Chapter Twenty-Five
MINA
My footsteps echoed along the length of the tunnel. The air was damp and stuffy. The ceiling wasn’t all that high, and the walls weren’t too wide on either side of me. Just wide enough for a pedestrian lane in either direction.
I raced along, wondering how fast Szabo could run. Praying Henrik could reason with him. Hoping Henrik would be inclined to.
A big if.
Henrik followed a few steps behind me — so close, we nearly crashed when I screeched to a stop.
“Dammit, woman,” he cursed, in as much of a hurry as I was.
I pointed a shaky finger at the figure trotting toward us from the other end of the tunnel.
Moments ago, the tunnel had been empty. Now, we were sandwiched in between two groups of strangers. I squinted ahead, praying for a friend, not a foe.
I didn’t recognize the language Henrik spoke in next, but I knew it was a curse.
Foe, then.
“Stay close,” he murmured, turning sideways to peer in both directions.
Never had I imagined I would voluntarily follow such a command coming from him. But I did, brushing his side as we stood trapped in the middle of the tunnel.
Henrik’s eyes shone bright red. His fangs and fingernails extended.
“Over there,” he instructed.
We shuffled over to a small construction zone. I leaned over the low fencing and grabbed a length of metal pipe. Then I yanked out my phone and checked for a signal. Nothing.
It was me, Henrik, and three feet of metal against the two…four…six figures prowling closer, three from one end of the tunnel, three from the other.
“The moment you spot an opening, run,” Henrik whispered.
A noble plan — truly — with zero chance of successful execution. Not with a trio of supernaturals blocking me from either direction.
Marius! I screamed in my mind, half hoping for a miraculous rescue.
But he’d been delayed by a vampire, and all I had for protection was Henrik and my own shaky capabilities.
I sniffed long enough to ascertain that the men on the left were vampires and those on the right shifters. Wolves, their musky scent indicated.
“Henrik.” One of the vampires grinned from a few steps away.
“Szabo,” he spat back.
Szabo bent into a bow, addressing me in an accent much thicker than Henrik’s. “And the lovely Miss Durand. A pleasure to finally meet you.”
His face was all angles, as if his creator had kept moving the ruler when sketching his outline.
“I believe we’ve met,” I said icily. “Though you turned your tail and ran rather quickly.”
The man behind him snickered, but Szabo kept up his arctic smile. “Perhaps, but you are the one running today.”
Not any more, unfortunately. Not now that they’d cut us off in either direction.
Then he switched to…Polish? Romanian? and spoke rapidly to Henrik. Something along the lines of Join us or perish, I guessed.
My knees wobbled. If Henrik did…
But even if he remained loyal, what hope of escape did I have?
Three pairs of vampire eyes lasered in on my neck, and I imagined their mouths watering.
A thousand questions raced through my head. Was Szabo the one who had threatened Marius with those pictures? How had he reached the south side of the river when he’d been sighted on the north side a short time ago? And yikes. Would these men suck the life out of me slowly or end it all quickly?
My palm sweated against the pipe, and my mind screamed.
Escape! Escape!
It wouldn’t feel right to leave Henrik behind, but living life as a coward beat dying nobly.
Still, that was a moot point. I had no way of sneaking around these killers.
Then it hit me. Actually, I did.
Shadow-walking.
I gripped the pipe hard, doubting I had the skill to pull it off around so many highly sensitive supernaturals. But given my lack of alternatives…
I took a deep breath and started cataloging my position. The lighting. The cracks in the asphalt beneath my feet, and the pattern of tiles covering the wall beside me.
The wolf shifters prowled closer, eyeing me greedily.
“You sure you want to kill her, Etienne?” one called to the stockier man beside him in French.
I froze. The one Marius had tangled with?
Brown eyes, long white teeth, nick in one ear. This was Etienne?
He rubbed his chin. “I’m starting to rethink that.”
The words sex and trafficking paraded through my mind like thugs in a police lineup.
I looked at my feet, trying to find a position that wouldn’t appear too odd for a terrified woman to remain in, unmoving, for several minutes. I was too panicky to pull off a walking, talking illusion.
Rolled up in a pathetic ball would be easiest — but a little too meek, even for my ego. So I kept my eyes on my feet and my shoulders slumped, letting my chest rise and fall as little as possible. Then I closed my eyes, duplicated exactly that image, and stepped away.
I forced myself to snap my eyes open and check the illusion. Not bad, really.
I inched toward the wall and started moving sideways.
The men continued conversing, shifters in French, vampires in Romanian, as I decided it must be. My shoe scuffed, and I froze, but no one looked over.
Slow…steady… I told myself.
I peered ahead, memorizing the look of each cubic foot of unoccupied space before slipping into it. One hint of my shadow on the wall, one line out of place, and I would be busted.
My mind ached with the effort of maintaining two parallel illusions.
“Now you’ve really scared her, Etienne,” one of the wolves laughed. “She’s like a block of ice.”
I focused all my attention on moving my illusion’s elbow and bowing the neck to appear even meeker. But I forgot to let the hair on fake me sway, and the effect was a little jarring.
A good thing Henrik changed position just then, covering my mistake with his shadow.
I thought it was a coincidence at first, but then he did it again, and I realized it wasn’t. Henrik had caught on to what I was doing, and he was doing his best to help me.
I’d never felt more grateful to a vampire. I also prayed I would never have to be.
I readjusted the angle of fake me’s neck and continued tiptoeing along. This was the really tricky part, because the three shifters had spread out across the width of the tunnel.
I flattened myself against the wall and continued, holding my breath as I pulled level, then past, Etienne, who was just inches away. His buddy stood half a step behind him, closer to the center of the tunnel, giving me more space to maneuver. I took another step, then another.
The wolf shifter frowned, and his nostrils flared.
I froze.
He looked around, then turned back to the others and asked Etienne to repeat whatever he’d just said.
Heart pounding, I moved faster. Still a snail’s pace, but a frantic one. Any second now, they would be onto me.
“Hey, you,” the closest shifter barked to fake Mina. Once. Twice. Then he whistled sharply for my attention.
Shit. He was definitely onto me.
I moved faster, a yard past him now. Two yards…
He turned his head, following my movements with his nose instead of his eyes.
“Wait a minute…” he muttered.
I broke into a jog, doing my best to replicate the empty space before me. But my nerves were too shaky, and my shadow jumped in and out of view instead of remaining invisible. The flickering overhead lights helped mask the effect, but—
“Shh,” the wolf shifter ordered.
Everyone went quiet. Even Henrik, dammit.
I halted a moment too late, and the slap of my foot echoed down the tunnel.
Muttering, one of the vampires reached for the illusionary me, which was now leaning strangely and weirdly out of proportion. Henrik moved to block him, but it was too late. The vampire’s pale, bony hand swept through the air, and—
I released the illusion and sprinted for the far end of the tunnel. Chaos erupted as the men gaped at the empty spot my illusion had occupied a moment earlier.
“She’s over there!” someone yelled.
“Get her!” Etienne shouted.
I ran for my life.
The pipe slipped out of my hand, and the man closest to me swore and leaped sideways.
The sound of metal bumping over cement echoed through the tunnel, and a lightbulb went off in my head.
I was moving too fast to shadow-walk in a convincing manner.
But I might be able to cast simple illusions to trip them up.
I tried a pipe first, because the feel of one was fresh in my mind. Still running, I formed an illusionary pipe in my hand, then threw it behind me.
“Merde,” the shifter cursed, dodging it.
He could have run straight through it, but he didn’t know that, and the metallic bumping sound I cast — a first ever for me — helped maintain the illusion.
The tunnel sloped gently upward.
I raced toward the far end, hurling a stream of hastily created illusionary items, starting with things I’d had practice with. A newspaper. A hat. A book. Another book — a big, thick one.
“What the…?”
The men chasing me darted from side to side, dodging the barrage.
Growing bolder — or more desperate — I started throwing more elaborate illusions.
Flying bats. Darts. Hailstones. None were real, so they couldn’t trip up those in hot pursuit.
Still, they formed enough of an obstacle course to keep the men from running at full speed.
One of my creations — a crooked frying pan — was so bad, they halted to stare at it.
“What is this?” one muttered.
I dropped the illusion before they tried grabbing it and ran on. The spiral stairs leading to the north bank of the Thames were only a few steps away now.
A scream rang out behind me. I cringed, picturing an innocent bystander caught up amid vampires and shifters. But a quick glance told me that was Henrik, sinking his clawlike nails into one of the vampires.
My steps faltered, because it was three vampires to one. Surely I shouldn’t leave Henrik to fight them alone?
Then I decided I definitely should. Especially when the three shifters stopped, hunched, and started morphing into wolf form. I gasped as fur broke out over their backs and their faces stretched into snouts.
I rushed on, taking the stairs two at a time.
The ring of my shoes over metal echoed through the tunnel.
Moments later, those echoes were joined by the swift, soft pad of paws.
Growls followed, and I nearly cried out in fear.
They were gaining, and I had no hope of throwing illusions at them while running in a spiral.
Marius! I screamed, if only in my mind. I’m sorry. So sorry…
Never, ever had I imagined that it was my destiny to be ripped to pieces by a pack of rabid wolves in a tunnel in London.
It isn’t, the back of my mind insisted. Keep running!
I pounded around three more stairs, and my next gasping breath was of fresher, drier air. I was nearly there!
A snarl sounded as one of the wolves tried to overtake another on the narrow stairs. They tangled and snapped at each other, letting me gain a few precious seconds.
I burst out onto a wide, grassy park. The night sky was shrouded with clouds, and the lights of skyscrapers shone behind a lower row of buildings nearby.
Another scream sounded from the tunnel, and I winced. Was that Henrik?
I didn’t stop to turn, though. Not even when snarls sounded behind me.
The faces of my loved ones flashed through my mind. My mother. My sister. My cousin. I pictured the chateau and everything I had hoped to achieve there. But most of all, I pictured Marius and the future we wouldn’t have.
A roar split the night, and I cringed, picturing more shifters closing in. God, they were everywhere. Even in front of me.
I squinted as a bright light flared between two buildings, then fizzled. Another roar sounded, and the light flared again.
I nearly stumbled, because that wasn’t a light. It was fire. And behind it…
A huge shadow swooped toward me, bulky in the middle, with narrower protrusions at each side.
Wings, I realized. Dragon wings.
It roared again, and my heart lifted. Marius?
Behind me, the wolves halted.
“Marius!” I croaked between gasping breaths.
The dragon raced in, skimming over the closest rooftops, then over the ground.
Get down! his roar burst into my mind.
I waited until the last possible second, then threw myself down.
Whoosh! Marius sliced the sky over me. The downdraft tossed my hair, and the air heated as a long line of fire scorched the park. The wolves scattered.
Keep running! Marius urged.
Rolling to my feet, I ran toward the buildings. Then two shapes burst out of the shadows ahead, and I halted.
Shit. This was it. I was finished.
But the beast on the left ran directly past me, snarling. I stared at the blur of dark stripes. The one on the right sprinted past too, and I spotted a thick, flowing mane. A lion?
Then I cheered. “Bene! Roux!”
Mayhem ensued, and I backed away from the snarls and screams. When things died down, I rushed closer, gesturing toward the tunnel.
“Henrik is in there fighting Szabo and two other vampires!” I yelled.
Bene flew into the pavilion and down the stairs, his long, tufted tail streaming behind him. Roux followed. I was of half a mind to follow, but Marius roared.
Don’t even think about it.
So I didn’t. I just stood there, listening as snarls and curses broke out in the tunnel.
Marius circled overhead, studying the ground. I turned, following his gaze. The earth was singed, and three lumps lay still on the grass. Marius lifted his mighty dragon muzzle and roared into the sky.
So, Etienne and his cronies were dead. But what about Szabo? What about Henrik?