“What’s the matter, man? Lose your woman?”
He whirled on the man. “What do you know?”
“More than you,” he taunted. “Every step you make, we’re already ahead by six. You’ll not get her back unless you do as they say.” A shrug. “Maybe.”
He stepped to the bars and glowered at the man in there with his smug expression. “You.”
“Me what?” he asked crossing his arms.
“You, you get my attention.”
He scoffed. “You don’t like torture, remember?”
Cale opened the cell door and stepped into the small space. “That was before your New Order fuckers dared touch my woman.” The door clicked behind him, locking them in there together. “Now it’s you…and me, until someone else comes to open the door.”
The man’s eyes widened and he took a step back. Power flared and Cale crossed his own arms.
“Wh-what do you want?”
“I want to know everything you do. And we will begin with the man named Blake.”
“I told the other one all I know.”
“You’d better tell me something more.” Another step.
“What are you doing, Cale?”
Tiarnán sent the question.
“Getting answers.”
“Okay.”
“He is connected to them somehow. He knew they’d taken Taylor.”
“Are you sure?”
“He just told me.”
“I’m sending Dracen.”
The connection ended and he met the man’s gaze. Now it seemed more fearful.
“Tell me where I can find Blake.”
“No way, he’ll kill me.”
“So you’re not that important to The New Order, then.”
He puffed out his chest. “I am.”
“Right.” He backed him into a corner and put a blade to his throat. “I know and you know that you have some way of contacting them. Some mental thing? I don’t know how, but next time you make a connection, you tell those bastards I’m coming for them.” He leaned in close. “And when I get there, there will be hell to pay for daring to come after her.” His voice fell in a low growl and a line of red began to coat the metal blade.
“Let him go, Cale,”
Dracen said.
The door opened and he saw her step in. The door stayed open, but he didn’t move from the man.
“Cale.”
It was a warning. He listened this time, removing the dagger and stepping away.
“What are you going to do?”
“We all have our gifts, Cale. Leave us.”
“I’m staying.”
No way they would push him out. She may be older than him, but, damn it, Taylor was his mate. No one else’s.
Mist filled the area as she walked by him, blocking the majority of his view of Dracen and their ‘guest’. The man’s gut wrenching scream was such that it sent chills up Cale’s spine. It began and it was done. The mist faded as Dracen moved back towards him.
“What happened?” He didn’t know much about what her powers were—she didn’t talk about them much, just fought.
“I found out who Blake is and where he lives.”
Falling into step behind her, he cast a glance at the listless man crumpled on the bed. His eyes were glassy and unfocused as he stared off into oblivion.
“He dead?”
“No. He’ll wish he was though, when he comes to.”
They secured the cell door and took off at a run. One good thing was that he was always ready, for he carried his weapons with him. Pushing outside, he was instantly soaked.
“Be safe.”
Lian’s blessing came down.
He dashed through the rain to the helicopter on the landing pad. It was running and he knew Aminta was behind the controls. He hopped in and she lifted off.
“We will be there, Cale,”
Dracen said as the chopper shot forward and continued to gain altitude.
“I’ll let you out about fifteen clicks away. Then you’re on your own. Edmond showed the security, it’s impressive so we’ll be picked up if I get closer than that. Right now, I’m just a police chopper out.”
“We sure she’s there?”
There was no need for headsets with Aminta, not when they could communicate mentally.
“No, but Blake is. Or was when Dracen sent the information. Edmond used his computer’s camera to see and spied him.”
“And we know it’s him?”
“Since some bimbo came in the room and called him such, he’s confident.”
Aminta fell silent and didn’t speak again for ninety minutes—they left the rain and flew through clear skies.
“Once you land, head due North. Chase the storm.”
He flexed his fingers, calming a bit at the cool feel of metal in his hands. When Aminta dropped equal to the tree line, he gave her a small wave then leapt out to the ground. He dodged to a tree and hid as she rose and veered away.
Once it was only him, he headed due north as she’d instructed, using the speed and senses he’d been given. Around him, the night was still calm. Where he was heading, the storm had already arrived. Chasing the storm was precisely what he was going to do, and he had less than three hours to get her out of there. He had no intention of failing.
* * * *
Taylor tried to get comfortable. It was damp and smelt musty. She’d since erased the word she’d written in the dirt, not wanting them to think she was doing anything.
Haley walked into view, a tray in her hands. More than one torch offered illumination now, yet none were actually in her cell.
“Food. Eat.” Haley slid the tray under the bottom cross bar of the cell.
“Why are you doing this, Haley?”
“Because it’s time for a change. I’ve dedicated my life to The New Order.” She drew out her lower lip and showed Taylor the brand on the inside. Then she grinned. “I was born to the Order.”
“Born to it? What do you gain from this?”
“Besides the power and wealth I was promised?”
Taylor’s face must have conveyed her doubt.
“You’re sitting there thinking they’re using me and I’m expendable. I’m not.”
She had been thinking that. “What makes you so special?”
“My father.”
Dread welled up. “Your father?”
“Yes. He’s one of the beings your friends want to kill and defeat.” Haley shook her head, eyes burning an eerie red. “I won’t let it happen. We won’t.”
“Who’s your father?”
“Hara.”
She filed the name away and walked to the tray. Unappetising. Gloppy and congealing. She lifted the tray, frowning at the sight of a cream plastic spork.
Seriously? A spork? Guess I’m not tunnelling out of here with this.
Haley watched her and eventually Taylor turned her back and returned to the bed. When she sat and peered out through the bars, Haley had vanished. Only leaving her with light from one torch.
She pushed the tray away and began to investigate her cell. There had to be some way out of this old place. Cold, damp rock. No window. She checked the bars then returned to the bed and lay on her stomach.
How the hell am I getting out of here?
Pressing along the corner, she paused when the stone shifted.
If I could get out…
Taylor altered her position and grunted when something jabbed her in the ribs.
What the…?
She could have smacked herself in the head.
Christ. My batons.
She had weapons.
How did I forget I carried them?
Feeling immensely better, she blew out her breath and calmed down. She was armed. Now to plan her escape. After moving the tray back nearer to the bars, she returned to the bed. She faced the corner and slipped one weapon free. Extending the baton, she began to dig along that loose block.
Occasionally, she would shake her shoulders as if she were crying. When she heard someone returning, she retracted the baton, adjusted the blanket to hide any mortar that may be noticeable under the cot, and faced the bars, wiping at some imaginary tears.
Haley again, and someone else with her.
“They aren’t going to trade,” Taylor said, lifting her chin.
“When we begin to send body parts, I’m sure they will reconsider.” Haley spoke as if talking about a summer’s day picnic. As if she actually looked forward to sending the parts.
Body parts?
Had she even attempted to eat the nasty crap on the tray, it would have been regurgitated with those two words.
She pushed to her feet and stalked to the bars. “You bitch! I thought you were my friend.”
Haley sneered and stared down her nose. “You were supposed to think such a thing. That’s why it worked.”
Taylor kicked the tray at her, getting a small measure of satisfaction when a plop of it landed on her boot toe. A very small measure, for Haley barely acknowledged it.
“We’ll see how brave you are.”
Fear lifted its head and she swallowed hard. “Do your worst.” She might be about to die, but she’d be damned if she gave these bastards any satisfaction of knowing how scared she was.
The man beside Haley stepped forward and reached through the bars. He lifted his hand and her entire body rose along with it.
Shit!
The bars melted at his touch and he walked in, bringing her close. Behind him, the bars repaired themselves.
“You”—he sniffed her—“smell like fear and that pup, Cale.”
“Are you Hara?”
His laughter was extremely unpleasant.
Every part of her, on a visceral level, tried to pull back from him. It hurt—his laugh hurt.
“No. I am Tryvek.”
“Demon?”
If his laugh had been bad his smile…worse. Pointed teeth were bared to her, yellowed and rotting. “No.” He brought her closer.
Her eyes burned from the stench rolling from his mouth. “What are you?” Did she really want to know?
“The punisher.”
Her mind flashed to the DC Comic character and she immediately realised she’d rather meet the DC one.
I will not panic.
She repeated that numerous times. Haley had left. Taylor located her batons and palmed them. “Am I supposed to beg for mercy from you?”
“If you want. Please amuse me, but”
—
he began to eliminate her air supply—“it will do you no good.”
He used his other hand, wrapped in a black glove, and reached to her face. She wanted to pull away but remained defiantly motionless. Her lack of movement was only exacerbated by the fact she still struggled to breathe. He stroked her cheek.
“Such beauty. We will have such fun together.”
“Doubt it,” she gasped.
“I am going to enjoy you.”
Breathing as normally as could be expected given her situation, she waited a couple of seconds more. Then attacked.
She went after his knees simultaneously. They both fell to the ground, however as she’d known it was coming, she landed on her feet while Tryvek howled in pain. Taylor didn’t hesitate—she
had
to keep him off guard. She launched another attack.
The batons whipped through the air, striking him with blow after blow. He grabbed the end of one, inches from his temple. He hissed something she didn’t understand but nothing happened. She struck with the second one as he jumped up.
“Who made those?” he demanded, coming at her again.
He backhanded her. Stars exploded as she whirled away to land, roll and rise again, ever so grateful for all the beatings she’d got during training with the dragon warrior. Tryvek didn’t slow either, and he was on her with swiftness. His massive fists delivered punishing blows. She weakened while he didn’t.
Outside the bars, demons had arrived and were screaming and grabbing at the metal with their feet and the claws at the tops of their wings. Chest heaving, she waited for his next attack. Deflecting his first swing, she allowed him to grab her and lift her so they were eye to eye. She was out of options, this was her final play—she just couldn’t keep up with him.
Using her waning strength, she shoved her other baton straight into his eye and beyond. He fell like a rock and took her with him. Something snapped in her arm and she cried out.
The screams from the demons got louder as more gathered. She pushed away from the still form of Tryvek, cradling her arm. Circling him wide, she put his body between her and the cell door. They fell quiet as she put away the first baton and went to the one sticking out of his skull.
Thick, green liquid—pea soup green—ran down his face from his eye. The noxious smell turned her stomach. Grasping the handle, she glared at the demons, who for some reason couldn’t—or wouldn’t—come into the cell. Then she jerked the baton free. More green dripped from the end mixed with some grey. She flicked it at them, causing them to scramble back.
Don’t want to touch it.
Her legs shook and she backed up to the bed, knees buckling when she bumped the frame. She found it nigh on impossible to look away from Tryvek. Had she killed him? And why was it so hard to breathe?
Spots appeared before her eyes and she slumped to the side.
* * * *
“I want her dead!” An angry statement, which penetrated the blanket of nothingness that had surrounded her.
“If we kill her now, we have no bargaining chip.” Male voice. Blake, if she was right.
“I don’t care. She
killed
Tryvek!” Possibly Haley? The tone was so high it was hard for her to decide.
Taylor opened her eyes and tried her best not to scream in pain. She lay on an elevated table, arms over her head, cuffing her there. The broken arm didn’t like the position. Her legs were also secured in the same fashion. To her right stood Haley and Blake.
He noticed her first. His grin widened and he moved towards her. He picked something up and showed it to her. Her baton.
“Where’d you get this?”
“Present.” It was difficult to talk. Her throat was so dry.
“From?”
She closed her eyes only to open them when a sharp pain went in her shoulder. Haley had stabbed her.
“You bitch! You killed Tryvek.”
Her lips were busted and swollen, still, she smiled best she could. “Did the world a favour.”
Hatred—quite possibly too mild of a word—filled Haley’s features as she turned the blade. Taylor screamed, unable to contain it.
“Haley, Lamar won’t be happy if she’s dead.”
“I won’t kill her. Yet.”