Death Takes Wing (25 page)

She needed to get ready.  She couldn’t go in there unprepared, and everything she had was back at her house.  Time for a detour, then on to save Sam, she thought, a grim determination in her green eyes.

“Shit,” Amalia said as she stood in front of Gabriel’s car.  This was it.  If she were going to rescue Sam, this was her way out.  She held the keys in her fist.  She could feel them biting into her palm, the pain pulling her back to her mission.

She shook her head then ran a hand through her hair, gasping in pain as her fingers caught a knot.  She hefted the bag over her shoulder, feeling the heavy weight against her back like shield.  She strode towards the Aston after unlocking it, the horn giving a bright chirp as the alarm disengaged.

She carefully swung the bag into the passenger seat, pulling out the picture that had hung in the stairway and a map.  She slid into the driver’s seat, pulling it closer to the steering wheel.  After adjusting everything to her perfection, she laid the map on the wheel in front of her.  She looked at the picture of the door in the field, then at the map.

She figured out why the picture looked familiar.  She knew that door.  She’d been there.  Granted, it had been in the middle of a haunted house thing, but she’d been there.  If she remembered right, it had been a Cold War era bunker.  One of a few in the US.  Lost and forgotten by the right people, found and repurposed by the wrong.

Staring at the map, she followed roads and trails until she found the place she remembered.  It had to be, she told herself confidently.  That’s the only place she remembered being that Halloween, aside from Sam’s completely lame party.  One of the few lame parties Sam had ever thrown.  It had incited them to go prowling, and they’d found the ‘haunted bunker’.  That year, it had been the only ‘spooky house’ she and Sam had visited.

Clenching her teeth, she started the car and started down the driveway.  It took her almost an hour going nearly the speed of sound, but she found the small dirt road that lingered in her memory.  It was almost dark, and the road was familiar, with the gnarled maple and oak trees hanging low over the road.  She remembered seeing the broken boulders that made a wall that surrounded the graveyard.  Hell, she might still have a picture of it floating around in her memory box somewhere.  Maybe when this was all over she’d pull them out and frame them.

With a hard look at the bag next to her, she parked the bright car in the shadows of the graveyard, underneath one of the centuries-old trees, knowing the field was just through the woods.  She didn’t want to be caught unawares, but she didn’t have a choice in taking Gabriel’s car.  She just hoped that he wouldn’t kill her if she made it out.  When, she told herself harshly.  When she made it out.  She sure as hell wasn’t going in there with a death wish.

She chewed on her lip as she started to empty the bag, stopping only when she tasted the metallic flavor of blood.  She filled the holsters that decorated her body.  On her curved hips, on her shoulders, on her calf.  Letting out a breath, she hooked Jessamyn’s badge on her coat.  She hoped it was her current ID, but she wasn’t sure.  Hopefully she didn’t notice it was missing...and connect her visit with the timing of the missing badge.  If it didn’t work, she’d…well, she thought, she’d think of something.  She sucked on the bloody hole she’d chewed in her lip, mentally reading off her list of things to bring.  She thought she’d brought them all.  She hoped to god she’d brought them all.

She breathed deeply before climbing out of the car.  Standing there next to the Aston, she compulsively checked her phone one more time.  Nothing from either Matt nor Gabriel.  She was pretty sure something happened to Gabriel.  Hell, Aleks probably happened to Gabriel.  And to Matt?  Well, same thing, she thought sourly as she made sure her hair was firmly fastened in the hair tie.  Tightening her lips into a hard line, she started towards the bunker.

Getting lost in the woods wasn’t one of her plans.  Finding a hidden gravestone with her feet really wasn’t one.  And tripping headfirst into the gravestone behind it really sucked, she thought angrily as she brushed wet leaves out of her hair.  Her
eyes adjusted to the scant moonlight right before she tripped, giving her just enough time to put her hands out to catch her fall.  Now she’d scraped her palms.  Lovely.  Just lovely.  The grip on the Glock was going to feel just
great
against the wounds.

With a stifled sigh, she started walking toward the field.  She could see faint lights through the trees, and she slowly walked towards them.  At the edge of the field, she reached for the shoulder holster, but found it empty.

“Shit,” she said darkly in disgust.  She blew out an angry breath as she glanced behind her.  No way in hell would she be able to find it now.  Maybe if it were still daytime, or if the moon were full, but now?  With the moon just a sliver, the matte black would just blend in with the fall leaves and darkness.

She turned back and stared at the open space that separated her from the bunker door.  There were cars and trucks parked on the other side.  Maybe she could walk around the field, act like she was coming from the parking lot?  In the darkness, she’d be able to fake working there.  Maybe not if anyone questioned her, though, but she should be able to at least get it.  Especially since she had Jessamyn’s badge.

Amalia crept around the edge of the woods, keeping a close watch on the parking lot and bunker door.  In the fifteen minutes it took her to creep around nearer to the parking lot, she’d only seen one
person enter the building.  She was a ways away, but she was almost certain it had been Jessamyn.

When she was as close as she could get, she strode through the short grass and into the edge of the parking lot.  In the parking lot, none of the vehicles were familiar.  That could be a good sign, she told herself, because it meant that she wouldn’t be discovered for a bit longer.

Running a hand through her hair to make sure it was still in place, she then made sure her dark coat was covering the weapons.  Glancing around, she strode up to the bunker door as if she belonged.  With a smile, she swiped the keycard she’d borrowed from Jessamyn through the reader.  Green lights flashed, and a faint beeping emerged.  She heard the door click, and she pulled it open.

It was heavy, solid metal.  Turning around to look at it from the inside, she saw a regular door knob.  No reader needed to exit the building.  Just enter.  Even better.  She hadn’t counted on that, but it’d make the escape much easier.  Facing the space before her, it was a maze of cubicles.  There was movement from them, murmuring voices.

Cocking her head, she concentrated on the voices, hoping she’d recognize one.  Not yet, she realized as the buzz of voices continued.  Starting forward, she stopped at an empty cubicle.  The computer was still turned on, a bright blue light blinking from the monitor, so she sat down.  She
scanned the room to make sure no one was near before moving the mouse.

Bingo, she thought victoriously.  Whoever’s computer this was didn’t lock it.  Dumbass, she snarked as she sneaked around the desktop.  She found a map of the facility in the ever-so-helpfully named “Maps” folder stuck in the upper right hand corner of the desktop.  She perused the folder, finding it aptly helpful.  It had a map of the facility.  The same one she’d found in the stack of papers on Jessamyn’s table.  She printed off the map, grabbed the pages that shot out of the printer just to the left of the monitor. 

Even more proof that he was a rat bastard, Amalia told herself harshly as she saw Aleks’s name on one of the office squares.  Damn Gabriel for going with Aleks in the first place.  He was supposed to help her rescue Sam, and where was he?  Nowhere around, she groaned to herself.  Well, she’d get Sam out by herself.

She stood up and stepped out of the cubicle.  When she saw an angelus coming her way, she quickly sidestepped back in and ducked.  A very familiar looking angelus.  Amalia peeked out and saw her brother’s fiancé talking to someone a few cubicles away, leaning on the divider and smiling.  When she started walking towards a hallway that led further into the facility, Amalia smiled to herself.  When opportunity knocks…

Amalia followed Jessamyn into the facility, ignoring the few angelus that populated the mostly deserted room.  When Jessamyn walked into the bathroom, Amalia froze.  She wondered if she should follow, or leave the wench alone and just try to find Sam.  Donovan needed this.  She needed this.  Smiling again, Amalia followed the blonde solan into the bathroom.  Jessamyn was washing her hands, staring down at the streaming water and humming off-tune.

“Hello, Jessamyn,” Amalia said in a low voice.

Startled, Jessamyn jumped and whirled around, spraying water with her wet hands.  She cocked her head in confusion.  “What are you doing here?”

“Stopping you, of course,” Amalia asked, feeling a cold rage grow inside, something she was finding harder and harder to quell.

“Stopping me?  What in the world are you talking about?” Jessamyn asked, head still cocked in confusion.

“Does the name ‘Donovan’ mean anything to you?” Amalia asked, voice level only with great effort.

“Of course,” she snapped.  “I almost married him.”

With that, Amalia’s temper snapped.  She pulled out the small pistol and pointed it at Jessamyn.  Swallowing some of the anger, she smiled a cold, outraged smile.  “You killed my brother, Jessamyn. 
You were supposed to marry him, but you killed him.”

“So, you’re going to kill me now?  Is that what it is?  You came here all the way here to kill me for that?”

Amalia stared at her, fury in green eyes.  She hadn’t even tried to refute Amalia’s claims.  So Gabriel had been right.  His research had been accurate, even though he hadn’t quite been certain.  Well, she was.  “Donovan wouldn’t want you dead, Jessa.  He loved you.  I don’t know why, but he did,” she said softly, unsure of why she’d told Jessamyn that he’d loved her.  It didn’t matter.  She hadn’t loved him.

With a brittle laugh, Jessamyn asked, “so, too chicken-shit to kill me.  Just let me go.  Before you make things worse for yourself.”

“I don’t think so, Jessamyn.”

“Then what,
human
?”  She spat out the insult, standing straighter against the sink, so sure that Amalia would back down.

Amalia’s lips tightened at the insult, but she forced them into a broken smile.  “Get down on the floor.  Now.”

“Or what, you’ll shoot me?” she taunted, lips a garish mockery of a smile.

“Yeah, I will.  And it won’t kill you.  Gut shot.  You’ll bleed, and it’ll hurt.  Probably get infected if I aim in the right spot.  Maybe it’ll eventually kill you. 
Maybe I’ll come back and finish you off.”  With that, Amalia paused.  She stared at Jessamyn, green eyes meeting honey brown. 

When Amalia aimed the pistol at Jessamyn’s stomach, Jessamyn slowly started lying down.

“Wait,” Amalia said, stopping Jessamyn.  “Give me your belt.”

“M-my what?”  Now there was fear in the honey eyes.  Arrogance still laced through the fear, but it didn’t help the stammer.

“Your belt.  Now,” Amalia demanded, finger moving ever so slightly on the trigger.

Fumbling as she saw the rage in Amalia’s eyes, Jessamyn pulled her thin leather belt off and tossed it at Amalia.

“Down,” Amalia said, gesturing with her chin at the floor.

Slowly, Jessamyn prostrated herself on the cold tiled floor.  She spread her wings slightly, the light shimmering on the pale feathers.

Kneeling down on top of her, Amalia forced her wings closed.  “Put your hands behind your back,” she snarled.  With the hands now at her reach, Amalia used the thin belt to lash them together, binding the wings to the thin body with her own arms.  Amalia climbed to her feet, and then stared down at the solan.

Glancing up at the paper towel dispenser, Amalia grabbed a handful, and then stuffed them in
Jessamyn’s mouth, truly not caring if the solan suffocated.

After hearing the muffled gags of Jessamyn trying to breath, Amalia stopped at the door.  With a cold smile, Amalia walked back to the solan.  She kicked out suddenly, connecting squarely with Jessamyn’s stomach.  Jessamyn curled around herself, all air shoved out of her body.

Amalia stared down at the helpless body, unable to look away.  No, Donovan wouldn’t want her dead.  But Donovan didn’t know what she’d done to him.  Didn’t know that it wasn’t because of love, but because he was part of an experiment.

Jessamyn’s eyes were tightly closed, tears of pain leaking out.  It almost made Amalia sad to see her like that.  Almost.

Amalia lifted the gun and pointed it at Jessamyn’s unmoving head.  She hesitated, wondering if this was really what she was here for.  Wondering where all of her training to preserve life had gone.  Figuring out that Donovan wouldn’t want her to put her future at stake for a petty sense of vengeance.  She lowered the gun before carefully aiming.  Dropping the gun, she couldn’t do it, no matter how furious she was at her.

Amalia made sure the door gently closed behind her.  Unable to lock it, she’d have to settle for no one finding the bound solan until Amalia got further into the building.  Luckily there weren’t too
many people working in the building tonight, Amalia thought, a touch of glee coloring her clear thoughts.