Shadow's Awakening: The Shadow Warder Series, Book One (An Urban Fantasy Romance Series) (37 page)

One more thing to do and the path would be cleared for Hannah to make her move. Rounding the corner of the house he shared with Kate, Zach headed to the ancient live oak twenty-five feet from the side of the house. In an open space beneath the gnarled branches, Zach sank to his heels. From his messenger bag he drew a copper bowl, a small ritual knife and a brush with several strands of Kate’s hair. He set the items in the sandy dirt quickly, eager to get the feel of them off his fingertips. The tools of spell craft were foul against his skin. Kate had told him exactly how to do this, but he hated having to take her place. If she hadn’t been needed elsewhere, he would have dumped this task on her.

Replaying Kate’s instructions in his mind, Zach set up the spell with careful, deliberate motions. First the flimsy stick-built tripod over the copper bowl. Kate’s hair in the bowl. A tiny stinging cut on his inner arm and he combined his blood with the hair. Last, he added a small fabric pouch stuffed with spelled herbs Kate had mixed before she’d left. Secured by a fuse line, the pouch dangled above the copper bowl, ready to drop and spill its contents inside. Certain all was secure, Zach lit the fuse, rose to his feet and walked away at a brisk clip. He had around ten minutes before the fuse would burn to the end, mixing the contents of the pouch with his blood and Kate’s hair. Once the spell was active, Zach estimated they’d have seconds before it drew their target. He’d be wise to be on the road before then.

The elegant brick colonial could have graced the open house section of the Sunday paper. A real estate agent’s dream, especially in the spring sunshine, with daffodils in sunny bloom and a lawn freshly mowed in diagonal stripes. The elegant white portico, matching white-trimmed windows, black shutters and slate roof were all vintage Myers Park, the upscale neighborhood south of Charlotte that had housed the city’s elite for over a century. It was almost a shame they were going to blow it up.

Fortunately for Michael’s neighbors, the house was set on a large lot. They weren’t trying to burn down the whole block. Only Michael’s house. Conner adjusted his generic gray coveralls, giving a quick glance to the equally generic nametag on his chest. “Mike,” it read. Kiernan was dressed in an identical uniform, except his tag identified him as “Bob.” They could be any technicians lingering around a suburban home. Gas company, cable installers. No one would notice them walking around, toolboxes in hand.

The old-growth trees and established landscaping of the expensive community only served to hide them further. Conner checked his watch, tracking the time as Kiernan made his way around the house, planting charges along the foundation. He should probably ask where Kiernan had come up with the coveralls, the C-4, and the remote ignition. He wasn’t going to. He was just going to be grateful that his friend not only had access to all of these things, he was willing to throw his life away to help Conner rescue Hannah.

The wait between Zach’s call the evening before and his second call an hour ago had been agonizing. At first they had rushed around, gathering everything they’d need to blow the house and run. Once that was done, they’d settled in to wait. And wait. Sleep had been long in coming. Relaxation impossible when he was ready to move.

Conner had woken that morning with the scent of Hannah lingering in the air. Sunshine and green grass. Sweet, clean and fresh. The scent was so strong, Conner had been half convinced she was there until he opened his eyes and discovered himself alone. Four days had passed with no nocturnal visits. He needed to see her, needed her in his arms again. After Zach’s revelation about the baby, he had to know that Hannah was all right. Conner worried she might not be able to come to his dreams or pull him into hers. Something could have happened—

He shut it down. Giving in to fear wasn’t going to help. It would just distract him from doing his job. He and Kiernan had one thing to do: divert Michael so Hannah could make her move. Conner didn’t intend to fuck it up.

Conner breathed a sigh of relief when he spotted Kiernan rounding the corner of the house, partially obscured by a huge boxwood bush. Leaning down to plant another charge, he disappeared, then popped up and headed straight for Conner.

Patting his pocket, he said, “I can do this by cellular remote. Let's get back to the truck before we blow it.”

Conner nodded in agreement. They fell into step, heading back across Michael’s rear yard and through a neighbor’s wide side yard. They came out in the parking lot of a small condo complex that had been designed to blend in with the expensive homes in the area. Their truck was out of place, but the lot was empty except for their vehicle. It appeared that most of the condo dwellers worked all day, leaving no one to notice their use of the parking lot. There might be surveillance cameras, but Conner wasn’t worried about that. Buy the time anyone got that far he and Kiernan would be long gone. Buckling in, Conner started the car.

“Ready?” Kiernan asked, his mouth spread wide in a happy grin. He looked like a ten-year-old boy who’d gotten the bike of his dreams for Christmas.

“Ready. Hit it.”

Kiernan pulled out a cell phone and pressed a few buttons. A tinny ring filtered from the speaker, then a click as the call was answered. Seconds stretched like taffy as they waited. The sun streaming through the windshield felt too hot, the crickets outside too loud. Why was it so quiet? Where was the boom?

Just when Conner thought he was going to explode himself from the tension, a roaring bang erupted. A beat later, a black, stinking cloud rose above the trees. He started to put the car in gear when Kiernan put a hand out to stop him.

“Wait. We should make sure it gets called in.”

Endless minutes later, sirens screamed down the quiet residential street behind them. Conner shifted into gear and drove away, quickly melting into traffic like any other truck on the road.

Lying on her thin, narrow bed, Hannah pretended to sleep. Just in case Henry or Michael peered through the wire and glass window to her room, she lay on her side, eyes slitted so they appeared closed. In truth, her eyes were open enough to track their movements in the hallway. Tension strung every muscle in her body painfully tight. It figured that the first day she planned to try to escape, Henry and Michael would linger together in the lab, effectively pinning her in her room. There was no way she could make any kind of attempt with Michael there.

The waiting shredded her calm. To clear her head, Hannah thought about Conner. All she needed to do was get out of this lab and find a phone. Conner would take her somewhere safe. Hannah refused to allow herself to doubt him. She had a huge wall to scale in escaping the lab. She didn’t need any further discouragement.

Her plan was weak and depended too much on luck. Given her circumstances, Hannah couldn’t come up with something better. Maybe if she’d had proper training, access to weapons, an accomplice. Anything to help. But she didn’t. She was alone and she’d have to do the best she could with what she had. It was tempting to wait until she had a better handle on the layout, on her jailers’ weaknesses. The collar drained her strength a little more each day. Before she knew it, escape would be impossible. Ill-prepared or not, she’d have to go now.

Outside her door and down the hall, she heard the muffled ring of a cell phone. Michael answered, his deep voice short and annoyed. An exclamation, then a door slamming. Footsteps down the hallway, past her door to the elevator. The tight band of muscles in her chest eased. Finally, Michael was leaving. With only Henry here she had a chance. Slight, but it was a chance.

Interminable minutes later, Henry’s footsteps echoed down the hall. The scrape of his key sounded in the lock just before her door swung open to show Henry carrying her lunch tray. Jackpot.

Working with gentle, deliberate force, Hannah began to push her will into the firm jello of Henry’s shielded mind.
Everything is normal. I want to put the tray on the bed. Tray on the bed. Tray on the bed. Tray on the bed.

To Hannah’s relief, Henry walked right up to the bed, placing the tray beside her. As if surprised, she turned quickly to face him and knocked the full tray to the floor. Dishes and silverware scattered with a brisk clatter, tumbling over the bed and across the floor. When Henry looked away to asses the mess, Hannah palmed the dull dinner knife.

“Stupid bitch,” Henry swore, glaring at her.

“Sorry!” Hannah exclaimed, trying to look innocently contrite as she jumped out of the way, putting herself between Henry and the unlocked door. Henry, not realizing the danger, began picking up the bits of food, broken plate and pieces of silverware on the floor at the foot of the bed. Hannah eased another inch closer to the door.
Clean up the mess. Clean up the mess. Clean up the mess.
Hannah pushed the task at him, trying to keep him distracted while her mind raced.

She had to buy herself a little time to look for the door the Shadow girl had told her about. What she needed was Henry locked in this room. She had to have the keys for that. Hannah couldn’t figure out a way to get the keys from Henry. She wasn’t good enough at resonating for that. She took another small step closer to the door. Henry was still occupied with gathering up the errant eating utensils and spilled food. She knew her window to act was narrowing every second. Soon he was going to realize she was too close to the unlocked door.

Whirling on the balls of her feet, Hannah raced the few strides to the door and grasped the handle. The cool metal slipped in her sweaty hand. Gripping it with terrified desperation, Hannah turned her wrist and yanked the door open.

“Hey!” Henry’s outraged shout echoed behind her. Hannah didn’t stop to look, just threw herself through the door and swung her body to the left, toward the hallway where the Shadow girl said there might be a door to the outside.

Henry’s shoulder thudded into the closing door, shoving it back open enough for him to barrel through in pursuit. Stomach clenching in anxious fear, Hannah transferred her dinner knife to her right hand. It wasn’t much. She’d have to aim for something soft. Strangely, the thought wasn’t as repulsive as it should have been.

Henry’s hand landed on her shoulder with a heavy thump that felt like the hand of fate. She’d known she wouldn’t escape without a fight. Steeling herself for battle, Hannah gave a fleeting wish that Conner had taught her something about combat. This time, running wasn’t an option. Setting her feet on the floor facing Henry, Hannah prepared to fight for her life and the life of her unborn child.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Henry’s eyes were fixed on the knife in Hannah’s hand, as if she held a wickedly sharp scimitar instead of a dull dinner knife. Hannah swayed from side to side, transferring her weight from one foot to the other, looking for an opening. From his stance facing her, it was clear that Henry wasn’t skilled in combat. That was lucky. If he’d known what he was doing, this would already be over.

Unfortunately, Hannah wasn’t sure where to start. Should she try to stab him? Kick his legs? Fighting looked so much easier when you were watching someone else do it. Before Hannah could form a plan of attack, Henry jumped on her, using his greater mass to drag her to the floor beneath him.

“Fucking Shadow bitch,” he snarled, swinging his right fist at her face. He connected, rocketing her head back into the hard linoleum floor. The impact left her head ringing, eyes blurry. Pushing through the flash of pain in her skull, Hannah grappled with him, grabbing at his arms, preventing him from hitting her again.

He clawed at the wrist of her right hand, trying to immobilize the knife. Hannah reached out blindly toward his face, raking his cheek. Her untrimmed nails dug ugly furrows in his skin. Shrieking, Henry reared back, clapping a palm to his wounds, smearing red over his hand and neck. Hannah twisted her hips, wiggling out from under his heavy body.

She managed to get almost clear of him before Henry realized she was getting away.
Focus
, she told herself.
You need his keys
. If she couldn’t get Henry out of the way, she’d never escape this place. And she couldn’t lock Henry in one of these rooms without the keys. Not to mention that she might need them to open the door to the lab. Scrambling a few feet away, she watched Henry wipe the blood off his face, staring at her in a murderous rage.