by Jaycee Clark
“Can you get out of the cage, Cyzarine?”
Even from here, she could feel the worry, fear and rage in his thoughts.
It had never been this sharp, this intense with anyone. Not even when she and Oleana had constantly practiced at connecting with each other. Not when she and Erik were lovers. With Saker, it was so…easy.
“Reen, what do you see out of the window?”
She opened her eyes and left the connection in her mind open. “I don’t know…it’s dark, not as dark as the room.” She stared at the window and saw something fly by. She frowned and focused on it.
A click from the other direction made her gasp. She looked to the doorway and saw the silhouette of a man. He flicked his wrist out and the room flooded with lights.
“Stay with me, Cyzarine. Keep your eyes open and look at him. I need to see him…”
It’s weird, having someone else in your mind with you. She shoved the thought aside as the man spoke and she tried to blink, adjusting her eyes to the light.
He stood on the other side of the cage. He looked…
Normal. He wasn’t what she’d call second-glance handsome, let alone gorgeous. His hazel eyes were round, and deeply set, his face angular, his mouth thin. His hair was dark and wavy, cut close to his head on the sides, but longer on top. The suit was expensive, the shirt silk. A ring on his hand.
She focused on the ring, her vision narrowing as if she first viewed it down a tunnel, then as if she’d zoomed in with a camera.
A demon’s skull and a treasure chest.
Almost like the human pirates.
But this was different. She knew it.
“What is your name?” she asked, looking back up at him, shielding her eyes.
He slowly walked around the cage, which she now saw was enormous and bolted in the ground. The cement ground. The ceiling…there was no ceiling here. Here there was only the bare metal trusses—a warehouse.
She closed her eyes and listened more carefully, focused on the window, focus….
Focus…
The lap of water… Softly…
Water? She opened her eyes and watched as he walked the perimeter of the cage. A golden cage. His hand negligently trailed from one bar to the next as he walked closer and closer to where she sat.
Carefully, she moved away from the edge of the cage.
“What do you want?” she asked.
He smiled. “I rather thought that was obvious, moyo zolotse.”
She held his stare, seeing past the hazel eyes to the blackness that lurked just beneath. “Who are you?”
He grinned even more and she could see how many might fall for his charm. “I apologize for not introducing myself earlier.” He bowed at the waist. “I’m Kladovik?”
Kladovik? “That’s not an alias?”
He waved his ringed hand. “No. I’ve used them in the past, but figured why?”
Kladovik…
Then it clicked. “A guardian demon.” She shook her head. So simple.
He raised a brow. “I prefer dark spirit.” He tsked. “Demon leaves such a negative connotation, don’t you think?”
“I couldn’t possibly imagine where anyone would get that idea,” she muttered.
He stopped in front of her and she pressed herself back against the bed. For just a moment, he let his charming shield drop and she could see the monster beneath, with the dark bruising, scaled skin and black empty eyes. “You and I are going to have lots and lots and lots of fun.” He licked his lips.
Inside, she shuddered. Instead, she crossed her arms and knew he couldn’t get her without coming inside. “Really? And how are we going to do that? You coming in here?”
He narrowed his gaze at her. “My dear, I’ve been at this a lot longer than you. Trust me, I’ll get in…” He smiled and it held no amusement. “When you least expect it. It’s much more fun this way. Leaves you on edge.” He grinned. “That’s more arousing.”
She let her own power rise up, an ancient power of fire and vengeance. “Hide behind darkness, do you? Poor thing. Maybe one day you’ll be man enough, or would that be demon enough, to face an adversary straight on.”
His nostrils flared.
“Stop baiting him, damn it!”
She slammed the walls back up between her and Saker.
“Damn that woman. Do we have anything yet?” he snarled to the room at large.
A guardian demon. Their analysts knew they were dealing with a treasure keeper.
Apparently this particular one was even wanted by his own kind. Treasure keepers were entrusted with secrets, with artifacts. They also guarded power.
Though their responsibilities were great, their power wasn’t, lest they lust for that which they guarded.
“Right in front of our faces all this time. Where is he?” Navalovich asked, pacing from one window to the other.
Saker hadn’t told her what else he’d felt from Reen. The pain that had coursed through her—not her own, but that of Oleana’s.
Anxiety prickled down his back and he rubbed his neck. He looked at Gregori, still pissed. The other man only shrugged. “Look, at least your father is helping as best he can.”
“He just didn’t lock the binding in, bless it or make it official.”
Gregori merely stared at him, then asked, “Did you really expect him to?”
“It could help damn it. I’d have a stronger connection to her.”
Gregori shrugged. “You know your father.”
“Yeah, I know my father.”
He cursed and strode from the room. Water lapping. He’d heard the water lapping. With their location here in Grubsretep, he knew it would be on the docks. And there were numerous warehouses down in that district. Outside, he called the falcons. He’d find her. If it was the last thing he ever did.
With or without his father’s blessing, she was his and it was bloody time everyone knew that. Regardless of what they may or may not think.
Erik stood beside him. “You wouldn’t be hoping to rescue her all by yourself, would you?”
Saker, tired and angry, snarled, lashing out at the other man. “Worried she’d love me?”
Erik stared at him, let his eyes glow. “You endanger her going off half-cocked.”
Saker took a deep breath. “She’s mine. I’m going to find her. Then I’ll let you know. Surely your people can find me.”
“I’m going with you,” Erik said.
Saker laughed. “You learn to fly, dead man?”
With that, he shrilled out a cry again and falcons swooped down from building tops to circle around his head. Muttering in his father’s tongue, he closed his eyes and shifted seamlessly. One moment he was standing in the alley behind the Hunter’s headquarters, the next he was flying, higher and higher, his guards around him, more coming.
They were larger than normal falcons, larger than any eagle. Their kind was almost extinct and only whispered of in legends.
He opened his mind, his eyes sharper, the landscape in black and white as he soared over buildings, towards the quay.
Again her fear and loathing slithered over him.
He flexed talons that could lift a grown human and crush his bones between their sharpness.
That’s just what he planned to do to one Kladovik, after he ripped the bastard’s eyes out.
Chapter Twelve
Erik watched the circle of falcons, some small and normal. The others, larger than any other bird, swooped, dove and then aligned, a military fleet, searching.
They needed to do damage control.
Some human would be shooting at them in no time. He needed just one more problem.
He had a meeting with a liaison from the demon council. They needed to strip this bastard of his power.
Damn. Rubbing his head, he tried again to catch the elusive feel of Reen, but knew it was useless. She was blocking and Saker’s connection to her was too strong.
Cursing fate, he strode back into the building. He hoped lik
e hell they wouldn’t be too late.
Once inside, he met with the liaison who confirmed the council’s information that Kladovik was the man, or demon—Erik figured monster covered it—they were looking for.
“We have a team moving in, but for the safety of the women that might still be alive, we want him stripped of his powers,” Erik told the man.
The council leader lifted one corner of her mouth. “That’s currently being taken care of. I’ve a feeling by the time your team arrives, he’ll be as human as the next person on the street.”
She watched his dark form circle the cage.
“Do you know what I want to do with you?”
She ignored him. He kept walking one way, then the other, his ring clinking on the metal bars. Knowing it was a scare tactic, a way to weaken her, to play with her mind, helped.
“I want to fuck you. I love sliding between the legs of women like you. Strong women, women who are used to being in control.” A click and hiss as he struck a match and lit a candle beside the cage, then another and another until she saw the candles were on a large candelabrum.
“Women who hate to answer to any man.” He stopped and dipped his chin, smiling at her, his eyes locked on her from beneath his lashes. “I love to wear women like you down, until you’re broken.”
He laughed.
Reen shuddered.
“What are you scared of, Reen? Or should I call you Cyzarine?” He took a deep breath. “Are you scared of wolves?”
She froze, her lungs not moving even as her heart slammed against her chest.
“You are.” He smiled, his eyes glittering. “Poor, poor Reen. Such a fake you are. Dealing out death, when in reality you’re terrified of it.”
She shook her head. “I’m not scared of death.”
He tilted his head. “You’re scared of wolves.”
She didn’t answer, saw no reason to. But he knew. She hated wolves, hated their smell, their sounds, just…them.
She knew all lycans were not dangerous, were not out to rid the world of good. But the scars of childhood were deep and no matter how many lycans she met, she was never comfortable around them.
He pressed a button on a remote he pulled from his pocket. A pale light lit one corner and she saw the shape of a wolf.
She scrambled up and onto the bed.
His laughter reminded her of things that slithered in the night. “Oh this is fun. It’s too bad I don’t have a lively one.” One corner of his mouth lifted with a hint of evil amusement. “Not to say I don’t have any alive. I do, but as of yet, none are in any condition to fight you.” He studied her again with his hazel eyes that seemed to go more silver the longer he stared at her. “Such a lovely you are. It would be a shame to have you shredded. I could offer to let one of my pretties go if she would kill you.”
She didn’t utter a sound. The man liked to pause.
“There comes a time when I reduce you all to simply surviving.” He looked at his fingers, picked at a nail. “You’d do anything, anything if you thought there was a hope of getting away.”
Her heart thundered against her ears and she realized she was playing into his hands. Doing exactly what he wanted her to. Become afraid, see him as the controller, the monster, the giver and taker.
She closed her eyes and concentrated on calming her breaths. She’d need her energy to defeat him, not let him sap her by baiting her emotions.
For the first time she realized an amulet hung from around her neck. It wasn’t hers. She didn’t open her eyes, didn’t look at him. She reached up and ripped it off.
“While you’re meditating, you should know that I won’t let you go. I never let any of my treasures go. They’re all mine. Permanently. For me to play with, admire…pet.”
She opened her eyes and glared at him, this time she let her mind open, let her power flow over and through her.
She didn’t shift very often. Too many feared and revered what she was. A legend of great wealth and destruction.
His eyes widened, and he panted.
She kept her eyes on him and chanted words she’d learned as a child at the monastery, of protection, of guidance, of courage.
This time, she felt the pain of shifting, of her bones realigning, of her sight changing, becoming sharper and clearer.
She flapped her wings, the spread too large for the cage.
Wind arose and stirred the air, the dust from the floor.
He smiled and stepped back, clapping.
Fire leapt from his right to his left, circling, closing in.
It’s my turn, you bastard, she thought.
“Cyzarine,” Saker shouted in her mind. “Wait for me, damn it. You wait.”
“No. I waited for you before. I won’t again.” Even as she thought it, she wanted to pull it back. She wanted him here. Needed him here.
With that she let loose all the power she normally kept contained, normally didn’t call forth.
Fire burst up in every direction, except the inside of the cage. The heat was fierce.
Still she heard his laughter, his damn clapping. “More! More! Yes!”
She stopped and took a deep breath.
“That was just lovely. Do it again,” he whispered right beside her.
She whirled, thinking he was inside the cage, but found him still standing on the other side of the cage.
As if reading her mind, he said, “I could get inside if I wanted to.” He smiled. “But I don’t want to, not yet. Not yet, pretty, pretty Cyzarine. I do things in my own time, otherwise it ruins the entire experience.” He took a deep breath. “God, I don’t know if you’re more beautiful as a woman taking on her enemies or as a firebird. Look at your feathers…”
She shivered, drained. Oh hell. What was she going to do?
“Maybe I do need you,” she thought, swallowing her pride.
Her feathers all but glowed. It was as if they themselves were shifting flames. Reds, golds, bright hot blues… Shifted and shimmered on wings of gold.
She tilted her head and looked at him. She was perched atop the table he’d set to one side, not too close to the edge of the cage.
There was also a swing hanging from the top center of the cage. He wondered if she’d use it.
“You just wasted so much power. Power that you can’t replenish in a cage, can you?” He leaned in through the bars and blew her a kiss. Then he pressed the button again and let all the lights flood the room.
She turned her head, the gold plumes atop softly shifting with her movements. He watched her eyes. Those golden eyes taking in what she saw…
The statues.
“My treasures,” he said and walked to the nearest one, running a hand down the spiked spine of the werewolf. He loved that he’d ended her as her hackles had risen. “Isn’t she beautiful? Her name is Coral. I found her in Ireland. Working in a dreary pub, singing with a ceili band.” He brushed his hand over the head, the mouth open in a golden snarl. “Now she’s mine. Mine to keep. She’s one of my favorites.”
He looked back at the firebird. A real, live firebird.
“I wonder how many have ever actually seen you?” He walked closer to the cage. “Such passion, heat and darkness.” He bent over and thought he heard a screech from outside the window. He picked up the golden down shed when she’d shifted. He glanced to the window and then turned back to her. He ran the feather beneath his nose and sniffed, smelled the acrid scent of smoke, but also one of her. “Do your feathers really bring luck?” He ran the feather over his mouth. “I think I’ll have to make you shift back into a human. I want to play with the discarded feather. With you. See what excites you.”
Already blood flowed hot and thick through his veins, swirled down his spine and tightened his gut, flooding his groin.
The window crashed open. Shrill cries screeched across the air.
He whirled, ready to face the enemy. But even as he threw up his own shield and tried to transport himself into the cage, he knew something was wro
ng.
He couldn’t…
His hands felt heavy.
What…
He only had a moment before birds, larger than the firebird, bulleted into the room, shrieks and cries filling the air.
“No!” Again, he tried to shield with a binding curse, a blocking spell, but nothing happened.
The familiar tingle didn’t flow through his hands.
The birds all screeched around him.
From the cage, the firebird called long and sad, pleading, yet anger laced the sound.
Kladovik turned to look at her, holding the feather.
Wings flapped before him and he raised an arm to ward off the birds, but the talons still sank into his skin. He felt the bones of his arm break, felt the skin on his face rip, then pain pierced his eyes and he saw nothing.
He screamed.
His treasures.
Firebirds…luck…
Heat engulfed him, as the talons crushed his chest.
Then he felt nothing at all.
Chapter Thirteen
Reen stood in her shower, letting the water wash away the nightmare of the last several hours.
It could have been worse, she knew that. Knew it with every fiber of her being. But still evil chilled her blood, scraped her raw nerves.
Oleana and three other shifters were in the hospital. Oleana had been moved from Intensive Care to a regular room.
One, a cougar, had been released after a round of antibiotics. The other two, a lioness and lynx, were still unconscious. The lynx probably wouldn’t make it. They had no idea who those two women were.
She knew they’d matched and would continue to match the statues with missing women that went years back from all over the globe. The most recent being the gilded form a cheetah. Forensics matched the cat to a missing woman from Nairobi.
So many families would finally find peace, even as the hope was taken away. Families Kladovik ripped apart because he wanted more.
Because he was greedy.
Simply because he wanted and could and did.
She sat on the tiled floor, the tiles warm as the hot water beat down on her. Her arms were bruised, the wrists abraded and purple where they’d been bound. The bindings had popped when she shifted. As had the shoulder that she’d hurt on her previous assignment.
