Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
Despite Sage’s announcement at dinner, Leo hadn’t needed to rush back to Dr. Warmstone that same night. According to the seer, he could wait until morning, but no longer.
Initially, he’d planned to get wasted. His mouth watered at the thought of the belly-burning whiskey in his room. A craving that bothered. Did he really want to be hungover? He knew for a fact that it slowed his response time. Dulled his senses. If the shrink was in danger, then he needed to be at his best; hence why he avoided his room and instead entered Aquarius’ lair. For the curious, it was a computer room. Screens all over, some of them displaying news segments from around the world. The Zodiacs paid close attention to possible emerging issues. A bunch of mysterious deaths? People gone missing? Lights in the sky? All signs that required investigation. Most times, it turned out to be a human problem, but not always. And that was where they came in. Supernatural beings, aliens, ancient curses… they handled it all.
Aquarius must have left for the day since his seat sat empty in front of a trio of blank screens. Leo didn’t bother contacting him for help, because then he’d have to explain why he wanted information about a certain woman. For the first time in a while, Leo found himself curious. Had Cetus sent that thief? How did anyone know about the picture of that strange door and the journal? Did the journal contain clues about the purpose and location of the door? Who wrote it? Who drew the image?
His research didn’t reveal any connection between Ruth and Cetus, but he did find a few answers.
Dr. Ruth Warmstone, age thirty-five, lived alone in the brownstone she owned. It acted as home and office. She was an orphan, as her father, one Dr. Octavius Warmstone, had been declared dead seven years after his disappearance in a jungle down south. Mother died a few years ago having never remarried.
Speaking of marriage, his shrink seemed to be single. No kids. No pets. No parking tickets or any kind of infraction on record. Graduated in the top five percent of her class. No debt, other than her mortgage, which she could have slammed if she’d wanted with her bank savings.
Definitely not the type of woman who was used to being shot at. The screaming as someone fired at them in the parking garage gave it away.
“Why are they shooting?” she hollered, huddled in the footwell.
He used it as a teaching moment. “To kill us.”
“Kill us? Why?” she screeched.
“Dunno, but I told you they were after you.” Given Aquarius had managed to remote-start the vehicle, Leo slammed her SUV into reverse. Tires screamed as he spun the wheel, flipping them around.
Pop .
The bullet embedded into the windshield and started a web of lines that crackled as they spread.
“This isn’t happening,” Ruth moaned, huddled and hugging her knees.
“I thought avoiding reality was something shrinks disapproved of,” he commented as he floored the gas, speeding for the guy who stood in his path, pointing a gun.
“This is your fault!” she hollered.
He couldn’t help snapping, “I’m the reason you aren’t going to die.”
Pop. Pop. Pop .
Leo ducked as more bullets hit the windshield, causing it to collapse and bringing in a rush of air. Soon as the shooting stopped, he peeked out the front and cursed. He jerked the steering wheel, narrowly avoiding a concrete column and instead aimed for the gunman shaking his jammed gun, the reprieve lucky for them.
The fucker leaped to the side rather than get hit by the speeding Bronco. The path ahead clear, Leo straightened, only to grunt as a shot took him in the meaty part of his bicep.
The coppery stench of blood filled the cabin of the vehicle, but Leo endured the stinging wound as he zigged and zagged, making them a more difficult target. The bullets kept coming, slamming into the body of the Bronco. These people obviously weren’t interested in taking them alive.
He sped up the ramp to the second level of the parking garage, leaving the attackers behind.
No one shot at them as he headed for the incline leading to the first floor. Almost in the clear. He followed the signs marked Exit and was just about to celebrate their escape when he noticed the line of mercs spread in front of the door to leave the garage.
The abrupt halt as he slammed on the brakes rocked them hard.
“What’s happening?” she gasped.
“More bad guys.”
As they raised their weapons and began to shoot, he slammed them into reverse, the tires screaming and smoking as he spun them again with no idea where to go next.
Fighting wasn’t an option. Too many men, and if they were intent on killing Ruth, it would only take one well-aimed shot.
He spun them around a corner, putting them deeper into the parked cars on this floor, but it would only give them a temporary reprieve.
The engine smoked, one of the bullets having struck something in the engine compartment.
As he slowed them to a stop, he assessed their options. Not many. Make that none.
His shrink groaned. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Suck it up, Buttercup. We don’t have time for you to be losing it.”
“You’re mean,” she complained.
“Because I don’t have time for your whining. We are in a shitload of trouble.”
At his claim, she peered from the footwell and saw the armed men running toward them through the ranks of parked cars.
“There’s so many. How are we supposed to escape?” she squeaked.
“We’re not. I don’t even know if they’d accept our surrender,” his grim reply. They seemed more likely to shoot them.
“I don’t understand. Who are these people? What do they want with us?”
“That’s a complicated question, and we don’t have time. Where’s your dad’s journal?” He’d not forgotten about it.
“Glove box. You think if we hand it over they’ll leave us alone?” The suggestion had her twisting to open the compartment, but before she could reach in, he’d already grabbed the leatherbound tome and shifted his position to shove it in a pocket.
“Come here.” He patted his lap, and she blinked.
“Um, I don’t think so.”
“I need you close,” he growled.
“I am not going to be your meat shield,” she huffed.
“My what? Never mind,” Leo grumbled as he leaned over and grabbed hold of the shrink by her upper arms.
“Let me go,” his therapist hollered as his sheer strength pulled her from her hidey spot.
“She’s with a Zodiac,” yelled one of the gunmen. “Shoot before he escapes.”
Well, that confirmed one thing: Cetus most definitely sent them.
As the bullets began to fly, his shrink screamed, a shrill thing full of terror. He had no time to reassure. He called on upon his power and felt the tattoo that spread across his back heat. The warmth turned to intense cold as his constellation yanked him from the Bronco before it got slammed by missiles.
His shrink stopped screaming, most likely because, for a millisecond, they were nothing but atoms, disassembled motes that shot to the sky, to his constellation, and then back down to Earth. The Zodiacs called it starbeaming, a power they alone had, and, no, he didn’t understand how it worked. All he knew was his tattoo linked him to home: The Tower of Babel.
He arrived standing on his sigil, in one piece if still bleeding from his bullet wound. Dr. Warmstone hung limp in his grip.
Had she been shot?
He lay her down and checked her over quickly.
Nothing bled. She’d just passed out. It happened. Some human bodies found the passage through space more traumatic than others. At least she wasn’t hollering anymore.
Safety meant his adrenaline faded and his injury throbbed. He grimaced. Another scar. Yay. At least he didn’t have to suffer. He left his shrink and headed to the chamber next door to get patched up.
By the time he returned to the portal room, Dr. Warmstone had woken, and she wasn’t happy.
Not one bit.