Myst’s heart missed a beat.
Dear Lord, she so desperately wanted the opportunity to be a mother to Molly.
A real mother who could be in her life every day.
But she wasn’t going to allow herself to be distracted. “And that’s the only reason she’s helping us?” she demanded.
“The primary reason,” he said, a strange expression settling on his intensely beautiful features. “Although I suspect there’s a part of her that’s delighting in the sight of me being led around on a leash.”
A leash? Was that some slang word for having to ask for help?
“I don’t understand.”
“That’s the only thing that makes this situation bearable,” he muttered in wry tones.
She shook her head, not for the first time aware that she didn’t seem to speak the same language as everyone else.
“Do you always have to talk in riddles?”
“Let’s enjoy our meal.” He abruptly drained his wine and reached toward the serving tray where two dishes of crème brûlée were waiting. “I have a feeling we’re not going to be in the mood to eat after we speak with Boggs.”
She grimaced. “That’s fine with me,” she said, grabbing her spoon.
She had better things to do than worry about whether or not Bas was jonesing for the beautiful Mave.
Right?
It didn’t matter to her.
Not. At. All.
Stabbing her spoon into the creamy dessert, she forced herself to clean her dish before she rose to her feet and strolled around the lovely garden. Right now nothing mattered but finding Boggs so he could . . .
Well, she wasn’t entirely certain what he could do.
Translate her vision?
Share other prophecies that might give her a better understanding of what weapon she was supposed to hand over to their enemies?
She’d heard he was capable of both.
She could only pray it would be enough to help her alter the future.
Chapter Seven
It took less than two hours for Kaede to reach the sprawling ranch. He’d traveled directly to the monastery in Casper and then used a small plane to land on the private airstrip.
There’d been a tense moment when a couple of the Brotherhood had greeted his landing with AK-47s and a bad attitude. He’d resisted the urge to rip out their hearts and instead risked using a small burst of magic to cloud their minds long enough to convince them that he was an expected recruit arriving from Hawaii.
Killing them would have been far more satisfying, but it would have been a pain to have to deal with the bodies. And as a bonus, the entire compound now was ready to accept him as a welcomed member of their group.
He’d been forced to take a tedious tour of the eighteen hundred acres of barren prairie surrounded by a large lake to the south and a rim of rolling hills to the north before being given an empty cot in one of the wooden bunkhouses close to the lake.
He’d intended to slip away once he was left to settle in. He wanted to investigate the house he’d spotted from the air.
The rest of the property was exactly what he’d expected.
Isolated. Plenty of space to practice their fighting skills. Stark living conditions. The only thing that struck him as odd was the sleek A-frame house built in the center of the land.
It was large and elegant and the sort of house that belonged to country music stars who were looking to get away from their adoring fans.
Or Wall Street moguls who were hiding from the IRS.
Not a fanatical leader of a cult of killers.
But before he could shake off his newfound friends he was being hustled toward the long log building that was set away from the bunkhouses. Kaede grimly allowed himself to be shoved inside, his gaze swiftly taking in the small obstacle course that was set at one end and the gun range constructed at the other end.
It was clearly a training center where he was no doubt expected to prove he was worthy to join the group.
He moved forward, his attention captured by the man who was stepping out of a side room where Kaede could catch sight of two cells with heavy iron bars. The local jail? Or something more sinister?
Kaede folded his arms over his chest and waited for the man to approach. He’d deliberately dressed in the traditional loose pants and long tunic of the Brotherhood, a fake arrow tattoo prominently displayed beneath his right eye. The man who walked forward to greet him, on the other hand, was wearing a pair of faded jeans and a wife-beater that revealed the numerous prison tattoos that covered his arms.
“You the new guy?” the stranger demanded.
“Kaede,” he said. He’d never been a big believer in using fake names.
They were too easy to screw up.
“Hester,” the man said, jerking his chin toward the obstacle course. “Let’s see what you got.”
Peeling off his shirt and kicking off his shoes, Kaede headed toward the course of ropes, tunnels, and a tall wall that was meant to be scaled. It was laughably easy for a trained Sentinel, but he deliberately slowed his pace and managed to take a fall from the wall before finishing the course.
Hester’s resigned expression had shifted to a grudging respect as he walked up to Kaede and shoved a gun into his hand.
“Not bad. Not bad at all,” he muttered, giving another jerk of his chin. “Let’s go to the firing range.”
Kaede obediently moved to take his place in front of the targets, casually emptying the clip into the center of the bull’s-eye.
“You’re good,” Hester said, taking the gun from Kaede’s hand and tossing it onto a nearby table. Then, planting his fists on his hips, he studied Kaede with a suspicious frown. “Too good to choose this bumfuck of a ranch. Which means you’re running from something or looking for someone.”
Kaede shrugged. “I’ve done my share of running in the past, but this time I’m following the word on the street,” he said, his tone casual. “They say you’re getting ready to take on Valhalla. I want in on the action.”
The man snorted. “Get in line, boy. I’ve waited fifteen years for the action to start.”
Kaede didn’t bother to hide his frown. Was this some wild goose chase?
“Are you warning me that I’m wasting my time?”
There was a strange hesitation before the man was glancing over his shoulder, as if making sure they were alone in the building.
“Are you serious about wanting to take on Valhalla?”
Kaede didn’t miss the sudden glint of barely suppressed excitement in the male’s pale eyes. He had information he was dying to share.
The question was whether it was worth the time to listen or if Kaede should find an excuse to leave so he could try his luck sneaking into the main house.
In the end, it was the knowledge he would have to wait until dark to try and see what was hidden inside the A-frame that kept him standing in place.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” he demanded.
Hester shrugged, his expression hard. “Ninety percent of the recruits that come here are posers.”
“Posers?”
“They’re happy to beat on a high-blood that’s sedated and chained in our fun house.” The male glanced toward the side room where Kaede had caught a glimpse of the cells. “But they’d shit their pants if they thought they had to face a high-blood in hand-to-hand combat.”
They’d held high-bloods in the cells and tortured them?
God. Damn. He was going to . . .
Kaede slammed down his shields, knowing an explosion of fury would fill the air with heat if he wasn’t careful. And he wanted to ensure that no one guessed who or what he was. Not until he had the opportunity to make each and every one of the bastards pay for what they’d done.
“Trust me, I like killing things.” A humorless smile twisted his lips. “A lot.”
Easily sensing Kaede’s lust for violence, even if he didn’t have a damned clue he was in the crosshairs, Hester gave a slow nod.
“I believe you.” The man turned his head to spit on the floor, acting like he was some sort of bad-ass. Kaede wondered if the male would be so cocky when he ripped his heart out of his chest. “I’m going to give you the inside scoop.”
Kaede moved to grab the shirt he’d removed before entering the obstacle course, pulling it over his head. He needed to keep his hands busy if he didn’t want to accidentally do something he was going to regret.
“I’d appreciate that,” he managed to mutter.
Hester leaned against a long table, blissfully unaware he was hovering on the edge of death.
“Fifteen years ago a clairvoyant had some sort of vision. According to our leader she was going to invent a weapon that would allow the Brotherhood to defeat Valhalla.”
Kaede pretended to be confused. “You’ve had a weapon that could defeat the high-bloods for fifteen years?”
“No.” Hester grimaced. “The moron who was running this band of misfits brought the clairvoyant here and tossed her into one of the mine shafts.”
Kaede felt another surge of anger.
He barely knew Myst, but he adored her daughter, Molly. The tiny girl had stolen his heart from the second he’d held her in his arms. Which meant he’d do anything necessary to protect her mother.
And just as importantly, he’d seen how his friend and employer watched the pretty clairvoyant when he thought no one was looking.
Bas might claim he wasn’t completely obsessed with the female, but Kaede knew it was only a matter of time until the older man gave in to his need to claim her.
The knowledge that these worthless jackasses had dared to lay a hand on her made him once again consider the pleasure of ripping out a few hearts.
“Any reason he chose a mine shaft?” he asked, his tone stripped of emotion.
Hester grimaced. “He thought it would force her to magically create the weapon.”
Kaede cocked a brow. It never failed to amaze him just how stupid their enemy could be.
“She didn’t?”
“Hell no.” The man gave a sharp bark of laughter. “She escaped and our jackass of a leader wasted years and fuck knows how much money trying to track her down.”
“A shame,” Kaede said, leaning over to put on his shoes. “That weapon would have come in handy.”
He straightened to realize the man was studying him with a smirk.
“You mean it will come in handy,” he corrected.
Kaede tensed. Hester was a common street thug who depended on muscle, not brain, to survive. But there was a brash certainty in his tone that warned Kaede this wasn’t an empty boast.
“You have it?” he asked.
“Not yet.” Hester took another look around the long room before leaning forward, his voice pitched low. “Our leader died a few weeks back and his woman took over the position.”
Kaede arched a brow. That was the big secret?
Not that it wasn’t a shock that these renowned misogynists would actually allow a woman to give them orders.
“You let a female become your leader?”
“It wasn’t my choice. I think that bitches should know their place.” He shrugged. “But Stella swore she’d received word from God.”
“She has a direct line to God?”
Hester smiled with nasty glee. “Yep.”
“How . . . convenient.” Kaede resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Where did they get these yokels? If they weren’t so well armed and well funded he would enjoy watching them stumble around like idiots.
“Did she share any of the intel she’s supposedly getting?” he instead asked.
“She knows exactly where the missing clairvoyant is going to be,” Hester said, his voice edged with anticipation. “I’ve heard rumors that it’s someplace in Europe.”
A cold chill blasted through Kaede. What the hell? Could they truly know where Myst was going to be?
Or was this some sort of trick being played by the mysterious Stella to keep her position as leader of the Brotherhood?
“When?”
“Soon.” Hester’s smile widened. “Maybe even today.”
“Shit.” Kaede knew that Stella was more than likely manipulating her followers with false promises. After all, Europe could just be a stab in the dark. But he couldn’t shake the ominous fear that Myst was in danger.
“Yeah.” Hester reached out to slap Kaede’s back. “You got here just in time.”
“Or too late,” Kaede muttered.
* * *
Leaning against one of the marble statues, Myst was gazing over the low hedge at the vineyard basking in moonlight when the air heated and the force of Bas’s presence wrapped around her.
She shivered as his fingers brushed her cheek, tucking a curl behind her ear.
“I’m afraid it’s time,” he said, an edge in his voice sending a warning chill down her spine.
She turned, studying his guarded expression.
“You sound reluctant,” she said. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“I don’t entirely trust Boggs,” he said, his chiseled features indecently gorgeous in the fading light. “From what I’ve heard, he’s unpredictable and he likes to play games.”
She frowned. “What kind of games?”
He shrugged, his expression abruptly hardening. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to let him bother you.” Reaching out to grasp her hand, he gently tugged her toward the small gate at the side of the garden. “Let’s get this over with.”
She didn’t argue.
The sooner they found Boggs, the sooner she would know if she had a future with her daughter.
If that meant dealing with a crazy doppelganger, that was fine with her. She’d fight a tiger bare-handed for the chance to spend her life with Molly.
Or risk her heart to an assassin, a voice whispered in the back of her mind.
She stiffened, fiercely squashing the renegade thought. No way. This had nothing to do with her heart. Bas was helping her because he understood how much Molly needed her mother.
She’d be a fool to forget that for a second.
She silently repeated the words over and over even as she covertly studied Bas’s finely sculpted profile as he led her to the nearby stables.
God. It was so unfair.
Bas was fiercely intelligent, an assassin with the magic of a witch and the benefit of Sentinel training, plus a financial whiz.
Did he also have to be so ridiculously beautiful?
Pondering the fickleness of fate that gave so many blessings to a few and so little to others, Myst followed Bas into the nearby stables, which had been converted to a garage that stored a dozen different automobiles.
Bas chose a Peugeot SUV, politely holding the door as Myst climbed in and pulled on her seat belt before he crawled behind the wheel. Minutes later they were headed out of the stables and down a narrow dirt road.
Neither of them spoke as they drove through the darkness. Bas was no doubt preparing for the upcoming encounter with the doppelganger. No matter what his motive was in escorting her to Boggs, he would take it as a personal insult to his honor if something happened to her on his watch.
Myst closed her eyes and concentrated on her connection with Molly.
For an indulgent moment she allowed herself to savor the sense of sweet, childish joy that shimmered through the telepathic connection. Clearly Molly was enjoying her time in Valhalla.
Torn between relief that her daughter was being suitably spoiled and regret that they had to be parted, Myst sent a psychic kiss before she firmly shut the doorway between them.
She hated the feeling of being cut off from Molly, but she didn’t know the extent of Boggs’s powers.
What if he could rummage around in her mind? Being telepathically linked to Molly might put her daughter at risk.
Besides, there was the off-chance that she might not survive the encounter. If the mysterious Keeper of Tales decided she was a threat to the high-bloo
ds, he might put an end to her.
She had to make sure Molly wasn’t connected if that happened.
Feeling the SUV come to a halt, Myst opened her eyes and peered out the side window.
“Are you sure this is the right address?” she demanded, seeing nothing through the gloom beyond a narrow, three-story home built of white stone. The roof was steeply sloped and constructed from red tiles and the wooden shutters were in dire need of a fresh coat of paint.
It looked like a typical French farmhouse.
Not the sort of place she would expect to find a powerful high-blood.
“Certain,” Bas said, his expression distracted as he studied the overgrown garden and the fence that leaned at a drunken angle.
She bit her lower lip. She had a bad feeling.
A really, really bad feeling.
It wasn’t just the air of neglect that blanketed the area. With a little attention the property could be as charming as ever. Or even the sense of isolation. If the sun had been shining and there was a light summer breeze stirring the trees, this place could be a haven of peace.
No. What she was feeling was perilously close to a premonition.
Something was wrong.
Unfortunately, the vague sense of wrongness didn’t change her need to meet with the doppelganger. In fact, it only made it more vital.
“Aren’t we going to go inside?” she demanded.
Bas scanned their surroundings, his face tight with tension. “I want to have a look around,” he at last muttered, pushing open his door. “Stay here.”
She reached to grasp his arm. “No,” she protested. “You can’t go in there alone.”
He turned his head to send her an impatient glance. “Something doesn’t feel right.”
She frowned. “All the more reason for both of us to go.”
He blinked, a strange expression spreading across his face. “I’m an assassin, cara,” he said in gentle tones. “This is what I do.”
“But . . .” Her words trailed away as she realized he was right.
What was wrong with her? This man had been trained by the finest warriors in the world. He was strong, fast, lethal with his bare hands, and capable of hiding in plain sight. A perfect weapon for the high-bloods.
She, on the other hand, had zero fighting ability, which meant she would only be in the way.
Blood Lust Page 10
