Текст книги "Savage Awakening"
Автор книги: J. Tyler
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“Positive. Go!”
Pushing to her feet, she gave Sariel a nervous smile. “Thanks. See you soon.”
“And with any luck I’ll get to meet this brother of yours.”
Emotion clogged her throat, so she opted not to answer. Instead, she heaved a deep breath, stepped around the back of the SUV, and began to walk slowly toward the group that was gathered next to two of the Hueys, busy holstering guns and strapping on knives. Part of her was relieved to see some good old-fashioned artillery in the midst of all the crazy I’m-not-human crap. The other part was worried that Sariel was wrong about the spell working around these guys.
But no one noticed as she walked right up to the group. What a freaky trip. Damn, she’d love to use this trick on the guys back at the station.
Nick slung a pack over his shoulder. “Kalen, you and Hammer ride with me.” The Sorcerer and the bald man, who she guessed to be Hammer, answered in the affirmative. Jaxon, Zan, and Ryon headed for the second copter.
Four pilots climbed into the copters, a pilot and a copilot for each. Since they hadn’t been introduced earlier as team members, and weren’t armed, she figured they might be hired as needed per mission. This would leave the rest of the team free to deal with whatever they were facing.
Rowan hovered as the two groups of three separated and began to board the copters. Just as she took a step, Nick whirled and gazed in her direction with a frown. Heart pounding, she froze. He searched, and at one point his eyes actually met hers, causing the spit to dry up in her mouth. How the hell could he sense someone there when the others hadn’t?
After a few nerve-racking moments the boss turned and climbed aboard his waiting Huey. Rowan hurried to scramble into the other one. No way was she taking a chance on some psychic dude ferreting her out before she was ready.
The men got settled. Spotting an empty jump seat at the back, she sat down and tried to calm her fears. Not for herself, but for what she might find when she saw her brother.
A hum sounded overhead—the roof hatch opening. The Hueys geared up for takeoff, shuddered, and lifted, the noise deafening.
She was in this op for the long haul now.
No turning back.
Four
H elp me. God, please.
Or just let me die.
Aric curled into the fetal position on the grimy concrete floor of his cage and tried to breathe through the agony. But the pain wrapped around his ribs, squeezed his lungs, so that drawing in air was nearly impossible. Every inch of his body throbbed, and his balls burned and ached where Bowman had taken what didn’t belong to him. But all his equipment down there was still accounted for, not that it would matter soon.
Never had he wished for death. That was before he’d been treated worse than an animal, before he’d experienced the worst of humanity and had it driven home that if his team didn’t find him, and soon, this was the end of his life.
I want to go out on my own terms. Not bound and stripped for parts until there’s nothing left and they stick a needle in my arm.
He opened his bleary eyes, squinted, and then winced as even the dim light coming from the adjoining lab pierced his brain like a laser. Twisting his head, he saw nothing but bars all around and above him, a miniature prison not even tall enough to stand in. It’s a damned dog kennel.If he’d been capable of laughing, he would’ve. Reaching out, he skimmed a shaking hand along the floor, cursing that he was too weak to raise his fucking arm. If he could barely move, he sure as hell wouldn’t have the strength to do himself in.
Goddamn, he couldn’t believe he was being forced to consider that kind of shit. Pissed, he used every ounce of strength to push himself to a sitting position. It took several minutes and when it was finally accomplished, he leaned his bare back against the bars—an act that probably took off several strips of skin.
“Fuck!” Pitching forward, he tumbled away from the bars, panting.
Silver. The bastards had used motherfucking silver bars to line the cage. Why the metal had burned him, however, was baffling; simply coming into contact with silver wasn’t supposed to hurt in his human form. Being stabbed or shot with it? Sure. So this went down as one more torment to face, the fact that even if he regained the power to shift or use his other gifts, he couldn’t bust out.
He couldn’t take this much longer. He and his wolf were already going out of their collective minds at being held against their will. Hunched over, he concentrated on calming himself. Taking in air, exhaling. As he did, awful smells began to invade his battered senses.
Urine. Feces. Unwashed bodies and the stale, untouched crap that doubled as food. The stench turned his stomach and he concentrated on not being sick. That would only make things worse and—
Another smell seeped into his consciousness and Aric slowly raised his head. I know that scent. Oh, my God.
“Micah,” he whispered. Then louder. “Micah?”
No answer. For the first time, Aric took stock of the area outside his own prison. His cage was one of many in a row against the wall, and several other figures lay crumpled in theirs much as he’d been when he’d awakened, naked and hopeless. Closing his eyes, he inhaled through his nose, desperately shutting out all but the one scent he wanted to discern, following the trail to the end.
Behind him. Somewhere close. Scooting around to face the opposite direction took forever and left him panting, aching as though he’d been beaten with hammers. But he had to learn the answer to the question that had haunted the Pack since they’d discovered their brother might be alive—where was Micah?
And the answer was right in the next cage. His old friend lay on the dirty floor, curled into himself as though that would keep the monsters at bay. Micah’s brown hair, once a rich sable color worn to his collar, was now filthy and matted, so long it pooled on the concrete around his head. Strands hung over his angular face and his eyes were closed. The man’s breathing was ragged, the horrible rattle in his lungs attesting to his lack of medical care. That fact plus a plate of uneaten dry dog food by the barred door—fuck those assholes for giving his friend that shit—and Micah’s pronounced ribs, hip bones, and concave stomach, told the story of just how critical his situation had become.
His friend was on the brink of death, and Aric could only sit and do nothing.
The urge to reach through the bars, offer comfort, was overwhelming. It hit him that this was likely part of the reason the metal was made of silver, to keep the “test subjects” from having any sort of positive contact, to kill all hope, and it made his blood boil with rage.
“Micah? We’re gonna get the fuck out of here, soon as the Pack comes,” he whispered. “And they willcome. You hear me?”
His friend didn’t stir.
Aric lowered his head. And for the first time he could recall, tears dripped off his chin to mix with the filth on the floor.
Talk was scarce on the helicopter, given the noise. Rowan would’ve felt a little better with a few more details about where they were going and the plan of action on arrival, but that would have to wait. For now, she sat and eyed her group, still amazed that they were oblivious to her presence.
Guess there’s something to be said for magic after all.
Which brought to mind the gift Sariel said she possessed. Days ago, she’d have dismissed the idea as insane. Now? She’d seen so much in the short time since she’d arrived at the compound, it was mind-blowing. She wasn’t crazy, so that left only one other option.
And she was beginning to believe.
Micah was a Dreamwalker, Nick had claimed. She and her brother had shared dreams since their childhood. Were they able to do that because they shared the same gift? How could she find out?
A headache began to form, so she stopped thinking about anything but getting to her brother. Nothing else was as important.
The Huey began its descent and she checked her watch. Almost two hours they’d been in the air, and it seemed like eons. In minutes the copter touched down and the men prepared to disembark, some checking weapons. All of them, she suspected, qualified as a weapon themselves.
Rowan filed out behind the men, standing off to the side to avoid bumping into anyone as they gathered. Checking out their surroundings, she noted they’d landed in a field bordered by woods on all sides and majestic mountains in the distance, all of it against the vast, beautiful backdrop of a full moon and a zillion stars.
“This is a change,” Jaxon commented. “Chappell usually prefers to set up his clandestine operations in or near major cities.”
Nick agreed. “Don’t know why he thought moving one of his sites to Bumfuck, Colorado, would draw less attention from the locals. Took a while for our government contacts to sniff this one out, but his tactic eventually backfired.”
“Still think we should’ve gone in hot,” Ryon said anxiously. “I don’t like giving the goons time to find out we’re here. Those Hueys can be heard for miles.”
His comment earned him a smack in the back of the head from the bald guy, Hammer. “Idiot. You forgetting last time we went in guns blazing? They were waiting for us, which is how things went to hell and they snatched Aric.”
The blond’s expression was suddenly haunted. “They’ll be ready for us, anyway. The ghosts around us, some of their victims, I think, are urging us to be careful.”
Rowan stared at him. Ryon’s “gift” is communicating with the dead? The others get to do all sorts of cool stuff and this poor guy gets stuck with being followed around by a bunch of stiffs? Jesus, that sucks.
“This time we go in quiet,” Nick reiterated. “Remember, watch for traps or any signs of an ambush. Detain any personnel who are on duty and liberate all prisoners. Grant has ground transportation waiting close to the target to assist with the victims who need urgent care. Let’s go—and be careful. We can’t afford another screwup.”
As they moved out, she jogged behind the group, thinking not only of Micah but also of the other man, Aric. The Pack was devastated over the loss of all their men in the past few years, but Aric’s capture was recent, salt poured into a reopened wound. The guys spoke of him with equal parts aggravation and reverence, and she wondered what he’d be like. For some reason beyond the obvious one that he was their friend who was in danger, she hoped she would have the chance to know him.
She was so engrossed in her musings, she failed to see a fallen log the others had cleared easily. Cursing, she jumped at the last second and almost did a face plant in the undergrowth. Then she nearly ran right into Zan’s back when Nick, in the lead, brought the group to an abrupt halt.
“Wait!” Nick cocked his head. “I could’ve sworn I heard a woman’s voice.”
“I heard it, too,” Zan said, looking around. “Sounded like she said ‘shit.’”
Rowan repeated the word, in her head. Damn it, Sariel’s spell must be wearing off. But if it just would last until they reached their destination, Nick might not send her back to the helicopter.
“Maybe it was one of Ryon’s spirits?” Jax suggested.
“I’m not sure, but I guess anything’s possible,” Ryon speculated. “They can sometimes gather enough energy to make themselves heard.”
After a few tense moments, Nick led them on. Though she was a police officer and in great physical shape, it was a miracle that she kept up, since their night vision and endurance far surpassed hers. By the time the boss slowed and signaled his men to crouch, she was drenched in sweat. The others weren’t even winded.
Squatting at the end of the line beside Zan, she caught her breath and peered through the trees at the building illuminated by moonlight. Not just any building, she realized, but an old abandoned church, as evidenced by crumbling walls, sagging roof, and the weeds dotting what once must’ve been a pretty lawn, the tallest of them sprouting almost to the bottom edge of the broken stained-glass windows.
“What a fuckin’ disgrace,” Hammer hissed. “Using a house of God for the sick shit they’re doing.”
The others muttered their wholehearted agreement.
“Where are they hiding their cars?” Jax mused. “The lot is empty.”
“Who cares? Let’s kick some ass.”
“Damned straight.”
Spirits ran high. She felt the adrenaline, the excitement among the Pack, not so different from when she and her fellow officers worked a dangerous call. But in that moment, she sensed a tangible bond among these men that ran deeper than what she had with her peers. These men truly were brothers in all but birth, their bond forged by blood, tears, and struggle.
Moving soundlessly, they left cover, splitting into two groups. Nick led Hammer and Kalen directly to the front, while Jax headed around to the back, followed by Zan and Ryon. For no particular reason other than a gut feeling, because subjects who fled a scene typically hauled ass out the back way, Rowan opted to go with Jax’s team. What she expected was runners, maybe armed, perhaps a round or two popped off.
What she wasn’t expecting was a full-out war.
The back of the church erupted in a collective roar, black shadows detaching themselves from the doorway and several open windows. As prepared as the team believed themselves to be, it was immediately clear they were outnumbered—and facing something horribly familiar.
“Not thosefucking bastards,” Zan hissed, bringing up his hand cannon.
“And this time they’ve got help.” With that, Jax shifted into a big gray wolf and ran to meet the enemy, leaving his clothes and human weapons in a pile on the ground.
Rowan didn’t have a spare second to marvel at seeing a man shift into his animal for the first time. Fear for her new comrades propelled her forward and she dove for Jax’s discarded gun as Zan opened fire on a creature hell itself must’ve birthed.
Like its buddies, the thing had leathery black wings, a stout, hairy body, and a greenish wrinkled and cracked face not even a mother could love. Saliva dripped from razor-sharp teeth in its gaping mouth, and it rushed Zan, obviously intent on tearing the man to shreds.
Zan’s shots barely slowed the beast, and it closed the gap, fast. In one fluid motion, Rowan raised her gun, sighted its head, and fired. The beast’s skull exploded, and it dropped in midstride, sliding to a halt at Zan’s boots.
“Shit!” His face reflected the terror of his close call. Then he seemed to realize it wasn’t his shot that had brought the thing down, and he glanced around in confusion before rejoining the battle and assisting his friends.
A surge of adrenaline flooded her veins. This invisibility stuff came in handy; too bad she couldn’t use it on the force. She took advantage now, though, picking off the ghouls left and right, doing her best to keep the ones closest to the men from reaching them. The Pack was too busy to investigate the source and the beasts were too stupid.
But her luck was bound to run out. When one of the ugly bastards swung his head in her direction, yellow eyes meeting hers and blazing with hatred, she knew Sariel’s spell had finally worn off. In mute horror, she raised her gun, got off a shot as it charged. And missed.
The beast closed the distance with dizzying speed. Just before it reached her, however, a silver ball of fur came from the left and launched itself at the creature. A wolf collided with the ghoul and they both went to the ground, the canine snarling, going for his enemy’s throat. He missed and the ghoul raked his side with knifelike claws, ripping through his coat. The wolf cried out, twisted, and resumed his attack. On they battled, and Rowan couldn’t get a good shot at the beast without risking the wolf.
Glancing anxiously at the rest of the fight, she saw Zan and the big gray wolf she knew to be Jax still engaged in the fight across the yard. That meant the wolf who’d saved her ass was Ryon—and he was losing.
Just as he managed to sink his teeth into the ghoul’s throat, the thing tore him free and threw him aside. He sailed through the air, hit a tree hard, and slid to the ground, unmoving. The creep returned its attention to Rowan and she could’ve sworn it smiled.
She aimed, but before she could fire, Nick ran around the side of the building, Kalen and Hammer hot on his heels. The Sorcerer took in the situation and slid to a stop. A big staff appeared out of thin air and he gripped it in his right hand as he knelt, arms straight out from his sides, head back.
Closing his eyes, he began a chant in a language Rowan thought might be Latin. Instantly, everyone froze in place, even Rowan. She could move only her eyes, and she noted that the battle stopped in the middle of some macabre, deadly dance. That weirded her out, but not nearly as much as what came next.
The beasts began to… enlarge. Just inflate, like they were oversized tires that someone was airing up. Their yellow eyes rounded in fear and one managed a whimper—
And then they exploded in a shower of greenish black matter. God, it stunk. If Rowan had been able, she would’ve gagged.
Head back, Kalen closed his left fist tightly, shook it. His comrades were freed, including Rowan, and she dropped to her knees. The Sorcerer slumped forward, supporting himself with the staff, breathing hard. Nick hurried to his Pack mate, steadying him.
“My panther couldn’t have fought those things,” Kalen said hoarsely. “Too many of them. I did the first thing that came to mind.”
“You did good, kid,” Nick praised, clamping a hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”
He nodded. “I’m fine, just need a sec.”
Jax shifted back to human form and began pulling on his clothes. “No wonder. Must take a helluva load of power to blow up one of those bastards, much less a whole army of them all at once.”
“You could say that.” Kalen tried to make it a joke, but nobody was laughing.
“Oh, God,” Zan whispered. “Ryon!”
Following Zan’s gaze, the others saw where their friend lay crumpled on the ground several yards away. Zan reached him first, dropping to his knees. Once again in human form, Ryon was sprawled on his side. White-blond hair feathered around his handsome face and his eyes were closed. Four ragged gashes, bleeding heavily, marred his left side, and he was peppered with cuts and bruises.
Zan took his shoulders and spoke to Jax. “Help me roll him onto his back.”
Once this was accomplished, someone tossed Ryon’s shirt over his package for her sake, Rowan figured. Cursing herself, she watched as Zan placed both hands over the wounds on his friend’s side.
“If it wasn’t for me, he’d be okay,” she said softly.
“No,” Jax said sharply, glancing up at her. “If you hadn’t been here, those bastards would’ve torn all three of us apart before Kalen got to us. Because they couldn’t see you at first, you took out a lot of them and saved our bacon.”
Nick’s gaze was like twin blue lasers as he looked at her. “Is that true?”
She just shrugged. No way was she gonna take credit when Ryon had ended up hurt, or worse. “I missed my last shot and that fucker got him. That’s all I know.”
“Who cloaked you?”
She saw no benefit in trying to hide the answer from a psychic. “Sariel. But he had his reasons and his heart was in the right place, so if there’s any punishment to be dealt, it’s mine.”
Something like respect flashed across Nick’s face and was quickly replaced by a neutral expression. He nodded, turning back to his fallen man. Zan’s hands were now enveloped by a greenish glow that spread outward and appeared to sink into the gashes. Gradually, as Rowan stared in astonishment, the torn flesh began to knit together until the wounds vanished.
“Lacerated spleen,” Zan rasped. “Give me a couple more minutes.”
Minutes. To heal a serious internal injury. Half the population wouldn’t believe in Zan’s talent, and the other half would line up at his door if they knew. For her part, she saw the truth with her own eyes. That’s all she needed.
Ryon blinked, his lashes fluttering. He stared up at his companions, awareness of what had happened dawning slowly. “God, I thought I was done. Are those damned things dead?”
Zan patted his shoulder. “Yep. Kalen turned them into birthday balloons and popped ’em.”
“Gross.”
“Come on, let’s get your clothes on and then I’ll take you back to the helicopter.”
“Uh-uh. If our friends are in there, I’m not missing out on the reunion. Just help me up.” He paused. “The spirits are upset, urging us to hurry.”
Zan and Nick pulled Ryon to his feet. Rowan returned Jax’s gun to him, then turned away while Ryon dressed, too eaten with guilt to appreciate the sight of his fine naked body. He’d sacrificed himself for her—a stranger—without a second thought and nearly died for his trouble.
As a cop, putting herself on the line for people she didn’t know was what she did. Why did it bother her to be on the receiving end?
When everyone was ready, Nick gestured toward the back door. “Let’s stay together this time and follow the ghosts’ advice to get a move on. I’m sensing it won’t be long before reinforcements show up.”
They headed for the back stoop and filed inside cautiously, Rowan in the middle of the line. She couldn’t see as well in the gloom as they likely could, but her sense of smell didn’t need to be equal to theirs to guess what waited for them. The stench clogged her lungs, and fear for Micah seized her heart.
“Holy Christ,” Kalen gasped from somewhere in front. “I know Chappell and his docs don’t care about how they hurt others with their experiments, but how can they stand to work in this awful smell?”
“Probably just used to it,” Nick said.
Someone found a light switch and flipped it on. The group stood in the area that used to house the pews but now was a large, mostly empty room. A utility table and folding chairs were placed near one wall, and four camping cots topped with sleeping bags and pillows were in different corners.
“Where did the scientists go?” she wondered aloud.
Nick answered. “They’re either hiding while waiting for more backup, or went into the nearest town for a while and have no clue we’re here. This way.”
A set of double doors at the rear of the room took them into a hallway leading to what had once been classrooms where various groups had held their Bible studies. Now many of the rooms were full of computers and lab equipment. Methodically, the men checked each room along the way for booby traps, locating five trip wires attached to explosives, which they carefully disarmed.
At the end of the hallway, the smell, unbelievably, got worse. Nick eased the last door open, looked down, and pointed. Jax got busy dismantling the last trip wire, and then they were in. Jax flipped on the light, and they rushed inside—straight into a nightmare.
“Aw, fuck me,” Hammer moaned.
Rowan stared, unable to process what she was seeing. Cages lined two walls of what might’ve once been a storage room, currently being used as a prison. And inside the small cages were men. Filthy, naked men too large for the restrictive space, lying curled on their sides. Some staring and unresponsive to their arrival, some unconscious.
There. A man with long, tangled brown hair. Could it be… ?
She was moving before she realized it. “Micah?” Reaching the cage, she dropped to her knees—and the air left her lungs. She’d know her brother anywhere, no matter how changed his appearance. She rattled the door and cried out. “Somebody find a key! Micah!”
Zan knelt beside her and sniffed the air. “By God, it ishim!” He touched the bars and quickly drew his hand back with a curse. “Silver, and this stuff burns. We’re going to need gloves,” he called out.
“Aric’s over here,” Jax shouted.
Ryon jingled a key ring. “These were hanging on the wall. We’ll just have to try them and see if any fit.” He tossed it to Zan, then walked over to a workbench, grabbed an old rag, and brought it over. “No gloves. Use this.”
First Zan tried the keys one by one until at last one fit the lock. He turned it, careful not to brush the silver bars again, then used the rag to open the door before handing the ring to Ryon by the correct key. “Hopefully this is a master that’ll open the others.”
Ryon moved off, but Rowan’s attention was solely on the still form of her brother. When Zan started to move forward, she pushed him back. “Let me. I’m strong enough to move a person and there’s no sense in you getting burned.”
Not waiting for the man’s answer, she got down into a low crouch, inching her upper half into the cage. Resolutely tamping down the rage at Micah’s horrid condition, she grabbed him under his arms and began to drag him backward. When she had his shoulders out, Zan helped and together they laid him on the floor between them.
The physical mess that had once been a gorgeous man broke her heart. His once lean, athletic build was emaciated, his collarbones and every one of his ribs visible. His hair was matted and greasy, and his bearded face…
She sucked in a breath, tears pricking her eyes. All their lives, Micah had turned heads everywhere he went because of his nearly blinding beauty, which shone from both within and without. Someone had taken great pains to destroy that wonderful light. The left side of his face from the bridge of his nose, down his cheek, and curling under his jaw, was a puckered expanse of scar tissue that his uneven beard had not grown over. It appeared healed, and looked very much like the perpetrator had poured something hot over that side of his face.
“I’ll kill them all.” She didn’t realize she’d said that aloud until Zan spoke.
“You’ll have to stand in line.” Zan’s serious gaze met hers.
She looked back to her brother. “You’re going to be all right now. I love you.”
“Come on, honey. Move back and let us help him.”
Normally she would’ve torn the man a new one for calling her “honey” while ordering her away from the one person who meant the most to her. It was a testament to how shell-shocked she was that she didn’t argue, but simply stood and watched Zan perform what healing he could on Micah’s scar-riddled body.
Elation at finding him alive warred with helplessness. She was a human out of her depth in a game of monsters, as ineffectual as a fly on a dragon’s ass. The other activity in the space near her finally registered and she glanced around to observe the others, busy removing four more victims from their cramped prisons.
Immediately her attention was snagged by Jaxon bent over one of the men, his expression one of pure anguish.
“Aric, I’m sorry. So sorry,” he repeated. “I had to save my mate, but you have to believe I didn’t mean for this to happen. Please—”
“Jax?” Aric’s voice was hoarse, and he swallowed as though talking was extremely painful.
“Yes?”
“Shut the fuck up before you give me an aneurysm.”
Ryon covered Aric’s lower half with a blanket, grinning. “You haven’t lost your charm, I see.”
“Fuck you, too, twerp.”
Jax choked out a half laugh, half sob and fell quiet, but he didn’t let go of his friend’s hand. Curious, Rowan edged closer to get a better look at Aric… and the air left her lungs. This time for an entirely different reason.
The man was, quite simply, beautiful.
He was tall and lean, with a broad, muscular chest. A stunning Celtic tattoo swirled over his left pectoral and over his shoulder, the head of a howling wolf set in the center of the design. Long, dark auburn hair that must have fallen halfway down his back pooled around his head. His face was chiseled, with high cheekbones and full, sensual lips. A nice, square masculine jaw that weeks of not being able to shave couldn’t hide saved his countenance from being too pretty, and piercing green eyes held more than a little cynicism, like life had taken a giant dump in his front yard one too many times.
He looked like a proud man, she thought. Gazing at the ceiling, muscles tense, tight lines bracketing his fine mouth. He hated being vulnerable in front of his Pack, hated to need anyone. Even them. How she knew this she couldn’t say, but she did. Something about him drew her, and she almost smiled at the image of the proverbial moth and flame. Would have if the situation hadn’t been so serious.
Then his head turned and those green eyes found hers. Pain and exhaustion shadowed their depths, but his spark of stubbornness refused to give in. Slowly, his lips tilted up. “Well, I must be dead after all,” he said softly. “If this is heaven, sign me up, angel.”
His dark lashes swept closed and his body went slack. She tried to recall the last time a man had said anything to her that was so… poetic, and sort of suggestive. Her brain came up pathetically empty.
Shaken, Rowan stared at the unconscious man for a few seconds, then returned to her brother’s side, telling herself she needed to stay with him. She’d never run from anyone or anything in her life.
And she sure wasn’t about to start with a smart-mouthed, redheaded wolf shifter with killer green eyes. She could handle him.
No sweat.
