The Pretender (The Soren Chase Series Book 2) (10 page)

“You been working out?” he asked in surprise.

Terry smoothed out his shirt and straightened his bow tie. He ignored the question.

“If I’ve held knowledge back, it’s only been for your own good,” Terry said.

Soren was watching Terry carefully, wary of his apparent strength. “Right now I don’t care that you kept who I was a secret. All I care about is getting Alex back. And if you know something, you need to tell me.”

“You’re not ready,” Terry said.

“For what?”

“Whoever’s behind this,” Terry replied.

“So you do know.”

He was excited and disappointed at the same time, because it confirmed his worst fears about Terry.

The old man held up a hand. “I wasn’t lying,” he said. “I don’t know who it is. What I do know is what he’s put together. My contacts tell me he’s amassed a small army of disparate creatures.”

“I don’t care, Terry,” Soren said. “I need to save Alex. And I think you’ll find I’m more than a match for whatever is out there.”

“Pretenders are not invulnerable, Soren,” Terry said. “There are ways for them to be destroyed, and it’s likely this creature knows them.”

“Then I’ll hit him up for advice—after I save Alex.”

“It’s not that simple,” Terry insisted. “This is what I was trying to tell you earlier. Now that you know what you are, you have access to other abilities and powers. But you don’t know how to tap into them. For all intents and purposes, you are barely more than human.”

“I’ll make it work,” Soren said.

Terry shook his head sadly. Soren wanted to rush him again and shove his head into the wall, but he was wary of trying physical violence against Terry again. He needed a different kind of leverage.

“Here’s the deal,” Soren said. “I can tell you have some kind of plan in your head, some end goal that apparently involves me. You don’t have to tell me what it is, but if you don’t tell me something I can use to save Alex, this will be the last time we ever talk. Even if the world burns, I won’t lift a finger to help you put the fire out.”

Terry stared at him and for a moment, Soren thought he saw true anger burning in the old man’s eyes. Terry wasn’t used to being defied. But after a moment, he nodded his head.

“Very well,” he said. “I can’t tell you what you’ll be facing, but I did get a lead on where these creatures sometimes meet. I could be wrong, mind you.”

“Just tell me where,” Soren said.

Terry appeared mournful, but he turned and walked into his kitchen. He emerged a moment later with a piece of paper. An address was written on it. Soren turned and headed for the door.

“When you’re finished, come find me,” Terry said. “We have more to discuss.”

Soren hated the imperial tone, but he was done fighting with the old man today. He ran out of the house and jumped into his car, already putting the address in his phone.

Silas Rakev grinned widely as the boy was brought before him. He crouched as the kid approached, meeting him at eye level. The boy visibly flinched, which pleased him.

Though Rakev’s smile was joyful, there was something unmistakably cruel about it.

“Alex!” Rakev said, clapping him on the shoulder. “So good to finally meet you. I’ve been looking for you for a long time, buddy.”

The boy was shoved forward by a stoneskin in a police uniform, who’d been watching the kid since he brought him in. Rakev had been eating when they first arrived, a process that took an unusually long time because he liked to savor his meals when they fought back.

The boy was shorter than he expected, a little over four feet, but he held himself ramrod straight, trying to appear taller. Rakev stared into his dark brown eyes. He could see Alex was frightened, but the boy hid it well. Rakev admired that.

“Listen,” he said. “We can do this one of two ways. Either I lock you up in a cell and hurt you to get what I want, or I let you into my sweet new break room. I’ve got a Wii U in there. I know it’s the shittiest of the next-generation consoles, but Mario Kart 8 is terrific. The best part? If you stay in the break room, I’ll let you live when this is all done.”

Alex looked at him seriously. “No matter what I do, you won’t let me live.”

Rakev burst out laughing and hit him in the shoulder playfully.

“Absolutely right!” Rakev replied. “You’re totally going to die anyway. But you’d be surprised how many kids buy that line. Children are so gullible.”

Rakev looked up at the stoneskin, but the creature just stood there like the big, dumb dolt he was. Behind him, however, Rakev heard Gregory chuckle appreciatively. Gregory Ivanovich, the sixth of his line, had served Rakev all his life. He was human, one of a few dozen in Rakev’s employ, and trained for compliance.

There was no comment from the short figure on his right. Rakev turned and eyed the leprechaun.

“Don’t be so glum, Lochlan,” Rakev said. “I know it hurts your pride that I caught the kid and you couldn’t, but all is forgiven. It’s halcyon days, my little Irish friend. The game is almost finished.”

He grunted, but didn’t otherwise respond. Rakev looked back at the boy.

“I’ll go to the cell,” Alex said.

Rakev cocked his head in surprise.

“You sure?” he asked. “The cell is dark, dank—and already occupied. It’s extremely unpleasant.”

Alex nodded his head somberly.

Without warning, Rakev reached out his hands and grabbed both sides of Alex’s face. The smile vanished from his face.

“You listen here, you little shit,” Rakev said. “You want to play the martyr, fine by me. But I won’t have you moping about for my last few days in this miserable world. I want you to read my mind. Can you do that, kid?”

Alex’s eyes were wide with fear, but Rakev detected a slight nod. The boy concentrated for a second and then a look of confusion crossed his face.

“What is it?” Rakev asked. “What am I thinking?”

He let go of Alex’s head, but kept his hands hovering nearby, ready to pounce again.

“It’s a . . . song?” Alex said hesitantly.

Rakev nodded.

“‘Celebration’ by Kool and the Gang. Because there’s a party going on right here—” Rakev said and paused to tap his temple repeatedly. “A celebration to last throughout the year. I’m finally going to be free. And you’re going to help me do that. If you want to stay in the cell with the girl, be my guest. But don’t come screaming to me when she eats you, okay?”

He thought the words would have some petrifying effect, but if anything, Alex appeared to relax. Rakev didn’t like it. “And if you try anything, and I mean anything, that I don’t like, I will find your mother and rip her heart out in front of you,” Rakev said. “Got it?”

Alex nodded slowly.

“Take him away, Gregory,” Rakev said. “I want him—”

“Sir, we have a problem,” Gregory said.

Rakev turned to face him. Gregory was tall and muscular, with a heavy, black beard that Rakev thought made him look like a roadie for a heavy metal band. Of all his servants and slaves, Rakev trusted him the most. That was why he didn’t kill him for interrupting him.

“What is it?” Rakev snapped, his previous good mood now almost entirely gone.

Gregory was looking at his phone. “There’s a perimeter breach,” Gregory said. “Unauthorized personnel are in the area.”

“So? Go and kill them,” Rakev replied.

“I think you’ll want to see who it is first,” Gregory said.

Rakev frowned. What he wanted to do was break Gregory’s neck. The feeling was intense and powerful, his hands twitching to make it happen. But he didn’t. Rakev had been resisting killing Gregory since he was born. Humans were just so squishy it was impossible to be in their presence for long and not want to tear them apart. But they had their uses.

“Let me see,” Rakev said, snatching the phone away.

The video feed was blurry, but he could just barely make out the face of the man currently hauling weapons out of his car. He handed the phone to Lochlan, glaring at the leprechaun.

“I thought you fixed this problem,” he said.

The boy must have caught a glimpse of the video feed because Rakev heard him whisper, “Uncle Soren.”

“Yeah, yeah, Uncle Soren,” Rakev said. He looked at the stoneskin. “Were you followed?”

As a rule, stoneskins were hard to read, but Rakev thought he saw a glimmer of fear in the thing’s face when he shook his head. Rakev arched an eyebrow.

“Then how the fuck else is he here?”

Rakev heard a small gasp from the boy, apparently at his language. It unexpectedly annoyed him. For a moment, he considered breaking the kid’s neck, then forced himself to relax. He needed the boy. Just for a few days.

“Soren Chase is quite resourceful,” Lochlan said beside him.

“You said your little distraction plan went off without a hitch,” Rakev replied, his tone icy.

“Ya got a funny memory, boss,” Lochlan said in his annoying Irish accent. “What I told ya was to avoid taking this boy altogether. I said I ran into Soren Chase before, and he has a way of messing up plans. The distraction was Plan B.”

“And it didn’t work.”

“I told ya, he’s good at what he does,” Lochlan replied.

Rakev looked again at the video and felt his anger start to ebb. He had assumed when he saw Soren that he would bring cops and a SWAT team, but it looked like the guy had come alone. If so, maybe this “distraction” wouldn’t last long.

“Well, on the bright side, I guess the Council can’t blame me if I kill him now,” Rakev said. “And I get to do it myself.”

He clapped his hands together, suddenly happy again.

“But let’s have some fun first. Arm the relevant defenses and put our men on alert. Move the human guards out of the way. I want something more challenging in front of him. Let’s find out how good this Soren Chase really is.”

Soren crossed just over the border from Washington into Maryland, and pulled off onto a road that took him near the Anacostia River. It was the warehouse district of the city, and Soren parked near one with busted windows that looked abandoned.

Night had fallen, and the collection of silent warehouses made them seem ominous, like sleeping giants.

Soren popped the trunk on his beaten-up Toyota Camry, and walked around to the back of the car to his mobile arsenal. When he’d gone to attack the guai two nights ago, he’d packed his car with far more guns, grenades, and ammunition than he needed. Now he was glad it was still here. It gave him plenty to choose from.

He put on a tactical weapons vest and began strapping on weapons: two Beretta M9s, a couple of knives, several flashbangs, and a few fragmentation grenades. He dropped flares and extra ammo in the appropriate pockets, and as a finishing touch, strapped on a large, black assault weapon whose make and model he’d forgotten.

Soren felt no fear as he walked toward the warehouse that Terry had marked. It was a strange feeling to no longer care about his own welfare. It gave him a huge advantage over his enemies, one he intended to exploit.

The only anxiety he felt was for Alex. He thought of how scared the boy must be, snatched from his mother and locked up with a host of different monsters. Terry’s warning had also gotten to him, needling him more than he wanted to admit. As far as he could remember, Terry had never cautioned him against anything. Hell, Terry had purposely sent him to face a gorgon with nothing but a mirror and a gun, neither of which proved effective. So it bothered him that Terry didn’t think he was up to this.

Soren walked down the road without seeing another soul, and made his way to the warehouse door. A cold wind from the nearby river blew litter down the street, but nothing else stirred. There were several broken windows and the place had a neglected air. If he hadn’t known better, he would have assumed this, too, was abandoned.

It was possible that Terry had given him the wrong address as a way to discourage him, but he thought that was unlikely. It would buy Terry a little time, but Soren would never trust him again.

Soren tried the door handle and discovered it was locked. He pulled a lockpick from his jacket pocket and easily opened it.

He walked in expecting to find some guard, but there was only a dark hallway. The emptiness of the place made him uneasy. Terry’s information could be outdated—or, far more likely, he was walking into a trap. But he wasn’t going to turn back now.

He walked down a long hallway, holding the assault rifle out in front of him. At the end was another door, which he opened.

This one opened into a large, darkened room. Soren walked in. It was so pitch-black he couldn’t see the edges of the room. Instead of a warehouse, it felt like he was walking into a large cavern. The only sound he heard was his own footsteps echoing back to him.

Soren had excellent night vision, but he still needed some sliver of light to see, the same way a cat or other nocturnal animal did. But in this warehouse, there was nothing.

Soren paused and debated. He kept his right hand on his gun, and reluctantly pulled a flashlight from his vest with his left. He’d still hoped he could sneak up on whomever had captured Alex, and waving a bright light around in a darkened room was liable to draw attention he didn’t want. But given the ease of his entrance, they probably knew he was here already. This smelled like a trap.

He turned on the flashlight and scanned the room with the beam. He saw only a bare, concrete floor. But he felt a prickle on his skin, and had the sense that he was being watched. He thought he heard a shuffling noise from the darkness surrounding him. But when he shined the flashlight in that direction, there was nothing there. He kept his finger on the trigger, acutely aware that he didn’t know what was waiting for him, or how many there were.

He hurried across the room, hoping to find a door. Having chosen this confrontation, there was no going back. If he’d walked into a trap, then he was going to spring it and see what happened next. He’d done that before and always managed to come out on top.

Soren stopped, hearing the rustling around him once more. He aimed the flashlight in the direction he’d last heard movement. The beam illuminated only the wall of the warehouse. He quickly scanned the edge of the room. For one second, he caught sight of two gleaming eyes looking back at him, but as soon as he spotted them, they vanished back into the darkness.