Infinite Risk (17 page)

As I pounded my fist on the wall, an alarm went off, muffled by the steel and concrete, but I still heard it. Impossible that I'd set it off, which meant some bad shit was going down at the Black Watch compound. Footsteps pounded down the corridor toward the warehouse/prison, and I positioned Aegis in a terrible attempt at readiness. The locks disengaged, and I sliced straight through the person stepping through the door.

The master of the Black Watch stared at me in stupefaction as he slid to the floor. Hurting people bothered me, but
they
took me captive; it wasn't like I'd invaded. He opened his mouth, and blood poured out as I stepped over his prone form. Quickly, I rifled through his pockets and took his wallet and his keys. If—no, when—I got out, I could commandeer his vehicle. That seemed like poetic justice, considering what they planned on doing to me.

Low-wattage fluorescents lit up the corridor beyond. Dingy gray walls and ancient tile made me think this had been built as a bomb shelter. Impossible to say what level I was on. The alarm cut out. Was it was shut off because the threat had been neutralized, or the invaders won and were tired of the noise? Either way, I'd cut a path out or die trying. But … I
hated
fighting people. Diving into a storage closet, I hid from six followers, four men and two women, who ran past in gray clothes that looked more monkish than military.
This feels like a cult.
Given what Raoul had told me about the Black Watch, that seemed like the right word.

Cautious, I tracked them to an elevator and then waited around the corner. One of them used a pass to activate the lift. I rummaged through the old man's wallet and came up with a card that had to open security doors—and hopefully—unlock the elevator. They probably had cameras, so unless the guards were too busy fighting to keep watch, I had to be ready for an ambush as soon as I got off.
If there's a lot of them, I won't make it.
Hands trembling, I swiped the bar code, and the doors opened.

There were six corpses on the floor, four men and two women.

The Harbinger stepped out like an ancient avenging god, covered in lightning and the blood of his enemies. The red spatters didn't even faze me when he reached out, pulling me close with gentle hands capable of such violence. My tongue felt too thick to speak, and the shakes got worse, until I could only think,
He came, he came again, oh my God, he came for me. Again.

He studied me, wordless, for an infinite moment, tilting my face to assess the damage. “They will pay for this. I shall strip flesh from bone and grind even that down to dust. For you, I will burn this place until its shadow can never form again.”

“Why?” I got out.

“Stop asking.” He helped me into the elevator, still littered with the dead, and I stood in a circle of shock and terror.

I knew he could kill; I'd never
seen
it. But for the first time, I imagined him as a glittering scythe, the reaper on a human battlefield surrounded by death birds. That human life meant so little to him didn't surprise me, but the scene unmoored me.
I'm not special; he'll tire of shielding me. Soon I'll be a broken toy.
And the rush of pain did surprise me because it was emotional, not an echo of the prior beating.

The Harbinger shook my shoulder as the elevator dinged. “Stay with me. If I could whisk us away, I would, but this devil's den is warded against my ilk.”

That revelation stopped the whirling of my thoughts, sending the brain cyclone in another direction. For the first time, I noticed his exhaustion, the glitter of his stormy eyes, his countenance wan yet frenetic with expended power. The lines on his face were real, and it seemed as if they'd
wounded
him. He favored his side when we stepped onto solid ground and the lift doors swished shut behind.

“Don't,” I said softly. “Stop saving me. Stop now. You can't fight all my enemies alone. If you don't stop, at some point they'll overwhelm you.”

“Who wants to live forever?” he wondered aloud.

“If you don't leave, you'll
die
.” Desperation made me shrill. While I'd made peace with the idea that saving Kian would probably be the last thing I ever did, it seemed unforgivable to doom the Harbinger too. He might be a monster, but he was
my
monster.

“And I'll die if I do.” Such a sweet, rueful tone. His look simmered with an awful, possessive sweetness that stunned me with its implications, an intensity I couldn't trust or accept. “Haven't you worked it out yet, dearling? I mistrust the estimates of your intellect, truly I do.”

He'll die if he leaves me?
I couldn't speak the question aloud because more cultists charged at us with the complete confidence of true fanatics. Dread pooled in my stomach as I watched the Harbinger summon what seemed like the last of his strength. A shudder worked through him, and then lightning appeared in his palm.

Beside him, I raised my sword and prepared to fight.

 

A WORLD OF INFINITE RISK

When the Harbinger launched the volts, they settled as an electrical barrier instead of frying the cultists. Confused, I stared as he grabbed my hand and pulled me in the opposite direction. At first, I took the choice for mercy, but that didn't fit what I knew of him or his promise to grind their bones to dust. He seemed impatient when I stumbled, but it was hard to match his pace, given my current state.

“I don't understand; I thought we were fighting.”

“That will slow them down, any that might be left on this level. I've already dealt with the ones outside.” He cut me a sharp look. “And you don't have the energy for a battle.”

“True. But I have car keys and a clearance pass.”

“That may come in handy,” he said with a half smile.

I tried to ignore the bodies as he led me out through the bloody path he'd carved. The Black Watch might think the end justified the means, but they were fighting against Wedderburn and other immortals. Guilt swirled in my stomach, but I kept moving. It wouldn't bring any of these people back if I got captured again. Maybe I just had one of those bloody fates, and no matter how hard I tried to change it, there would always be carnage in my wake.

“They don't care that they hurt you,” the Harbinger said. “So please don't mind that
I
hurt them.”

“I'd be an ungrateful asshole if I bitched about your rescue methods.”

“Precisely. Keep moving. Two more flights of stairs, and we'll be at the main exit.”

The bunker seemed huge, though that might have been my cracked ribs talking. My side burned where the boot had first made impact, and I pressed a palm to it as I took the steps laboriously, one by one. He kept one hand on me, like I was a corn-husk woman that might blow away at the first strong wind. In all honesty, I didn't feel a lot stronger than that.

I'd expected to need the passcard to get out, but the heavy doors were blown wide open and half melted to slag.
Damn. He did this for me?
It looked like a bomb site with dust and smoke still simmering, obscuring visibility. I stumbled over the wreckage and pitched forward; the Harbinger hauled me upright. Lights shone all around me, reminiscent of a prison yard, but as my eyes adjusted, I saw it was night. Beyond the debris lay a parking lot, and from this perspective, it looked like we had left a simple warehouse. Nobody would ever guess that it extended several levels belowground.

Digging into my pocket, I clicked the unlock button but no lights flashed, so I went farther and a black Buick responded, the kind of car an old man would drive. I glanced over at the Harbinger, and he looked so fragile, as if the surrounding lights shone through him.
If he could whoosh us out of here, he would. No point in asking.
So I staggered to the driver's seat, my head spinning with fading adrenaline, pain, and probably low blood sugar.

“Get in,” I said.

“You don't even know where we are. How do you plan to extricate us?”

“Away is a start. Don't argue with me, okay?”

The Harbinger's mouth thinned, but he climbed into the car like an actual person. That had to rankle, but with his powers at low ebb from a fight whose aftermath left me queasy, there were no better alternatives for either of us. When I put the key in the ignition, a screen powered up when the engine kicked on.
Nav-star … oh, this will help a lot.
But the problem was, if I recalled correctly, if the master recovered enough to order his minions check the lot, the service could shut this down remotely, so there was no telling how far we could drive before it turned into a giant paperweight.

“Holy shit, we're in Minnesota? How long have I been gone?”

“Three days. Three very long days.” The Harbinger closed his eyes, turning his face away to lean his cheek against the frosted window.

I shook myself out of the daze that news threatened to create and adjusted the defroster settings.
Kian must be freaking out.
It took all my self-discipline not to check my pockets; I already knew they hadn't left my phone with me when they tied me up. Taking a deep breath, I backed out of the space and headed for the gates. Luckily, the car had a sticker on it, so the metal arm went up and we didn't draw unwanted attention by ramming it.

While checking the rearview mirror obsessively, I put ten miles behind us before the trembling stopped. I still hurt all over, but driving was bearable. As I settled down, I pulled into a gas station lot to input Cross Point, PA, into the Nav-star, and it spat out a route that would take us seventeen hours. I didn't intend to stay with this vehicle that long. Even if I'd killed the boss man, he doubtless had a second-in-command who would continue this bullshit seamlessly. The attack might have hurt them, but they wouldn't implode because of it. Over a long career as a secret society, they'd probably pissed off other immortals through the years.

“What's your plan?” the Harbinger asked eventually.

“We're a hundred miles from Minneapolis. I think it's safe to head there. We should ditch the car and take the slow route to Cross Point.”

“You're going
right
back where they found you?” Anger didn't begin to express the force of his tone.

“I got careless. It won't happen again. But either way, I have to finish what I started.”

It was only February. Somehow I had to stick around for four months more, though the way odds were stacking up against me; I didn't see how I'd survive. But since Kian died for me in the other world, it seemed like a fair deal for me to go out trying to save him here. Maybe Wedderburn would kill me, or possibly the Black Watch. At this point, I gave no shits who finished me off.

Rummaging through the car turned up almost ten dollars in small bills and change, and there was a half a tank of gas. Good enough. I put my hand on the door handle. “Do you want anything in here?”

“From the Kwik Stop? I'll pass.” He angled a disturbingly playful look on me. “Unless you'll let me have the cashier.”

“Um. No.”

“I didn't think so.”

“Sugar and caffeine for me, it is. Be right back.” I pulled my hood up, hoping to hide the worst of the damage.

My luck held. The clerk was more interested in the miniature TV behind the counter than what a bad day I must be having. He rang up my food and drinks, and I handed over the amount in coins that he sighed over. His annoyance meant I didn't get a bag, so I cradled the jerky and chocolate and energy drinks like my beloved pets on the way back to the car. The pavement was wet, so I almost fell twice before I collapsed in the driver's seat.

“This is the strangest thing I've ever done,” the Harbinger said.

“Rescuing somebody?”

He shook his head with a faint smile illuminated by the neon beer sign in the front window of the store. “Never mind. By all means, let's continue this ill-advised adventure.”

“Okay, well … you rest up, if you can. You probably need to feed, but I don't have the energy to spare right now, and I'm not okay with you draining someone else.”

I started the car, conscious of him staring at me like I'd grown horns. “Are you jealous?”

I laughed. “No, genius. It hurts people who don't know what's going on. I'm trying to limit your collateral damage because, whether you admit it or not, that destruction bothers you. You carry those scars everywhere.”

“You're worse than Saiorse,” he said quietly. “Worse than Sigyn, even. You know all my truths and then act as if they can be rewritten.”

“Excuse me?”

He sighed. “You cannot save me from myself.”

“Maybe not, but if you hadn't noticed, I've got this Quixote thing going on anyway. It's kind of my deal.”

“So … you're implying that you'll feed me again? Of your own free will. It's extremely
odd
that you'd strengthen the bond between us when you're always telling me to go.”

I squirmed, turning as the Nav-star instructed, toward Minneapolis. “You're helping me, no, saving my ass constantly. It's quid pro quo or something. Don't make it weird.”

“The weirdness is none of my doing,” he muttered.

To cover the fact that I did register these mixed messages, I switched on the radio. Men talking about politics came on an AM channel, so I fumbled with the buttons until mellow music filled the car. This sounded like a station Kian would listen to, big band era or something like that, all smooth and jazzy, so I left it. I realized then that I had no idea what kind of music the Harbinger liked, and clearly he did love it, if the violin he carried offered any sign.

“Is this okay?” I asked as a torch song came on.

In answer, he changed the station, pausing, skipping onward, until he found a livelier offering. It sounded like folk music but had a toe-tapping quality. “Existing is hard enough without wallowing in sorrows that cannot be changed.”