Evgeni (Siberian Ambush Book 1) (11 page)

“You’re killing her!”

“Of course I am,” Didier said, looking at her as though she were daft. “It’s only fair, Celia. You stole something from me, and after that impressive little binding spell of yours, there’s no way that I’ll ever be able to retrieve those paintings. Besides, I can’t allow others to believe that they can take liberties with me without punishment, now can I?”

Rendered speechless by his cruelty, Celia watched as he struggled from his chair, dragging the portable infusion pump along with him. Huffing in exertion, he stopped in front of her and extended his hand.

“Give me the blade and I’ll let you walk out of here with your sister. With the right treatment, she might survive another day. Consider it a gift.”

“You’re too kind,” Celia sarcastically ground out, her blood furiously boiling in her veins. Her hands trembled so violently that the Blade of Amrita slipped from her fingers. Didier clicked his teeth and motioned for her to pick it up. As she bent to retrieve it, Celia thought about Didier’s earlier statement. If he really believed this blade could grant immortality, then didn’t she owe it to Bianca to find a way to use its power?

Consumed by the thought of her sister dying in such a barbaric and untimely manner, Celia decided that Bianca deserved the chance for life.

Without wasting another second, Celia snatched the dagger from her boot and shot to her feet, plunging the thin blade between Didier’s ribs.

Shocked by her unexpected attack, Didier gasped and blinked. Celia roughly shoved Didier and sent him flying toward Gerard—but not before yanking her Fairbairn-Sykes dagger from Didier’s side, slitting him wide open as she darted away. She saw Gerard reach for his gun and kicked the low table at him, hitting his arm and knocking the gun from his hands.

The bloody dagger held out in front of her, Celia dove toward the containment circle and slammed the crimson-coated blade onto the brick dust. As soon as Didier’s blood made contact with the dust, it released the energy field with a pop that shattered glass all around the room.

Like dissolving like. It was a spell-casting lesson Celia had learned at an early age. To really imbue a circle with one’s intentions, blood was always necessary. That same blood would harmlessly dissolve the power.

Grabbing Bianca, Celia dragged her off the chaise and behind the desk, using the sturdy wood as a shield. She propped Bianca into a sitting position against the desk but because the IV line was too short, it tugged on Bianca’s skin. Celia removed it as carefully as possible. There was nothing sterile to press against it, and she reluctantly resigned to let it bleed. Wrapping her arms around her sister’s fragile body, she tried to teleport them out of the room but it was no use. They were grounded.

Bullets hissed and snapped as Gerard squeezed off a few rounds in their general direction. Throwing energy balls would have been her usual reply, but she needed to conserve her strength. Spotting the smoky quartz points that had tumbled behind the desk during the mini-explosion, Celia picked one up. It was heavy and would do enough damage.

During a lull in gunshots, she peeked around the side of the desk, took note of Gerard’s position and hurled a stone at him. Her aim was right on. Beaned in the temple by the stone, he flopped to his knees and passed out cold. Unfortunately, his gun fell out of her reach.

By now the other cronies had rushed into the room and were randomly firing in her direction. Carefully timing her stone-throwing attacks, Celia managed to take out four of the shooters, busting noses and lips and breaking a couple fingers. When there were no more quartz points, she improvised by zipping books, paperweights and anything else substantial at the shooters.

Soon, she was out of heavy objects and found herself throwing low-voltage energy balls just to buy a little time. She was outnumbered, without a weapon and had an incapacitated sister. The odds were definitely stacked against her.

Bianca began to cough and gurgle, her body rippling as black, bloody liquid gushed from her lips.

“Oh god, Bianca!” Celia braced her sister’s body and wiped the stinking fluid from her mouth. “Bianca, please! Open your eyes! Bianca, don’t die on me, not now, not after all we’ve—”

A crash accompanied by a thunderous tiger’s roar interrupted Celia’s pleading.

Startled shouts and frenzied gunshots resounded as the cronies attempted to fend off Evi’s surprise attack. Amid the cacophony of battle, Celia cradled Bianca’s near-lifeless form and sobbed as she helplessly felt her sister’s life force slipping away. Unbearable guilt crushed Celia’s soul as she realized that while she had been in the throes of passion, Bianca had been poisoned.

Celia understood now that she had made the wrong decision. It would have been better to storm the townhouse, guns blazing and without a plan, than to trade away precious hours of Bianca’s life in exchange for the blade.

Massive hands clamped onto Celia’s shoulders and ripped her away from Bianca. In the next instant, Celia was flying through the air. There was so much force behind her attacker’s toss that she collided with the ceiling and ricocheted into the adjacent wall before slamming facedown onto the chaise.

Struggling to fill her lungs, Celia clutched the edge of the chaise and tried to stand, but her attacker gave her no such chance. His arms clenched her waist, squeezing her bruised ribs until she felt a terrible snap on her right side. Realizing that he meant to kill her, she clawed at the brawny hands locked above her navel, drawing blood as she ripped into him.

Yelping, her attacker let go and she scrambled free. Although his pulpy face oozed crimson, Celia recognized him as Gerard. He was too big to fight in a standing position. She would have to bring him down.

When he charged her, she quickly sidestepped to the right and brought the full force of her left elbow up into his jaw. He wobbled backward. With a hand pressed to her aching right side, Celia capitalized on the short distance between them and smashed her left shin into his ribs. She hooked his knee with the same foot and yanked forward, dropping him to the ground. Not wasting a second, she hopped on top of him, her knees on his stomach, and proceeded to pummel him. His attempts to fight back were futile and Celia finished him with a knuckle-busting punch to the mouth.

Exhausted, Celia fell off Gerard and onto the floor, rolling onto her left side. Eyes closed, she ran her hands down her right side and felt the uneven ridges of broken ribs. Each breath was absolute agony.

Lying there in misery, Celia suddenly realized that it had gone eerily quiet. She peered around the room and saw it littered with unconscious and maimed bodies.

Struggling to her knees, she glanced toward Bianca. Evi, naked and dripping sweat and blood, knelt beside her sister. Eyes widening in terror, Celia watched as Evi lifted Bianca’s bile-stained camisole just high enough to bare her upper stomach and placed his left hand over the area of her liver.

In his right hand, he clenched the unsheathed Blade of Amrita. His mouth moved as whispers of an incantation drifted from his lips.

The topaz blade glinted menacingly in the firelight, and before Celia could scream, Evi plunged the blade into Bianca’s liver.

Bianca bolted upright, her eyelids flung wide as she shrieked like a banshee. Torrents of blistering topaz-colored energy blasted from Bianca’s body, and Evi, still keeping the blade buried in her liver, shielded his eyes with his forearm.

Awestruck, Celia barely noticed Didier stumbling back into the room, one hand clamped to his hemorrhaging side—the other shakily holding her gun. The seeping catheter that had once been attached to the infusion pump now dangled impotently from its implantation sight along his right hip bone.

How his gaunt, nearly bloodless body was able to walk confounded her.

He raised the gun, aiming at Evi, but his wildly trembling hand could have easily sent the bullet into Bianca.

Gathering every last ounce of energy left in her body, Celia concentrated it into the palm of her left hand, forming a potent energy ball the likes of which she had never made. Red with fury, it swirled and cracked in her palm, burning the skin, but she held onto it as long as she could.

Launching herself sideways and blocking his shot, Celia hurled the energy ball at Didier. His finger tensed in an automatic response to being hit and he fired a wild shot that penetrated Celia’s right shoulder—before the energy ball struck with such force that Didier’s body blasted through the wall and into the hallway.

As Bianca screamed and Evi yelled, Celia’s temple smashed into the edge of the desk. By the time she clattered to the floor, she was unconscious.

Chapter Eleven

Eyelids fluttering, Celia reluctantly dragged her mind from the chasm of sleep and into the present. Her battered body pulsed with a dull ache and she vaguely recalled the events that led her to this groggy state.

Squinting and moaning, she rubbed her face and tried to figure out where the hell she was. That chair by the bed, the rug, the fireplace, the drapes and this bed—it didn’t take her long to realize she was propped up in Evi’s bed, the duvet tightly tucked beneath her arms. Glancing down, she saw her favorite pair of pajamas—a white cotton camisole and pink cotton capris.

“Hello?” Celia croaked, her scratchy voice barely registering. Clearing her throat, she tried again. “Hello? Bianca? Evi? Somebody?”

When there was no response, Celia threw off the duvet and scooted unsteadily from the middle of the bed to the edge. Standing was a tad difficult as the room tipped first left then right before completely sliding off kilter. She grasped a bedpost for support but immediately regretted the action. Fiery bursts of pain in her right shoulder made her stomach roll, and she quickly sat down on the edge of the bed, praying the pain and nausea would subside.

Without warning, the door exploded inward and Bianca bounded into the room and tackled her back onto the bed. “You’re awake!”

Clamped tightly in Bianca’s hug, Celia became aware of yet another forgotten injury, her broken ribs—except they didn’t feel broken, just incredibly bruised. Had she been treated by a healer?

“Oops! Sorry,” Bianca apologized upon hearing her sister’s smothered groan. She pulled Celia into a sitting position before stepping back.

Shocked by the sudden change in her sister, she gave Bianca the once-over. Bright blue eyes, pink lips, a healthy flush to her usually sallow skin and her once emaciated frame looked plumper, fuller. “Jesus, Bianca! You look…amazing! Spunky. Energetic.”

“Aw, thanks,” Bianca nonchalantly replied before twirling in her best impersonation of a runway model. “I feel fantastic!” Stopping, she settled her gaze on Celia and scrunched up her face. “You, however, look like shit, sis.”

“Gee, thanks, Bianca,” Celia grumbled, self-consciously touching her face. She could only imagine the number of bruises and scrapes that must mar her skin. “How long have I been out?”

“Six days.”

“Six days!”

Bianca nodded. “That healer guy warned us it could take a few days for you to wake up.”

“Healer?” Celia repeated uncertainly.

“His name is Alexei. He’s apparently one of the Leshnikov cousins.” Eyes wide, she lowered her voice and explained, “There are, like, half a dozen tiger shifters prowling this place now. They came roaring in here like an invading horde the same day Evi brought us to his house. Something about Evi finding you and him using the Blade to stab me alerted them, I guess.” She waved her hand as if the reasons didn’t matter. “Some of them are nice. Some of them are jerks.” She scowled. “Roman is, like, the enforcer of the family and he’s
so
mean. He took away my iPhone and my iPad and my laptop. He won’t let me use my Instagram or my Snapchat or—”

“Bianca,” Celia interrupted gently. “Could we maybe save the rundown of Evi’s family tree for tomorrow?”

“Oh. Sorry.” Bianca winced apologetically. “It’s just that I’ve been cooped up in the house and I haven’t had anybody to talk to around here. They’re all talking in Russian. It’s really kind of rude, actually. I mean, if you think about it…” Her voice trailed off as she seemed to realize she was doing it again. Clearing her throat, she said, “So the healer, Alexei, took care of you. The bullet wound was a through and through, but man did it bleed!”

Curious, Celia glanced at her right shoulder and took a better look at her wound. “I see that Evi’s healer doesn’t believe in stitches,” she said, noticing the smooth bump of raw skin coated in an oily salve.

“Alexei was one of those laying-of-the-hands types,” Bianca confirmed. “He said that your aura was all kinds of messed up and that it looked as if you’d been running on fumes for years. Oh, and of course, two head injuries in twelve hours was a bad deal. He gave you some kind of draught to sedate you, something about the body healing better in a sleep state.” Bianca shrugged and made a face. “I wasn’t really paying attention to all his healer mumbo-jumbo.”

“Imagine that,” Celia dryly replied. “Did he look at you?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“He said I’m fine.”

“That’s all?”

“Something about my aura being the brightest and healthiest he’d ever examined,” she said. “I was kind of bummed when I found out that I’m not really immortal though.”

“You’re not?” Celia asked, surprised.

“Not according to Alexei. He didn’t see the signs.”

“So you’re not sure?”

“I’m not exactly keen on the idea of finding out, Celia. I can’t imagine that it’d be particularly comfortable or safe.”

“True,” she conceded. “Well, other than being bummed about not being immortal, how do you feel?”

“A little weird,” Bianca admitted. “I can’t remember what it feels like to
not
be sick, you know? I keep waiting for the pain and the nausea and the wooziness to come back. My head was cloudy that first day, but it’s clearer now. I just think it’s going to take me a few days to adjust to not feeling like crap 24/7.”

The mattress dipped as Bianca sat next to Celia and wrapped an arm around her waist. She rested her head on Celia’s shoulder and whispered, “Thank you.”