The Stone Warriors: Damian (10 page)

Besides, Damian was in such great shape that taking the stairs probably didn’t matter to him. Actually, the exercise was probably a nice change, what with him having been a statue and all.

“I parked out back,” she told him as they clambered down the stairs, filling the hollow space with noise that echoed. She was fighting to control her breath, because he was breathing as easily as if they were on a walk in the sunshine. Good thing he hadn’t been with her coming up earlier, when she’d returned from the store. She considered herself to be in excellent shape, but eight floors with a healing bullet wound was pushing it. She’d actually waited down the hall before entering the hotel room, because she’d been panting so hard he might have been worried about her. And the last thing she needed was him trying to be the big man taking care of the little lady.

It was bad enough that he was bigger and stronger and undoubtedly a far better fighter than she was, with or without weapons. But this was still her mission, not his. He was there to help her, not take over. Besides, he might be a natural warrior—okay, yes, he obviously
was
a natural warrior—but she had an advantage he couldn’t match. And that was time. As in, this was
her
time,
her
world. She understood this time period on a gut level. She’d grown up here. He hadn’t.

They exited the stairwell into the rear of the first floor lobby, then made a right turn for the door to the parking lot behind the building.

“This is a different vehicle,” he noted as they crossed the blacktop toward her GMC Yukon. “The weapons are inside?”

“Yeah,” she said, beeping the locks open. It was the second Yukon she’d owned—only one year old, and her baby. “Kind of a mobile backup unit,” she said, giving it a loving pat.

“I’ll drive,” he said with his typical arrogance.

She gave him a shocked look over the hood. She found the very idea of him behind the wheel of anything to be vaguely alarming, much less her beloved Yukon with its powerful V8 engine. “Again, no penis required here,” she said sarcastically. “But for the record, do you even know how to drive?”

“No. But everyone does it, so how difficult can it be?”

“Yeah. Maybe later,” she lied. Once he was no longer her responsibility, he could smash his way through half of the country for all she cared. But for now, she intended to keep him, and herself, in one piece.

“This is a personal vehicle,” he reasoned thoughtfully, as she drove slowly from the lot. He tilted his head curiously. “But your home is in Florida, you said. You drove all the way here?”

She
knew
she shouldn’t have told him that. Damn. Why did he have to be so sharp? And when had he’d studied a map anyway? She hated talking about this. “I like to drive,” she said simply.

“From Florida,” he reiterated, clearly angling for an explanation that she didn’t want to provide.

“I travel a lot,” she said, still hoping to avoid going into detail. Only her therapist knew about the closet. Nick had caught on to her claustrophobia a long time ago, and she was sure he had his theories about what had caused it. But he’d never pushed. Unlike
some
people. “Sometimes I feel like I live in my car,” she told Damian, making light of it.

He was still studying her. “But that’s not why you drove here. I studied the map of this continent while you were shopping—”

Well, that answered
one
question, but. . . . “Where’d you get the map?” she demanded.

“From your duffel,” he said, not at all apologetic for snooping through her things
again
. She made an exasperated noise, which he ignored. “I don’t know your city in Florida, but it’s at least a day and a night to drive here from there, while you could fly on one of your planes in a few hours.”

“How do you know
that?”
she asked in amazement. He hadn’t gotten that off of any map.

“Google,” he said matter-of-factly. “You left your computer on the table. I’ll have to acquire one of my own very soon. It’s a critical piece of equipment in this time.”

“My password . . . .” she said, wondering why she bothered.

“It’s buffEE. I watched you press the keys,” he told her blithely. “Your computer doesn’t think this is a very good password code, by the way.”

“I know that,” she snapped. “And it’s just ‘password’, okay? Not password code. Also, just because you happened to see . . .” She stopped what she’d been about to say. What was the point? He’d just do whatever he wanted anyway. Besides, he was right. He
would
need to catch up on technology, and her password
was
crap. She sighed.

“I don’t like to fly,” she admitted quietly. “I can, but I prefer to drive. When Nick called, I was only a couple of hours away, finishing up on another job. I was the closest member of his team, though that’s only part of the reason he called me. My talent goes beyond the ability to sense magic. I’m sort of a magical mechanic. I can see the flow of magic in a thing, and I’m also better versed than most in magic theory. Those two things combined mean I’m better than anyone I know at figuring out how complicated magical artifacts work.”

“Better than Nico?” he asked, his tone clearly indicating his doubt.

“Yes,” she drawled, “better even than him. At least, that’s what he always told me. He claims to see the big picture, while I see the pieces and how they fit together. Or, in this case, the magical energies and how they interact. A lot of devices, probably most of them, are pretty black and white. They have a purpose and it’s easy to see how they fulfill that purpose. But then there are the ones like the Talisman. Neither one of us is exactly sure how it works. Unfortunately, I didn’t have it long enough to do much more than identify it as the artifact I was after before I shoved it in my pack and ran. And you know how
that
turned out. So once I have it . . . that is, once I get it back, my priority will be determining how it works.”

“So you can use it yourself?”

“So Nick can destroy it,” she corrected softly. “It’s far too dangerous to permit in this world.”

He considered that. “So Nico is your leader, just as he was mine.”

“I guess so.”

“And you’re worried that I mean him harm, that I’m in league with Sotiris. But that would never happen. I am sworn to Nicodemus.”

“That was a few millennia ago,” she reminded him, as she made yet another turn, driving aimlessly up and down streets, watching her rearview mirror for anyone following.

“My oath was to the death. As long as there is breath in my lungs, my oath stands.” He studied the side mirror. “You believe we’re being followed?”

Casey closed her eyes briefly, struck by his remarkable ability to adapt. They might not even have had mirrors back in his time, not as such anyway. And yet he took all of this in stride—cars, mirrors, computers. Hell, what about weapons? He’d wielded an MP-5 automatic weapon last night as if he’d been born to it. She sure hoped he was on the up and up, because he’d be one hell of an asset for the good guys.

“No,” she said, answering his question. “It doesn’t seem like anyone’s paying attention to us, but I don’t expect that to last. I’m worried that Sotiris will learn that your curse was lifted and come after you. Will he? Do you know?” She glanced over and caught the shrug of his massive shoulders.

“I know nothing about it, but you should ask Nico. Or I could do it for you, if you’d let me talk to him.” He sighed mournfully, or at least what probably passed for mournful from a warrior god.

Casey laughed. “You don’t do the long-suffering martyr thing very well.”

He grinned back at her. “It’s not in my nature. I’m more likely to hunt down and kill my enemies than suffer their persecution. You’re fortunate that I like you.”

“Uh huh,” she muttered. Although privately, it gave her a little thrill that he
liked
her. A thrill that only served as a warning.
Do
not
get too friendly with the ancient warrior god!

“For what it’s worth, I believe you’re correct,” he said. “As the crafter of the curse, Sotiris should be aware that it’s now been lifted, and he’s cruel enough to want to trap me anew if given the chance. But just because he knows I’m free, that doesn’t mean he knows where I am. I could be anywhere in the world.”

“At least until he gets his agent’s report on last night’s firefight and the big blond guy with a huge-ass sword. I figure we have a little bit of a window, a day or two at the most, before he decides we’re worth his attention. If for no other reason than because we’ll lead him to Nick.”

“Nico does not fear Sotiris.”

“No, but he worries about you and the other warriors. Apparently, he’s been keeping his head down while he looked for you and the others, which was why he didn’t tell anyone about his magic. I’m not sure Sotiris even knew he was in this time and place. But something happened on his latest job to change that.”

“The job he’s doing with vampires.”

“That’s the one,” she agreed, noting again that Damian seemed to retain every bit of information she provided. And a lot more that she didn’t.

“You think Sotiris will follow us and lay a trap for Nico,” Damian deduced.

She nodded. “That’s why I asked Nick not to come until Sotiris had been drawn out into the open.”

“By us retrieving this Talisman of yours,” Damian said.

“Exactly.”

“Very well. I will help you.”

“Gee, thanks. Just one thing, big guy. This is my world, and I’m in charge.”

“And I am a god of war. You may find my knowledge of such things exceeds your own.”

“Don’t hold your breath waiting for that one. I’m in charge. Agreed?” When he didn’t say anything, she added, “If not, then I’ll do what I originally planned. I’ll check you into a hotel with great room service and satellite TV and come back for you when it’s over.”

“You assume I’d stay there. I was imprisoned for millennia, Cassandra. I have no intention of consenting to a new jail cell, no matter how comfortable.”

“I know that,” she said quietly. “And that’s not what I meant. But you’re a warrior—you should understand that someone needs to be in charge. If you can’t follow my lead, then we’ll just get in each other’s way. And this is too important. People will die if I fuck this up. I need to get that Talisman back.”

“Will you at least take my advice on occasion?”

“Of course. I’m not stupid.”

He smiled slightly. “Very well. Where do we start?”

A part of her wanted to hear the specific words, that he’d agree to follow her lead, but she figured this was as much of a commitment as she was going to get from him. Finally convinced that no one was following them, she headed directly to the other side of town and the new financial district, where one of her favorite hotels had just opened. “First, we’re checking into a new hotel, and then . . . how are you at research?”

Chapter Four

DAMIAN SET ASIDE his laptop computer. It was his because Casey had made one additional stop on the way to this new hotel. Standing in the huge store, it had hit him just how out of time and place he really was. He hadn’t known what half of the things in the damn store were supposed to do. There was only so much one could learn while trapped in stone on a rooftop. Sure, people came up there for clandestine meetings, or just to escape the pressures of work, and yeah, they talked to each other, and on their cell phones, but that was about it. They generally didn’t drag their computers or elaborate music systems along. Casey had been very willing to answer his questions and to explain everything they saw, and he’d taken it in as he always did, making it part of his knowledge. But there was so
much
to learn, and in the end, it had only made him feel stupid. And for the first time in his life, a little bit lost. This wasn’t his era. It wasn’t where he belonged.

Except that it was now. And he would have to learn to live in it.

He shoved the computer farther away and leaned back, bouncing his head a few times against the elaborate headboard. This hotel was much like the last. Long, quiet corridors of widely-spaced doors that led to elegant, well-appointed rooms. This new room had two beds, just like the last, but it was larger with a separate sitting area and work desk. Cassandra sat at that desk, being much more productive on her computer than he’d been on his. It should have bothered him. It didn’t particularly. Firstly, he couldn’t be expected to work as well as she did on the unfamiliar device, and secondly, even in his own time, he had never been a scholar. Scholars had their place, but it wasn’t on the battlefield. And that was precisely where he belonged.

Which raised a very good question. Why was he once again stuck within four walls, doing nothing but watching Cassandra work? Sure, he had his own computer, but that didn’t mean he was doing
anything useful with it. He’d learned very quickly that there was a vast difference between finding a Google map and actually doing research. A vast and
tedious
difference.

“You do know that I was trapped in a stone prison for thousands of years?” he asked, without any preamble.

It took a moment, but eventually Cassandra looked up. She had to blink a few times before she seemed to bring him into focus. “Huh?”

Well,
that
was hardly worth waiting for. “I said I’m bored. I spent a few thousand years in a dark cave with nothing to see at all, and the last hundred just watching, without any ability to interact with what I was seeing. I want to get out of this room. You wouldn’t even agree to go to the steak house for dinner.”

She scowled impatiently. “Look, I’m sorry about the restaurant, okay? But I’m sure the pictures in the hotel’s brochure make it seem much nicer than it really is, and you
did
have steak for dinner from room service.”

“Cold and overcooked.”

“I warned you not to get it.”

“Because it was room service. If we’d gone downstairs, I’m sure it would have been fine.”

She rolled her eyes in an exaggerated way. “I said I was sorry, okay? I had work to do. I still
do
. I need to figure out where they’ll take the Talisman, all right?”

“Of course. What you’re doing is necessary and important.”

“Thank you,” she said and started to turn back to her computer.

“But there’s no point in me being stuck up here, too.”

“I thought you wanted to learn your new computer,” she said without even glancing at him.

“I’ve learned enough for one night.” Enough to know he’d never learn it all, at least not without a lot of help. But he wasn’t going to tell her
that
. He rolled up and off in the bed in a single smooth movement, then reached back for his leather jacket. “I’m going downstairs.”

That got her attention. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said, a worried look in her dark eyes.

“Why?” he demanded.

She stared at him for a moment, and he knew it wasn’t because she lacked reasons for why he should stay, but because she was trying to find one that wouldn’t insult him. “The restaurant is closed,” she said finally.

“But the bar isn’t.”

“The bar?” she repeated, and he’d have sworn he could hear her heart racing anxiously from across the room.

“The place downstairs with people and music,” he said dryly. “We walked past it earlier. I believe they offer alcoholic beverages there.”

“I know what a bar is,” she said impatiently. “It’s just . . . it’s really not . . . I mean, it’s going to be really crowded.”

“Good. If I’m to acclimate to this new reality, I need social interaction. Don’t you agree?”

“Um. Sure. I guess I can do this stuff later. Just give me a few minutes—”

“I don’t require a keeper, Cassandra. You remain here and do your research.” He slipped his jacket on and headed for the door.

Cassandra was halfway out of her chair, frozen there as if torn between wanting to follow him or remaining with her computer to finish her research.

“Stay,” he told her. “I’ll be fine.” And then he pulled the heavy door open and stepped into the hallway, not believing in his escape until the door slammed shut behind him.

CASEY STARED AT THE closed door, thinking she could hear Damian’s footsteps as they moved down the carpeted hallway, which, of course, she couldn’t. She did hear what she thought might have been the muted ding of the elevator. But then, Damian would probably take the stairs just as they had coming up here. They were only on the fourth floor of this very elegant boutique hotel. The room was going to cost Nick a small fortune, but at least they’d only needed one.

Although now that she thought about it, she wasn’t at all sure it was a good idea to send Damian out alone into the world of expense accounts and dark hotel bars. Actually, she wasn’t worried about him so much as the rest of the population. He’d told her he wanted to live after all his years of imprisonment, but looking the way he did, she suspected that was code for wanting to get laid. And who could blame him? He was gorgeous, tall, built, and irritatingly charming. He’d be a big hit in the average hotel bar. And he’d been driving her nuts all evening, restless and complaining, pacing around as if he couldn’t sit still. But then, she supposed he’d done plenty of sitting—or standing—still up until now. He deserved to get out a little, and with him gone, she could do her work much more efficiently. She was used to working alone, after all. Used to having the quiet necessary to her concentration. She’d be much better off without him looking over her shoulder and asking questions, right?

So why couldn’t she focus now that he was gone?

“Stop it, Case,” she muttered and swung back to her computer, determined to figure out who Sotiris’s buyer had been, and where he might have gone to ground. Lips pursed, she stopped herself right there. She shouldn’t be assuming Sotiris was the one involved. The only thing she knew for certain was that there’d been major sorcery at work. It was the hellhounds that gave it away. One didn’t simply visit the local animal shelter and adopt a couple of adorable hellhound puppies. It took some serious mojo to drag them through the dimensions and then, even more importantly, to control them enough to make it worthwhile.

But that didn’t mean the magic worker was Sotiris, or even a full-fledged sorcerer. There were plenty of people wandering the world who could do a major spell or two. She’d cleaned up plenty of messes left by people who had enough magic to be dangerous, but no idea of what to do with it. That could be what had happened here. Maybe the buyer had found himself a fledgling magic worker to do the job for him. Or maybe he was working for someone else entirely.

It would be a serious mistake to focus her search too tightly this early in her investigation, and a fatal one if it kept her from finding whoever had grabbed the Talisman before they could use it. That was her greatest fear, that their plan was already in motion, and she had only days to find it and then figure out a way to stop it before the electrical grid shut down and planes started falling from the sky. Maybe she was living up to her name on this one, foreseeing doom where there was none. But the briefing Nick had provided when he’d given her this mission had mentioned the device’s weird energy signature, and specifically, his concern that if properly boosted, it could act like an EMP, an electromagnetic pulse that had the potential for use as a weapon of terror. It could send planes crashing to earth, killing hundreds, or even thousands, of people. Less dramatic, perhaps, but with the same disastrous potential, would be using it to shut down Wall Street or one of the other major exchanges. It was the perfect weapon for someone whose only goal was to create chaos and destroy lives.

So with all of that at stake, why was she sitting there brooding about Damian and wondering what he was doing downstairs? She told herself that it made sense. That, while Damian was apparently some kind of super soldier, he didn’t know this era, and their enemy could easily surprise him. Had he even taken a weapon with him? A gun or knife? There was his tremendous physical power, of course, and his intellect.

She frowned. Both of those would make him
very
popular with the ladies downstairs. But what did she care? Okay, sure, he was all of those things. You know, gorgeous and built . . . and smart. And, well, yeah, when he crossed a room, he didn’t walk so much as he prowled, with every muscle moving in perfect harmony with all of the others. She could only imagine the sorts of things a man with that kind of muscle control could do in bed. And stamina. Oh, yes, Damian and his god-like powers would have stamina to spare, not to mention all that built-up need, passion . . . hunger.

Her gaze lifted slowly from the computer screen, her eyes narrowing in consideration. She was feeling a little bit hungry herself. A little . . . needy. Sexually. She tended to avoid long-term commitments with men, but she was hardly celibate. She thought back to her last affair—if one could call a three-day weekend an affair. It sounded nicer than the alternative, though, so she went with it. She counted back the time in her head. More than a year ago. As a matter of fact, she’d picked him up in a hotel much like this one.

She should walk away from this. Turn Damian over to Nick and be done with it.

But then, the image flashed in her head of him sitting downstairs, maybe being targeted by someone much like herself for an
affair,
and her eyes narrowed. What the fuck? Why should she sit up there like some medieval nun searching through scrolls, while the gorgeous man who happened to be
her
roommate was downstairs being hustled by someone else? If anyone was going to get lucky with the very munchable Damian tonight, it was going to be her. After all,
she
was the one who’d rescued his perfectly toned ass from that curse.

Well, fuck.

Yes. Exactly.

DAMIAN SMILED AT the woman sitting next to him—her name was Sabrina—as she told him her life’s story. Or at least the story of her last few days, which included her reasons for being in this hotel at this point in time, and how she’d be going back home tomorrow, while tonight she had a room all to herself.

It was a story he was quite familiar with by now. Sabrina—if that was her real name—wasn’t the first woman tonight who’d tried to seduce him. Though their pursuit couldn’t really be called seduction. It was far too blatant. All of the women had been very clear about their intentions and his role in their plans for the night’s activities. They wanted a bed partner for the night. Afterward, he and his bedmate would part ways and never see each other again. It was what he’d done all of his life, back in his own time. He’d been known for it. And yet, despite Sabrina’s undeniable charms, he wasn’t interested. Just as he hadn’t been interested in the three women who’d sat on the barstool before her. He’d found fault with all of them. Too skinny, too brash, too perfumed . . . none of which would have bothered him before he’d been cursed.

He nodded at whatever Sabrina was saying, not really listening, but aware of her growing impatience. Apparently, he wasn’t responding the way he should, which would have meant following her into the elevator and fucking her brains out.
That
would be exciting, right?

But imagining sex in the elevator only made him think about Cassandra and her dislike for the mechanical lifts. That, plus her avoidance of air travel, led to only one conclusion—she had a fear of tight places. He could empathize with that. He wasn’t too crazy about confined spaces himself these days.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Sabrina pick up her glass of whatever pink alcohol she was drinking, and drain the contents. She was just leaning in to whisper a final proposition in his ear, when movement near the doorway caught his attention. He swung around. It was Cassandra, and he suddenly understood why none of the women who’d accosted him tonight had been good enough. None of them had possessed her confidence, the spark of intellect in her gaze as she scanned the crowded room, memorizing every face, cataloging every exit. She was tall and athletic-looking, her long, black hair flowing in shining waves over her shoulders and down her back. Dark jeans clung to her long legs, and a dark green button-up sweater hugged the full swell of her breasts.

Compared to the perfumed and coiffed Sabrina, Cassandra looked like someone who didn’t want to be noticed, though he wasn’t the only man in the room who was watching her. It made him wonder what she looked like when she
did
want to be noticed. Was there a man waiting for her back home in Florida? Did she dress up for him? Maybe bare some of that creamy skin he’d seen when he was bandaging her shoulder? He’d bet her breasts were every bit as smooth and unblemished as her back had been.

Her gaze caught his across the room and her eyes narrowed as if she’d read his thoughts. Damian had a moment to wonder if she’d been concealing a talent for telepathy, and then she was pushing her way through the crowd, making straight for him and the lovely Sabrina.

“Cassandra, darling,” he greeted her. “You decided to join us. This is Sabrina.”

She gave Sabrina a quick, assessing glance. “Hi,” she said, then moved closer, slipped her good arm over his shoulder, and leaned forward to take a sip from his drink.