Darkness Awakened (Primal Heat Trilogy #1) (Order of the Blade) (17 page)

Red shrugged. “She looked fine. Kind of quiet, but a sweet kid. She asked me to give you a message if I saw you.”

She gave him her full attention. “What message? What did she say?”

“She said she didn’t do it.”

Grace’s legs began to tremble.
Ana hadn’t killed those men.
She’d been present, but she hadn’t done it. Grace sagged against the wall, too shaken to hold herself up. Ana hadn’t killed anyone. She didn’t have to live with the nightmare that haunted Grace every day, at least not yet. God knew what would happen if she stayed with the man in her vision much longer. “What else did she say?” Grace knew she was playing into his trap, but she didn’t care. She had to find out everything she could about her sister.

“The guy came back before she could tell me.”

A cold draft shivered over Grace as the image she’d caught from Ana’s dust shimmered in her mind. “Can you describe him? Did you get a name? What kind of car was he driving? Did she try to get away from him? Did he have a weapon? How was he keeping her from leaving him?”

He looked past her. “Hey, Vaughn. Nice of you to join us.”

There was a movement to her right, and she jumped to the side as the other man from the table walked up beside her. Unlike his greasy, unwashed compatriot, Vaughn exuded a dangerous, predatory energy. He had defined cheekbones, short blond hair and clear hazel eyes. His clothes matched the rough décor of the bar; the man wearing them didn’t. He was intelligent, refined, an enemy worth fearing. He was the man she needed to worry about—

There was a loud snap and pain shot through her wrist as Red grabbed her arm. “Gotchya,” he said.

She jerked her arm out of his grasp, but it was too late. A thick copper band was molded to her wrist, already embedding itself in her skin. She recognized it instantly as an illusion band, because she’d experimented with them in the past to suppress her illusions, but stopped because they made her violently ill. With it on her wrist, she wouldn’t be able to call up anything to save herself, no matter how hard she tried.

Dammit! How could she have been so stupid? Nausea churned through her belly, and her head began to ache from the band, as it suppressed the illusion that had naturally started to rise in response to her stress.

Red grabbed her arm and spun her toward the outside door before she could gather her thoughts. “The guy the Illusionist was with said that if you showed up, he’d pay a nice reward to have you delivered alive. He provided the band. Said it would keep you from doing that weird shit the other girl did.”

They were right. The bands did work.
Quinn! I need your help!
Her head began to throb and she started to sweat. Grace took a deep breath, trying to fight off the nausea from the band.

Again, silence from Quinn.

She shouted for help as they passed by the open door of the bar, and a few heads turned in their direction. Vaughn made a slicing motion across his throat, and people quickly looked away, pretending they hadn’t seen them.
Oh, crap.
Quinn was nowhere in sight, and she realized he must have already headed out to the woods where Elijah’s body had been found.

“Hey!” She shouted. “He’s kidnapping me—”

Red slapped his hand over her mouth and yanked her against his chest, his fleshy body crushing her, his arms tight around her. Her heart pounding, she forced herself not to struggle as they shoved her out the front door, and his arms loosened in response to her acquiescence.
One chance. She’d have one chance.

The water was pouring off the roof even more fiercely than before, and there was no way around it. With Vaughn still a few steps behind them, Red stepped under the cascade of water, and for a split second, she sensed his attention go to the water.

She reacted instantly to the opportunity, ripping out of his distracted grasp and bolting for the woods. “Quinn! Help!” She screamed his name as she ran, her feet sloshing in the mud, the rain coming down so hard she couldn’t see anything in the darkness except the pulsing glow of Ana’s dust. She ran in the direction of the violet dust, knowing it would show her the way around the back of the bar, to the woods where Quinn had to be.

She could hear her pursuers’ boots pounding through the puddles, and she skidded around a truck, nearly falling in the mud before she caught her balance. She ran to the edge of the parking lot, and half-slid in a frantic flight down the side of the hill toward the woods. “Quinn!” she screamed.

Something hit her in the back and she fell forward, landing on a dead log covered in moss.

The impact jarred her for a second. As she fought to regain her breath, Red screamed and suddenly sailed through the air, crashing headfirst into the trunk of a tree. He slithered down the trunk into a motionless lump in the mud.

“Quinn!” She whirled around, her body weak with relief. Then she froze when she saw Vaughn standing about twenty yards behind her, water pouring down his face, mud caking his clothes. He was silhouetted between two pine trees, his width dwarfing them. He was the one who’d thrown her other captor fifty feet into a tree? Holy crap. What was he?
Quinn? I’m really in trouble here.

No Quinn in sight. Damn the man. Where was he? Seriously, it wasn’t like she made a habit of relying on others for help. The one time she finally did, and he was off doing his man thing when she needed him? Not okay, thanks so much.

“Stop running,” Vaughn ordered her. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

She held up her wrist. “No?”

He nodded in acknowledgment. “Sorry about that. If I’d taken that shithead out in the bar, it would have created questions I don’t have time for. I was using Red to find you and Quinn, because I didn’t know what you two looked like. I need to talk to Quinn. Where is he?”

Go left.
She felt Quinn’s soft push in the back of her mind, and she obeyed immediately, whipping to her left and sprinting toward the trees. Vaughn cursed and took off after her, shouting at her to stop so he could explain. Yeah, uh-huh, she was so going to listen to that request.

She’d gone only about one hundred yards into the woods, when Quinn sprang up soundlessly in front of her, as if he’d come out of the ground, wrapped his arms around her and leapt straight up into the trees above their heads, all in one fluid move. “Silence,” he breathed into her ear.

He caught the trunk with one hand while he settled them both on a thick branch. She wrapped her arms around him, trembling at the sight of him, at the feel of his warm bulk enveloping hers.

You okay?
Quinn’s arm tightened around her and he pressed his lips to the top of her head.

Warmth flared to life deep inside her, comfort that chased away the residual horrors of experiencing Ana’s illusion, of being caught by the men. The nausea from the band began to subside, as it always did when there was no illusion trying to break through it.
Yes. I’m fine.

Grace.
At his whispered sigh, she glanced up at him, his face barely visible in the dark night. He touched her cheek, then kissed her. It wasn’t a tender, soft kiss. It was kiss of fury, of needing to feel that she was alive and safe, of needing to connect with her. She hung onto him, needing the same, the connection to her foundation, the one thing in her life that she could actually grasp and believe in.

He tightened his grip around her, then pulled back. He smiled briefly, brushed her hair off her forehead, and kissed her nose.
Don’t get in trouble like that again.

Quinn sounded tense and agitated, and his concern made Grace feel good. What woman wouldn’t want a badass immortal warrior keeping an eye on her well-being.
I’ll do my best.

That’s not an answer, woman.

She laughed, and he put his hand over her mouth. Her laughter died in her throat, and she followed his glance down toward the forest floor. Vaughn was walking through the clearing that Quinn had snatched her from. He made it about halfway across then stopped. He was at least forty feet beneath them, yet he’d stopped exactly below their spot, as if he sensed where they were, even though he couldn’t quite locate them.

He’s got talent.
Quinn sounded impressed.

That’s not a good thing, Quinn. Having a worthy opponent is not always the goal, you know.
The bark was slippery under her feet, and she dug her fingers into Quinn’s jacket.

I love it when you give me attitude.
Quinn gave her earlobe a playful nip that made her jump. Before she had time to smack him for nearly unseating her, he was back in battle mode, his face serious.
Am I under an illusion now?

Oh, who was she kidding? He’d probably never been out of battle mode. Flirting and fighting were probably not mutually exclusive for a warrior like Quinn. He was probably always aware of everything around him, always ready to react no matter what else he seemed to be doing.

So, yeah, time to focus then. Grace set her hand on his chest and called upon her Illusionist heritage to search for any vibrations within him, the same way she’d done in the truck. It was easier this time. Now that they’d already done it once, she seemed to slide right into his being. Her mind began to hum with energy, and then pain shot through her head and spiked through her stomach. She doubled over instantly, and only Quinn’s grip kept her from tumbling out of the tree.

“Shit, Grace.” He anchored her against his chest.
What’s wrong?

She held up her wrist, showing him the band.
Get it off!
It was all she could do to keep from shouting, with the raw pain clawing at her, her stomach churning, her head pounding. Yeah, okay, so clearly it should have occurred to her that the band would react to any use of her powers, like searching the hot warrior guy for illusions.

Quinn grabbed her wrist and tugged it in front of his face so he could get a better look.
What the hell’s that?

It shuts down my powers. It makes me violently sick when I try to use them.
Sweat trickled down her temples and her head throbbed.
I triggered it when I tried to search you for illusions.

Stay calm. I’ll take care of it.
He ran his fingers over the edge of it, his touch deft and confident as he assessed it.
It’s embedded in your skin.

Yeah, I know that. Get it off!
She could feel it digging deeper, burrowing into her flesh. She frantically tried to shove her illusions and her Illusionist spirit back into the box inside her soul where she’d kept it in for the last fifteen years.
Quinn, please.

He wrapped his hand around it and squeezed experimentally. Pressure built in her wrist, and he stopped before she could protest.
If I try to shatter it, I’ll break your wrist first. I need my sword to cut it off, but our friend downstairs will notice if I call it out. Can you hold off?

She rubbed her hand over the band and tried to dig her fingernails under the edge of it, but it was already sunk too far.
Yes, but I can’t check you for illusions until it’s off.
She closed her eyes and concentrated on suppressing her illusions. The nausea began to subside somewhat, and the pain in her head started to abate enough that she could think.

Quinn’s frustration pulsed at her, but he said nothing. Instead, he set his hand on the top of her head as if to reassure her, then leaned past her and peered down at the clearing again. Vaughn was perfectly still, immobile, his chin raised as if he were scenting the air for them.

Quinn cursed, then leaned back against the trunk, pulling her against him, wedging her between his knees.

His name’s Vaughn.
She rubbed her forehead, wiping away the tendrils of perspiration that were mixing with the rain.
What is he?

I don’t know.
He sounded thoughtful, but when she tried to twist around to look at him, he pulled her back against his chest.
Don’t move. One mistake and he’ll know we’re up here.

She forced herself to remain still, grateful that Quinn’s reassuring presence had made it possible for her to keep the illusions at bay, so she was no longer feeling so ill.
So, what do we do?

We wait.

For what?

To see what he does. To see if he reveals what he is or why he’s looking for me. Or if anyone is with him.
His arms wrapped around her more securely.
Patience.

She settled back against him, angling herself so she could watch Vaughn. He still hadn’t moved.
How long do we wait?

Depends on what he does. I won’t let him get away, don’t worry.
The cold, calm confidence in Quinn’s voice made her shiver, and she knew she was now in the arms of a warrior ready to kill.

They waited. The rain continued to come down, dripping between the branches and saturating her jacket. But Quinn was warm, his body emanating heat where he had her bundled against his chest and between his muscular thighs. She was aware of his arm locked under her ribs, brushing against the underside of her breasts. Of the movement of his chest as he breathed. Of the strength of his body as he kept them both balanced on the branch.

She leaned against him, and he shifted so his cheek was against hers as they watched the scene below. They didn’t move again, their body heat mingling, their scents mixing, his flawless balance keeping them both secure. It was an intimate moment, one where there was no need for conversation. It would almost be romantic, if they weren’t perched high up on a tree, in the rain, waiting for some bad guy to play his hand.