Dark Descendant (31 page)

was making an awful lot out of the fact that I saw a deer take a drink from the pond. It was

probably a popular watering hole for the local herds, and what I’d seen had been nothing

remotely supernatural.

“As good a guess as any,” Anderson said, already beginning to shiver in the cold. “Show

me where.”

What confidence I’d had was now completely shot, and I wanted to tell Anderson to

forget it, that I’d been wrong and we should just get out of here and go somewhere warm and

safe. But I knew he wouldn’t listen to me even if I said it. If there was a chance he would find his

Emma in that pond, then he’d take it, no matter how slim the chance might be, or how unreliable

the source.

I visualized watching the deer cross the lawn to the pond, homing in on the spot she’d

paused to take her drink, then hesitantly stepped out from the cover of the woods. My entire

body was tense, expecting against all reason that Alexis was going to jump out from behind a

bush somewhere and attack. I did my best to fight the feeling off as I led Anderson to the spot

where I’d seen the deer.

I’d have felt a lot surer of myself if there were some nice, clear hoofprints in the mud, but

of course there were none to be seen. Had I imagined the deer? Or had it been a supernatural

creature, one that didn’t leave prints?

I gestured at the general area, giving Anderson a helpless shrug, feeling like a fool.

“All right,” he said, stepping to the edge of the pond. I felt a little better about the

possibly imaginary deer when I saw that Anderson wasn’t leaving footprints in the mud, either.

As he eased his way into the water, wincing at the cold, I reached out and touched the ground,

finding it frozen solid. I should have guessed as much. The film of ice around the water’s edge

had visibly spread since we’d first peeked out of the woods.

Anderson took a series of quick, deep breaths, preparing himself for the shock of cold.

Then he dove forward into the icy water and disappeared beneath its surface.

TWENTY-FIVE

I stood on the
shore of the pond, chilled down to my bones in sympathy for Anderson as

I watched the ripples from his dive glide over the glassy-smooth surface. With the full moon

hidden, the only light came from the ambient glow of the nearby city. It was enough that I didn’t

feel completely blind, but I was uncomfortably aware of the blackness of the shadows—shadows

that could hide anything.

Figuring a little paranoia might be healthy under the circumstances, I put my backpack

down and rooted through it until I found my gun. I pointed the gun at the ground and kept my

finger off the trigger, remembering how badly I’d been startled earlier by the deer. It wouldn’t do

for me to fire blindly out of startled reflex if another deer made an appearance.

Anderson’s head broke the water at the center of the pond. Immediately, steam rose from

his skin. The shadows hid his expression, and I didn’t dare call out to him. He dove again after a

few quick breaths, his feet flashing up into the air as he went straight down.

Did that mean he’d found her? If he was still looking, he should be swimming forward,

not straight down. Right? I held my breath in anticipation. It was all I could do not to cross my

fingers like a superstitious child.

He stayed down a long time, long enough for me to worry that something had gone

wrong. For all I knew, the Olympians had pet monsters that lived in the bottoms of ponds. I had

yet to fully embrace the magic I’d already witnessed, and I’d been slow to ponder what my

newfound knowledge of the supernatural meant to the rest of my narrow view of the world. I

shifted uneasily from foot to foot, hoping like hell he would hurry up and surface before I felt

obligated to go in after him.

Moments later, he bobbed to the surface once more, sucking in a great gasp of air. I

opened my mouth to call out to him, too curious now to worry about who else might hear me, but

before a sound left my throat, I was blinded by a bolt of lightning, traveling horizontally across

the lawn.

The lightning hit the surface of the pond, and I heard Anderson’s strangled cry of pain.

The residual energy of the bolt lifted me off my feet and tossed me onto my back. The gun fell

from my fingers as I hit the ground, and a clap of thunder resonated so loud it sent a spike of pain

through my head.

Woozy, blind, and deaf, I retained just enough brain cells to know holding still was a bad

idea. I rolled over until I got my feet under me, then broke into a stumbling run, having no idea

where I was going. I could have run straight into the icy water, but, for once, luck was on my

side, and I managed to stay on the smooth, grassy lawn.

My hair rose on end, and I instinctively dove forward just in time. The next lightning bolt

struck the ground just a few yards away. I clapped my hands over my ears to dull the roar of the

thunder as I squeezed my eyes tightly shut. I was close enough to the point of impact that the

electricity in the air made my heart beat erratically, but at least it
was
beating.

Once again, I forced myself to my feet. Even through my closed lids, the flash had been

hell on my night vision. However, I could see just well enough to point myself toward the trees

before I started running again.

A third bolt incinerated a tree seconds after I made it into the cover of the woods. The

concussion knocked me down to my hands and knees, but I was up and running again in a

fraction of a second. There were no further bolts as I zigzagged through the trees, slowing my

pace just enough to keep from tripping over roots and sprawling on my face.

My ears popped and my vision started to clear—not that I could see much in the

darkness. But the return of my physical senses signaled the return of my higher reasoning as

well. If
I
couldn’t see in this darkness, then probably my enemies couldn’t, either. However, they
could
hear me crashing headlong through the underbrush. My flight was making me more

conspicuous rather than less so.

I forced myself to slow down, sucking in one calming breath after another. I hadn’t

caught even a glimpse of our attacker, but since Alexis was a descendant of Zeus, it seemed a

logical conclusion that he was the one who’d thrown the lightning bolts. And, while the bolt in

the water wouldn’t have killed Anderson—at least, not permanently—it would certainly have

disabled him for a while.

Anderson’s “treaty” with the Olympians obviously wasn’t anything close to bulletproof.

Perhaps Alexis had only been taking advantage of a perceived loophole when he attacked Steph,

and the treaty itself was still nominally in place. Maybe that treaty meant Alexis would fish

Anderson out of the water, then let him go. But though I’d been forced to retreat, there was no

way I was going to abandon Anderson and hope for the best.

Of course, I wasn’t sure what use I was to Anderson in the current situation. My gun lay

abandoned on the lawn somewhere, and though I’d have loved to call for help—for the backup

Anderson had failed to bring with him, the idiot!—my cell phone was in the backpack at the

edge of the pond.

I stopped for a moment to think, listening intently for any sounds of pursuit. The only

sound I heard was the wind whistling through the branches above. No doubt Alexis thought I’d

done the sensible thing and run for my life.

It was hard to get my bearings in the depths of the darkened woods, but I’d always had a

pretty good sense of direction. I relied on that sense of direction now as I attempted to steer

myself back toward the security camera I’d knocked out of position earlier. I managed to find it,

then groped around on the ground until I found the rock I’d thrown at it. As weapons went, it

wasn’t much, but it was heavy enough to do some damage if I threw it just right.

Heading back through the trees toward the pond, I hoped I wasn’t making the world’s

biggest mistake.

The situation was pretty damn grim. Alexis, looking smug
and superior, stood by the

side of the pond. Beside him stood another man—unfamiliar to me, but with a haughty bearing

that immediately pegged him as another Olympian. They watched the water as a third man towed

an unconscious—or maybe temporarily dead—Anderson toward the shore.

Three men, one rock. I didn’t like the odds. I tried to spot my gun in the grass, but either

the shadows hid it, or one of the bad guys had picked it up.

The third man labored out of the water, visibly shivering as he dragged Anderson’s limp

body through the shallows and then up onto dry land. Neither of the
Liberi
looked inclined to

help, and I guessed that the third man was a mortal Descendant—a lesser being from the

Olympians’ point of view.

“Bind him,” Alexis commanded.

Panting with exertion, Alexis’s flunky turned Anderson over onto his stomach, then

dragged his hands behind his back and secured them with a pair of handcuffs he drew from his

sopping pants. Unlike Anderson, he’d gone into the water fully clothed. I suspected he was

regretting it now as the wind gusted over his wet skin.

“M-may I t-take him now, my lord?” the Descendant stammered, hunching his shoulders

and crossing his arms over his chest as if that would keep him warm.

My lord? Talk about delusions of grandeur. Unfortunately, the question made me realize

the treaty was truly out the window. I had no doubt the Descendant was asking for Alexis’s

permission to kill Anderson and steal his immortality.

“Not yet, Peter,” Alexis said in a tone of almost affectionate condescension. “I’d like to

have a few words with him first. Why don’t you run back to the house and put on some dry

clothes? He’ll still be here when you get back.”

Peter got to his feet and actually
bowed
to Alexis. I rolled my eyes, amazed at Alexis’s

arrogance even as I tried to figure out how to take advantage of the slightly improved odds. I

wondered if Konstantin, the self-proclaimed king, knew Alexis was having people bow to him

and call him “my lord.” I would have thought Konstantin the type to reserve such accolades for

himself alone.

Peter trotted off to the house, leaving Anderson lying on his stomach in the grass. I

couldn’t tell whether he was breathing or not. I’d like the odds a whole lot better if he were

conscious. I didn’t know what his capabilities were—other than that Hand of Doom thing, which

I didn’t figure he could pull off while in handcuffs—but as long as he was just lying there, any

heroics I tried would be useless. Even if I managed to take out both
Liberi
with my one stone, I wasn’t Maggie, and I wouldn’t be able to carry Anderson to safety.

I wished like hell I could figure out a way to take advantage of Peter’s absence, but with

Anderson out cold, there was nothing I could do.

“You really mean to do it?” the second
Liberi
asked as soon as Peter was out of earshot.

Alexis nodded. “I was happy to bide my time, but if the fool is going to deliver himself to

me with a pretty bow tied around him, I’m not going to refuse the gift.”

The other guy looked uncomfortable, shifting from foot to foot. “What about Konstantin?

He won’t be happy.”

Alexis dismissed Konstantin with a negligent wave. “He can hardly complain about me

eliminating his greatest enemy.”

“If he wanted Anderson dead, he would be dead by now. There must be a reason he

hasn’t killed him yet—”

“Enough! If you’re feeling squeamish, you can tuck your tail between your legs and go

running back to your master. I won’t hold it against you, as long as you keep your mouth shut.

And you will keep your mouth shut, won’t you, Dean?” This last was said in a menacing croon

designed to turn blood to ice.

“O-of course,” Dean stammered. “I mean, I’m not going anywhere. I’m on your side,

always.”

On Alexis’s side of
what
, I wondered? Was there dissension within the ranks of the

Olympians? I
had
sensed some undercurrents between Konstantin and Alexis when I’d met them

at the Sofitel, but I’d assumed much of that was playacting, meant to emphasize how big and

powerful Konstantin was.

Anderson coughed loudly, and everyone jumped—including me—though we’d all been

expecting it. He turned over onto his side and coughed some more, painful, racking spasms that

brought up gouts of water and made him gag. But at least he was alive, and awake. I hefted my

stone, but until Anderson had quit coughing, I doubted he would be in any shape to take out

whichever Olympian I didn’t hit.

I decided that as soon as Anderson was able to breathe without retching, I’d take out

Alexis. I had no idea which divine ancestor Dean was descended from, or what powers he might

have, but I
did
know Alexis could throw lightning bolts, and those were a dangerous long-distance weapon. I had to hope that whatever Dean’s powers were, they weren’t much use

in a fight.

“It never occurred to you that there would be extra security on your lady wife once you

took a Descendant of Artemis into your household?” Alexis mocked, though I wasn’t sure

Anderson could hear him over all the coughing. “I never took you for a fool, but then women do

tend to have a negative influence on masculine intelligence.”