I cracked the door open and slipped through the slim space. I dared not open it wider for fear the rusted hinges may announce my departure to all and sundry. Only when I stood in the passage, with my back to the wall, did I realize my feet were bare.
I didn’t waste time puzzling over why.
I crept along, keeping my feet on the boards along the wall. Less chance of creaking beneath my weight. The voices below me rose and fell. The pipes had ceased their complaining. At the end of the hall I reached a stairwell. I’d heard no sounds from the upper level of the house, and the voices were downstairs, so down I went. What a joke. Here I was with the door to freedom right in front of me and I choose to venture further into the lion’s den.
My ears, still feline, concentrated on the sounds filtering through to me from behind and below. The silence behind me indicated my absence remained undetected. The staircase reached for the ground floor in three flights, edged by a banister that had once seen better days.
I stayed against the wall again, not trusting the quality or age of the wood risers, preferring not to plunge through rotten wood to an early death. The descent to the ground floor brought on an attack of vertigo accompanied by intense nausea. The drugs had worn off leaving behind a drought at the back of my throat and a stomach that heaved and rolled uncontrollably.
Swallowing bile, I escaped the stairs and leaned against the wall. The voices still hummed from the back of the house and I followed the trail of sound, around the banister toward the closed door to what I assumed was the kitchen.
Chapter Thirty-Five
The door was ajar. In the sliver of my view a figure paced back and forth before the table. A woman whose voice sent shivers up my spine.
All twelve bells of the Worcester Cathedral sang a cacophony within my head as I registered the identity of my captor. Straight white-blond tresses framed a pale face and hung to her waist. I had always envied the paleness of her hair. Those bells were now so loud I couldn’t think straight. To hear the instant denial, the excuses my mind drew forth for this impossible vision. Or perhaps in reality I held no thoughts within my shocked mind.
Grateful for the silence still enveloping the narrow passage, I continued my voyeuristic activities peering through the small slit of the open door. The occupants within the room who were visible to my scrutiny remained unaware, thanks to the practiced silence of my approach and the steady breeze which filtered through the broken passage window and swept my scent away.
The table ran parallel to me and I had a clear view of Greer and the three men at the table. All four were intent on the paperwork scattered on the tabletop. Greer’s face was curtained by the fall of white-blonde hair as she leaned forward and poked a red nail at the paper. The nail was long, sharp and feline. Greer was partly transformed - a second, unbelievable revelation.
Every so often, within a pack, cubs are born without the ability to transform. It was common enough not to be surprising but in the offspring of an Alpha it was an absolute unknown. I remembered that up until I left the colony at age seventeen, Greer, two years older had still not changed. We’d just thought it was unusual but that it would happen with time. Those years had been filled with Greer’s anger and self-recrimination. Our mother’s absence hadn’t helped her struggle any.
I’d left her behind when I escaped the clutches of my claustrophobic and controlling youth, never expecting her to develop a taste for the wrong crowd. The sight of her here stabbed daggers to my heart. Guilt and horror each had a blade. She seemed willing, and more frightening was the air of command she maintained. My breath stuck in my throat which was just as well. A door slammed somewhere in the building. Fear skittered through my veins. What if they found my empty mattress? Were there others looking for me? I’d counted on their complacency, and now wondered if I’d been presumptuous.
Whether it was my thundering heart or the door slamming so suddenly upstairs, the Walkers within the room turned to the door in unison. I stepped back, one soft tread at a time, until I was against the wall behind me. A door scraped within the room.
My heart throbbed in my throat. I moved to dash back out into the hall, anywhere away from the door, when something round and solid stabbed my hip. I grabbed it - a doorknob. I had no idea where the door would lead. The thought of getting caught without a way out made my knees lock in rebellion. But I had no choice. Even if there were options, I had no time to weigh them.
I took chance by the throat and twisted. The door opened with a slight hiss, and I stepped into a darkness more gray than the black emptiness of the hallway, even after I shut it behind me. I pasted myself against the wall behind the door, hoping and praying to Ailuros for her protection. I dared not go further into the gray darkness. Whatever was down in the basement, I preferred to discover at a more suitable time.
The door to the kitchen creaked open, and footsteps fell in the hall. Then the door opened, behind which I hid, almost fainting as fear swam in my veins thick and fast. Flattened against the wall, I tried even harder to sink into the wooden wall. My heart still beat so loudly I was sure as hell its thunderous sound echoed around me.
Greer and her companions filed into the slim space and descended a flight of rickety wooden stairs. My eyes had begun to adjust to the dull light and I was able to see the stairs ahead of me. One step too far and I would’ve tumbled to my death and solved all my problems in one flight.
A door opened and white light filled the stairwell. I caught a brief view of Greer’s profile as she entered the brightly lit room. Tears filmed my eyes as I grieved for a sister I was sure I’d lost.
I watched as their figures receded into the room and the door closed behind them. I waited only long enough to ensure the hall outside was empty, before I slipped out into the passage and made my way to the front door. I studied the wood paneling of the entrance to my prison and walked to the door.
The iron handle was cold to touch, copper tarnished to an almost unrecognizable golden brown. It was slow to absorb the warmth from my hands, but when it was totally warm, I still held it in a deathly grip. A grip which was making no move to depress the handle and open the doorway to my freedom—I had no intention of leaving. Not when I could find out so much more by staying. Even the thought of bringing back reinforcements and possibly arresting the whole gang did not incite an act of embracing my freedom.
I turned my head and looked to where the stairway to the upper floor sat. In the darkness I had to guess where the risers began and where the landing was. Even so, I knew they were my more immediate destination. I would find a way out. Only now, the heartbeat of the captive in the room next to mine called me like a siren. Greer’s icy eyes called me equally wildly. Above all, vengeance called the loudest. Clancy’s face swam before me in the darkness. I had to find out more.
My heart thundered in my chest. Even while I retraced my steps, I questioned the intelligence of my decision. Although I’d thought about escape, here I was, returning to my cell, back to captivity. I should leave, find help and bring them back here.
But I needed to find out more. I told myself it was to ensure I had my story straight, so I would have the full proof of the situation. But deep down I had to admit my search here was entirely based on finding out how much Greer had to do with the murderous bastard who had already left a trail of dead bodies, not to mention a trail of wounds upon my own skin.
The upper floor was still deserted as I toed the last riser and crept back to my room.
A sound.
I paused at the door to the room before mine.
Again. A muffled sob.
The door was ajar and through it I could make out the dark outline of a woman, lying in much the same position as I was not so long ago. Oily, unwashed hair curtained her face. And she was sobbing uncontrollably.
I was unsure if the crying fit was the result of the drug or brought upon by some hidden demon she fought, but I stayed in case she was conscious and could talk to me.
A quick glan
ce up and down the corridor confirmed I had no company yet. I tapped a finger-nail on the door and the sound echoed within the bare room. I winced, convinced the conspirators could hear the noise downstairs. The captive heard the sound and she looked up, startled.
It was certainly a day for surprises. Lily. We exchanged a look that held a thousand conversations. I wanted to free her, but knew the decision I’d made to return to my bed was born of a need to find out what these people intended to do, what their intentions were for my people and for the Humans. Most desperately I needed to know what involvement my sibling had in this heinous affair.
I’d discover nothing if I went around, freeing hostages willy-nilly. I needed Lily as well. She was still alive - it stood to reason they had a purpose for her. I had to assume she’d stay that way if I did nothing.
It seemed she didn’t expect my help. Her eyes rounded when fell on the line still inserted into my vein - she knew I was a hostage too. Her mouth moved and she spoke a word which chilled the blood to a standstill within my veins.
“Anjelo?” When I shook my head Lily’s face twisted with fear. And regret. She continued in a whisper. “I’m so sorry Kailin. I led them right to you. I was only trying to save Anjelo. I promise. I’m so, so sorry.” Tears fell from her eyes, dripping down the side of her face into her hairline.
I dared not respond or ask any questions. I had no way to answer her. I hadn’t seen Anjelo for days, since he’d left to search for her. How could I tell her he was missing too? And her confession was no surprise. As much as Lily and I had never hit it off, I knew enough to be realistic. Torture could make even the strongest of captives talk. Poor Lily. She was skin laid lightly over bone. Starvation, or the drugs were taking their toll.
I pressed a finger to my lips - hoping she would remain quiet. I had to get back to my room, before someone decided to check on me.
I scanned the corridor, hearing for the first time the dreaded hollow tap of heels on the lower flight of stairs. Two sets of feet rose, stair for stair.
Damn. Someone was coming. I scurried to my room on anxious tiptoes, closing the door and diving for the mattress. I lay back, screwing the IV back into the catheter still taped to my hand, opening the tap to continue the drip of the drug back into my vein.
I clamped down on teeth I was sure I had already loosened over the last week. I felt the warmth of the drug again, as it swam through me, riding the wave of my blood, seeking synapses to adulterate, nerves to abuse. Thankfully, all the drug imparted was relaxing warmth.
I no longer felt the incapacitating intoxication of the drug as in my first experience, but I had to fake it. The footfalls were getting louder. The door to Lily’s room opened. Both captors remained at the threshold.
“She’s still no use.”
“We should get rid of her then...if she’s not g-“
The woman stopped in mid-sentence, as if the man she spoke with had shut her up with a mere look.
“Greer, you are far too eager to put an end to her life.”
The door closed and the footsteps grew closer, the voices louder.
“This one I’m more interested in.”
“Because?”
I could imagine Greer’s eyebrows as they raised to emphasize her question. Pure venom laced those words. The door opened, a cool draft pushed into the room.
“Because I get to play, to see how the drug affects the precious Alpha bloodline. Not like I would use you for my experiments, my dear.”
“You wanted the males. Why did you need her?”
“She’s...useful. And she’s bait.”
I would’ve given anything to be able to see their faces, but I had to pretend to be deep within the arms of a euphoric slumber. I knew how it felt, tried to re-enact my bodily reactions.
I felt fingers at my arm, checking my pulse. Heard someone at the IV stand. Felt cool fingers at my temple. Heard Greer’s heartbeat quicken. Fear or trepidation? Could she still harbor some good feelings for me? I wasn’t sure enough to bet on it.
* * *
I lay on the lumpy mattress, only my thoughts for company. Thoughts currently centered on Anjelo. Somewhere, where my heart lived, I felt a harsh twinge.
None of it had registered until the moment Lily had uttered his name. Uttered it with grief and pain and longing strong in her eyes, as if those emotions had lain steeping within wells tapping her soul.
It had been days since I’d spoken to Anjelo. He’d contacted me at last, just before I’d seen my father; a message saying he’d made contact with a shop assistant who claimed to have seen Lily. Anjelo had been religiously walking the streets armed with photographs of her, posting them on notice-boards, using them to find anyone who may have seen her.
So far he had gotten nowhere. The police had made no progress either - not even with Murdoch’s network of snitches. I prayed they’d keep drawing blanks. The last thing I wanted was for him to find Lily and put himself right smack in the middle of deadly danger. Niko possessed a ruthless streak that curdled my blood. And I knew one thing for sure.
Anjelo was better off as far away from Lily and me as possible.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Logan lifted the scope to his eyes and watched as Anjelo climbed the trellis and swung onto a rusty upstairs balcony.
He gritted his teeth. How did the foolish boy know the window he jimmied open hadn’t been rigged, wasn’t setting off alarms somewhere inside the house? He would’ve had a better idea if he’d paid attention to Logan’s advice and waited before entering the house.
Logan growled his frustration. Anjelo had moved too fast for Logan to stop him. Now he watched as the young Walker turn around and shut the window, concentrating on edging it down without making a sound.
“Don’t turn your back,” Logan muttered. But even if Anjelo could have heard it, it was too late. He was in no position to see the oversized thug who crept up behind him. All Logan could do was watch as the guy hit Anjelo square on the back of his head with the butt of his pistol.
Logan examined the darkened building for what seemed the hundredth time, hoping the boy would manage to wake up and get the hell out of there. He sighed and let the scope fall onto his chest with a small thud.
“You have got to keep the volume down on those sighs, Logan. The bad-guys will certainly hear us with the racket you are making.” Logan glanced at Jess who’d broken through his silent moment of self-recrimination. Anjelo had refused to listen and had paid the price by getting himself caught. There was nothing he could do about him right now.
Logan muffled a groan. “The stupid boy. He just got himself caught.
Jess stared off at the house, her face washing over with concentration. “I can barely sense him now,” she spoke quietly, still trying to get a psychic bead on the kid. “He is unconscious, but alive.”
“Stupid, impatient, idiotic-“
“No point in cursing at the child. He meant well.” Jess and her wisdom again. “Backup has arrived – about a dozen operatives. Everyone is ready to move on your order.”
“I just want to get the whole thing over with.” Logan wasn’t afraid to admit it. He glanced at his watch. “I’m only waiting until Kailin’s brother gets here.”
Hard to believe only a few hours had passed since he’d watched Kailin being abducted. Anjelo had run all the way to the house, not far behind Logan’s bike. Logan’s first instinct was to tell Anjelo to stay back. But his search for Lily had drawn a blank. And Logan had seen the condition of Kailin’s loft.
Logan was seriously pissed off at himself. How could he have left her alone when he knew she was in some sort of danger?
“That girl’s been a walking bulls-eye for the last couple of weeks. I’m amazed she stayed breathing this long.” Logan shook his head. “I should’ve been more careful. More observant.”
Being a Walker certainly seemed to have helped her stay alive. No Human could’ve withstood the amount of injury Kailin had been subjected to without needing som
e serious therapy.
The distant throb of a motorcycle announced Iain’s arrival. A few minutes later he loped into the bushes and sank down beside Logan. Calling Iain hadn’t been easy. He’d made the call only when he’d arrived at the house and hidden himself in the bushes. Kai’s brother had taken the news that his sister had been abducted with a dangerous calm. And all he’d said was he wouldn’t be long.
“Which one of you is Logan?”
Logan turned to Iain; it was high time they were introduced. “That would be me.” He nodded and offered his hand.
What he faced was a bristling, highly charged Walker, and for the first time in a long while he felt his life may very well be in danger.
And, he looked straight into the face of a man whose image dragged memories out from his past and brought to his nose the scents of smoke and blood and death and anger. The anger his own.
Iain in turn watched him with unadulterated suspicion mapping his craggy features. The Walker’s shoulders tightened as he scanned Logan’s face.
Logan, on the other hand was thrown back into his past. Into memories of one horrible day in his life which would forever be a day of mourning. Because it was the day his power had gotten free. When he had lost control completely. Irrevocably. He could never bring back the people he killed.
Again he smelled the burning, the acrid smoke. Heard the screams of terror and pain and of grief.
He remembered the man who now stood before him. Younger, less lined. Happy.
Logan remembered the day he killed Iain’s wife.
Now, Kailin’s brother sat next to him, waiting for an explanation he had no intention of giving. None of this situation was his fault so why the hell was he feeling so guilty?
“What’s happening?” Iain’s voice was low, strained.
“Anjelo’s done a runner - straight into the lion’s den. Idiot kid.” Logan shook his head and passed the scope to Kailin’s brother. “There was some movement earlier, but nothing in the last thirty minutes.”
Legends of the Damned: A Collection of Edgy Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels Page 333
