Guardians of the Portals (8 page)

A helicopter rose at a sharp angle and skittered across his field of view, the pilot having trouble controlling the craft. Trey could sense something amiss with the craft as it canted right and slipped below the trees to the north of GFI’s building. Since there’d been no explosion, he had to assume it had landed more or less intact, but he doubted it would be operational any time soon.

The spat of gunfire had a familiar sound, the AK-47 quite distinctive compared with his own custom weapon. He watched as men scattered to the left of the building toward the dense underbrush at the perimeter of the parking lot. To the right, the way lay open to the road into the industrial park, but it lacked cover. Trey noted how the shooter laid a sweep in a north-south line at ninety degrees to the main body now making haste toward the woods, almost as if he were herding them for a particular reason. None were kill shots, though here and there one of the men on the ground would cry out as bullets ricocheted off any number of surfaces.

Trey rubbed his chin, not exactly sure what to do. He had no cause to join the fray and would be best served to stay out of sight until he could determine who was on which side. His gut told him the shooter on the roof might be an ally, but he wasn’t convinced it was wise to intervene at that point. The image of the young woman buzzed in his head. It had him in its grip and refused to let go. It couldn’t hurt to maneuvre around to the rear of the building and see if there was anything of interest out of everyone’s line of sight.

Using his low center of gravity, he sped behind the next building and then cut across the road to come up somewhat south and east of GFI’s headquarters. The shooting continued but the dense woods and the building itself blocked most of the sound. He listened carefully for the chopper but only heard the sound of his own heartbeat and a soft rustling in the brush off to his left. He ducked into a crouch in a dense stand of rhododendron, slowed his breathing and set his shields at minimum. He wanted to hear what was going on but not be locked in a soundproof box and miss all the action. The warm air wavered and danced, then settled as he concentrated on holding the energy steady. For some reason he’d always found it easier to deal with the enormous energy requirements of a Portal rather than the narrow focus of his personal body shield.

Booted feet rushed past his position. He recognized the buckles running up the calves of the boots. It was the woman from the van. Or was it? Though on a low setting, the wavelengths refracted enough that it made getting a clear picture a challenge. He could have sworn that the woman had red hair, violently red, no mistake about it. And she’d been ... curvaceous. The vision floating past him looked like a scarecrow, tall, but reed thin and in no way warrior-like. She wore the same outfit, though it hung loose and not quite functional, like she’d been playing dress-up with her warrior mother’s clothes. He couldn’t tell for sure if she were armed, though he doubted it. There was nowhere to hide a weapon in that get-up.

The woman scooted across the road using the same line he’d chosen. He looked up to GFI’s roof. Where it had been dark before, it now glowed like an illuminated football field. The firing had ceased and the indistinct shouting of men giving and taking orders indicated that the shooter was either dead or in hand. He had no doubt that the older man had given himself up in place of the woman making her way toward the two buildings across the road.

****

J
ake lay bleeding on the ground with a gut wound that looked worse than it was. He was sure the bullet had passed straight through. All they needed to do was get the bleeding under control, though nobody moved to make it so. They all hung back, weapons pointed at his head. He was a dead man if he so much as twitched. After what seemed like an eternity, Knutr puffed his way through the safety door and approached his captive cautiously.

Knutr waved a man wearing a white lab coat forward and pointed to his captive. “Tend to him, then bring him to the examination room.”

Jake breathed a sigh of relief. Knutr could have had him shot. That the capo seemed willing to tend to his wound indicated that he hadn’t run out of cards to play. He surely didn’t hold a good hand, but it was all he had. He needed to hang on just a little longer for Caitlin to make her escape.

The medic slipped a needle in his arm. The last thing he heard was Knutr asking one of his men where ‘the woman’ had got to.

“Gone, Sir. Found some tracks and broken limbs off toward the reservoir. We’ve called in the dogs and sent two squads out to track her.”

“Good, make sure you have her by...”

****

T
rey set up shields and waited until the two squads were well past his position. He’d made a quick dash along a hiking trail, veering off to the left and right erratically, just as a human would do when rushing through dense woods in the dark. He swiped at bushes and low hanging limbs to recreate a scene of chaotic and frantic flight, leaving boot marks on the soft dirt. The woman was as tall as he though she massed only half his not inconsiderable bulk. He doubted, in the dark, the pursuers would know the difference.

He trotted quickly across the road and skidded around the corner of the first building. Satisfied he hadn’t been noticed, he risked a peek toward the access road as a truck with holding pens for dogs approached at speed and turned into the drive to GFI. If the woman had left a discrete piece of clothing or anything that could be used for scent, it wouldn’t take long for them to figure out the subterfuge. If they took a dual scent off the older man, it would take time to sort it out. He’d need that time to find the woman. She likely did not enter the first building if she were smart. He couldn’t risk her making the poor choice and having him go off on a fool’s search wasting valuable time.

Trey assumed she would have used one of the rear entrances. He touched each of the push bars in turn seeking an energy signature. The one on the far end still retained residual heat. He muttered, “Damn it, woman.”

He pulsed an energy wave at the card reader and cracked the door open. Other than enhanced vision, he had few tracking abilities. Two of his brothers excelled at that and he’d always been jealous of that ability for it brought honor and approval from Gunnarr. His special ‘gift’—as Eirik called it—did not manifest until long after he’d thrown his lot in with the Althings. He doubted his father even knew that he carried the ability to fashion Portals from time-space. It was a secret few knew outside the closed-mouth circle of scientists who guarded him and their research with a blood oath to the death.

He’d need to work a search pattern. If she were moving he’d be screwed for he’d likely miss her unless she made some fatal mistake. The way she’d floated past him, on gossamer wings, as he’d hovered within the shields, made him think of a fairy, light as air. He shook his head at the fanciful notion. His lack of focus disturbed him at some level, as did the niggling feeling, like butterflies in his gut. He decided to work from the top down, using the stairwell to ascend quickly to the fourth floor. He thanked the gods that neither building had more than four floors and each was relatively small compared to GFI’s more imposing structure.

He worked at a steady pace, seeking residual energy, but found nothing. The building felt cold, abandoned. Indeed many of the offices stood empty and a few were still under construction. By the time he finished with the second floor he knew he was wasting time. He smashed the safety door open, no longer caring about revealing his presence. Leaning over the rail, he jumped to the floor below, landing easily.

As he raced across the lane dividing the buildings he heard the dogs in high voice, coming rapidly toward him. Not good. Shields protected him from humans but not from their canine trackers. They would smell him long before he could hope to find the woman.

Cursing as he charged across the access road, he skidded behind the building, smack into the woman huddled behind a stand of azaleas. He managed to catch himself before he buried her under his weight. He thrust her against the brick wall and mashed his palm over her mouth to keep her from crying out. She still managed an audible ‘umph’ and connected with his groin, sending spasms of pain cascading through his lower torso. He bit his lip to stifle the groan. The sweet iron taste of blood in his mouth triggered a sensual rush of heat to his head.

“I’m here to help you, woman! Stay still. We have to leave. Do you understand? The dogs have your scent.”

The woman nodded assent and whispered, “I’m so sorry,” when Trey removed his hand. As he pressed against her lean body, a surge of power passed through and over him, the like of which he’d never encountered. She seemed unaware that anything unusual had happened, but for him it opened every nerve conduit. Pleasure and pain morphed and oscillated and blended until his head swam with sensation. Body and soul separated, then merged and he knew a thing she did not; she was his and he ached to explore her essence. He pushed away, physically sickened by the separation. This was the one the witch had charged him to save, her daughter. How could this have happened?

He wasted precious seconds drinking in her aura, invisible before he’d bonded with her, but now glowing like a beacon for his enemies to see. He’d just branded her with the mark of death in this world. He wrestled with the tangled mess his feelings had become. He didn’t ask for this. He didn’t want it. How dare the O’Brien woman task him with this burden, for burden it surely was. Already the demands of the bond gnawed at his belly, turning his world upside down, distracting him from his mission. Why him? Why now? He dare not risk it all, his world and his people, to feed this need. The only way out was to summon the berserker rage, let it wash over him, sweeping away the hold she had over him. He had no choice.

Trey allowed the anger to build, not at a festering, toxic rate, but at full rolling boil, a volcano ready to blow. When the woman mouthed ‘who are you’ and squirmed against the pressure of his muscular body driving her frail form into the unforgiving brick, he dissociated, allowing the berserker rage to erupt in an inferno of anger. He slapped her face hard, rocking her head against the brick, the blood flowing freely from her nose and mouth. Long before he’d exhausted his furious descent into madness, the woman had sunk to a heap at his feet.

Trey stepped away, debating whether or not to simply leave her there. The rage sloughed away leaving him stone cold, nauseous and terrified at what he’d just done to an innocent. He heard the dogs coming closer but couldn’t move a muscle, not a twitch, as he stared at the blank heap of bone and sinew crumpled at his feet. Empty, her aura gone, he knew not where.

Dear gods, would they be so cruel as to bring him his heart’s desire only to have him crush it in one moment of insanity? Heart and soul, then cold intellect warred for control. If he could save her, one side argued... Then rationality reared its head. He could not afford the temptation, the loss of control, the rush of need and desire.

His. She was his
.

Legend spoke of this bonding though none since the shearing of their culture into two warring societies had ever experienced it. That he’d been so gifted at this critical juncture was unfair.

Trey gathered the woman into his arms and hobbled to the Porsche. His testicles still screamed in pain. He had to admire her strength. Surely he could find some way to keep her safe until he figured out how to deal with this unexpected challenge.

He settled her in the front seat, strapped her in, and paused to glance at GFI, the area resembling a three-ring circus. He would use his transport until he could find a reasonably secure jump point. He needed to prepare and he needed supplies. Most of all he needed time to think and he needed a plan. He wasn’t much good at plans but he’d have to learn. They were both on the run now.

From everyone!

––––––––

T
rey deftly guided the Porsche past the tractor-trailer groaning up the mountain. He’d driven with maniacal concentration along backcountry roads, relying on the GPS to guide him out of the maze of small towns and rural farmland in western Maryland. A light rain fell as he turned west onto Route 40. The engine purred a lullaby as they skimmed up the eight-mile grade.

He glanced sideways. Still unconscious, the woman’s face slipped forward and back with the vehicle’s motion, leaving streaks of blood glazing the glass. He’d have to clean her up before he stopped for fuel. The last thing he needed was to attract the wrong kind of attention.

He debated his options. He could find a jump point and take them to a remote location—it would be quick and easy. Unfortunately, the energy signatures were traceable by his people, or at least by their scientists. He had no doubt Gothi Eirik was already mustering a squad to deal with his latest debacle and they’d be on his ass in no time, leaving him little room to construct a plan, even less to execute it. Every time he used a Portal it was like leaving a trail of breadcrumbs and there was no way to know who or what followed his path. He had one ace-in-the-hole, a virgin jump point that not even Eirik knew about.

The woman stirred and moaned but did not awaken. The fuel gauge registered below a quarter tank, but before he could attend to that he needed to clean up the mess. At the next rest area, he pulled in and parked in a sheltered lower lot, away from prying eyes. Exiting stiffly from the vehicle, he headed up the steep concrete stairs toward the tourist center.

Only soft, sleepy chatter and the whine of traffic from the highway disturbed the night’s peace. With a quick scan to check if he’d been noticed, he entered the building in search of a maintenance closet. A bank of glass-fronted junk food dispensers on his left had his stomach growling. He hadn’t eaten in more than twenty-four hours, but his belly could wait awhile longer.

To his right, a door labeled “Employees Only” stood partially open. With a quick glance to see if anyone was watching, he grabbed a small bucket and a roll of paper towels, and headed for the entrance. The snack machine yielded several candy bars after he blasted energy through the coin slot—and pounded indiscriminately on the keypad. At the rear of the building, he found a spigot to fill the bucket with tepid water.