The gunfire increased and snow exploded around them as they plunged into the snowscape outside. Wyck seized Zoe’s wrist and yanked her ahead, only to stop a few feet later when Zoe crumpled to the ground in a heap. A large, feathered-tipped dart protruded from her back. “Bloody hell!”
Mira screamed and struggled against Kagan. “Let me go, dammit! She’s hurt.” He drew her closer, quelling her resistance.
“The best way to help her is to get her out of here, piccola.” Kagan knelt on one knee, squinting into the horizon. Shots rang out from the forest ahead. “Vaff! We’re surrounded.”
Bullets whizzed past. Wyck crouched beside Zoe, checking her pulse before picking her up and trudging forward again. A bullet struck dead center in the back of his day-glow orange jacket. He face-planted in the snow before Kagan could reach his side. His limp form continued to twitch as more ammo riddled his body.
Blood soaked the snow around Wyck and stained his hair and clothes. Weapon drawn, Kagan returned fire to keep their pursuers at bay until Wyck revived. He kept Mira close behind him as he swiveled and fired repeatedly. Her arms locked around his waist gave him both comfort and energy. A brief respite in the gunplay allowed Kagan time to drop a quick kiss on her wind-chapped cheek and tuck her beneath his chin. He would get them out of this, no matter the cost.
The pine grove hovered close. Kagan urged Mira toward it and moved to follow behind. He took one step and a bullet tore through his side. Kagan stumbled, then fell to one knee. A second bullet ripped into the muscle of his left thigh. He gritted his teeth and attempted to regain his footing. Mira turned and screamed, started back toward him. He tried to wave her off, tell her to stay away. She ignored his warning and continued toward him amidst the blitz of shots.
Mira disappeared from his peripheral vision. Then a sudden weight tumbled on top of him. Mira slumped across his back. Her shallow breathing did little to ease his rising panic. He reached back, his fingers pressing into the side of her neck. Kagan located her faint, thready pulse. Madre de Dio! She was alive, but how badly injured?
He yanked her in front of him. Two metal tranquilizer darts protruded from the nylon quilt of her snowsuit, one from her left shoulder and one from her hip. With a growl, he fought the rising bile in his throat and forced himself up.
Shouts in the distance grew loud as a security squad drew closer. A sudden, hard grip caught his arm. Wyck’s weary tone sliced through the brutal freeze. “Got to get out now, K!”
Hot, sticky moisture trickled from Kagan’s wounds before turning viscous and freezing to his skin. His blasted eyes watered and his cheeks stung in the sub-zero gales. The bitter cold caused his breath to crystallize and his thoughts staggered like a drunken bear. Kagan clenched his side to mitigate the pain of hoisting Mira’s body into his arms. He battled the waves of dizziness from blood loss to maintain his grip. “Let’s go.”
Wyck stepped in front of him, blocking his path. “Listen to me, K. We need to flash out of here now to survive. Our reserves are severely depleted. Attempting to flash with another person in our current condition would be suicide. Mira and Zoe are tranquilized, not dead. Tolbert wants them alive. Our best bet to save them is to regroup and hit the bastards hard with a full arsenal. The alignment isn’t until tomorrow. They won’t do anything until then.”
Dai! Kagan looked at Mira’s unconscious form. His warrior instincts told him Wyck was correct, that Tolbert wouldn’t risk their big opportunity. His Scion mind rationalized his actions, yet Kagan’s heart rioted at the thought of leaving his mate behind. If those half-breed pompinara harmed one hair on her head, he’d lay waste to every single one of them.
Kagan clenched his jaw and bent to place a lingering kiss on her lips before placing her beside Zoe. “Ti amo, mio tesoro.”
The sound of shattering glass mingled with distant gunshots. Two bodies burst from a top-floor window and plummeted to the frozen landscape below. Kagan and Wyck drew their weapons and aimed. One figure rose and picked up the other, then hustled toward them. Wyck placed a hand above his eyes to focus on the approaching stranger, his finger hovering over the trigger. “Bloody hell! It’s Chago. And he’s carrying Xander.”
Chago hustled past them and headed up the hill to the nearby pine grove. A trail of bright red blood streaked the snow in his wake. Wyck and Kagan caught up to him. After one final look at Mira and Zoe, Kagan bowed his head and vanished.
• • •
The four warriors arrived at Kagan’s apartment in a mass of blood and limbs. Chago limped to the sofa and placed Xander down before falling into a nearby armchair. Kagan snatched a dishtowel from the kitchen and checked Xander’s wounds. Plenty of cuts and bruises from the high-rise fall, but nothing requiring more than antiseptic and healing. Blood caked around Xander’s ears. He wiped it away, glad when no new flow took its place. Oca! What happened to Xander? “Who did this?”
Wyck pulled beers out of the fridge and brought them to the living room. Chago opened his and downed it in one gulp before answering. “The Director.”
Xander stirred on the sofa. His quicksilver eyes snapped open and he bolted upright, glancing at his surroundings. “What the hell happened? Where are we?”
“You’re at my place.” Kagan tossed him the towel, managing a small grin. Scant relief flooded his system. Xander was safe, but Mira wasn’t. His heart ached. “We escaped . . . barely.”
“With Mira and Zoe?”
“No.” He couldn’t hide the flinch Xander’s question prompted. Every fiber of his being cried out to return to the headquarters and retrieve her. Yet he knew such actions were foolish. Storming the walls now would be a death wish. They needed time to prepare for war. They had twelve hours. Vaff! Kagan chugged his beer. “Tolbert has them, shot full of tranquilizers.”
“Psychic warfare.” Xander stared at the bloodstained towel in his hands. “They used my latent talents against me. I expect they’ll be doing the same to Zoe.” He leaned back into the cushions, his face a mask of undisguised fury. “Christos! The visions. I’ve never seen such evil. The malakas are going to do it. Armageddon.”
“Not if we can stop it.” Kagan tossed his beer bottle from the living room to land a three-pointer in the recycle bin. For the second time in less than an hour, the tinkle of shattering glass filled the air. “And we will.”
“Abso-bloody-lutely!” Wyck jumped up from his seat faster than a triggered land mine, his gaze dropping to front of his now tattered jacket. “Bollocks. I just bought this blasted thing last week!”
Kagan clapped him on the shoulder, squinting at the neon orange and yellow outwear monstrosity. “Ugly as hell. Good riddance, amico.”
“Si, he’s right.” Chago chuckled. “Where the hell’d you get that fugly thing anyway?”
“Off the Internet. It’s the latest trend in alpine chic.” Wyck plunged the decimated jacket into the trash on his way to the fridge. “What the hell do you know about fashion, anyway, Oscar de la Rent-a-Wreck?” Wyck gave Chago’s mud-encrusted jeans and plain white tee a quick once-over. “Last time I checked, you weren’t winning any awards.”
Chago countered with a silent, one-finger salute.
Kagan watched the proceedings, his usual enjoyment absent. Fear sat lead-heavy in his gut, draining his emotions until only cold, hard need remained. He had to save Mira, refused to live without her. Merda! This was his fault. Again. He needed to do something. Anything. Flashes of his sisters’ faces trickled through his mind like a watercolor in the rain. He couldn’t lose another woman he loved. With a determined grunt, he strode across the loft to his closet and pulled out a fresh set of clothes. “I need to rescue Mira.”
Xander stared at Kagan for a moment, his expression taut and cryptic. Then, following a deep breath and a roll of his shoulders, he turned to Wyck. “Notify the others. I’ll give you a rendezvous point after I talk to Divinity.”
Wyck nodded and took out his phone. “Buggering hell!”
A bullet hole pierced t
he center. He tossed it in the trash on top of his ruined coat, reached into a second pocket, and removed a different device.
“Been wanting to try the new version, anyway.” He plugged the phone into a charger and headed to the bathroom. “While she’s revving up, I’m hitting the shower.”
“Xan, what happened with the Director?” Kagan asked, sitting on the sofa to pull on a fresh pair of boots.
“Tolbert is bigger than anyone imagined.” Xander got up and walked to the kitchen. He snagged a soda from the fridge and cracked it open. “From what I can interpret, they’ve been working toward this goal since their exile. Their knowledge base is enormous, and frankly, they don’t give a shit anymore. A dangerous combination. And that doesn’t include their vast pool of resources.”
He sank into a chair at the table. “They’ve been operating under the radar for the last two thousand years. Hell, I’m not sure Divinity knows the true extent of their dealings. One thing’s for certain—they’re all over these Seals like bugs on manure. I wouldn’t be surprised if they weren’t getting help from Lucifer. He’s never been too particular about his cohorts as long as he got what he wanted.” Xander stared at his soda can with sudden, renewed interest. His brow furrowed, and his gaze took on a jagged, brittle fury. “Psologliftis.”
Kagan frowned. The pieces still didn’t fit. Why would Tolbert need Xander and Zoe’s abilities with the Seal in their possession? Why reveal information in Xander’s visions—telling him secrets, knowing he’d use the information to destroy them—and allow him to live? “Lucifer and the Nephilim? I doubt even he would stoop so far. Not after what happened during the Fall.”
“How else could they access Divinity’s vaults?” Xander pinned Kagan with a steady gaze, his tone reserved. “Yes. The thefts were their doing.”
Xander gave a self-deprecating snort. “Did I mention the Director offered me a position with Tolbert? Skata! I’m the commander of the Scion, and he acted like I was a bag boy at the grocery.” His abrupt snort of laughter was decidedly unpleasant. “He knew all about the amulet too.”
Wyck emerged from the bathroom. “Hey, K, I need to borrow some clothes.”
“Fine.” Kagan nodded then returned his gaze to Xander, intent on finding a viable solution. “How do we defeat them? The Nephilim aren’t immortals. They can be killed, right?”
“Yes, they can be killed. They’re not immortal. Not yet, anyway.”
“Weren’t the Nephilim destroyed?” Chago asked, joining Xander at the table.
“The official answer? Yes.” Xander rubbed his eyes before scratching the dark stubble shadowing his jaw. “Unofficially? Not annihilated. Only driven underground for a long, long time.”
“What’d I miss?” Wyck asked as he finished pulling on a black T-shirt to accompany the pair of faded jeans he’d chosen and padded into the kitchen.
“The Nephilim are behind Tolbert, and they have the girls,” Chago said, fiddling with his empty bottle.
“Thanks, anchorman. Been there, bought the morning paper. Anything else?”
“Yeah.” Xander reached over and dislodged Wyck’s phone from the charger then handed it to him, ignoring the flashing red battery indicator. “Forget the previous order. Call the others and have them meet us at Divinity’s.”
• • •
Kagan, Chago, Xander and Wyck, accompanied by the final three of their Scion brethren, flashed into Divinity’s marble foyer. She strode in a moment later. “Welcome home, boys.”
Xander stepped forward to flank her side. Divinity was schoolmarm punctual, as usual. He couldn’t suppress a slight smile at the soothing cadence of her presence. “We have an urgent matter.”
“Yes, I know. The Nephilim.”
She led them into the den, and a handmaiden appeared with a tray full of drinks. “Do sit, all of you. My neck will be sore for a week if I have to look up the entire time Xander drones on.”
Wyck and Chago snorted and took up residence in the leather wing chairs. Another chair appeared for Kagan while the three newest recruits filled an antique sofa along one wall. Luther slumped into the first corner with Rat Pack cool, his fedora drawn low to hide his penetrating, cat’s-eye golden gaze. Beside him, Sloane reclined with the lithe grace of a jewel thief ready to pounce, his tailored, three-piece suit and Italian leather shoes impeccable. On the far end was Barron, the rookie—if two hundred-plus years was considered a trial period. His shaggy, sun-streaked hair and easy grin belied the hard muscle and battle-hewn warrior beneath.
Xander leaned against the marble fireplace mantel and nursed his brandy while taking it all in. He waited for everyone to get settled before laying out the facts. Life as a Scion was many things. Boring was not one of them.
Xander glanced around at his assembled men, each one a trained lethal weapon in his own right, and tried to recall the last time they’d all been together. It had been at least a century ago, according to his calculations—maybe longer. He swallowed a mouthful of smooth brandy and contemplated the flames. His troubled mind drifted to Zoe. Was she suffering like he had while in the compound? His fist tightened on the fragile cut crystal. No. He’d sensed the strength of her abilities the night of the club attack. She’d fight the Nephilim. Hell, she’d probably make them wish they’d never touched her.
After his first-hand experience with the psychic time warp she’d produced at the club, Zoe’s powers made his look like a cheap charade. His fingertips stroked the side of his glass while he remembered their initial encounter at Wyck’s. The brief contact had brought his senses crackling to life. Further exploration of their connection would be a pleasure. His pleasure.
The clearing of a throat derailed his train of thought. Divinity flashed him the placid smile of a troop leader corralling an ornery charge and took a seat behind her desk. “Go on, dear. We’re ready.”
“The Nephilim have the first Seal,” Xander said.
She lifted her glass with no hesitation. “And?”
“They’re planning to use it.”
Divinity pierced him with an exacting stare. “What are you going to do?”
“We’re here to figure that out.” Xander pushed off the mantel. “We need your help.”
She stood and moved to the window, her fingertips trailing over an odd-looking houseplant. “I always wondered when the half-breeds would emerge again.”
Kagan scooted forward in his seat, asking the question before Xander had time to respond. “You didn’t think to mention their continued existence until now?”
“No need. They went underground long ago to avoid punishment for their transgressions.” She stroked a tiny red flower at the plant’s perimeter. The blossom grew larger, and small, sparkling fruit appeared.
Chago uncrossed his legs. “They’ve grown more powerful.”
“Yet they’re not without weaknesses.” Divinity turned to face her warriors. “Their organization is the key to their defeat.”
“And the reason we’re here.” Xander moved to stand before her desk. “To be prepared.”
“You have the amulet?” Divinity turned toward Xander. He nodded and patted the pocket of his jeans. “Good. You must strike tonight before the alignment is complete.”
She hustled from the window out into the foyer before turning in their direction. A team of handmaidens assembled behind her. “Now, Scion, let’s get you prepared for battle.”
• • •
The Director himself, with Mallory in tow, came to collect Mira. The pair waited outside the bars while four guards trussed up Mira’s still unconscious form like a stuffed pig and carted her out of the cell.
Zoe remained huddled in the corner, her eyes shut tight. She tried to push reassurance into Mira’s mind. Kagan would return. Her powers were muddled in here, especially after the torture these assholes had subjected her to, but she knew the Scion. No way Kagan left Mira behind. No way.
Memories of the day’s experiments flooded Zoe’s mind—machines and wires, electrodes and
needles, too many needles. At first, she’d been terrified. Rape, she could handle. Torture, not so much. They’d packed a lot into the short time she’d been here. She came to realize the more afraid she became the harder it was to fight them off. Fear weakened her powers. Any overwhelming emotion lessened her psychic strength. Blurred the signal.
An image of Xander popped into her head. Absurd. The only strong sentiment she felt toward him was revulsion. After his foray at Wyck’s apartment, his gentle push into her psyche, she’d stayed free of him. The last thing she needed was another psychic trying to hustle her game. Yes, she’d sent him the one message when Tolbert had kidnapped her. Out of necessity only. Nothing more.
Alone now in the holding cells, Zoe’s thoughts veered from her disturbing emotions toward Xander to a more pressing issue—Tolbert’s game plan. From the information she’d gathered, Mira should have been their only target as the host of the first Seal. Yet they’d wanted Zoe too. Her abilities. Dumbass bastards. She’d never use her talents to harm anyone, let alone Mira. Mira was her sister, if not by blood, then certainly by fire. Zoe would die herself before harming Mira.
The ding of the elevator signaled the return of the troops. Armed guards entered and clanked her cell open. Two hulking men hauled her from the room. Zoe struggled, but it was like trying to topple a brick wall with a Q-tip.
They journeyed to the lab once more, and Zoe focused her adrenaline-fueled senses. This time she’d discover some answers.
• • •
Mira opened her scratchy eyes and waited for her vision to clear.
Toted as she was beneath the beefy guards’ arms, her vantage point was limited. Only flashes of ceiling and the occasional door marker appeared in her peripheral vision. Her mouth was sore and dry, a musty gag stuffed inside to prevent no more than the odd grunt or groan.
After a while, all the rocking and swaying made her seasick, and listening to the guards mumble in their strange language had her wishing for an ice pick to the eardrum. The guttural cadence of their words sounded Latin or Russian in origin, with a pinch of Chinese and German thrown in for flavor. Whatever the hell they were saying, the continued murmur set her nerves on edge.
Seven Seals, Books 1 & 2 Page 21
