Daughters of Eve Collection (Books 1, 2 & 3)

by Bourdon, Danielle

  Evelyn had to go slower, climbing up before she could jump down. A quick check gave her a glimpse of Alex's face, bathed in sweat, her breathing labored. It sounded painful, but Alex didn't complain.

  Khyamaeus stopped when he landed on the lower level, the bow and arrow up, sweeping over the seating area.

  It didn't appear he was going any further right at that moment.

  For Evelyn it was a relief. She felt like their backs were covered, which freed them up to worry about what was ahead.

  A crack of thunder startled her and she bobbled the sword, catching it just before she dropped it. Fear that lightning would strike the structure framing the stage, Evelyn ducked, crowding closer to Rhett.

  Hissing, furious curses flew from his lips.

  Maybe he expected lightning, too.

  Veering to the right when they reached the space between the front seats and the stage, Rhett aimed for the far corner. He picked up speed and hit the concrete wall with a jump, using his arms to pull him the rest of the way.

  Evelyn knew she would have to stop, set down her sword, and climb up. Even then it was going to be difficult. She wasn't nearly as tall or strong as Rhett.

  To her shock, as another blast of thunder tore through the roiling clouds, Khyamaeus snared her and Alex around the hips and took them with him when he jumped.

  She felt like a doll in his arms, lifted like so much weightless ballast. Deposited on the stage, Evelyn got her balance and shot a look sideways at the Fallen.

  Khyamaeus didn't seem to notice, freeing his arms to bring the bow and arrow back together again.

  Alex regained her footing, muttering something unintelligible under her breath.

  On alert, Evelyn scanned the stage. To each side were smaller holding areas for equipment personnel, managers and other employees. Lighting stands, crates, a small bit of scaffolding and several hard plastic containers sat flush against the back wall, indicating work of some kind had been going on before the initial catastrophe.

  The final Seal, tucked safely in its ripped out page, sat atop one of the hard plastic containers.

  Evelyn twitched in surprise and glanced at Rhett.

  He stood stock still, panning wary looks up, down, around. Keeping the shield in front of him, clutched with an arm to protect his chest and torso, he approached. A cautious advance, as if he was prepared for anything.

  She took it upon herself to guard his left side, while Alex got the right. Khyamaeus faced outward still, his weapon up and aiming.

  Dragar, Dracht and Christian arrived, creeping along the ground right in front of the stage. They surveyed the seating like Khyamaeus did, swords tight in their grip, shields up so high only their eyes showed above the edge.

  A bead of sweat rolled down Evelyn's cheek. She hated waiting, the not knowing whether something was going to attack without warning.

  “Grab it and let's go, Rhett. Something's wrong,” Khyamaeus said.

  For the Fallen to voice a concern in that manner meant something was terribly wrong. Evelyn knew they had extra sensory input and intuition on levels humans couldn't dream of.

  Rhett didn't question Khyamaeus either. He rushed the container, snatched the Seal off the top, and spun around.

  “Got it and it's intact.” Rhett didn't stand there and celebrate. He handed the Seal off to Evelyn then scooped an arm around her hips and herded her back to the edge of the stage.

  By then Khyamaeus had Alexandra handed off to Dracht, who helped her to the ground.

  “Why would they just leave it untended?” Alex asked.

  “That's what's wrong. They wouldn't. Nothing tried to prevent Rhett from taking it, and I don't think anything will,” Khyamaeus said, loping to the ground as if the stage was just a step instead of a six foot drop.

  “That's not a great sign,” Dragar agreed.

  “Hell no. We need to get out of here,” Dracht said, rushing Alex toward the steps leading between the aisles of the seats.

  “What do you think they have planned?” Evelyn got her feet beneath her and ran, Rhett behind and Dracht with Alex in front. The other Templars scrambled up the closest aisles, taking the steps by twos.

  Before anyone could answer, the air raid sirens went off.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Go, go, go!” Khyamaeus charged up the stairs, leaping them by fours and fives.

  Frantic, Evelyn raced toward the railing. The tip of the sword caught on a chair, ripping it out of her hand.

  “Forget it. Go!” Rhett said behind her, pushing her shoulder with a hand.

  “Can we make it back to the plane?” Evelyn picked up speed again, leaving the weapon where it lay. There were no Fallen or beasts to slay and it would only slow her down. Making the rail, she used both hands on the top to help herself over.

  “I don't know, but we can't stay here,” Christian called out, launching himself over the railing with as much ease as Rhett.

  As a group, they ran through the parking lot and onto the grass, dodging around trees, shrubs and hedges.

  The van sat in the exact spot they left it, facing outward, and Evelyn said a silent prayer of thanks that Rhett always thought one or two steps ahead.

  At the Toyota, Evelyn piled into the back with Christian while Alex crouched on Dracht's lap. Khyamaeus crowded in next to them and slammed the door closed. Dragar took the front.

  Rhett, behind the wheel, stabbed the keys into the ignition after stowing his shield and sword. The engine caught and purred. Putting it in gear, he stomped the gas, tearing along the sloping avenue toward Los Feliz.

  “Is this why they left? Did they have advance warning of an attack?” Evelyn asked. Something about the entire set up still felt off.

  Khyamaeus snarled. “They left because there's no reason to stay. If we're here and Los Angeles is bombed—the Seals will be destroyed, giving them exactly what they've wanted all along.”

  The idea stunned Evelyn. And made sense. The Fallen had better things to do—like prepare for war—than sit around waiting for the adversary. Knowing the Seal would lure them, they chose a spot ripe for attack, set up their bait, and left.

  From the front seat, Rhett spat a curse at the windshield.

  “Are we going to make it back to the plane?” Christian echoed Evelyn's question.

  Silence was the only answer.

  Los Feliz, which had been a hotbed of chaos on the way up, was now bereft of life. That changed the second they swerved down onto Western toward Sunset; the streets teemed with screaming people. Evelyn braced herself when Rhett nearly mowed down three youths that darted across in front of the van. Tires barking and smoking, he skid to a stop.

  “Watch where the hell you're going!” he shouted uselessly at the window. The van lurched when he got on the gas, swerving around cars left carelessly in the middle of the street. He had to slow over a few buckled sections but picked up speed once more.

  Evelyn couldn't fathom why so many people were out. Those that were running for cars she understood, but the random, mindless gatherings made no sense. If she wasn't doing what she was currently doing, she would have bolted for the nearest shelter she could find.

  The air raid sirens poured gasoline on an already lit match.

  A family of four fought with what appeared to be a couple for a car. Fists flew, children cried, and the women shouted at one another. Across the street, looters pillaged an electronic store. On the corner of Western and Sunset, five different men held up home made signs declaring This is the end. Buildings were crumbling, alarms bleated warnings under the din of the sirens, and a group of what she supposed were reporters snapped video and photos of everything they could.

  Death, stalking the city like any serious predator, took lives left and right. Existing as peripheral shadows, it claimed one after the other, leaving corpses on the ground in its wake.

  “You should have just taken Hollywood Boulevard, Rhett. Sunset's a wreck,” Christian said.

  “I don't know if Ho
llywood connects with Coldwater Canyon drive and I hate to tell you, but it's all going to be a wreck,” Rhett retorted.

  “Doesn't this thing have GPS?”

  “It's not working.”

  If Evelyn hadn't known better, she would have thought someone was giving away millions of dollars in cash for how many people clogged Sunset Strip. Not just the street but the sidewalks, parking lots, stores, rooftops—everywhere. While the men tried to figure out how to get through the debris field, she stared out the windows, the sirens making her anxious and nervous.

  From behind, a car tapped their bumper. The driver, a balding man shouted obscenities and tapped them again.

  Rhett scowled and glared in the rearview mirror.

  Ahead, more people streamed into the street, everyone running to unknown destinations, forcing cars to stop, collide or pull over.

  “Screw this.” Rhett yanked the wheel and pressed the gas, making several people dive out of his way. He went up onto the sidewalk, taking out an awning, a potted plant and two café tables along with the chairs.

  People heard the commotion and got out of his way.

  Evelyn thought it odd how they didn't move in the street, but get a car on a sidewalk and out of the way they went.

  Rhett picked up speed, swerving around a fire hydrant, and didn't stop when he got to the first intersection.

  “Rhett!”

  “We're gonna get nailed!”

  Evelyn's shout coincided with Christian's. She realized she should be used to this by now. Rhett, once he got it into his head he needed to go, went. Even if it meant running red lights, stop signs or, apparently, going up onto the sidewalk.

  They made it through without getting hit.

  They guy behind them thought it was a great idea. He followed in their wake, laying on the horn with one hand.

  “Crazy bastard,” Rhett muttered.

  “Like he has any room to talk,” Alexandra snorted.

  Since the sidewalk worked so well, Rhett stayed on it. He sideswiped a car, blew out a stand of magazines and had several close calls with pedestrians.

  Behind them, their follower continued to lay on his horn before swerving into traffic, into the teeming mass, where he clipped a jogger and slammed into a city truck parked against the other curb.

  Rhett hit the brakes hard, tires screaming, when a mother and her crying child lurched out from between two shops. Fishtailing, he cut back onto the street, taking the bumper off a sedan.

  “How much farther?” Christian asked.

  “About three blocks. We'll make it.” Rhett laid on his horn and shouted at people to move.

  Evelyn eyed the gloomy sky for any signs of incoming missiles, bracing her hands on the seat in front of her and the side of the van. Jostled, she kept her mouth closed, praying to God that they made it to the airstrip in time.

  What scared her more than anything else was the sudden way people started clearing the streets and sidewalks. It was almost like roaches when the lights come on, how they darted for cover.

  “What's happening? Why are they doing that?” she asked.

  “Don't know, don't know. Anyone see anything?” Rhett picked up speed, veering around cars people had abandoned or that had been in wrecks.

  “I don't see anything. But the sirens are closer together. Hear that?” Dracht asked.

  Everyone, even Khyamaeus, sought the sky with their eyes.

  “Don't see anything here, either,” the Fallen said.

  “It might mean it's imminent. Rhett, maybe you should find a school or a-- look, right up there's a hospital. They've got a basement,” Dracht said.

  “No. We'll make it. We can't be sure we'll survive even in the basement.” He made a hard right turn onto Coldwater Canyon Road and accelerated quickly, both hands on the wheel, jaw clenched tight. With a straight shot to the top, he floored the gas pedal and came to a screaming stop in the parking lot of the private airport.

  “Everyone out!” Rhett left the van running and flung open the door. He grabbed the sword and shield and got out.

  Evelyn clambered over the seats in Dracht and Alexandra's wake; Christian hurried her with a hand low on her spine.

  He caught her when she stumbled out the door, preserving her momentum, and got her going forward again.

  “Thanks Christian.”

  “You got it. Rhett's right there,” Christian said, handing her off.

  “C'mon, c'mon,” Rhett urged, scooping an arm around her hips. He drove her toward the doors to the building and inside after Dragar opened one.

  The large group of people who had been on the tarmac when they arrived were all inside, arguing. A hush fell over them for a moment when they saw who burst through the doors.

  “It's the people with the plane. Hey, you can fit us all on there!” One man shouted, pointing.

  “I don't care who you are or where you're going, you're taking us with you.” Another man stepped forward, scowling, herding his wife and daughter with him.

  Rhett never stopped moving her forward. He didn't even glance at the others.

  Evelyn had to jog to keep up with Rhett's rapid pace. “Are we going to have to take them with us?”

  “We can't. There's not enough room. Even packed in like sardines we can't fit them all. We don't know that the Fallen won't make another attempt before we get to Eden. They could be waiting outside in the temple again.” Rhett shoved the other door open.

  Khyamaeus brought up the rear.

  Evelyn thought it was that strange presence of his that kept the group of people back more than the wicked weapons he wore on his hips and the sword in his hand.

  Rhett hustled her across the tarmac, boots thudding against the ground. Roman opened the steps and lowered them down. Disappearing, he retreated to the cockpit to get the engines started.

  Twenty feet from the bottom step, a gunshot cracked through the air.

  “Stop right there or I'll shoot every single one of you.”

  Rhett shoved her behind him; in the flurry of movement, Evelyn saw that the flux of people had run outside with them.

  The man with the gun looked familiar. Business suit, somber eyes.

  He'd been the one holding the sign in the building when they'd run through the first time.

  “Bizarre costumes or not, you're going to put each one of us on that plane. It's all of us, or no one.”

  †

  The double-time call of the sirens speared an urgency through Rhett's veins. Blocking Evelyn with his body, he stared at the suited man, shield held in front of him sword at his side. He remembered seeing him on the way through. The cold look in his eyes, the calm way he spoke, told Rhett that the man was pressured enough to shoot as he'd threatened.

  “You're in more danger in that plane than on the ground. Find shelter immediately.” Khyamaeus, who didn't look happy at the delay, stared the man down.

  Unafraid, almost aggressive.

  Rhett's skin broke out into goosebumps under the armor. He had the urge to follow Khyamaeus' order, even if it wasn't directed at him. It must be a persuasive technique all the Fallen were capable of.

  A handful of people fled back into the building without further argument, proving they were the most susceptible of the lot. Several others backed up, huddled together, uncertain what their next course of action could be.

  The businessman-CEO's gun wavered a fraction, but he stood firm.

  “Get in the plane. Slowly,” Rhett whispered to Evelyn.

  Alexandra, blocked by Dracht, was too far from him to get her attention without drawing the notice of the man with the gun. His brother proved to have the same idea, nudging Alex toward the lowered stairs.

  Evelyn went first, followed by her sister. The gunman grew edgier.

  “Tell them to come back down or start loading these people up,” he demanded.

  Rhett glanced at Khyamaeus, expecting him to use some of the powers he had at his command. Then he realized there were too many witnesses to a blat
ant display. If the world went on as they knew it, any survivors would spread the tale of what they'd seen like wildfire. No, the Fallen seemed to be taking no chances of that.

  “We're not going to do that. You're wasting time. The longer you stand there--”

  The gunman swerved the gun toward Christian and pulled the trigger.

  Chapter Twenty

  Sirens, plane engines, screaming, the rumbling earth. It all faded into background static the second the gun went off. Rhett looked away from the passive face of the shooter to Christian, who flew backwards, shield and sword flying, landing hard on the asphalt.

  Those few seconds existed in a surreal slow motion reel, warped and distorted, until time caught up with itself. Then it went into fast forward; Khyamaeus let an arrow fly, catching the suited man high in the shoulder. It pitched the startled man back, the gun clattering to the ground.

  Dragar and Dracht, shouting, reached Christian a second before he did, dropping to their knees to see where he'd been hit.

  Blood spurted from a wound in his throat. A bad wound, one that had probably nicked an artery.

  “Khyamaeus!” Rhett shouted. The Fallen had healing abilities. He could save Christian before he bled out.

  The girls voices carried over the sounds of the engine and Rhett made a gesture with his hand. “Get back inside! Tell Roman to get ready to go!”

  The Fallen, standing over the gasping, shocked man, planted a foot in his chest and yanked the arrow out.

  A scream preceded unconsciousness.

  Rhett was too busy loading Christian into his arms and up the stairs of the plane to worry about what happened to the shooter. He saw Khyamaeus give the crowd a withering stare before loping to the plane in their wake.

  While Khyamaeus pulled up the steps, Evelyn rushed down the aisle with bandages she'd found in the back.

  “Here. How bad is it? Where is he hi--” She cut off her questions when she saw the blood.

  “He'll be all right. Khyamaeus will help him before it gets worse,” Rhett said. Sweat leaked into his eyes, blurring his vision.

  “Stay with us, Christian. Khyamaeus can heal it,” Dragar said, holding Christian's head in his hands.