God of Destruction (17 page)

She frowned, letting her gaze fall again.
“W…who’s it up to, then?”

He chuckled, leaning into her face. “You ask
a lot of questions, Claire.”

“You a…avoid a lot of questions,” she
challenged. “W…why is that?”

He knelt closer, his forehead practically
touching hers. “I’m just biding my time. I only have to watch the
others come to pick you up. And you’re stuck with me until then.
You’ll answer my questions…eventually,” he added, his mouth a mere
breath away from her ear.

Something in the back of her mind finally
clicked and she exhale sharply, like she’d had the breath knocked
out of her. “H…How did you know my last name?”

She never got an answer.

The wooden door flung open, crashing against
the wall and sending the pair flying away from each other.

Kierlan’s hand reached for the gun in his
waistband but felt nothing but the material of his shirt and jeans.
Cursing Claire and her shameless theft, he waited for the new
arrival to show his face. Before he saw that, however, he felt the
cold barrel of a gun hit his face between the eyes.

His back met the floor quickly after that,
eyes finding the bare ceiling and the rat responsible standing over
him.

Claire screamed. Seeing the man in the
doorway, she sighed in relief. “Russell! T…thank God!”

Kierlan tensed to spring at the intruder,
knowing Russell was about to ruin everything, but the gun in his
face kept him frozen on the floor. He slowly raised his hands,
palms forward. “What are you doing?” he whispered, eyes flickering
to girl a few feet away.

“You’re not taking the credit for this,”
Russell hissed, pushing Kierlan’s head to the floor with the gun.
“I’ll use her to get all of them. The boss is going to want all of
them.”

“You’re gonna screw it up!” Kierlan
enthused.

“Shut up!” Russell stomped, getting off his
knees. “You’re both coming with me! And I’m not gonna
screw
it up!”

Claire floundered for words, unaware of what
had transpired between the men. Her mind entertained the thought
that, maybe, he’d had nothing to do with what Natalia had done that
morning. Obviously, if he was saving her from Kierlan, he couldn’t
have been in on it, right? “R…Russell—?”

“Shut
up
, Claire, your freaking
stutter is driving me crazy!” he ordered.

Her eyes bugged. “W…wha—?”

“Getting close to you these last few months
was a
nightmare
.
Oh
,” he shrieked in a whiny voice,
“
I’m freaking Claire Strong and everything in the freaking world
revolves around me
, just shut
up
!”

The girl could do nothing else but obey,
appalled by his confession and terrified by the gun he
thoughtlessly swung around. Well, she thought to herself, whatever
his reason for being there, it definitely wasn’t to save her.

Russell looked between the two of them for a
moment before he finally yelled, “Get the hell up, both of
you!”

With his free hand, he hauled Claire to her
feet, keeping her arms tied tightly behind her back. Roughly, he
shoved her forward and gestured for Kierlan to follow, striking his
face when he didn’t immediately comply. “Move!”

Kierlan flexed his jaw, testing the ache from
the punch he’d just received. “Where’s Natalia?” he growled under
his breath, grunting when he felt Russell’s shoe hit him between
the shoulder blades. “Does she know that—?”

“She’s busy,” he mumbled, leading them to the
stairs out of the basement. Claire hung her head, inconspicuously
tuning into their conversation.

“With what? The
real
work?” Kierlan
countered before he felt cold metal bash the back of his skull
again. He didn’t fall, but, while he was doubled over, his
murderous gaze fell back on Russell. He resolved there and then
that he was going to kill Russell, and he wouldn’t feel bad about
it in the least.

“You don’t know anything, Cole!” the rat
snarled. In a softer voice, he said, “You wouldn’t believe me if I
told you.”

After another shove from the dumbass trailing
them, Kierlan stepped faster up the stairs toward Claire, steadying
her by the small of her back.

The venom in the look she gave him turned the
air cold.

For the first time that day, when she jerked
herself away from his touch, she meant it.

“Don’t t…touch me!” she growled under her
breath.

He stepped away, dejected but ready to catch
her if her bound arms threw her off balance.

“No talking,” Russell ordered.

Chapter Fourteen

Paris, France; June 29
^th
, 2012

“Where are we going?” Kierlan demanded from
the back of the taxi, his face flattened against the window as he
pleaded with the people flying by outside to call for help.

There was no hope of that now; the driver
hadn’t even caught on to his desperate looks for help and any
rational onlookers on the sidewalk were whizzing by too fast to
see. Beside him, Russell held the cold metal barrel of the gun
pressed firmly into his ribs, hidden beneath the loose material of
Kierlan’s shirt. The rat scowled forward.

On Russell’s other side, Claire stared
forlornly down into her lap, her hands hanging behind her. Tears
ran silently and shamelessly down her reddened face.

Since they’d left the basement, Russell had
shoved them into the cab with the warning that kept them quiet in
the face of the ignorant driver. The second either of them begged
for help, Kierlan would get a bullet in the side, followed by
Claire, who’d get one in the mouth.

Kierlan hadn’t bothered to remind him that he
couldn’t produce Claire in any less than the perfect condition he’d
found her in, unless he welcomed the inevitable, painful,
punishment that Natalia would bestow upon him. The instructions had
been clear about that. The crazed look in the gunmen’s eye,
however, clued that, unless he had a death wish,
that
wouldn’t be something he should say. If today had taught him
anything, it was that Russell had tipped the scale toward
psychopathic.

Whatever happened in the catacombs must have
made him this way. Kierlan had worked with Russell for years and,
though Russell had never been what anyone would necessarily call a
‘team player,’ he’d never blatantly gone against orders. Something
must have happened in the underground that morning, he reasoned.
Something bad.

Without his mind’s accord, his eyes stared,
over Russell, at Claire, catching the drip of tears falling into
her lap that she was unable to wipe away.

Claire tried not to think of where they were
going or what Russell planned to do. Despite the effort she made,
she failed.

“We’re missing someone important,” he
replied, sharply prodding him with the gun. It was all he said on
the matter.

Moments later, the taxi pulled up in front of
the all too familiar hotel. Russell tossed a wad of bills into the
front seat, receiving a heavily accented, “Thank you,” in
response.

The passengers didn’t stay to listen. Heaving
Kierlan to the sidewalk first, Russell pulled Claire along behind
him by her arm, letting her fall unceremoniously to the ground when
she stumbled out the door. Kierlan looked over, his cheek scraping
against the cement, to find her in the same position, though her
joined arms left her powerless against the ground that had rushed
up to meet her. Blood surfaced and oozed to the ground from the new
cuts on her face.

She averted her eyes, as he’d expected.

“Get up,” Russell ordered, hauling Claire to
her feet by her wrists. Kierlan slowly lifted himself into a
standing position and, of his own free will, strode through the
entrance. Claire and Russell followed.

The first thing Claire saw when she staggered
into the lobby was the back of Alex’s head across the room.

She faced her boyfriend, but the two of them
were the only people she recognized in the room. James was the
first to look up at them, gasping something unintelligible that
made Alex spin around, finding them easily amongst the crowd. Her
eyes bugged and her jaw hung silently while she tried to speak.
Claire couldn’t help the pathetic look that overcame her when she
glanced at her, and her heart dropped into her stomach when she
realized, with startling finality, that Hayden and Scottie were
missing. She knew immediately that something terrible had
happened.

“Russ—!” Alex shrieked. She took one step
forward, body poised to sprint across the lobby, eyes focused
intently on the trails of tears streaking down Claire’s cheeks.

“Ah,” he warned, unveiling the gun pressed
into Claire’s back, only slightly. Alex froze, flailing her hand
uselessly against James’s chest, whimpering. A smile twitched onto
Russell’s face as he looked between the two of them, noting with
immense pleasure that Hayden and Scottie were nowhere to be found.
Baring his teeth like the Cheshire cat, he continued, jabbing
Claire in the back so she gave a startled sob, “Maybe we should
take this upstairs. I think we have some things to talk about.”

Alex narrowed her eyes, subconsciously
melting into James’s side. He wrapped an arm around her and nodded.
“Ya. Maybe that would be best.” He, reluctantly, peeled himself
away from her, leading the way toward their room. Alex ran to
Claire, barely hindered when Russell tensed as she neared them.

“Back up!” he ordered as she shoved past him
and the silent Kierlan, throwing her arms around her friend.

“Cool it, you freak!” she screeched. “What
did you do to her?”

“I…I’m fine, Alex,” she whispered under her
breath. “And I’m s…sorry. I d…didn’t mean what I said earlier.” She
chuckled darkly. “T…Turns out I can’t protect myself after
all.”

“Oh, honey, it’s okay,” Alex hummed, hugging
her again. “I don’t mean to smother you, I swear.” She pulled
skillfully at the ropes around Claire’s wrists, glaring up at
Russell in challenge when his palms slapped against her hands. They
remained in a deadlock for a few silent seconds.

“Fine,” he growled, pulling away from the
pair to grip the back of Kierlan’s neck. He pushed him forward.
“Follow him!”

“Where’s Scottie and H…Hayden?” Claire
asked.

Alex shook her head sadly. “Don’t know. They
never came back after we split up. We kinda thought they were with
you.”

“If I hear either of you talk again, I’m
blowing somebody’s head off,” Russell vowed as Alex felt the cold
tap of metal against her shoulder. She bit her lip, holding back
all the profanity she wanted to sling at him. Self preservation
took over and she let her head hang, sharing an angry look with
Claire.

Kierlan walked up the stairs beside James,
keeping his gaze downcast to avoid suspicion. “When we get to the
room, you get Claire away from him and I’m sure we can take
him.”

James scowled over at him. “What did you do
to Hayden and Scottie?”

The other man finally met his eyes with
shock. “I didn’t touch either of them. I’m not responsible for any
of this!”

James gave an unintelligible click of his
tongue; obviously not believing him.

“What do I have to do to prove to you that I
want to help?” Kierlan demanded, whipping his head toward Russell
when he was promptly hushed with a smack to the head.

James whispered, hiding his words from
Russell when the gunman stood close behind them, “I don’t know
how
you fit into this, but I
will
find out.”

“I—” he began.

“I don’t think you know the extent of what
happens if I fail,” James interjected. “You don’t seem to
understand what’s going on.”

Kierlan snickered humorlessly. “What’s to
get? I’m dealing with crazy people who think they’re reenacting
some movie or something.”

James didn’t laugh. “Who hired you?”

“No one hired me!” he enthused quietly. “I’m
a private party.”

As they came to the third floor, the pushing
against each of their backs became more insistent. James was the
first to near their door, but he halted before he could open it,
feeling a disturbance in the air. They couldn’t go inside.

“What’re you waiting for?” Russell demanded.
“Move!”

James shook his head, listening intently for
any sound on the other side of the door. “We can’t go in
there.”

“Why not,” Russell growled, pulling his
respective key card from the pocket of his sweatpants.

“There’s somebody in there.”

Shaking his head, Russell pushed the card
into the slot, shaking James’s hand away from him when he tried to
protest. He flung the door open, letting it creak to a halt against
the wall.

They didn’t see him at first, but, as Russell
forced them inside, each of them passed the room divider. Claire
was the first inside, catching herself against the doorway when she
tripped over the edge of the carpet.

Then, she saw him.

Rather, she saw what was left of him. The
others followed shortly after to investigate the reason behind
Claire’s quickly changing face.

Angra Mainyu was alone as he stood in the
suite’s living room, bedecked in the same tattered robes he’d
materialized in earlier that day, but the God himself had
significantly changed. While much of his skin remained intact,
Mainyu’s face was rapidly becoming a scene directly from a horror
movie. Cracks ran through the skin around his nose like a shattered
mirror, oozing blood that ran down his face. Claire’s hand
immediately flew over her mouth.