Born in Blood (The Sentinels) (12 page)

Dawn was barely creeping over the horizon when Zak entered the panic room built in the basement.

The six-by-six cement room was built for protection, not comfort. There were no windows, the door was six-inch steel, and there was no furniture beyond a narrow bed.

Certain the door was locked and Anya standing guard outside, Zak settled on the bed and closed his eyes. Slowing his breath, then the beat of his heart, he delved into the place inside himself that contained his power.

It was dark and cold. A bottomless pit that had nearly swallowed him whole the first time he tapped it.

Now he grimly braced himself as he touched the icy depths, battling not to be sucked in even as he forced the darkness to pulse through his veins, the frigid power searing through him with a pain few others would be able to tolerate.

For him, it was a reminder of the cost of failure.

One slip and the darkness would destroy him.

Submerged in his power, Zak reached for the small bowl on the mattress next to him. Once it was settled in his lap, he placed his hands over Leah’s heart, releasing the magic into the beating organ.

There was a brief, disorienting moment as he slid from his corporal body and winged his way south of town to a neighborhood even more exclusive than the one he’d chosen.

He entered Leah’s body, hissing as the darkness abruptly swelled up, trying to claim him.

No. He clenched his teeth, his muscles rigid with strain. He was the master. Death would bow to him.

Sweat beaded his brow, but with clenched jaw he leashed the power and carefully allowed it to trickle into Leah’s corpse.

Slowly, slowly he filled her, lodging his consciousness in her mind.

Only when he was certain he had full control did he open the eyes of his vessel and glance around.

Not surprising, he was lying in the back of a parked car. Tony had once again been pressed into service, driving Leah’s corpse to the chichi neighborhood, close enough to the house he wanted without being noticeable.

As Zak sat up in Leah’s body, he caught sight of Tony slumped against the door, lazily surfing the net on his phone. Then, perhaps sensing he was being watched, he turned to cast a bored glance over his shoulder.

At the sight of Leah the vicious killer released a scream that would have rivaled a teenage girl, emptying his bladder all over his fine chino slacks.

Ignoring the servant, Zak awkwardly pushed open the door of the car and stepped onto the shadowed street.

He (or rather Leah) swayed as he struggled to keep his balance. For all his skill it always took a few minutes to gain command over the body. Glancing down, he vaguely noticed he was dressed in a new pair of stretchy workout pants and a sports bra. Anya had chosen the clothing, claiming that Leah liked to go to the gym in the mornings. He didn’t care what was covering the body so long as it didn’t attract unwanted attention.

His focus was on the amulet that was strung around his neck by a thin gold chain. A lethal spell was etched into the soft metal, just waiting to be released.

Assured he had his weapon, Zak gave a swift glance around the sleeping neighborhood before crossing the tree-lined street. His movements grew progressively more fluid as he followed the curved driveway leading to a three-storied home built of a pale red stone.

The roof was sharply slanted and shingled with dark tiles. The large windows were framed by white shutters and to one side was a four-car garage.

At the front was a wide veranda with stately columns and double doors that were an invitation for the enemy to enter.

A sneer curved Zak’s lips, an odd sensation as he realized Leah had recently had them plumped with a noxious silicone. He’d spent decades tracking down the relic demanded by Anya’s gods. And years more, to discover who was hiding the object.

The last six months had been devoted to monitoring Calso’s every movement.

He knew when the bastard woke up, when he went to work, when he went to bed, when he shit. He’d also done an equally thorough investigation on the man’s servants. He knew their routine better than they did.

Unfortunately, the constant surveillance on Calso hadn’t revealed the location of the coin, and with no guarantee he could pluck the knowledge from his mind once he was dead, Zak had been forced to come up with a plan that would give him the opportunity to search the house without alerting his prey.

Which was how he’d chosen Leah.

As Calso’s lover she’d been put into his security system. Which meant she was the only person besides Calso who could enter and leave without disturbing the security guard who patrolled the grounds.

And more importantly she remained human despite his magic that filled her corpse. The paranoid Calso had paid a fortune to have a powerful spell wrapped around his property to detect high-bloods. If he or Anya had gotten within a hundred feet of the house they would have set off a dozen alarms.

Halting in front of the door, Zak pressed his hand to the electronic reader. There was a low buzzing sound as the scanner read his fingerprints, then with a soft click the doors swung inward.

Zak didn’t hesitate as he entered the marble foyer that towered two stories, with arched windows that gave ample light for the tangle of plants that grew along the edge of the black and white marble tiled floor.

He ignored the double staircase that swept in a graceful arch toward the second floor, walking directly between them to the sunken living room at the back of the house.

He was equally indifferent to the white sectional couch that was arranged around the glass cylinder aquarium that was built from floor to ceiling. And the beautifully carved white marble fireplace where two black vases offered a stark contrast to the acres of white.

His only interest was reaching the office that he’d seen in Leah’s memories.

From what he could determine before Callie had so rudely intruded into his search of the young female’s mind, the office was the one place in the mansion that Calso refused to allow her to enter.

It seemed the feasible place to start his search.

Crossing the white carpet, he was just steps away from the closed door on the far side of the room when a faint sound had him spinning around.

He swallowed a curse at the sight of the short, nearly bald man with a round face and black, beady eyes. Around sixty years old, he was wearing nothing but a pair of boxers with his rotund belly sticking out like a hairy basketball.

Zak barely suppressed his sneer. It seemed impossible to believe that this pathetic norm could actually hold a piece of the gods.

“Leah?” Calso frowned, his expression wary even as his gaze slid a compulsive glance down Leah’s slender body. “What are you doing here?”

Zak clinically debated his option.

The easiest path would be to kill the fool and continue with his search.

On the downside, there were servants who would soon be waking. They were bound to eventually stumble over their dead employer.

Besides, he could use Calso’s pathetic obsession with the young female to help narrow down the exact location of his prize.

Forcing his feet to take a step forward, he gave a toss of his head, feeling his hair brushing the bare skin of his arms. It might have been centuries since he’d allowed himself to be led by his dick, but he remembered what had once excited him.

“I’m sorry.” He licked his lips. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

The dark gaze compulsively lowered to Leah’s breasts, barely concealed by the sports bra, but his frown remained.

“I asked you a question.”

“I lost my phone.” Zak shrugged. “I thought I might have left it here.”

“And you decided to search for it at this hour?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

There was a pause as the man struggled between suspicion and his libido.

Not surprisingly his libido won.

“A lucky coincidence,” he growled, strolling forward.

Zak covertly turned his head away from the windows that were beginning to lighten with the coming dawn.

His motor skills were improving, but only the shadows hid Leah’s lack of facial expression.

“And why’s that?”

“I couldn’t sleep either.”

“Ah. What do you suppose we should do about it?”

The man trailed his fingers along the neckline of Leah’s sports bra before slipping his fingers beneath the stretchy material and giving the breast a squeeze. Miles away, Zak grimaced, fiercely thankful he didn’t have to feel the pudgy fingers groping him.

“I have a few ideas,” Calso purred.

“I bet you do.”

A flush stained the man’s round face. “Upstairs. Now.”

Zak made what he hoped sounded like a giggle. “I have a better idea.”

He arched a brow. “Games?”

“Catch me.”

Without giving the fool a chance to react, Zak turned and hurried the short distance to the end of the room.

“Dammit, Leah, what are you doing?” the man growled, in instant pursuit.

“Playing.” Zak opened the door and darted into the office, taking a quick inventory of the room.

A leather sofa and wing chairs surrounding a lacquer table. Several tall bookcases that were stuffed with aged leather books. A heavy walnut desk set by the marble fireplace with a wide mantel that held a number of bronze statues.

At last he turned back to watch Calso storm into the room.

“What the hell are you doing?” he rasped.

“You don’t like my game?” Zak prodded, carefully monitoring Calso’s gaze, which instinctively shifted toward the area of the desk.

“You know you’re not allowed in here.”

Zak backed toward the desk, his gaze never leaving Calso’s revealing eyes.

“Why not?”

“It’s my private office.”

“It’s not business hours. Don’t you want me naked on your desk?”

Zak reached the corner of the desk, lifting a hand to shove back his thick curtain of hair. How did females tolerate the itchy stuff?

Calso hesitated, the dark eyes narrowing in speculation. Was he debating the pleasure of banging her on the glossy surface?

Clearly, Zak hadn’t found the sweet spot.

Before Calso could try and pin him to the desk, Zak was sliding to the side, heading directly for the fireplace.

“Or maybe you would rather I—”

“Enough,” Calso snapped as he lurched forward. “Get away from there.”

Zak followed the man’s worried gaze. Ah. How tediously predictable. A wall safe hidden behind the Picasso.

“As you command,” he drawled, moving to stand directly in front of Calso.

The man started to relax until he caught sight of the amulet that was beginning to glow in the clinging darkness.

“What’s this?”

Zak managed to stretch the rigid lips into a smile. “Death.”

Calso stumbled back, fear and confusion twisting the pudgy face. But it was far too late. He’d barely taken a step backward when the amulet released its magic, slamming into him with a lethal force.

Zak watched Calso drop to his knees, the skin ripping like tissue paper as the magic inside him began to swell and expand.

Magic was never a pleasant way to die.

And this was a particularly nasty spell.

But effective, he had to concede, stepping back as the dead man fell face first onto the rare Persian carpet, swiftly turning into nothing but charred ashes.

Anya was nothing if not efficient.

Assured the man was dead, Zak turned away, crossing to the fireplace.

It took less than five minutes to find the trigger on the Picasso that allowed it to swing forward, revealing the safe set in the wall. Reaching up, he pressed his hand against the scanner, not at all surprised when he heard the lock click.

The arrogant bastard never considered his own lover might betray him.

Hubris.

The weakness of every wealthy man.

Reaching for the small handle on the safe, he tugged it open.

Anticipation hummed through him as he reached inside and shoved aside the papers to find the pale stone vessel that was shaped like a small vase with an odd winged creature etched on the front. With care he pried out the cotton that blocked the opening at the top of the vessel and turned it upside down to shake out the coin inside.

A mile to the north, his heart in his real body gave a sudden leap.

Soon...

Soon he would have the just rewards he so richly deserved.

 

 

Still struggling to catch his breath, Duncan shifted to lie on his side, studying Callie’s delicate profile outlined by the rosy promise of dawn.

Christ.

That hadn’t been good sex.

It had been ... cataclysmic sex.

Shattering.

But why?

Holding her close, he tried on a few excuses.

He’d been celibate for too long. A man wasn’t meant to be without a woman in his bed, right?

He’d been fantasizing about this woman for longer than he wanted to admit.

He was under a shitload of stress. Everyone knew that adrenaline made everything seem to be in Technicolor. Including sex.

Unfortunately he couldn’t make any of the lame-ass excuses fit.

What had just happened between them defied explanation.

A fact that should have scared the hell out of him.

Instead, it just juiced him up with the need to have her again.

And again.

And again ...

Already hardening with anticipation, Duncan abruptly frowned as he realized that while he’d been reveling in the image of round two, Callie was lost in thoughts that had nothing to do with him or hot, sweaty sex.

“Hey.” He brushed his finger down the thin blade of her nose. “Where did you go?”