Mercy Burns (31 page)

“Scream and I’ll fry you.” My voice was flat and my fingers glowed in warning.

“Who the fuck are you?” he spat, his voice a growl of low fury.

“A question I was going to ask you,” I replied, “because I don’t for one minute trust the name on your license.”

“Well, that’s too bad, ain’t it, because that happens to be my real name.”

I doubted it, but it wasn’t a point worth arguing. “Why are you here in Red Rock?”

“Visiting kin.” He paused, and his features twisted again. This time, it was pure fury. “What the hell have you done to my flames?”

“Doused them. And unless you answer my questions, I’ll make damn sure you never flame again.”

His gaze met mine, his expression disbelieving and yet a touch fearful. “Draman haven’t got the skills to do that. Only dragons have.”

“And many dragons still believe that draman can’t fly or flame.” I shrugged and reached forward, as if to touch his skin. He jerked away from me and I let my hand drop. “Answer my questions and I’ll leave you restrained but alive. Or would you rather risk your flames—and your life—in the belief I might be lying?”

He swore under his breath, then said, “They don’t pay me enough for this sort of shit.”

“Who doesn’t?”

“Some fellow named Franco. That’s all I know, I swear.”

“You contacted him through the Deca Dent nightclub?”

Ralph grunted, which I took for a yes. “I never went there,” he added. “It was all done by phone.”

“Is this the first town you’ve been sent to destroy?”

He frowned. “I ain’t here to destroy no town.”

“Then what are you here for?”

“I’m here with the darting team.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Darting team?”

“Yeah. They wanted to capture some muerte that was causing them trouble.” He paused and gave me the evil eye. “As well as his bitch draman. Someone obviously forgot to warn us the bitch could fight.”

And suddenly Leon’s bravado made sense. He might have paid a hefty price, but he’d been setting us up all along. Red Rock was a trap, not a town slated for destruction. Which made me wonder if Leith’s people were okay. I had to hope so, because I couldn’t phone to find out—I didn’t have the time and there didn’t seem to be any reception in this valley.

“And what happened to the muerte?”

“No frigging sign of him.”

Relief rolled through me. At least he wasn’t captured. Or dead. But it did beg the question—why was he hiding? “How many of you are there?”

“Six.” He shrugged, the movement awkward. “I think it’s overkill. It’s only one dragon, after all.”

Obviously, no one had ever explained to this man just what a muerte was capable of. But then, I shouldn’t have been surprised—he was draman, after all. And I hadn’t known about the muerte, either, until recently.

“How long have you been here?”

“We got here before eleven. Just as well I can flame, I tell you, because it gets damn cold here at night.”

“So what did you do with all the people living here?”

“Oh, they were eliminated weeks ago. This was one of the first places we did.”

“What did you do with the bodies?”

“Buried them, of course. We didn’t want their kin knowing they were dead—not that most of them
had
kin who would even care.” He stopped and gave a nasty grin. “Do you have kin who will care when you die, little draman?”

I didn’t answer, but the sick feeling in my gut was growing. My gaze darted along the tree line. I couldn’t see or feel anyone approaching, but that didn’t mean they weren’t out there, getting a line on me with a rifle at this very moment.

I licked my lips, torn between the urge to run and the need to stay and help out. Running wouldn’t stop these murderers, and it certainly wouldn’t save Rainey’s soul.

And I had less than two days left.

I closed my eyes against the brief surge of panic, then said, “Why did Franco have it marked as un-cleansed on his wall map?”

“How else was he going to set the trap?” He shifted again. “Listen, lady, I’m being helpful here. You could at least make me more comfortable. Undo some ropes or something.”

“Sorry, but I’m not that stupid.”

He swore at me—long, loud, and inventively. I couldn’t help smiling. “An interesting combination of
words, but it isn’t going to help. When did Franco contact you?”

“He didn’t actually contact me. He contacted Tomi.”

I rolled my eyes. No wonder no one knew who the head guy was—he was using too many intermediaries. “And Tomi is?”

“The guy who hires the rest of us.”

“So what time did this Tomi contact you?”

“About six thirty. It took us a while to collect everything we needed.”

Then it must have been Seth who’d contacted Tomi, not Leon, because by six thirty, Leon was well on his way to being dumped somewhere deep in the Pacific.

My gaze darted around, and again I saw nothing but darkness. But my unease was growing.

“So you’ve had no personal dealings with Franco—or anybody else?”

He shrugged. This time, the movement jerked the shoelaces against his neck, leaving a red mark. He glared at me balefully. “I heard some guy speaking on the phone a couple of times, when I was with Tomi.”

“Was it Franco?”

“No. Franco’s accent falls in and out. This guy’s didn’t.”

I had no idea what Hannish sounded like, but if he and Seth had known each other for a long time, it was possible that Seth was imitating Hannish’s accent. He’d always aspired to be more than he was.

“Ralph, what the hell are you doing out there?”

The voice was soft but clear. I jerked around, my heart racing and flames leaping across my fingertips before I realized the words were coming from the
speaker at his ear. I glanced at my captive. “Who’s that?”

“The boss. Tomi.”

I picked up the speaker microphone. “I want you to answer him. Give me away—or even make me suspect you’ve given me away—and I will kill you.”

His gaze met mine. Judging. Weighing. I have no idea what he saw in my expression, but after a moment, he nodded. I pressed the switch and held the mike near his mouth.

“I’m investigating the engine noise, as ordered,” Ralph said.

“And?”

“Nothing. Must have been just the wind.”

“Then get your ass back into position. The muerte is on his way, apparently.”

“Will do.”

I released the switch, ripped the speaker mike apart, then tossed the separate pieces as far away as I could.

“How long will it be before he starts missing you?”

I didn’t actually expect an honest answer, and I didn’t get one.

“Twenty minutes. Maybe more,” he said, his lie practically staining the air.

Meaning I probably had a few minutes rather than twenty.

“You’ve been extremely helpful,” I said, and with no warning, hit him as hard as I could. His chin snapped back and he was out before he even realized what was happening.

I checked his makeshift ropes a final time to insure they were still all tight, then sucked in the heat of his
refueling flames, leaving him with embers and me with another few vital minutes.

Then I rose and made my way down the hill, keeping it between myself and Red Rock. I ran quickly, leaping over rocks and fallen trees, my senses twitching with awareness but finding nothing. Only bugs and silence.

I looped around to the back of the town then stopped, my breath rasping past my lips and sweat beginning to trickle down my spine.

I raised my face to the sky for a moment, letting the distant energy of the dawn yet to come caress my skin.

What the hell was I going to do now?

There were five men out there, and I had no idea where Damon was. I knew he was here, but not much more than that. It was possible that Ralph had been lying, and that Damon was inside and captive—or even dead—and they were all waiting for my arrival. Hell, for all I knew, Ralph had sent a coded message to his boss. His words had seemed innocent enough, but that didn’t mean they actually were.

I blew out a breath, then shrugged the backpacks off my shoulder and tucked them securely into the broken remains of a tree trunk. It wouldn’t hold up to a concerted search, but at least it was hidden from a casual glance. The netbook and the stuff I’d stolen from Leon, were as safe as I could make them.

I glanced toward the top of the hill, feeling like I was about to step into a dark void, then took a deep breath and moved forward. Once near the ridge, I dropped to my knees and crawled until I could once again see the valley below.

Red Rock remained quiet.

No smoke drifted from any of the chimneys, and there was no hint that anyone was down there at all. And for all I knew, there wasn’t. The other five men might have been in the hills like me, watching and waiting.

But I had no choice. I had to go down there and see what was waiting for me, whether that was Damon or a trap.

I scanned the hillside and spotted a line of scrubby trees sweeping most of the way downhill. I wriggled back down the slope and then ran across to those trees, darting from trunk to trunk, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. My heart was racing and my stomach churning, but I made it to the last of the trees without being caught.

Whether I’d been seen was another matter entirely, and it wasn’t something I was going to know until someone actually jumped out at me.

I peeked out from behind the tree trunk. A barren space of about twenty yards separated me from the back of one of the old wooden buildings and deep shadows. And yet it seemed as exposed as a field in bright sunshine.

Nerves—who needed them?

I licked my lips and drew in a breath that remained free of any taint of danger. After a silent count to three, I raced forward. Out of cover, into the open. And it suddenly felt as if the eyes of the world were on me.

With fear giving my feet wings, I flew across the small strip of land separating me from the deeper shadows of the building.

I was almost there, almost safe, when I felt the sting in my neck.

I slapped at it, saw something silver fly sideways, and realized with a sinking sensation that it was a dart.

I reached the building and grabbed at the window frame, my gaze swinging wildly to the left and right, looking for my attackers.

I couldn’t see them. Couldn’t smell them. But they were obviously there.

If I had wings, I could have flown somewhere safe. But I didn’t have wings and I never would, leaving me yet again stuck on land and cursing the lack.

It was a curse that died on my lips as unconsciousness snatched away all awareness.

W
aking was a slow and painful business. My head felt as if it were stuck in the middle of two bass drums, and the reverberations were making my eyes water. The rest of me fared no better—it felt like I’d been hit by a truck. Again.

Add to that the fact that my flesh was so cold my fingers and toes were aching from it, and you had one big bundle of misery.

It was that factor, more than anything else, that had awareness surging. Why was I so damn cold? It was a hot day and I was draman. There was no way I should have been this cold.

I forced my eyelids open. Darkness greeted me. Darkness and air so cold every breath hurt.

Memories surged, reminding me of another time when the darkness had been all-encompassing and the air so cold it could freeze the insides.

I was in another freezer.

Oh,
fuck
.

I closed my eyes against the surge of panic. I
wasn’t
alone. Rainey might not be here to rescue me this time, but Damon was. He’d come. He wouldn’t let me freeze.

I just had to wait. I just had to remain calm. I gulped down several freezing breaths, then forced myself upright. My fingers stuck to the shelf and, as I tore them away, left flesh behind.

I swore and reached for my flames.

To find nothing but ashes.

It was a realization that hit like a punch to the gut. For several seconds, I couldn’t even breathe. Panic rolled through me, and it was all I could do not to start screaming. I’d only survived last time thanks to my flames; without them, I was dead.

No. I won’t die. I won’t let him win
. He didn’t last time and he wouldn’t now. My flames had been stolen,
not
destroyed. The dragon still lay deep inside; she was slumbering, not gone forever.

She would recover, albeit slowly.

Damn it, I
had
to get out of this freezer.

I rubbed my arms to get some blood flowing back into my limbs, glad that my captors had at least left me fully clothed. I might not have woken otherwise.

My fingertips began tingling—stinging—which at least chased away the numbness. I thrust upright, but my feet felt like lead and I almost fell over again. I stamped them hard and wriggled my toes to get some blood flowing. After a few minutes, they came back to aching life. I raised my arms, sweeping ahead of me as I walked carefully forward. Three steps, and I hit a wall. I followed it along, feeling with my fingertips and wishing I could see something, anything. But the damn
fridge was darker than night, and if there was a door then it was well and truly sealed.

I found a shelf, the metal as cold as the rest of this place, and felt along it. Plastic-wrapped packages and various-size boxes were stacked in what felt like an orderly arrangement. I continued along and found the junction of the walls. Following the second one soon had me touching rubber, then a door release. Relief slithered through me, and it wasn’t cold that had my fingers trembling as I hit the emergency release mechanism.

Only nothing happened. The door remained firmly closed.

God,
no
.

I hit it again, with the same result. The fear and panic rose again and I hit the door as hard as I could, needing to get out of this icy hellhole. And then I hit it again, and again, and again, until the door was dented, my knuckles were bleeding, and the pain was so bad that common sense crawled over the panic and I regained control.

Hitting the door wasn’t going to get me out of here, and the sooner I accepted that and concentrated on surviving, the better off I’d be.