by J. C. Wilder
Sinjin inched across the floor toward Vivian. “Wait, ye can have—”
“Go ahead and kill her,” another voice spoke from the doorway. “You’ll save me ammunition if you do.” A slim man dressed in black stood in the entrance, a handgun in each hand. A strap over his shoulder supported the MP5 assault rifle at his hip—what he’d used to spray the room no doubt. One handgun was trained on Vivian, the other on Miles.
“Who the hell are you?” Miles snarled.
“The man sent to deal with her.” He waggled the gun that pointed toward Vivian.
“Someone is trying to kill me?” she squeaked.
The man gave her an unpleasant smile. “I don’t just try, darlin’, I succeed.”
One problem at a time…
Sinjin sat up and held the diary so that everyone in the room could see it. “I have the book right here, Miles. If ye want it, ye have to let them go.”
“Hand me the book first,” Miles ordered.
“Not on yer life.” He nodded toward Vivian. “Release her and I’ll hand it to Gerald.”
“Yeah, Miles,” the newcomer taunted, “release her so I can finish my job and collect my pay.” He chuckled.
Miles ignored his words and released his grip on Vivian’s arm. Brent immediately pulled her away, tucking her behind the dubious shelter of a chair and his fragile mortal body.
“Now, hand over the book, St. James,” Miles said.
“Let her go as well.” He nodded toward Gerald where Elena was still being used as a shield.
“You’ve received all the concessions you’ll get from me,” Miles said. “Give up the diary or pay the consequences.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Sinjin saw Brent rise from his position behind the chair while Vivian remained crouched on the floor. The detective gave Sinjin a subtle nod, encouraging him to release the diary. What did Brent have up his sleeve?
There was only one way to find out.
Sinjin tossed the diary to Gerald, forcing him to release Elena in order to catch it. He knew he’d just thrown away his only bargaining chip, but they were at a stalemate. What other choices did he have?
“Is it authentic?” Miles asked.
Gerald flipped through a few pages. “Sure looks like it.” Excitement made his voice sharp, squeaky.
“Our work is done here. We’ll take her with us.” He pointed to Elena who was trying to inch away from them toward Sinjin’s desk.
“Leave her,” Brent protested. “You have what you want. Leave her behind.”
“What do you care about the life of a she-wolf, mortal? She’d kill you for fresh meat and never bat an eye.” Miles pulled Gerald to his feet, while the man never stopped flipping through the diary as he scanned the pages. Sinjin felt sick about the thought of that book ending up in Mikhail’s hands again.
“She’s an insurance policy that you won’t try to follow us. If you do, she dies,” Miles said.
Sinjin stifled a protest as Gerald tucked the book into his jacket before he hauled Elena to her feet, using the barbaric rope. Her eyes were heated, her teeth bared as she was pulled toward the door. Heaven help the little pipsqueak if she ever got her hands on him.
The newcomer stepped to the side as Gerald and Elena passed. His expression was curious, but he didn’t say a word. He didn’t seem inclined to stop them from leaving either.
Miles paused beside him near the doorway. “You might want to know something about the detective over there.” He nodded toward Brent. “He has a gun.”
The gunman’s expression turned to one of surprise as Brent drew the gun and fired. Miles darted out of sight and down the steps as Sinjin dove toward Vivian, using his body as a shield while a volley of bullets tore into the walls overhead. A bullet whistled past his ear and he huddled tighter to his woman, silently praying that she survive the mêlée.
A few seconds and quite a few shots later, he heard a low moan and a solid thud. Sinjin raised his head to see the gunman lying across the doorway.
“Are you okay?” he asked Vivian.
Vivian gave a shaky nod and Sinjin leapt to his feet. Brent had approached the gunman and he was moving the man’s armaments to a safe distance. One glance at the two gruesome headshots and Sinjin knew this killer wasn’t going to rise again. Sinjin grabbed the MP5. It wasn’t as if the dead guy would need it anymore.
As he ran down the steps, he heard the wail of police sirens. Brent fell into step behind him. The detective had fished a cell phone out of his pocket and was shouting information into it as they ran for the street.
Sinjin skidded to a halt as the taillights sped down the street only to fade into the darkness many blocks away. His head dropped, his breath raged through his lungs. Miles and Gerald had gotten away again with the diary and Elena was their hostage. He ran his hand through his hair.
“Do you want to tell me what the hell is going on?”
Sinjin slid the strap of the MP5 over his shoulder before he turned and looked at Brent. Curling his hand into a fist, he let if fly toward the detective’s face, clipping him neatly on the jaw. Brent fell, landing in the middle of the street with a surprised look on his face.
“That was for trying to arrest me, ye arsehole,” Sinjin snarled. He opened his mouth to continue when a movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. Vivian stood in the doorway, backlit by the hall chandelier. Arms wrapped around her waist, she was searching the darkness for him, her expression anxious.
When she caught sight of him, the worry faded and a relieved smile took its place. She leaned against the doorway and he shuddered at the thought of how close he’d come to losing her tonight. If it weren’t for the quick action of Brent, she might be dead right now and he’d never know the feeling of a full heart.
He looked down at the stunned detective. “Thank ye for saving her life. I owe ye a debt that I can ne’er pay.” Sinjin held out his hand to Brent and helped him to his feet.
“I’ll get you for that.” Brent rubbed his jaw.
“I relish the challenge.” He grinned at the disgruntled officer and slapped him on the back. “And, no, I dinna want to tell ye what is going on.” Sinjin looked at Vivian waiting for him in the doorway. “Right now I have something else I need to do and that’s all ye need to know.”
* * * * *
Elena ground her teeth against the leather gag. The stiff leather was slowly giving way though not nearly fast enough to suit her. Mentally she cursed, angry that she’d ended up in this situation at all. It was unheard of for a revenant to overpower a werewolf, even one of her size, without using drugs or a weapon.
She gave the leather a vicious chomp, grateful to feel it loosen even more. Who knew that an immortal could ever be that strong? She tamped down on the unfamiliar twinge of fear. What did this mean for herself and the rest of the pack?
The gag finally gave way and she shook her head feeling victorious when it landed on the floor with a soft plop. Now, to get her hands free. Bound behind her back, her shoulders ached from the length of time she’d been kept in this condition. Ignoring the pain, she began twisting and arching her body in an effort to maneuver her hands to the front.
Just where were her tormentors now?
After leaving Sinjin’s home they’d driven straight to the airport and boarded a private jet. She wasn’t entirely sure of what country she was in but she knew one thing, Mikhail was only a room or two away.
She pushed the image of his horribly scarred visage away. They arrived at the crumbling castle sometime in the early afternoon. With Miles leading the way, Gerald had hauled her in the door and toward this room while Miles went left. Through the open door she’d seen the infamous vampire sitting in a throne-like chair with a large white cat in his lap. Even though Gerald had hit her in the eye so hard it was swollen shut, she didn’t need two eyes to recognize a monster.
Elena shuddered at the sight of those damaged hands stroking the thick, white fur. Poor animal, she wouldn’t have wish
ed that fate upon her worst enemy, not even a mangy were-cat.
Wincing at the pulling sensation in her shoulders, she finally managed to climb through her bound hands and now they were in front of her. Sitting upright, it seemed every inch of her body ached. Her wrists were raw and she grimaced when she noticed the smears of blood on her coat.
Lucky for her, wolves had amazing restorative powers.
Ignoring the pain, she lumbered to her feet and began looking for a way out. Her hands were on a windowsill when a voice stopped her.
“Just where do you think you’re going, wolf?”
The faintly southern-accented voice of Gerald washed over her causing her one good eye to narrow. Releasing her grip on the window, she turned. He stood just inside the archway, his shirt partially unbuttoned and with a glass of brandy in one hand. A low growl built in her throat.
He laughed. “You know, it really is too bad that unlike the cats, you cannot change at will. There is no way we would’ve been able to capture you if that had been the case.”
You’ve got that right.
Instead of saying what she wanted, she pasted a “poor little me” expression on her face and opted to hold her bound hands out toward him.
“Please, can you loosen these just a bit? They really are terribly uncomfortable.” Elena kept her voice low and even to her own ears she sounded defeated, lost.
Gerald’s smile widened. “It would be my pleasure.” He left his glass on a dilapidated piano then retrieved the keys from his pocket. “I don’t normally treat women in such a fashion.”
“I’m sure under better circumstances you are a kind man.” She struggled not to gag over her insincere words.
Especially when the circumstances are you’re dead at my feet…
He looked pleased at her false words. “I would like to think I am.” He loosened her left wrist then her right. “I was raised in the era of chivalry and gentleness toward women and I’d like to think my mother’s lessons have stuck with me over the years.”
“They have.” Elena gave him a shy smile though it was an effort to bare her teeth.
“You know, wolf,” his gaze moved over her body causing her skin to crawl. “I can’t help but think that you and I would be wild in bed together. You, with all that animal strength, me with the most experienced tongue in the northern hemisphere.” He moved forward and waggled his tongue at her. “I bet you are one hot piece of tail.”
“Gerald, tell me something.” Elena kept her voice kitten-soft, forcing him to move in closer until barely an inch separated them.
“Anything, my pet.” His brandy-soaked breath washed over her.
“This morning, when you got up,” she reached for him, her fingertips sliding across the warm skin of his throat. “Did you know you were going to die?”
“Wha—” He didn’t even finish the word before his life was ended. It happened so quickly he didn’t even have time to fall before his heart slowed then stopped. He wavered before her, his eyes wide and his mouth open like a dead fish. With a gentle nudge from her elbow, he fell to the floor.
Elena forced her hands to relax, dropping the large piece of his throat. It landed on his blood-soaked shirt.
Now they were even.
Pausing only long enough to wipe her hands on his pants, she headed for the exit. Heart pounding, she peered out into the entry only to find it empty. Slowly, keeping her back to the wall, she made her way toward the front door. Amazed at how easily she was escaping, she almost screamed when the raspy voice sounded behind her.
“Leaving so soon?” Elena spun, her hands twisted into claws and a low growl sounded from her throat. Mikhail stood on the opposite side of the entry, his face in shadow, and the cat still in his arms.
“And here I’d hoped to enjoy your company for a while.” He chuckled and it was a nightmarish rasp that sounded like a bad horror movie. “I don’t get many visitors out here, you see.”
“Not on your life.” She wrenched the door open, grateful for the flood of fresh air.
“Well then, you’ll need these in order to get out of here.” The vampire tossed something toward her and without thinking she caught it.
Car keys? She gaped at him. Now why would he want to help her get away?
“What’s the deal?” She wiggled the keys and they clattered together.
“So suspicious.” She heard the taunting in his tone. “No deal, you are free to go, little wolf.”
Before he could change his mind, she was out of the house and headed toward the car at a fast clip. Hitting the unlock button on the remote, she reached for the handle, her body tense and ready for whatever would come next. Would he really let her walk away…?
“You run little wolf, and tell them of what you’ve seen today.” Mikhail chuckled. “Tell the Council that soon I shall be coming for them.”
Chapter Fourteen
“How long will this take?”
Sinjin watched as Elena paced the room like a woman possessed. Her movements were frenetic, anxious. Even though only a day had passed since the destruction of his home, her bruises had already faded quite a bit. The mark on her lip was still visible and her eye still blackened, but in another day or so, her injuries would be gone and none would be the wiser.
The same couldn’t be said for Gerald. Elena told him that after they’d delivered the diary to Mikhail, she’d almost ripped Gerald’s head off the moment he made the mistake of loosening her bonds. One bad revenant dead leaving hundreds more to hunt down. While Sinjin sincerely hoped it never came down to an all-out war, no one would win that battle.
“I canna answer ye, Elena.” He returned his attention to scrubbing the bloodstains from the doorway of his shattered library. “The diary isn’t like reading a regular book. The events aren’t in order and there are multiple languages involved.” He dipped his bloodied sponge into a bucket containing a mixture of disinfectant and water.
“Time is against us,” she said.
He rolled his eyes. “Against us or not, I need time.” He scrubbed at the doorframe. Inwardly, he shuddered at the thought of how close he’d come to losing Vivian last night. One glance at the multitude of bullet holes attested to Anthony’s determination to destroy her. Even the cops seemed to be shocked at the sheer fury that had taken place in this room.
Now Vivian slept in his bed, untouched. He waited for her to awaken so they could air the differences between them. Did she love him? He was pretty sure she did, but did she love him enough to sacrifice her mortal life for an immortal one?
“Are you listening to me?” Elena stood in front of him, her fists on slim hips.
“Nae. Ye blather too much, woman.” Sinjin tossed the sponge in the bucket, not caring that the blood-tinged water slopped out and onto the floor he’d just cleaned. “I told ye that I need time. I canna guarantee the diary contains the information ye seek and yer hounding me will do nae good.”
Her eyes narrowed and she scowled as she pointed one long slim finger at him. “Now you listen here—”
“Nae.” He stripped off the rubber gloves and rose, pushing her hand away. “Ye listen here. Yer days of dictating the use of the diary are o’er. We no longer have the diary as Miles has taken it and we’re left with a copy—”
“Which you wouldn’t have if I hadn’t given you the diary in the first place.” She whirled away from him. “The diary that you promptly lost—”
“That is so like a woman.” It was all he could do to avoid launching himself at her throat. “I had to give up the diary or we were all lost, ye fool. Miles had us against the wall and—”
“Oh, for crying out loud, why don’t the two of you just whip them out and compare to see who the real tough guy is in this room?”
Both Sinjin and Elena turned to see Vivian standing in the hall. Her dark curls were tumbled from her restless sleep and she wore the same clothes, now rumpled, that she’d had from the day before. Her dark eyes were shadowed and her pale skin was flushed with an
ger.
“How dare you—” Elena marched toward Vivian.
Sensing eminent attack, Sinjin stepped between the two women, halting the wolf with his arm. “Back off, Elena.”
She scowled at him. “I know you didn’t just tell me to back off—”
“Ye heard me.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Getting into a fight with Vivian isn’t going to get ye the information from the diary any faster. I need time and that’s that. I would suggest ye locate yer brother and let him know what’s going on as this affects him as well. Not to mention that the police are still looking for ye. A burglary charge, I believe?”
The look on Elena’s face clearly said that she resented the suggestion that she leave. Her lips thinned and her dark eyes flashed. She straightened her black leather jacket and walked around him toward the door.
Vivian moved into the room, careful to avoid the bloody water both in the bucket and on the floor. As they passed, Elena paused. “Watch your back, mortal.”
Vivian rolled her eyes. “You are the least of my worries.”
Elena glanced at Sinjin, then back to Vivian. She gave an unpleasant chuckle. “Don’t count on it.” Her footsteps echoed on the polished wood as she exited the room and ran down the steps. A few seconds later, the front door slammed shut.
“Well,” Vivian drawled. “That was certainly pleasant.”
“Encounters with Elena always are.”
Her brow arched. “Have you known her long?”
“Nae. Just a few days.”
She moved to an open window, her tone casual. “I assume she’s not…normal.”
Uh-oh, dangerous ground here.
“Define, normal.”
“Human.”
Sinjin nodded. “Ye’re correct, she’s not human.”
“What is she?” Vivian sat on the windowsill, her eyes trained on his face. He saw indecision and confusion lingering in their depths.
“She’s a werewolf.”
She tilted her head to the side. “A werewolf? She gets furry once a month?”
