Chosen by Blood (33 page)

She jerked, confusion flashing on her face before she looked away and strode next to Knox to look unseeingly into the distance. O’Flare stared at her for several seconds before turning away.

Knox gave them all an extra minute, then said, “Let’s move on.”

A half hour later, the mage said, “We’re coming up to it. It’s about fifty yards in front of us.”

With the mage’s words, the gravity of their mission, never far from his mind anyway, settled on Knox like two tons of stones pressing on his chest. Soon, his hope for an antidote for his clan could be realized or crushed. As if his mother’s and brother’s continuing decline wasn’t enough to make the last thought unbearable, he knew that his relationship with Felicia also hung in the balance.

It had nearly killed him to let her go, knowing that she was going home, to his home, but that he couldn’t go with her. She didn’t want him to be with her when she saw the children because she didn’t want them getting any
ideas
about her place there.

Well, Knox had plenty of ideas, and he knew getting the antidote was going to be key to seeing them take shape.

So he would get the antidote. He would ensure that his clan began to heal. He would rescue the Others that were being held against their will.

He would share his life with Felicia.

And he would kill anything that got in the way of that goal.

 

 

It was approaching late afternoon when the team was in position and ready to move. They’d been watching the target for several hours, focusing on the ornate structure with traditional Korean architecture that, like the others, was protected by shields but seemed to be guarded the most heavily by manpower. Right now, there were approximately five guards walking the perimeter of the structure’s roof, five walking the perimeter on the ground, and two standing permanent guard at the main entrance. They wore thick jackets and caps that covered their ears, and they seemed impervious to the cold that, even with gloves, was making Knox’s fingers numb and difficult to bend.

Knox lifted his hand and fingered his medallion, the same kind of medallion his father had worn just before he’d been executed. He’d only been twelve then and hadn’t yet received his powers. He remembered wondering if he had, if he would use them to save his father. He’d thought he would, even knowing that his father was a self-admitted traitor.

He’d asked his father for himself then—was he a traitor? His father had smiled sadly, ruffled his hair, and said no. “But Calmet, you admitted telling him the secret to killing vamps,” Knox had cried. And his father hadn’t denied it. Instead, he’d said, “Not all immortals deserve that gift,” before he’d been dragged away, his mother’s screams echoing behind him.

“Hunt’s ready,” Wraith said through her headset, shaking Knox from the past. The wraith was waiting, sniper rifle ready, approximately a hundred yards away and twenty feet above them at the top of a small hill. Hunt also had a rifle with him, while Knox, Lucy, and O’Flare were armed with Uzis. In addition to her rifle, however, Wraith had an arsenal of explosives, including a grenade launcher, at the ready. O’Flare, of course, was waiting about 40 feet to Knox’s left with his own special brand of laughing gas.

Knox frowned at Wraith’s words. “He’s shifted?”

“Yes.”

“Did you see it?”

“Yes.” This time, the simple word was fraught with tension. “I hope I never have to see it again, tell you the truth.”

“Come on, Wraith.” O’Flare’s voice came on the line. “I would think you’d enjoy seeing Hunt take his most primal form. Make the exterior match the interior, right? Probably didn’t hurt that you wanted him to experience some pain.”

“Not that kind of pain,” Wraith whispered, sending a shiver down Knox’s spine.

O’Flare didn’t respond.

“Where is he?” Knox asked.

“He should be coming into your sights any minute now.”

Sure enough, within seconds Knox saw him. The wolf was larger than he’d expected, with a shiny coat that was the same mix of tawny colors as Hunt’s hair when he was in his human form. As the wolf approached, it turned its head and seemed to look unerringly at Knox, its hazel eyes glowing with arrogance. The wolf bared its teeth. Knox swore the were was grinning at him.

Cocky bastard, Knox thought, but this time with a hint of admiration.

Hunt turned just as one of the guards manning the entrance of the building spotted him. Knox had brushed up on his Korean before they’d left, but he didn’t need a translator to know the man was freaked out by the wolf’s sudden appearance. He called to his fellow guard while pointing at Hunt.

Hunt sat back on his haunches and began to howl.

The guards on the roof gathered in clusters to look down at the wolf, and several men walking the grounds stumbled to a stop. When a faint, answering howl drifted from inside the walls of the compound, everyone, including Hunt, was stunned silent. Immediately, Hunt crouched down and growled menacingly.

Knox tensed and was about to give O’Flare the green light when Lucy’s voice came over the line. “ Abort. Abort. We need to abort.”

“What?” Wraith hissed.

“Status,” Knox snapped.

“O’Flare’s tranced out,” Lucy said. “He’s out of it. He’s not responding to me and I don’t know how to activate the chemicals or regulate the content so I don’t end up killing all of us. So abort.”

Knox whispered the words. “Abort. Abort. Abort.”

But he knew the chance of Hunt hearing him was slim.

“Felicia.”

Knox couldn’t be sure that he heard O’Flare speak the word through his earpiece or if he’d imagined it. “What—”

One of the guards lifted his gun and pointed it at Hunt.

“I’m going to shoot,” Wraith said.

“Wait,” Knox hissed, aware that the wolf had tensed. Sure enough, Hunt lunged and was out of range before the man fired. The wolf scampered into the trees.

“Felicia.”

This time there was no mistaking O’Flare’s voice or the word that he’d spoken.

“Feli—” He said the name again.

Knox was in a crouch and moving silently toward O’Flare before the final syllable faded.

“
M
ove faster,” Zeph hissed.

“I’m moving as fast as I can,” Felicia snapped back, trying once more to wrench her arm from the vamp’s grip. “How about we stop and you tell me what’s going on instead?”

Glancing quickly behind them, Zeph responded by quickening his pace even more. “Don’t you know? I’m whisking you away so we can be together in private.” Zeph produced a facsimile of an evil leer. “What’s one more dead human if it furthers the beginning of another war and the overthrowing of my brother, right?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Zeph shot her an annoyed look. “Don’t be troublesome. Even though reading minds is tricky for me now, your suspicions would radiate from miles away. Plus, Thomas was riddled with guilt and told me about his teary-eyed confession.”

As if they were blocks of cement, Felicia’s feet came to an abrupt halt. “Did you hurt him?”

Eyes rounding and sparking red, Zeph growled, “Sure. I ripped his little head—”

Lightning quick, Felicia hit Zeph in the throat with the tips of her fingers. When he gagged and instinctively released her arm, she braced, whirled, and hit with a roundhouse kick that sent him stumbling back several feet before crumbling to the ground.

“Wait . . .” he gasped.

But she was enraged, drowning in the image of this vamp hurting a precious little boy. “I’m going to kill you,” she vowed. “I’m going to rip your heart out and spit on it before I burn it.” Swiftly, she lunged for him.

Zeph curled his legs into his chest in time to plant his feet on her chest. She went flying through the air after he kicked out, shoving her off him with a powerful push.

She grunted when she landed, then felt it—persuasion. “No,” she gasped, just as her muscles froze. She tried to move, but couldn’t. Furious, she fought the spell. She writhed and arched and struggled and thrashed—but only in one part of her mind. The part that controlled her movement was still held in the spell’s firm grip.

Zeph half crawled toward her while clutching his stomach. He gripped her hair and yanked her forward, but her cry of pain was internalized. “You need to work on your sense of humor, Felicia. But damn, I knew there had to be a reason Knox was so crazy about you. Too bad he saw you first.”

His words caused confusion to pulse through her, but it splintered under panic as she read the intent in Zeph’s eyes. Was he—

He did. He leaned right in and kissed her on her frozen mouth. It wasn’t a lewd kiss, but a firm, prolonged smack, a spontaneous, exuberant kiss, one a bride might get from a friend—or a brother?—on one’s wedding day. He pulled back with a grin. “Knox is one lucky vamp. If I had my strength, I’d teleport you out of here, but considering I don’t even have the strength to carry you, you’re going to have to help me out. You going to cooperate?”

Since she couldn’t nod, he must have liked something he read in her eyes. The persuasion lifted. He cocked a brow. “I’m wondering just how much you really wanted to fight me, Felicia, because if I can persuade you to move given how weak I am—”

With a closed fist, she punched him in the face. Because she pulled it, however, his head barely knocked back. He rubbed his jaw. “Damn it, I’m not a traitor—”

“I know,” she snapped, just before she grabbed his face and gave him a smacking kiss of her own. “Now tell me what the hell
is
going on.”

A raspy voice came from somewhere behind her. “How about I fill you in on the details instead?”

Felicia and Zeph locked eyes. In the reflection of his gaze, she saw not one, but two vamps standing behind her.

Lesander and Niles.

 

 

As he moved, Knox continued to watch the guards outside the compound. Once Hunt ran off, they’d separated and gone back to their posts, clearly thinking they’d scared off any threat. Frustration and fury prodded him so he moved swiftly, more than twice as fast as a human could.

“What’s going on?” Wraith demanded over the radio line.

“I’m going to find out. You still in position?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Stay there and lock on anyone they decide to send out to investigate.”

“I will, but they’re looking pretty unconcerned at the moment. Stupid if they really do have a were inside that compound. How’s . . .” She swallowed audibly and took a breath. “How’s O’Flare?” she asked. “And why isn’t that damn mage answering us?”

“I’m almost there, Wraith.”

He reached O’Flare and Lucy’s hiding spot in minutes.

Lucy was straddling O’Flare, who was prone on the ground and writhing like a snake. Both of her hands covered his mouth, stifling his voice until only the breathiest of sounds emerged. Her earpiece lay in the snow beside her. With wide eyes, Lucy turned to Knox. “He started to yell. I—”

O’Flare’s leg thrashed out.

She closed her eyes and pressed down harder with her hands. “I used an enchantment spell but . . .” Her body lifted as O’Flare arched beneath her. “He’s strong . . . hurry.”

Knox rushed over, kneeled beside Lucy, and slammed O’Flare’s head on the ground, not enough to knock him unconscious, but certainly hard enough to stun him. The human stopped struggling.

Lucy looked at him in horror. “Why did you—”

“Look,” Knox said.

She returned her attention to O’Flare. The lingering fog in O’Flare’s eyes cleared, his expression shifting briefly to annoyance, then restrained urgency. He held still, silently demanding that Lucy release him.

Knox nodded. “Let him go.”

Carefully, Lucy pulled back her hands. Immediately, O’Flare grabbed Lucy’s hips, shifted her back, and sat up with her still in his lap. Swiftly, he kissed the mage on the forehead, then lifted her completely off him to place her on the ground.

“I had a vision,” O’Flare said, quickly getting to his feet. “About Felicia. She’s in danger, Knox.”

The panic was instantaneous, but Knox pushed it back, trying to remain calm. In control. Vigilant. He couldn’t forget that O’Flare had been working as Mahone’s stooge, manipulating Wraith, and thus manipulating them all, under the guise of helping the team.

“What exactly did you see?”

“I saw stairs. Edged with an iron banister. The iron had been forged into a repetitive design like the one on the medallion you wear. Triangles.”

Knox swallowed. O’Flare was describing the stairway in the main foyer of Knox’s home. “Go on,” he urged.

“I saw her dancing.”

“Dancing?” Wraith’s breathy voice came in through Knox’s earpiece. “What does that have to do with her—”

“Go on,” Knox snapped louder. Wraith didn’t speak again.

“She was dancing with a vamp. Only slight taller than herself. He was wearing a tuxedo and had his hair pulled back in a ponytail. Damn handsome dude but for a scar he’s got running across here.” O’Flare skimmed two fingers down the right side of his face, touching the flesh almost at his hairline and running it down past his jaw and into his neck.

Knox took in a shuddering breath.

Zeph.

He’d gotten the scar when he’d been fourteen and still trying to win his father’s approval by proving he was a better fighter than other vamps in his class. Unfortunately, he hadn’t yet learned that when it came to fighting, intelligence and planning were often more important than sheer brute strength. It had taken a school-yard ambush by a much smaller vamp wielding a hunting knife and sixty stitches for him to start. Of course, that same vamp had been brutally dealt with by Zeph’s father and no one, not even Bianca Devereaux, had intervened on behalf of Zeph’s attacker.

“What else do you see?”

“Two other vamps,” O’Flare said, his voice sounding almost trancelike as if even now he could see them. “Much taller. Bigger. Bigger than you.”