Chapter Seventeen #2
He wouldn’t tell me if it was a mortal wound, so I turn my attention to the girls.
They share similar light brown hair and unusual grey-green eyes, though the older one has broader cheekbones.
Sisters, maybe. “We don’t have much time,” I say, fully aware that we still need to get to the diamond.
“You’re too young for . . . whatever this is, aren’t you? ”
“Mr. Prince said he’d pay for our college if we did what he said.” The older girl sounds remarkably composed.
“Which will be when? In two or three years?”
Her mouth tightens and she doesn’t answer me.
“How many more young people has Mr. Prince promised college?”
“Jessie and Curt,” the younger girl says. “They’re across the hall.”
“Anyone else?”
The older of the two sags against the wall, her composure giving way to her obvious fear. “Haven’t seen Geneva in a few days.”
“Not since that party, and Tommy won’t wake up, either.” For all that she’s the younger of the two, her tone makes it very clear she knows what she’s implying.
I have to swallow down a burst of rage and disgust. Damn Prince to hell, and de Lisle too if he’s involved in this. Glancing quickly at Rob and Will, I say, “Bring the other two here and we’ll lock the door.”
Rob takes off and Will snaps his fingers, resetting the glamour and resuming the blond woman’s appearance. “Need to get that diamond,” Will mutters. He’s right, but we need to finish this, too.
“Listen,” I say to the girls. “Mr. Prince is not a good person, and while you have no reason to trust me, I’m going to beg you to. Wait for us here, you and your friends, and please don’t make any noise unless you need us. If you scream, I’ll do my best to help you.”
The older one looks like she might argue with me until her sister nudges her. They exchange glances and whatever protest she has fades away.
“We will return, and we will get you someplace safe.”
They may believe me. Or not. The tense determination in the younger girl’s mouth makes me think she’ll be ready for us.
Either way, I don’t have time to hear their stories now.
Rob returns with the other two and, after a quick prayer to the Virgin, we leave the young people in the room.
Once in the hallway, Rob presses a hand to the doorjamb, muttering a quick incantation.
He’s the only one who’ll be able to open it now.
“Where to?” he asks.
Before I can answer, the door across the hall pops open, revealing a Black woman dressed in a quasi-military uniform. Her hair is in neat braids, her dark grey vest is studded with buckles and pockets, and the holster at her hip is empty.
Because she’s got a pistol pointed at me.
I catch her gaze and snarl, “Put it down.”
Her eyes darken. Her hand doesn’t move. My breath goes tight.
Rob nudges my elbow. “Come now,” he says, smile gleaming. “Let’s go inside and talk things through.”
“I don’t think so,” she says with a sneer. “Call Faith.” She tosses the words over her shoulder and my heart sinks further. We’re not getting out of this without a fight.
“Don’t.” I raise my voice in hopes her unseen companion will respond to it. “Let us in and we’ll wait for Faith together.” I grab hold of Will and pull him between me and Rob. “Unless you want your friend to get hurt.”
A flash of doubt crosses her face. “Masie?”
“Quiet.” Shaking Will, as if to discourage him from speaking, I continue to glare at the woman with the gun. “Stand down.”
Her eyes grow darker, and I worry she’s gearing up to shoot.
I’m planning what my next moves will be—shove Will out of the way and take the bullet in a limb if possible—when she shakes her head and slowly takes a step back.
“I don’t like this,” she mutters. Wordlessly, I push past. I don’t give a damn what she likes and doesn’t like.
There’s another armed guard, his vest even more elaborate than the woman’s, his nose hooked like it’s been broken more than once. His presence is at once threatening and reassuring. Threatening because he’s a shifter of some kind and he’s carrying a submachine gun.
Reassuring because Prince wouldn’t waste two armed guards unless there was something in this room worth guarding.
For the moment, though, we’re at a standoff. I scan the room. The windows are large and look out toward the tennis court. There’s not much in the way of furniture, and what’s here is clean. Functional. Utilitarian. A chair. A small desk. A laptop. And three large, grey safes with combination locks.
A fourth safe, this one lacquered white, is mounted on the wall between the windows. It has a gold dial at the center and a gold toggle handle, and if I were Elian Prince, that’s where I’d keep something beyond value, like a priceless necklace.
I’m even more convinced we’re about to fight. “Nasir,” I say under my breath, and Rob reaches for his phone.
My only weapon is my silver dagger. Moving slowly, I grasp the handle, loosening the snap on the sheath on my thigh.
The woman tracks my movement, her lips curling in a smirk, as if she’s amused rather than threatened.
Since she was able to resist my effort to compel her, she’s likely not wholly human, adding another complication.
A soft whoosh from behind me is my cue. Rob has notched an arrow and, quicker than their eyes can track, I fling my blade, catching the male guard in that small, vulnerable space below his Adam’s apple.
Though there’s not enough blood for me to have hit any of the big vessels in his neck, he goes to his knees anyway, no longer able to breathe.
If he shifted, he could heal himself, but the silver in the blade won’t permit him to do that.
Will, having dropped the glamour, springs forward and snatches the man’s gun. Before he straightens, the woman has lowered her weapon, her eyes wide. “Yeah, I don’t know what this is,” she says, shaking her head. “Fucking vampires.”
Will takes her gun and waves her into the room’s one chair. In a matter of moments, he has the woman zip-tied to the chair while Rob moves closer to the safe.
“Excellent.” A new voice joins us. I pivot, ready for the next battle.
Faith stands in the doorway, tall, lithe, and empty-handed.
Her weird cat’s eyes are enough of a threat.
I need to keep her busy long enough for Rob and Will to open the safe and exchange the real Belle Etoile necklace for the fake one Will created.
Grinning, I give over to my wolf, landing hard on four paws.
With a wild cat’s scream, she does the same, and before she can react, I charge.
She might have longer claws, but I’ve got the greater mass.
I bowl her over, knocking her several feet down the hallway.
Before she regains her footing, an arrow slams into the wall over our heads and the door slams shut behind me.
From there, the fight is on.
Marcus
Connor starts walking toward the house with David on his heels.
I follow, wondering whether I’ll accidentally shoot something important if I put the gun in the pocket of my hoodie.
It’s small enough to fit. Instead, I carry it awkwardly at my side, hoping like hell this is all overkill and no one has to shoot anyone.
We come to a gated driveway, and my phone says we’re in the right place. I put my hand on the top rail, planning to take a big leap over the barrier. The gate starts to move before I do, swinging in like a silent invitation.
“Okay, that’s weird,” Connor mutters. “Should have tighter security than that.”
We move past the barrier and down the stone driveway.
Between the three of us, we’re generating enough tension that we probably wouldn’t need a flashlight, even if the last rays of the sun weren’t giving off an amber glow on the horizon.
The wind carries a hint of cigarette smoke and the sweet scent I associate with Rob.
They’re here somewhere. Except it’s too quiet.
I mean, the ocean’s right there, but the waves are a distant rumble.
The house is embedded in the landscape, a hulking shadow in the fading light, with glowing windows that give it shape.
“Vampires.” David speaks low, a touch of growl in his voice. There are a pair of large black SUVs, Escalades maybe, parked close to the house.
“Last report I saw said Prince has something like twenty scions,” Connor says as we circle a white marble statue surrounded by potted succulents, their bulbous leaves lit from underneath and falling like a weird fountain.
Palm trees flank the walk, their disturbing shadows a spiky contrast to the succulents.
More unsettling, the front door appears to be ajar.
“Not good.”
I don’t know whether it was Connor or David who spoke, but I absolutely agree.
“Look.” David spins around to face me, his eyes big and dark, no longer joking at all. “Whatever’s in there is bad. I can feel it. Shift with me or let me help you. It’ll be safer that way.”
I don’t answer right away, giving myself time to seriously consider his offer. He’s not wrong, but—“I’d rather you weren’t here at all. I’ve caused you enough damage.”
Connor makes a soft grunt, and David holds up a hand. “Shitty timing, dude. What’s done is done, and if your friends need help, I’m here for them.”
“Fuck.” I fight to swallow the lump in my throat. “You mean that.”
He nods and says, “Yeah.”
“You’re . . .” I don’t have a clue what to say.
This is the first time I’ve felt even remotely close to David in well over a year, and it happens to be while we’re about to dive into somebody else’s fight.
The thought that John might get hurt, or hell, that he might already be dead, twists something deep in my belly.
David reaches for my hand, his voice soft and insistent. “Come on, dude. Let’s shift.”
Yeah, I guess we’re doing this. Me and my best friend. Despite a bad case of situational overwhelm, I can’t help feeling a glimmer of hope that David and I might reclaim an actual friendship. Grasping that with everything I’ve got, I allow him to pull me into my wolf form.