Dying Wish: A Novel of the Sentinel Wars (11 page)

His nostrils flared in anger and his grip on her hand tightened. “I won’t let you die, which is what would happen if I leave you alone. We’re going back. You can pick someone else to escort you.”

“Someone else who won’t do exactly what you’re doing right now?” she asked. “Is there a man there who will let me live my life in peace? Because if there is, just name him, and I’ll happily go be with him.”

His lips flattened, and she swore she saw a flash of something dangerous lurking in his eyes. She knew he wasn’t human, but what she saw reminded her just how far away from human he really was.

“I don’t want you to be with anyone else,” he told her. “But you can’t save me. When I touch you, it’s hard to remember that.”

“Then don’t touch me.” Even as she said the words, she hoped he would ignore them. As much as she didn’t want to be part of his world, she didn’t want to lose the way she felt now, with those warm strings of bubbles bursting inside of her. Feeling want, desire. She’d felt so horrible and cold for so long, and he made even the memory of that frigid terror fade.

He gave her a resigned look. “Hold still,” he ordered. “I’m going to move away. Slowly.”

She nodded her understanding and let her fingers loosen in his grip. He leaned back, then scooted his hips away, and then slowly, painfully, he disengaged their fingers until he made contact with only the tip of her index finger.

He pulled away and instantly went pale. A low, pained moan erupted from his chest, and his brow beaded up with sweat.

Jackie sat utterly still, biting the inside of her lip to keep from reaching for him. A metallic hint of blood hit her tongue. Her gut twisted with worry, while the warmth inside of her fizzed away until it was all gone. She hated seeing any living thing in pain, and despite her desire to have nothing to do with him, that didn’t mean she wanted him to suffer.

He clutched his stomach and panted. His eyes were scrunched closed, and his powerful body trembled like he was freezing.

She gathered a blanket from the bed and tossed it over him, making sure she didn’t touch even his clothing.

He looked up. His eyes were red and his skin was pale. Dark bruises hung beneath his eyes, marking his exhaustion. “I need to meditate. Recover. When I’m done, we’ll go back.”

“But I—”

“Do
not
argue with me right now. I’m warning you.”

She’d hurt him. She hadn’t meant to, but his agony was obvious. The least she could do was let him suffer in peace. She wished like hell someone would offer her the same courtesy.

Jackie nodded, picked up her phone, and shoved it into her pants pocket. The golden locket gleamed on the dingy carpet. She picked that up, too, and tucked it back into his bag. “I’ll be ready to go when you are.”

Iain knelt, drew his sword, and laid it in front of him.
The blade gleamed. Delicate vines made of metal wove their way around the hilt and over the cross guard, coming up to cradle the blade and hold it in place. Those vines had been worn from use, nearly gone in the places where his hands gripped the weapon. She wondered how long he’d been fighting with the sword to make that happen.

He yanked the blanket from his shoulders and tossed it onto the bed. One thick arm reached over his head and grabbed his T-shirt. He pulled it off and laid it beside him. He didn’t look her way. He stayed facing away from her, but she had a nice view of his splendid back, reminding her of exactly what she was missing.

A deep groove ran down his spine, the muscles on either side of it corded and tight. His wide shoulders tapered to a slim waist, and all the muscles in between were covered in smooth, tan skin. A few bare branches of his lifemark reached over his left shoulder, and as he breathed, they seemed to sway.

His body was even more powerful than she’d imagined. He seemed to fill the room with his presence, dwarfing everything else. That warmth that he’d given her with his touch came back all on its own, lighting her up inside. A slow, liquid heat coalesced between her thighs, making her tremble.

She wanted to reach out and touch him, but that had already caused enough problems for one night. Instead, she dragged her gaze away and forced herself to think about what she needed to do next.

Her journey to find a normal life hadn’t gotten her very far, but she could hardly ask Iain to do more for her. As it was, he looked like he was barely hanging on, struggling to deal with the pain she’d inadvertently caused him.

They were only a few hours away from Dabyr. She would let him take her back and find someone else—someone she would not touch. Ever.

Jackie rummaged in her suitcase for a pair of gloves and a scarf. It wasn’t nearly cold enough to need them, but as soon as Iain was ready, she’d wrap herself up tight so there were no more accidents.

Once she had them ready to go, she settled down at the table by the window and opened her laptop. Joseph hadn’t even hesitated when she’d asked for one. He’d had it delivered within an hour of her request. Of course he hadn’t known then that she’d intended to use it to find herself a new place to live and a job.

She pulled up her résumé to work on it while she waited for Iain to finish meditating. The two-year gap in her work history was painfully obvious, glaring at her from the screen. She didn’t know how she was going to explain her disappearance without sounding like a lunatic.

Her only option was to lie, which she hated doing. She’d have to invent an aunt and say that she’d left work to care for her during a prolonged illness. If anyone checked into her story, she’d be found out, but she didn’t know what other choice she had. She wasn’t about to claim she’d been in rehab or sick herself, for fear of not getting hired, and there was no way she could say she’d been abducted by demons and kept alive for her blood.

With a sigh of frustration, she closed the laptop and laid her head down on her folded arms.

She hadn’t really thought through all the details yet, but the more she did, the more problems she ran into. Her foreclosed house was a huge black spot on her credit. What if she couldn’t even find a place to live? And if she did find a home, how was she going to protect herself from monsters every time she got a paper cut?

A faint sound made her lift her head. She looked at Iain, but he was motionless except for the slow expansion of his ribs as he breathed.

She heard it again—a soft scratching sound. Coming from outside.

Fear made her freeze in place. The last time she’d left Dabyr, she’d been attacked by clawed monsters who’d tried to scratch through a car to get to her. If it hadn’t been for a magical barrier Andra had erected to keep them out, she would have died that night.

The sound came again, louder this time. “Iain,” she said, but it came out as little more than a shaky whisper of sound.

She heard another noise. A thump against the glass, only a foot from her elbow.

Jackie yelped and jumped from her chair, scrambling away from the glass. “Iain.” His name was louder this time and filled with the same panic skittering around in her chest.

From the corner of her eye, she saw him turn his head. Then there was a flash of motion—a blur of skin and steel—as he leaped toward her.

She continued to back up as he placed himself between her and the danger.

“It’s just a bird or something,” she said, trying to convince herself.

“Let’s find out.” He jerked back the curtains and right there, not ten feet away, were two glowing green eyes set in the head of a monster.

It stood on two legs, nearly as tall as Iain. Its body was fish-belly pale, covered in random patches of black fur. Pointed teeth filled its mouth, and fluorescent yellow saliva wet the front of its body. The thing was heavily muscled, its jaw sloping down to its thick shoulders, totally forgoing the need for a neck. Each finger was tipped with a black claw at least two inches long, and it used them to scrape at the glass.

Its eyes—disturbingly human—landed on her, and a sickly green light flared within them, as if it recognized her.

“That’s no bird,” said Iain. “We need to get you out of here.”

Fear had a tight hold on her. She’d been fighting it ever since her rescue, but her system seemed to go back to that terrified state so easily, locking up her body so that she couldn’t act.

“Now, Jackie!” bellowed Iain. “Move!”

His command cut through her fear, and she scrambled toward the door, grabbing her purse and suitcase handle.

“Leave it. There’s nothing in there worth your life.”

She let go of the suitcase, but her purse was already strapped to her body. Besides, that’s where she carried her gun, and she wasn’t about to leave her only weapon behind.

He drew the curtains shut and raced across the room, grabbing a leather jacket from the top of his bag. She was already at the door, fumbling with the locks, failing to open them.

“Move your hands. I can’t risk touching them right now.”

Right. The pain could incapacitate him, leaving her to defend herself.

What a laughable thought that was.

She did as he asked, moving out of the way so he could open the door. A moment later, he peeked out into the hall. “It’s clear. We’re going to run to the exit at the end of the hall, okay? Head straight for my truck. Don’t look back.” He pulled the keys from his jeans pocket and dangled them. “If anything happens to me, leave without me. Don’t stop driving until you’re back at Dabyr.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to you,” she said, as much for her own benefit as his.

“Take the keys. Put this jacket on. It will protect you.”

“You take it. You’re the one who has to stay alive to fight.”

“Do what I say, and we’ll both be fine. I saw only one of them. It’s probably just a scout. I won’t even break a sweat taking it out.”

Jackie took the keys and the jacket, being careful not to touch his skin.

He gave her a satisfied nod. “Stay close.”

He didn’t need to tell her twice.

Murak was not going to fail his father, one of the most powerful Synestryn lords on the continent, the way his brother had. The way Zillah had. His father, Raygh, was not known for his tolerance or his mercy, so when Raygh ordered Murak to hunt down Zillah’s stolen humans and bring them back, Murak jumped to obey. Two of the females were carrying Synestryn offspring, and the theft of their young could not be tolerated.

Murak drove down the narrow street, blending easily among the humans. Unlike his ancestors, he looked more human than monster, with only a few exceptions that the proper clothing hid. The cattle moving past him, sitting behind him at a stoplight, were none the wiser, completely oblivious to the fact that soon all of them would be either food or slaves.

The stink of their bodies burned his nose, but he drew deeply of the night air, seeking for some sign of a trail.

This backwater town was the closest one to where the captives had escaped. Certainly one of them had to be here, reeking of fear. And if some brave little soul wasn’t afraid, the distinct scent of Synestryn blood would be seeping out of their pores.

Find them and I’ll grant you all of Zillah’s holdings.

That’s what Murak’s father had promised, and there was nothing more he wanted than to expand his domain and fill it with his offspring and enough food to stuff their bellies. Zillah’s holdings were expansive, and a good start for Murak’s kingdom.

He’d already dispatched his hunters, giving them the items he’d recovered from the caves. Clothing, blankets, hair—whatever he could find that still held the scent of those who’d been stolen. Between their efforts and his,
it wouldn’t be long before they’d reclaimed their property.

The cattle seemed to be converging on the center of town. He’d passed a school there earlier, and seen the sign outside lit up, streaming with balloons and announcing tonight’s special performance. Based on the rush of traffic, a large segment of the population would be in attendance.

Perfect. He could slip in, check for escaped prisoners within the large gathering, and begin recapturing what Zillah had lost. He didn’t need to find everyone, just the humans in which they’d invested precious time and blood. It took years to create a vessel for their offspring, and Zillah’s mistake was going to be Murak’s gain.

He entered the school, paid for his ticket, and went to the back of the auditorium. The curtains were drawn and the cattle milled around, greeting one another with smiles and conversation. No one paid any attention to him, which suited him fine.

He pulled their stench into his lungs, seeking for a hint of prey.

A young human rushed by, stirring the air.

There. Right there was the scent of the blood of his kind. Sweet and metallic.

He rose from his seat and followed the trail. It led to a young girl in the second row. She was skinny and pale, with bruises under her eyes from lack of sleep. Much of her hair had fallen out, and what was left was pulled back with a cheerful yellow bow.

Murak summoned his power and concealed himself from all those present. He moved closer to the child, seeing the bony knees protruding out from under her skirt. She was ten or twelve, perhaps, and nearly complete. Years of work and gallons of their blood had gone into her so that she could perform her duties. Another year of alterations and they’d be able to breed her.

The child began to tremble, as if she sensed his presence.
She looked around and reached for the hand of her father, sitting beside her. The man wrapped his arm around her and looked at his wife with sunken eyes filled with despair.

“We should go,” he said. “She’s not ready to be out in a crowd yet.”

The woman nodded sadly and stood, gathering her purse.

Murak moved out of the way, letting them pass. It was a simple matter to follow them home. Once the girl was alone, he’d take back what was rightfully his.

I
ain’s body was still throbbing with the pain of losing Jackie’s touch. So much that it was making him slow. He could feel the slight lag in his thought processes—only a split second, but definitely enough to make him hesitate and die in a fight.