Dreams of a Dark Warrior (33 page)

More of her lightning. The bolts that Regin had given off with each mutilation.
And I slept through it all,
high in my room while Dixon cut on her.

By this man’s order.
Punish him.
He squeezed harder.

The radio blared again: “Commander Webb? Something is approaching.”

Declan felt that ominous pressure strengthening, as if the air had grown leaden. But his mind was bent

on slaughtering this man. “She’s mine. You don’t touch what’s mine. You wil not take her from here. I’l

protect her with my life.”

Regin hadn’t been separating Declan from his purpose.
She
is
my purpose.

“Commander, we need an authorization from you or Magister Chase to go to code red—”

“RIIIIINNNNNNGGGGG!”
some being shrieked, a sound as he’d never heard.

Lothaire’s words about the gold band flashed in Declan’s mind: “She’s coming. She’s going to want it

back.” He’d described an unimaginable evil descending upon them. …

This new threat diverted some of Declan’s rage.
Webb might just make it out of this office alive.

With the last of his control, Declan eased his grip. The man staggered back, wheezing in breath and

rubbing his neck.

Declan cal ed in the code, then said to Webb, “Get out of my sight. Take the helicopter and leave here.

Now.
Before I finish what I started.”

Just as an alarm began to wail, the lights wavered again, then failed altogether. No backup electricity

fired, no emergency lights. The alarm faded to silence.

Darkness. The only sounds came from the gale intensifying outside.

Impossible.
Some force had taken out al his many redundant systems.

Stil rubbing his throat, Webb hastened to the emergency exit. “I’l go. But remember—you have a target

on your back. Every creature in here wants you dead.”

That’s why I’ll keep them in their fuckin’ cages.
Declan met his gaze. From the man’s expression, he figured his eyes were flickering. “If I see your face again, I’l end you.”

“After I saved your life? I was a father to you for twenty years.”

“Which is why you’re stil alive—”

Three crashing booms sounded in succession; the corridor bulkheads had descended, sealing the

wards. Both he and Webb knew what that meant. There’d been a breach in at least one of the cel s.

The deployment of those bulkheads triggered an hour-long self-destruct sequence, one that could only

be overridden by an officer—
after
the facility had been secured.

Without the override, incendiary bombs would detonate al over the island, wiping this place off the map.

Webb asked, “Can you secure the facility?”

He had to try. With any cel breach, the instal ation was considered hot, a quarantine situation. There

was no evacuation of personnel. If he failed, everyone would die in the bomb blasts.

Declan set his watch as he rushed to his armory. He donned a plated tactical vest, then shrugged into

his dual holster with its pair of Glocks. After strapping on his sword belt, he grabbed two MK 17 assault

rifles, packing armor-piercing rounds.

He turned toward the door, ready for battle.

Just before Declan left, Webb said, “If you radio me before the sequence ends, I’l override remotely.

Good luck, son.”

Declan’s shoulders stiffened, and he didn’t look back. “I’m no’ your son.”

THIRTY-ONE

R
IIIIINNNNNNGGGGG!”

With a grimace, Regin limped to the glass—
ignore the metal, ignore the staples—
to peer out into the darkened corridor. “What the hel ’s going on, Nat?”

Just moments before the power had abruptly failed, she’d heard a male’s outraged bel ow, thought it

was Chase’s.
Yeah, that’s right, boyo, I survived your little science experiment this morning.
Hour by hour, she’d been healing. At least physical y.

After that bel ow, she and Natalya had felt a weighty malevolence descending over them, some

shrieking creature.

Natalya joined her at the glass. “I don’t know what’s out there, but maybe we’l get a chance to break

out.”

Regin glanced down at her chest. How far could she get like this? Outwardly, the wound was in the

reddened, itchy stage of regeneration. Inwardly, who knew? As she’d begun to move around, she’d

determined that she stil had her ful range of motion—but it hurt like hel .

She’d be damned before she slowed Natalya or anyone else down.

As the storm outside grew even more violent, the grapevine went abuzz. Yet the inmates repeated only

one phrase:
“La Dorada.”

Regin rol ed her eyes. “Who or what is La Dorada? Sounds like a snack chip—”

“RIIIIINNNNNNGGGGG!”

“A real y pissed-off snack chip.”

The shifter next door whispered, “She’s the Sorceri Queen of Golds and of Evil. They say she’s come

for Lothaire, the Enemy of Old.”

“RIIIIINNNNNNGGGGG!”

“You want your ring?” Lothaire yel ed from down the corridor.
“Then come and get it, you bitch!”

“Lothaire, the S.O.L., sounds like.”
Serves him right.

Then the shifter said something that real y got Regin’s attention. “Farther up the ward, Dorada’s

removed torques from other Sorceri and some members of the Pravus.”

Natalya said, “Then there wil be an escape. As soon as one of them is strong enough to break the

glass.”

Regin exhaled a deep breath, wincing from the movement. “Like Portia and Ember.” Two of the Sorceri

in Carrow’s cel , rumored to be lovers for centuries.

Portia, the Queen of Stone, could move Mount Everest into her backyard if she felt like a climb.

Emberine, the Queen of Flames, could shoot fire from her hands or turn herself into flame. A single blast

from her could grievously wound an immortal. A human—or a young immortal—would stand no chance.

Carrow and her little cousin Ruby were trapped with those Sorceri.
Gods help them.

“Volós could shatter it,” Natalya said distantly. “With one kick.” The creature was huge, eight feet tal

and packed with muscle. “I could face him here. Final y.”

The floor began vibrating beneath them. Smal fissures cracked in the cement, sending up clouds of

grit.

“Is that what I think it is?” Natalya asked.

“Feels like Portia’s getting frisky. Hold on to your ass,” Regin said. “Thad must be wigging. If we get

free, we snag him then go straight for my witch friend.”

“Agreed.”

The shifter relayed, “Portia’s bringing up a mountain of stone.”

When the rumbling strengthened, Natalya said, “If a mountain keeps rising, doesn’t that mean the

surrounding land wil start fal ing away?”

Regin nodded. “Yep. And we’re on the surrounding land.” Smoke began oozing down the corridor.

“Looks like Emberine got loose.” Could Carrow escape those two with a little girl in tow?

Again and again, glass shattered as more creatures were freed.

“La Dorada’s coming,” the shifter whispered. “Ah, gods, she’s coming.”

Seconds passed, then … La Dorada skulked into view. She was half-mummified, but sodden. Gooey.

Regin let out a low whistle. “
The Mummy Returns
meets
Dingoes Ate My Face
.”

Strips of rotting gauze clung to the sorceress’s body. Her face was slimy with pus and appeared to be

missing a couple of chunks, as wel as an eye.

Surrounding her like a pack of guard dogs was a dozen Wendigos. They were as contagious as

ghouls, but much faster and smarter. Of course, the average loogie was smarter than a ghoul.

“Look at the gold,” Natalya breathed in awe.

Dorada wore cool gold pieces—a golden crown on her lumpy head and an elaborate breastplate over a

surprisingly intact rack. With each of the sorceress’s steps, gold flakes drifted down.

“She’s altogether ooky. But I’m not picky.” Regin banged the bottom of her fist against the glass,

ignoring the pain radiating out from her chest. “Yo, beautiful. Come pop this col ar off me.”

Natalya hissed, “Are you mad?”

“What’s she gonna do? Vivisect me? Imprison me? We’ve got a pact to fulfil , remember?” To Dorada,

she cried, “Seriously, sweetheart, shake that mummified ass over here.” Regin kicked the glass. “Lemme

the fuck out—”

La Dorada swung her head around, peering at Regin with her one eye.

“Okay. That’s freaky. Lookit, Gol um, if you spring me, I’l help you find your Precious.”

Regin could have sworn the sorceress’s mouth gaped with a toothless smile. Then she slinked away.

“No, no, no!” Regin cried. “I’m about to
do
evil! Help a bitch out!”

But she was gone, leaving Regin and Natalya trapped like sitting ducks, stil wearing their torques, while Pravus soldiers began prowling the ward. Once they’d eliminated the humans, they’d be coming for their

true adversaries.

They’ll come prowling for us.

As Declan marched out of his sanctum into the sealed-off research ward, he swept an assessing

glance over the area.

Down the corridor in front of the multi-ton bulkhead, three dozen soldiers had set up a secondary

barricade, just as he’d instructed them in repeated exercises.

They’d improvised with lighting, il uminating the ward with randomly placed outdoor spotlights and

chemical glow sticks.

At this end, farthest from the bulkhead, dozens of terrified scientists and other support staff huddled.

They’d evacuated here as per the contingency plan he’d made them dril again and again. He dimly noted

that they looked relieved to have spotted him.

Dixon wasn’t among the evacuees. Had she been, he would’ve tossed her to the fucking wolves.

Vincente was absent, the loyal guard who’d apparently been trying to tel Declan about Regin.

But Fegley was here.
And I don’t have time to kill him right now.

The need to defend his base burned within Declan.
My land.
My
territory.
He ruthlessly drove thoughts of Regin—and of Webb’s revelation—from his mind. If he didn’t secure the facility, al would be lost.

Including her.

Declan pointed at Fegley and said simply, “You’re as good as dead.” The man cringed.

At the barricade, Declan cal ed for the senior officer. “Where are the breaches?”

“In ward two, Magister. Soldiers trapped behind the bulkhead radioed that there are at least twenty

confirmed cel breaches. There’s some kind of foreign miscreat in there, a being from the outside.

Nothing can stop her. None of our weapons. She’s somehow removing the torques from specific

prisoners.”

Impossible.
But then, how the hel had she even gotten in here? “Which prisoners?”

“The most violent ones, sir.”

Regin was in that ward. “Why haven’t the soldiers gassed the place?” Each guard carried canisters of

nerve gas and a breathing apparatus as part of his standard gear.

When the radio crackled with hoarse yel s, Declan snatched it up, ordering, “Deploy your canisters.

Now!” No response. “Confirm the order and carry it out!”

“Sir, the Sorceri … raising a … and fire …” In the background, screams of terror rang out. Glass cel

wal s continued to shatter.

“Goddamn it, gas them!” Gurgling sounds fol owed. Then utter chaos.

The guards flanking Declan went bug-eyed. The floor began vibrating. Then came a sound Declan

couldn’t believe.

The steel cel wal s in ward two were groaning as they … crumpled.

Just then some force battered their bulkhead, denting the six-foot-thick metal.

The civilians screamed; Declan clenched his slackened jaw, then ordered, “If it goes, fire at wil .” The

guards clutched their weapons—MK 17s, TEP-Cs, grenade launchers. “Steady …” He cocked and

aimed his own rifle.

These were hardened soldiers, handpicked by the Order, but they knew what awaited them if they fel

into the hands of these enemies.

A fate worse than death.

Another pounding of unimaginable power. Then another. “Steady …”

The bulkhead flew open in a rush of sparks, like a door kicked in. A shock wave of air and sound

clouded his vision, deafening him. Dust and smoke every-where.

Through the murky gap left behind, winged demons soared above. Cerunnos slithered in.

“Hold them back!” Declan yel ed, firing at the demons, burning through a clip in seconds. He grounded

four of them, then stormed to the opening to meet the threat head-on. A vol ey of bul ets whizzed past his head as his men covered him.

Declan fought his way past the onslaught, but as soon as he caught his first look at the facility, his