards as Rex stepped toward them. “What the fuck is he?” Bruin shouted.
Mac put his gun back in his holster, slowly, calculating. There were two of them, but Rex seemed to think he had the upper hand. That was bad news. That and the fact that Rex was playing with them. Having fun with them. Giving them time to get their bearings meant he was positive he’d win a fight against the two of them.
“He’s been marked by Khain, that’s why he doesn’t look like a fox. I’m not sure what he really is, and he’s the first one I’ve seen in my lifetime, but I’ve heard that foxen who’ve been marked are as big as a bear. That disappearing shit is a new one to me, though.”
Bruin put his gun away, then dropped his holster to the ground. “I’m as big as a bear, Mac. Go, find your female, I’ve got this.”
Bruin kicked off his boots, but didn’t bother taking the rest of his clothes off. Smart. Pulling shirts over your head put you at a definite disadvantage in a fight.
Rex snorted and snarled and Mac wondered if he was trying to laugh. He couldn’t leave the bear to fight by himself… but Bruin was already shifting. Rex waited, letting Bruin finish the transition, before the two animals began to turn in a tight circle, always facing each other.
Go!
Mac frowned. It had been Bruin’s voice. But Mac had never been able to catch ruhi before. Didn’t matter. Figure it out later. He had to find Rogue.
He sprinted to the next room, pulling his gun out again, passing down a short, empty hallway, then clearing the room quickly, before he saw his female, his Rogue, near a couch but not on the couch, just crumpled on the floor in a heap.
He ran to her, knelt down, touched her softly, his heart screaming at her injuries. “Oh shit, oh baby, say something.”
“Don’t call me baby,” she whispered, then her eyes fluttered and she looked at him. “Are you really here?”
“You’re ok, Roe, shit, I thought I’d lost you.” There was so much blood. One puddle under her wrist where she had a compound fracture, another under her head. Was it coming out her ear?
She tried to move, then winced. “I like Roe,” she said softly.
He tried to grin but it was weak. “I know you do. It’s pretty, like you.”
She pulled at his clothes. He could barely hear her. “Mac, I’m not ok. I think I’m dying. I’m cold, getting colder. There’s something I have to tell you.”
“No, Roe, you don’t have to tell me. You’re gonna be ok. I’ll get you out of here.” He started putting his hands under her hips, trying to figure out how to lift her without hurting her.
“Just listen,” she said, injecting some steel in her voice. “There’s a bomb at your police station. It’s going to go off at ten this morning. I overheard Rex and Soren talking about it days ago, but didn’t know what they meant.”
And he’d thought she was going to say she loved him. Motherfuck. “No, we got the bomb out.”
Her fingers clutched at him. A great roar sounded from the other room, then a thunk like a baseball bat hitting a wooden wall. Ah shit, the bear. But Roe…
“No, Mac, that was a decoy, so you would think the danger was past. There’s another bomb. It’s going to go off at ten. You have to…”
Her eyes slipped closed and Mac’s heart seized.
Bruin’s voice, in his head. Out of breath. The pendant. Tell her to use the pendant.
“Roe, Roe, baby, you gotta stay with me here.” He couldn’t even apply pressure at her wrist because of the open fracture. His fingers dug around at her neck until he found a wound there. He whipped his shirt over his head and pressed it against there, frantically whispering her name. She didn’t respond.
Shit. He balled up the shirt and shoved it between her neck and the floor, then began to search her body. Nothing in her pockets. Around her waist. Her pack. He unzipped it and felt around inside, then drew out two bundles of cloth. He found the ends of the cloth and pulled and out spilled a pendant, much like the ones he knew the other mates had. He held it up to her body, passing it over her, touching her with it, not knowing what it could do, if it could do anything. “Heal her, fix her.”
Nothing happened. Motherfuck. Tears spilled from his eyes, but he didn’t notice them. He curled the pendant in his hand, getting up close to Rogue, pressing his front against her back. “Take us out of here,” he whispered to it. “Please, take her to the hospital.” Nothing. “Do something!” he pleaded, but nothing happened.
Mac stared at it, thinking hard, as great thuds and ripping noises came from the other room. Another roar, then a louder one.
Mac snatched up Rogue’s hand, her good one, and placed the pendant in her palm, then curled her fingers around it. For good
measure, he swiped a finger full of her blood from the floor and painted it across the angel’s face. He bent her arm and placed the pendant against her heart, then got his mouth right up next to it. “If you don’t do something, she’s going to die.”
The pendant began to glow. He could see the light through her fingers. “Yes, yes, that’s it. Bring us help, take us out of here, something. Heal her, I don’t care what you do, but do something now!”
The pendant glowed.
Nothing changed.
The glowing stopped.
Mac bent to his mate, more tears spilling from his eyes. He would have to risk moving her. Have to lift her and carry her up those stairs. He put an arm under her knees, then juggled her shoulders, trying to get his arm under her back, praying she was still breathing, but not willing to take the time to check.
A noise sounded in the room behind him, almost a popping. He jerked his head to the rear, knowing if it was Khain or another foxen, she was dead.
Graeme’s dragon stood there, a pendant wrapped around one claw. Mac had never been so happy to see anyone in his life.
“Graeme,” Mac cried out. “She’s hurt. You gotta help her. But first you have to tell Wade there’s a bomb at the station. Another one, set to go off soon. Everyone has to get out!”
The dragon stood stock-still for a few moments, then nodded once, then stepped forward, shrinking as he did so, until he was the size of a large dog. Or a wolf. He bit open his own front leg, then moved so he could hold the wound over Rogue’s mouth, dripping dark blood inside.
When the first drop hit Rogue’s tongue, her body jerked like she’d been hit with a shot of electricity.
Mac held her head, holding pressure on her neck. “Come back to me, Roe, hang in there. You’ve got to come back to me, baby.”
Another drop, and another. Rogue’s eyes shot open and she grabbed the leg so close to her mouth with her free hand, levering her body up to it, closing her mouth over the wound, sucking hard, even as her eyes stared at the dragon, clear fear settling in there.
