Betrayal's Shadow (29 page)

“I’m not asking, Manuel.” Turen spit the man’s name like dirt from his mouth.

“Or what? You don’t seem to understand who’s in charge here,
asshole
. This bitch belongs to me. I can do her here in front of you or give her to all my men and then maybe even make a profit off her. And you can’t do jack shit about it.”

He took the hard hit to his kidney from the man who stood behind him, but Turen didn’t go down or break Manny’s stare. He pulled back the hand he’d held out to the girl and cupped it close to his body.

As the next blow came and a gun rose to his head, a brilliant ball of flame burst from his palm. Swirling in yellow and orange, it surged and whipped around him.

The quick backlashes of fire seared through the men behind him and arced to the ceiling, then divided into three cords of fire. Each cord streaked across the room to curl around Manny and his cohorts before they could react.

Their mouths opened to scream with pain and their bodies jerked as they tried to flee, but the fire held them trapped and rooted to the floor. Their eyes widened with a combination of terror and the sudden realization their lives were about to end.

The smokeless fire expanded to the windows’ dingy drapes. Segments of stucco collapsed from the ceiling and walls in large plaster snowflakes.

Turen moved in front of the girl. Her face paled and her body shook as she shrank from his hand, then she lost her battle with fear. Her eyes rolled up in her head, and she collapsed.

After reaching through the fire for the weapon in Manny’s hand, Turen tucked the gun at the back of his own waistband. Then he scooped up the girl in his arms and
folded
with her to her parents’ home.

The twinkle of lights through the window from the city below illuminated the dark cool of the room. He settled Marco’s sister safely on her own bed and curled her fingers around Marco’s picture from her nightstand.

He didn’t leave a note. Marco’s parents would comfort and protect her as best they could. He’d left anonymous information for Marco’s partners at the ATF with details of Manny’s recent activities, including his attempt to kidnap and sell the sister. Marco’s employers were warriors; they would protect their own. They wouldn’t have been fast enough tonight to save Marco’s sister, but no further harm would come to the Valencia family.

It wasn’t enough, but it was all he could do.

Turen
folded
to a spot up the mountain. He sat and gazed out over the city of soft lights and glanced up to the millions of stars that blanketed the night sky, seemingly just out of reach. The bowl of Tucson appeared peaceful from this vantage point.

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and listened with his mind and his heart.

Mia?

***

Ansgar dangled the beer bottle from his fingers, rested his head against the back of Briet’s couch, and stared out the window at the golden shine of the full moon on the glassy sea.

“Too many things about this aren’t right.”

“Agreed, though I’m relieved Turen is free of Xavier.” Briet sat at her desk across the room, comparing images on her computer. “Why do you think Salvatore pushed for more men to hunt down this woman? Could she really be a threat?”

“Her attack on Grimm was fluid. Smooth.” Ansgar narrowed his eyes in recollection, mindlessly twirling the bottle by the neck as he frowned at a nonexistent spot out to sea. “He’s none the worse for wear. She was either lucky in her miss or more skilled than she appeared.”

“He doesn’t speak more than a dozen words. How would any of you know if he was really okay?”

“You sure he isn’t your brother?” Ansgar raised a brow and gave a sharp laugh. “Don’t tell me you’re worried about Grimm?”

She came and sat on the sofa arm to give him a hug. “I would be even more worried about you.”

Ansgar rolled his shoulders. “Yeah, well, I was kind of over the top when she did it. There was almost no way she wouldn’t do serious harm.” He frowned, trying to get a clear replay of the image. “He seems to find the whole thing
funny
. It’s what he’s not saying.” He waved the bottle again. “She hardly looked the type either. She’s tinier than you.”

“What exactly would that type look like? I could take a man out.” Briet raised a brow and scowled at him. “You make it sound as if Grimm’s hiding something.”

Ansgar grunted and shrugged. “Of all of us, Xavier chose him. Hell, he raised Grimm after Grimm’s older brother, Drogan, left him at the Sanctum. He should be the last one on Xavier’s hit list. Why not just let her start in on Turen?”

Briet stood and walked to the window and stared out, her back to Ansgar. “Xavier was one of the oldest, wasn’t he, like Grimm’s brother?”

“Yeah, Drogan was a bit older. We figured he was too close to the age of maturity to escape the virus.”

“It’s convenient that Xavier responded to her demand for attendance, much less gave this woman the sword to ultimately enable Turen’s escape.”

He scoffed. “She took a swipe at Xavier too, before the hybrids went nuts. She would have taken out Turen if he hadn’t moved faster than she did.”

“Quite the woman.” Briet took the empty bottle from Ansgar and pitched it into the trash. “She took on three of our most trained warriors. I trained with all of you before the edict to lock down the women; a novice, much less a human, could lay none of you low. To attempt such a thing, she’s either incredibly reckless and lucky, or very driven and skilled.” She squatted beside Ansgar. “Do you feel duped?”

“You envision a plot everywhere. For her to succeed in your scenario, Xavier would have to be involved. That’s sure as hell not true.” With a frown, he stared at her. “Turen’s healing now, but I saw the scars from the beatings he took at Xavier’s compound. The bullet wound was from weeks ago, and I don’t think it’s going to heal. Even Turen would have to have trouble considering redemption for Xavier after his imprisonment.”

Briet cringed and shook her head. “Now Turen’s hunting this woman and what happens when he finds her?”

“There’s disagreement. Salvatore wanted her eliminated.”

“A human female? Since when do we exterminate humans? It’s not as if she showed up at the Sanctum or as if she went after Grimm on her own. She didn’t even do anything to Turen.”

Ansgar turned away. “Only Salvatore. Turen, Grimm, Tsu, Leonis, all opted for the restraint and locating her for questioning.”

“Grimm again? Do you think Turen will find her?”

“He has no choice.”

“Indeed, if he doesn’t find her, Salvatore escalates and calls for her head. If he does find her, how does he protect her?”

“Why the hell would he do that?” Ansgar caught Briet’s smug expression.

“For the reason percolating in your mind, brother dear. She arranged Turen’s escape.”

He scratched at the day’s worth of growth on his chin and briefly considered the outrageous idea. “No. She wouldn’t have had a chance to connect with him. He’s never spent much time away from the Sanctum, with the exception of his captivity. I doubt she did time there. Xavier didn’t acknowledge her.” A picture formed in his mind of the petite, slender, shorthaired brunette. “She was kind of fragile for exposure to prison. She would never have survived Turen’s wounds.”

Briet tilted her head. “He’s hardly a monk. Maybe he met her earlier. You’ve all had opportunities to make liaisons outside of Sanctum.” She raised a finger in consideration. “To help him and risk death implies a strong relationship. If she did plan it for him, he would certainly know her. Then there’s Grimm and the image sent of Isabella in the email.”

“What?”

Briet raised an eyebrow. “The image was a cutout of her mark. Assuming the woman has the original autopsy photos, her focus on the mark proclaims knowledge of us and maybe more?”

Eyes squeezed shut, Ansgar let out a harsh breath. She was doing it again, putting together pieces he would rather ignore, determined to pull him into another scheme. Unfortunately, she was usually right. “Just spill it, Briet.”

“The mark isn’t just power, it designates mates. Perhaps Isa’s death wasn’t random. If it involved a mate, that would be enough to light Xavier’s interest. Meaning the woman in the park knows a hell of a lot more than some stupid female bent on revenge. If so, she was there to save Turen. Maybe Grimm suspects the same.”

Ansgar shook his head and cringed. “Turen isn’t the type of man to have a human woman on the sly, especially one with knowledge of our people. He’s loyal to the point of being painfully predictable. Grimm sure as hell wouldn’t betray us either.”

Briet nodded. “They’re both honorable men. It would follow they have good reasons for their actions, reasons that can’t bear the scrutiny of Salvatore’s judgment. It’s good you never showed him the emails. Though Turen has to know Salvatore will figure this out eventually.”

“It’s a real stretch, Pip, and you give Salvatore too much credit for knowing what’s going on. He hasn’t figured out about you yet.”

Briet leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest. “Where does your reluctance to consider this come from? Is it because she’s human? You didn’t used to feel so begrudging toward mankind.”

“I didn’t used to feel like we sacrifice everything so they can exist at the top of the food chain.” Ansgar sighed and leaned his head back on the couch. “This is way too complicated. There are more secrets to remember and muddle through than truths.”

“Maybe the end is coming.”

“The end of days? That’s a bit theatrical for you.”

“I was thinking more a revelation of secrets.”

“I hope so.”

“Let’s hope it works out in our favor,” Briet said as she handed him a cold beer.

CHAPTER 16

The fire crackled, blanketing the carpet and the coffee table in front of Mia in a golden glow.

A single clock on the mantel ticked a steady rhythm as the shadows at the corners of the room pulsed to the loud drumming of her heart. She’d become so accustomed to the sounds of the metronomes and the clocks throughout the house that with all of them stopped, the silence unnerved her.

She closed her eyes and waited. The vulnerability of not seeing Turen the moment he appeared added a raw edge to her nerves, but she was a coward. Any second he would be here. She could feel it in her bones with a quicksilver anticipation and the chill of dread.

He would come to collect his blood samples. More realistically, he’d enact justice for her actions in the park. Or he’d appear for one last alternative she barely had enough faith to hope for.

Minutes flew now in contrast to the drag of the past six weeks since the battle. She had used every minute. Sifting through the memories of her travels, she had analyzed the details, and created her own hypothesis for what and how Turen’s current had swept her along with him.

Laying low and hiding from the Guardians in her home after establishing an exhaustive layer of false trails, she had erected her fortress of sound. The absence of Guardian bloodhounds didn’t give her the comfort she’d hoped.

Now, after all the precautions, it was finally time to pull back the walls of her self-imposed prison.

Travel to Turen was a result of his pull, not hers. Her deduction and the key to stemming the
fold
lay in isolating the trigger, not hard once she reconsidered her process. Her hypothesis: his heartbeat allowed her to stimulate the open connection, allowing his body to seek hers, her heartbeat and her rhythm. At least most of the time.

She had no solid proof, though proof wasn’t a big factor in surviving the unbelievable occurrences of these past months. The biggest confirmation was her stability in the house since she’d implemented the range of audible rhythms as a shield. She left the house with no fewer than six mechanical watches secured on her body. The ticks and clicks, at first infuriating, eventually grew into a soothing balm.

With her life at stake, her safeguards had nothing to do with Turen. If he could find her, then the man she’d stabbed could also. She spent too long held against him after he’d dropped to the ground. Fear of his retribution forced her diligence with every single mechanism in the house. He would have no trouble finding her if Turen could.

With one last issue to resolve, the hiding was over.

The air didn’t stir, but she sensed him.

She opened her eyes. The glint of firelight flickered in the light gray pools of his eyes. His expression was hard and strained, his shorter black hair revealing the tension in his jawline.

That he didn’t speak sent a tremor of unease along her skin. His voice she could read, its emotion, its timbre as familiar to her as her own name. The dungeon’s darkness had blessed her with the intimacy of his voice. She possessed less confidence with the looks and expressions of his face.

Hands deep in his pockets, he stood and watched her. No surprise reflected in his eyes, only intensity as his gaze traveled across her face. She drank him in as he assessed her with an inscrutable expression. Was it need written in the lines of his face, dark and passionate, or was she imposing her desires upon the vision before her?

A log crackled in the fire, and the look was gone.