That anticipatory feeling was coming from directly ahead, which was where the house was. So therefore I went left, through the trees, avoiding the paths and the occasional infrared sensor. Once around the back of the house, I stopped. All the windows were closed, and I was betting the doors were locked.
I studied the walls and eaves, looking for cameras and infrareds. There were several, and I had no doubt they were active. The roof had more than a couple of loose tiles and presented a definite opportunity if I could get up there unseen. My gaze went to the trees, and I smiled. Several had long branches that overhung the roof, and I could get to them without being spotted by the cameras. Lovely.
I backed into the forest and walked back to my chosen tree. I scrambled up the trunk and then out onto the limb. It was only a short drop to the tiled roof. After that, I padded quickly and quietly to the nearest batch of loose tiles. It was easy enough to slide them aside and slip quietly into the roof cavity. From there, it was simply a matter of crawling over the ducting and wiring until I found a manhole.
What I dropped down into was a workshop that looked bigger than my whole damned apartment. There were all sorts of machines and tools here—some I could name, many I couldn’t. The smell of metal and oil and stale, sweaty man was thick in the air, and my nose twitched in distaste. Obviously, whoever worked in here didn’t believe in deodorant.
I padded forward, following the wall until I found a door. Pressing my ear against it revealed little. I blinked and switched to infrared. No telltale signs of body heat, either. I gripped the handle and slowly opened the door.
A wide corridor filled with shadows lay before me. The long layout of the building suggested this corridor was probably a main one. The house itself was deathly quiet. No surprise given it housed a trophy room filled with stuffed nonhumans. I just had to hope no ghosts haunted the corridor. I mightn’t be able to converse with “older” spirits, but I could see them and I could feel them. And I didn’t need to deal with their fury on top of everything else.
I moved forward quickly, my feet making little sound on the wood flooring. I glanced at the rooms that I passed but found nothing resembling a trophy room.
I was almost at the top end of the house—and surely near the trophy room—when I heard the footsteps. The scent of man sharpened abruptly. They were coming my way fast.
I broke into a run, moving quickly through the shadows, scanning the rooms as they flashed by. Nothing. Down the far end of the hall, a red light winked. They had sensors in this end of the house.
Damn.
The body heat of six men suddenly leapt into focus through the walls, all of them bearing weapons. I wrapped the shadows around me but kept on running. I had to find that room before they found me.
Two men rounded the corner. I raised my stolen rifle and fired without sighting. The men scattered and the shot ripped through a window, sending glass flying.
More men appeared, low and fast. I fired another shot, heard an answering retort. Felt a sting of pain as the bullet burned across my forearm and pinged away. Then, finally, I found the trophy room.
I dove for the doorway, hitting the floor chest-first, and slid several feet forward on the smooth flooring, crashing headfirst into an armchair. Behind me, the door slammed shut, and the sour scent of man spun around me.
I’d dived right into the middle of a trap.
I gripped the rifle and spun around. Yohan was standing at the door, a rifle aimed at my head in his left hand and a little silver box clenched in his right hand.
Well,
fuck
.
“I wouldn’t attempt to fire that weapon,” he said softly, his thumb poised over the button, “because I’d hate to kill either of you before it was absolutely necessary.”
“If you had any sense,” I replied, wishing I sounded less winded and a whole lot more threatening, “you’d kill me anyway. A guardian is not someone you want to be playing with. We tend to get nasty.”
He smiled. It was a rather amused little smile—one that suggested little understanding and an overwhelming sense of superiority.
“My brother has felt some of your nastiness. You should be glad you didn’t kill him, or else your partner would now be smeared against the walls of his cell.”
Part of me wanted to snarl right back, to bare my teeth against the threats and go after him, regardless of the consequences to me. Rhoan’s safety was what held me back. I wouldn’t risk his life, no matter how confident I was of beating the cocky bastard in front of me.
“I didn’t kill him because I intend to drag his sorry ass back to the mainland. Yours, too.”
“Oh, you can try, little girl,” he said, as his finger moved away from the button. “You can try.”
“Okay, then.” The words had barely left my lips when I raised the rifle, pressed the trigger, then flung myself forward.
My bullet hit him, smashing into his arm, flinging it backward and spraying blood and bone everywhere. The control went flying and a shot fired out, the bullet burning past my left side.
I caught the control one-handed mid-dive, hit the floor hard, and rolled to my feet. Another shot echoed. I threw myself sideways, sliding behind a large leather sofa. It offered little protection, leather and stuffing flying as the bullet blazed through and barely missed my belly.
Yet I stayed behind the sofa, all senses straining for any hint of movement, and looked at the control.
It was a simple affair, with just an on/off button and a second red button. I switched it to off, then gripped the unit and smashed it against the floor as hard as I could. It probably wasn’t the best way to get rid of a firing mechanism, but it was all I could do right then. I couldn’t risk Yohan getting his hands back on it if I went down. At least Rhoan was safe. As safe as he could be until I took out Jorn and Yohan, anyway.
Another shot echoed. Stuffing and leather went flying as the bullet streaked past my nose and disappeared into the nearby wall.
I twisted around, and scrambled to the far end.
“Give it up, little guardian. You’re trapped in this room. The windows are shatterproof and there are guards waiting in the hall.”
“Go fuck yourself, Yohan.” I rose, shot out the light with the last of my bullets, then tossed the gun to one side and dove toward the window, hitting the auto-close button.
Another shot rang out. I twisted away, but not fast enough. The bullet ripped through the fleshy part of my calf, missing bone and tendon, but tearing flesh and muscle. Pain exploded and I fell, my leg momentarily unable to support my weight.
Darkness swept into the room as the curtains closed. I pushed to my knees, barely restraining a hiss of pain as sweat popped out across my forehead.
Yohan laughed.
Laughed
.
What was it about bad guys that made them feel so superior in moments like this? Just because a quarry was down didn’t mean it was out. Besides, Yohan and his psycho brother had enough respect for the capabilities of guardians to leave the UK when the Directorate started investigating their activities, so why the laughter now?
Or was it just me he didn’t respect?
“Do not think the shadows will protect you, little guardian. I can smell your fear. Smell your blood.”
“Humans haven’t got senses that sharp,” I said, wrapping the shadows around me and moving as soon as the words were out of my mouth.
It hurt—hurt bad—but nowhere near as bad as the bullet that smashed into the spot I’d just vacated would have.
“Ah, but we are the pinnacle of human development. We are what you animals strive to be.”
“What’s with the animals comments?” I moved position as soon as I spoke. Again he fired the rifle at the spot where I’d been. The noise was beginning to hurt my ears. “Does it make your slaughter more palatable or something?”
I moved position again, scooting around behind a desk. Despite his earlier claims, he obviously
wasn’t
smelling my blood or my fear, because he was only shooting
after
I spoke.
“It was an animal that killed our father, and such animals will continue to pay for that as long as either of us live.”
And if he thought he was going to live for too much longer, he was more insane than I figured. “That’s a warped way of justifying murder, you know.”
He took another shot, then said, “It’s not murder. It’s ridding the world of dangerous pests. Besides, there’s nothing more magical than seeing the realization of death spark in your prey’s eyes.”
Definitely, certifiably crazy.
He continued, “Give this game up, guardian, and you’ll get your chance in the forest. If you don’t give up, I’ll simply shoot you dead in whichever hole you’ve crawled into.”
Great options. Dead now, or dead later. How generous of him. I took off my sodden tank top and wrapped it around my bleeding leg. As tourniquets went, it wasn’t great, but at least it would provide a little support when I had to stand.
I reached up onto the desk and felt around. My fingers brushed against papers and pens, then finally hit something more solid. A stapler. I gripped it lightly, then carefully rose to my feet.
Pain bloomed, roaring up my leg. I gritted my teeth against the urge to scream, and forced myself to breathe deeply and softly. Sweat rolled down my cheeks and my back, and my stomach rolled threateningly.
I tried to ignore it all, and threw the stapler across the room. It hit the wall and fell to the floor with a clatter. Almost instantly, Yohan fired, the flash of the gun a flame in my infrared vision.
I ran at him, as hard and as fast as I could. He heard my steps, but he barely had time to react before I was on him, grabbing the weapon with one hand and breaking his arm with my other, making it impossible for him to hold a weapon, let alone fire one.
He went down, screaming for help.
Whiny, little coward…
The door opened. I flipped up the rifle and fired without sighting. One man went down, his gut exploding. Two of his colleagues leapt over him, coming at me. I fired again, hitting one and missing the other.
That one ducked to one side and raised his gun. But despite the light seeping in from the hallway, the shadows still covered me, and he hesitated, confusion on his face.
“Shoot her, shoot her,” Yohan screamed. “She’s here somewhere. Just bloody shoot.”
Other men were coming into the room now, preventing the first man from simply firing at random. I pivoted on my wounded leg, hissing in pain as I hit the nearest guard in the chest, pushing him backward into another. They both went sprawling.
I shifted position, this time moving as silently as I could, and came up behind the door. With the benefit of infrared, I could see two more men entering. They were the last of the reinforcements—at least for the moment.
I gripped the door handle, waiting until they were closer, then slammed the door closed hard, sending them reeling backward. Then I was diving away as the sound of several gunshots roared, echoing in my ears.
I hit the ground and rolled to my feet, only to go down on one knee as my leg gave way yet again. I gritted my teeth against the scream rolling up my throat, my fists clenched, my nails digging into the heel of my hand in an effort to deflect the pain. It was tempting to shift shape and begin the healing process, but shifting wasn’t instantaneous, nor was it discreet. And I wasn’t entirely sure the shadows would cover the change.
I scrambled away and heard the footsteps behind me. I’d taken two men out, but there were still two guards left in the room and two men out of it. Time to get serious.
I pushed to my feet, spun, and lashed out with a still-clenched fist at the nearest man. He went down like a ton of bricks. I dove forward, grabbed his gun, and twisted, firing at the other man. He, too, went down.
“If you want to live,” I shouted to the two remaining men in the hall, “I suggest you get the fuck away from this place.”
There was a moment’s silence, then the sound of footsteps retreating. Wise men.
I rose, hobbled over to the nearest window, and hit the nearby button. The curtains swept open, tearing the shadows from my side and revealing the contents of the room in all its grisly glory. Not just the bloody remains of the men I’d downed or killed, but the remains on the walls.
Jorn and Yohan’s trophies.
I’d been expecting to see the three missing Australians, as well as the seventeen from the UK, but there were more here than that. Dozens more. All mounted on wood like animal trophies of old. All posed smiling and happy. All so lifelike, as if at any moment they would tear themselves free and step from the wall, whole in body and soul.
And all with a hint of terror and fear lingering in their glassy eyes, as if their souls still abided nearby, waiting for help that never came.
My stomach roiled, and it was all I could do not to throw up. I’d seen some pretty damn gruesome things in my time, but somehow, this seemed far worse than anything else. These two had been taking their revenge for their father’s death for years and years. And in the process, had killed well over fifty women.
I turned and looked at Yohan. I don’t know what he saw in my eyes, but his face twisted in fear and he pushed backward with his legs, as if trying to get away from me. He slid on the flooring, but not very far.