Fallen Angel of Mine (24 page)

A hard kick from the walking testicle
slammed against my ribs. Something else cracked. A hard breath
wheezed through my raw throat. Jose kicked me over and over again
until the pain was so blinding black spots dance before my eyes. I
heard someone yelling—it sounded like Diego—and the kicks stopped.
Warm fluid pooled in my mouth. I angled my head and saw bloody
drool leaking onto the floor in a grim puddle.

This might be
it
, I realized. Unless I figured out a way
to feed off these turds, I was going to die, probably bleed to
death from internal injuries. Endorphins flooded my system and took
the edge off the pain, but beyond that, the raw ragged edges of
agony seeped into every part of my body.

The short guy rolled me onto my back. I
screamed as the sensation of icepicks stabbed into my right side.
He yelled at the big guy who vanished and returned moments later
with a white guy carrying a black bag.

The newcomer pulled away my already
torn shirt and pressed against my side. In response, I screamed,
though it sounded a lot more like a desperate moan.

"Bloody ribs are broken," he said in a
decidedly British accent. "Do you feel any pains
inside?"

I managed a cross-eyed glare before
answering in a hoarse whisper, "Like knives."

"Bloody hell." He pulled out a needle
and filled it with something from a tiny glass container. "Morphine
ought to take the edge off." With that, he jabbed the needle into
me, though I didn't feel it over the other agonizing pain. He
looked at Shorty. "Get this man some water."

"You do not tell me what do!" Shorty
hollered back. Despite that declaration, he barked a command into
his radio.

Jose stared down at me, a smirk on his
face. Then he spit on me, much to the disgust of the
doctor.

"I take it Franco wants this man
alive?" He turned his gaze on Diego. "If he does, then keep your
bloody ape away from him!"

The steel door creaked and
someone spoke to the short guy. My senses perked up at the tone of
the voice.
Female.
I extended my delirious awareness toward the sound, feeling
for the sensual morsel since the doctor blocked my view. The heat
rising off the woman's halo-like aura radiated nearby. My questing
tendril shot for it. Or tried to. I was so weak it meandered toward
her like a snake slowed by cold weather. I was vaguely aware of a
glass being pressed to my lips and water running partly down my
throat but mostly down the sides of my face.

Just as I closed in on the source of
femininity, her heat signature shrank and receded. Panic increased
my efforts as I pushed my sense to catch up, to reach her. I
failed. Within seconds, all trace of her had vanished.

The steel door slammed shut, leaving me
alone, cold, and without hope.

Elyssa

The canopy of trees beneath the slider
blurred past in a kaleidoscope of green. Aside from the muted
whistle of air against the body of the aircraft, it was absolutely
quiet. Though it looked like a helicopter, the rotors were
illusion, making it the perfect camouflage for the enchanted
transportation it was.

Colombia?

Elyssa couldn't stop thinking about her
new assignment. Why would her father tell her she was going to
Europe and tell her mother the same thing when Elyssa was
supposedly out of earshot? Was it a diversion? Maybe he'd changed
his mind at the last minute or someone had really screwed up the
paperwork. Transfers from one compound to another happened all the
time and were generally simple matters.

Trying to unravel the confusion
frustrated her until she couldn't take it a moment longer. "Did my
father send the order for my transfer here?"

Christian slowed the craft and dropped
it straight into a dense copse of trees. It dropped through the
illusion to reveal a large compound bustling with the activity of
dark-clad figures. Once he set down, he looked at her and nodded.
"I received the request only a few hours ago. Apparently, you were
all set for Europe but a change order came through. Normally, we
like more time to prepare for transfers, but hell if I'm going to
question Thomas Borathen."

So much for chasing vampires up the
Eiffel Tower. Duty was one thing, but doing duty in Paris would
have been better than Nutella-flavored blood. "He didn't say
why?"

A smirk spread across his face. "No.
Then again, I didn't speak directly with the Commander."

"Oh." It wasn't unusual. Her father had
probably barked the order at someone and expected it to be done.
But what if some idiot had screwed it up?

"In fact, I spoke with your brother,
Michael."

"What?" She felt the shock register on
her face. Why hadn't her brother spoken to her before leaving?
Anger and disappointment left a sour feeling in her
stomach.

Christian stepped from the aircraft and
motioned her to follow, continuing to speak as they walked into a
compound populated by low adobe buildings and metal sheds. "Your
brother worked with us down here for a while. Damned fine soldier.
Best blade master I ever saw, too."

Elyssa walked by his side but words
abandoned her. She wanted to be angry at Michael, but deep down she
knew why he hadn't spoken with her before leaving. He'd trained
with her and pushed her hard to be the best. Without him, she never
would have been eligible to take the Cho'kai at such a young age.
She'd thrown it all away, outsmarted and beguiled by a spawn. No
wonder her father hated them with such passion. Michael probably
felt nothing but bitter disgust at her for this failure.

She was so busy fueling negative
emotions, Elyssa almost collided with Christian as he stopped and
pointed to a long metal structure with an arched roof standing some
distance apart from the other buildings. "Grab your gear in the
armory and meet me in the briefing room across the way." He jabbed
a finger at a single-story building closer to the center of the
compound. Flat-roofed barracks dotted the area around
it.

"Yes, sir."

He regarded her with stern eyes for a
moment before speaking. "You might be used to circumstances in the
States, Recruit. A strong nom government goes a long way toward
keeping rogue activity down. In these parts, we don't have that
luxury. You've been living on a Care Bear resort, Borathen, but now
you're in the real world."

"I understand, sir."

"I hope you do. I know about the White.
I heard why you had to take it. But if you excel here, you'll do
more than restore your tarnished honor and reputation. You'll turn
it into pure gold."

Elyssa felt absolutely mortified. Heat
blossomed in her face and flushed down her neck. She tried to speak
but couldn't muster a word past the dry lump in her throat. How did
he know? Did everyone know about her failure?

Christian gave her an easy grin,
somewhat shedding the role of stern commander, and rested an arm on
her shoulder. "Don't let me down, Recruit Borathen." With that, he
strode away.

Elyssa looked back at the slider in
which they'd arrived. The illusions on it had already winked out,
leaving only the nacelle and landing gear on an otherwise
plain-looking, metallic box. She wanted nothing more than to run
back to it and fly away from everyone. She could never live this
down.

Wimp.

A jagged lash of anger pushed back the
embarrassment. Memories of boys making fun of her for wanting to be
a Templar struck every nerve in her body. She'd trained
relentlessly, foregoing a real life, and sacrificing childhood fun
to be the person her father wanted her to be. By the time she was
seventeen, nobody her age could beat her in hand-to-hand or
swordplay.

There was no way she'd run from this.
It was simply another challenge to be beaten into submission, even
if she had to do it one smart-mouthed brat at a time. Elyssa took a
deep breath. Set her mental sights on the goal. She could do this.
Show them all. And most importantly, prove to herself she could
climb out of this crap-hole and back into sunshine.

A hand clasped over her mouth while
another twisted her arm behind her back. She ducked beneath the
hold. Swept her leg around and knocked the legs from beneath her
attacker—or at least tried to. He leapt over her leg, kicked the
other one out from beneath her, and pinned her neck to the ground
with the heel of his boot. Amused brown eyes stared down at her
from a familiar face.

He reached down a hand and pulled her
to her feet. "About time I knocked you on your ass."

A spark of recognition burst into
familiarity. "Beck?"

A grin lit his face. "I thought you
were beautiful three years ago." He whistled, eyes roaming up and
down her figure. "Obviously, you blossomed since I moved
away."

A warm blush worked up Elyssa's neck
and into her cheeks. Beck had bulked up since the last time she'd
seen him, but he'd been eye-candy even then with dark eyes and
chiseled features. His thick brown hair was shorter than it used to
be, probably due to regulations, but when it grew too long it had
an unruly curl to it she liked.

"You're not looking too bad yourself,"
she said, looking him up and down like a piece of meat, just to let
him know that he couldn't faze her with his alpha-male machismo.
He'd been one of those boys she'd had to teach a lesson back in the
day. He might be due for another.

Beck motioned her on toward the armory
and fell into step next to her. "What brings you down here of all
places? I never thought your dad would let you out of his
sight."

This comment sent a flush
racing to her cheeks.
He doesn't know about
the White?
"He wanted me to broaden my
horizons."

Beck laughed. "Yeah, that's what he
told my father after he caught you and me kissing."

Elyssa stopped dead in her tracks and
faced him. "That's why your father was reassigned? Thomas told me
your father had requested reassignment so he could earn his own
command."

"You really thought that?" He rolled
his eyes. "Thomas Borathen is a legend, not to mention scary as
hell. But he's more overprotective of you than a werewolf
mother."

A sharp pang of regret pressed against
her chest. She really missed…something. Maybe someone. Whoever or
whatever it was, she couldn't quite nail it down. Or did she feel
bad about what Thomas had apparently done to Beck and his father
just because of a couple of harmless kisses? Jeez, it wasn't like
they'd even used tongue.

"I'm sorry. I really had no idea."
Elyssa started toward the armory again.

He kept pace with her. "Yeah, Dad and I
bounced around a while before he found a good fit. I decided it was
time for me to move on and make a name for myself. These South
American countries are like the Wild West, and Colombia is the
hottest spot, so I jumped at the chance to join Christian's
squad."

"Any place has more action than
Atlanta." Aside from the occasional bust, Atlanta was like a
retirement home.

"It's amazing, out of all the places
you could have gone, you're here. Maybe fate isn't done with us."
He winked.

How ironic was it her father assigned
her here to keep her away from the spawn who'd bedazzled her only
to put her right back next to Beck? "Are you in on the op
today?"

He checked the time. "Yeah. Man,
they're running us tight." He sighed and pulled a ration bar from
his equipment vest. "A group of rogue vampires up in Bogota are
stirring up trouble. Some crazy vamp named Maximus convinced a
bunch of young vampires to break off from the Reds and go with his
splinter group."

Something about that name tickled at
Elyssa's memory. She'd heard it before, hadn't she?

"Are you okay?" Beck asked.

Elyssa looked up and realized she was
scrunching her forehead and wincing with the effort to recall the
missing bits in her mind. All she came up with was a big fat zero.
"I thought the name sounded familiar, but I guess not."

He laughed. "You look kind of cute when
you're concentrating."

She punched him on the shoulder. "I'll
show you cute."

"Anytime, hot stuff."

They pushed through the metallic doors
and into the armory where a girl about Elyssa's age and build was
polishing a silver katana. By her black hair and fair complexion,
Elyssa guessed she was probably not from these parts.

"Recruit Borathen?" the girl said
without looking up from her work. Her accent sounded
Italian.

"That's me."

The girl twirled the katana, the
muscles in her arm rippling, before effortlessly slipping it into a
leather sheath on her hip. She stood and walked to a table piled
with equipment and held up a matte-black belt woven into a dense
mesh. "This is your Nightingale armor. A lot more protection than
the garbage you wear in the States." She tossed it to Elyssa. "Put
it on."

Sure thing, Miss Bossy
Pants.