King of Darkness (27 page)

No chance in hell was she gonna sit by and wait to see if they came near her. Dead-end or not, infuriating cocky asshole or not, Siddoh was precious to her and she was gonna get his ass back. And Thad’s mate, too. She’d head outside and start in the direction Thad said the car had come from. If she was lucky, she’d meet up with it head on, and boy what fun that would be.

But first… she had nothing with her other than her phone. She’d left her coat in the kitchen off the cafeteria, and it was cold as the proverbial witch’s tit outside. And why a witch’s tit? Was there anything said about the temperature of, say, a warlock’s testicle? What about a wizard’s? Tyra was willing to bet any part of their bodies would be plenty frigid.

God, but did she ever have a gift for thinking of the stupidest things at the most ridiculous possible times. She cursed and muttered to herself while she locked up her office and hurried down the hall to the kitchen. The dingy linoleum tiles disappeared underneath her feet as she cursed more, realizing she also didn’t have any weapons aside from a small dagger in an ankle holster.

Good thing she usually didn’t need them.

Tyra attuned herself to the rush of her blood as she hurried along. Her footsteps echoed in a hall that was blessedly devoid of humans at the late hour. Inattention could cost her precious seconds. She was so preoccupied that she didn’t see Anton Smith, or whatever the hell his name was, standing in the hall until she was about to plow right into him.

“Holy cow!” She pulled back soon enough to avoid knocking him down but not before she found herself pressed against him like they were two halves of a grilled cheese sandwich.

“I’m sorry,” he said in that rumbly, soothing voice of his. “I didn’t mean to run into you.”

“No, don’t be.” She put her hands on his shoulders with the intention of pushing him away, but she found it taking more self-control than she’d anticipated. What on earth? “I was the one not paying attention.”

She frowned then. It was getting late. He shouldn’t be out of his room so close to quiet hours. “What are you doing out here this late? You should probably get back to the men’s hall before you get locked out for the evening.” She backed only a step away, dropping her hands at her sides awkwardly.

“Actually, I was looking for you,” he said quietly. She didn’t even try to hide what must have been a very puzzled expression.

“I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t be. I just—I feel drawn to you. I can’t explain it.” A blush hit his cheeks, and in a different set of circumstances, it would have been the sweetest damn thing. “I can’t seem to stop thinking about you. I feel this overwhelming need to protect you…” As his voice trailed off, his intensely dark gaze met hers and the stain on his cheeks deepened. “I’m sorry. It’s stupid…”

Oh, she so did not have time for this.

“Mr. Smith… uh, whatever… look. You barely know me, and as sweet as it is, I don’t need you to protect me.” Hell, he didn’t know the half of it.

“I know. I’m sorry.” He shifted to lean against the wall but left the distance between them the same. He absently scratched at his arm and rubbed the back of his neck. The gestures were nervous ones, but he maintained eye contact.

“Thing is, I’ve been trying to remember something about what happened to me. Or my past in general. All I get is this vague impression of darkness. Of things around me being evil and scary and… feeling really alone, you know? When I try to follow those impressions to see where they lead, I just get more of the same. Or worse, the urge to throw up.”

Ew.

“But when I see you, I light up. I feel so good in a way I can’t really even describe.” He coughed. “I’m sorry. That probably sounds really creepy and I know it’s inappropriate, but the honest truth is that if this were another time and place, I’d ask you out to dinner or… or wherever, in a heartbeat.” He stopped to catch his breath, his steel-gray eyes still staring her down.

Daring her to answer.

Despite the enormity of what she was on her way to do, Tyra couldn’t help but give him props for having the balls to come up to her like this. And she was truly flattered. Really. It wasn’t as if she got approached like this every day. Or even every decade.

Tyra gave him a slight smile. She needed to shut him down fast but gently. “I’m honestly flattered, thank you. But you’re right, it’s inappropriate. I can’t be involved with a client. Besides, you said it yourself: you still don’t have your memory back. How can you move on with your life when you don’t know where you came from? You should focus on yourself first and find the missing pieces before you try to bring a relationship into the picture.”

His face fell, but he recovered fast and nodded quietly. “You’re right. Again… I’m sorry.”

She touched his arm gently, in that same comforting gesture she used with all residents. Immediately his feelings of sadness, disappointment, and even desire washed over her. Poor thing, how could he want her that badly? The despair was something greater. Something bitter. Angry. His missing past, perhaps.

“It’ll come back. Don’t worry. Now, let’s get you back to the men’s wing before they lock the doors for the night and you’re stuck sleeping in a cafeteria chair.”

He nodded again but didn’t move. “It’s just frustrating, you know, like I can see these shadows in my head, and I want to reach in and pull them out so I can look closer and figure out what they are. But I can’t.” He took a few steps while he dug in his pocket, his face lined with frustration.

“Take this thing, for example. They said at the hospital that significant items could help jog my memory, but all I had on me when I came in was this, and so far it doesn’t jog anything. I keep thinking maybe it’s too big to have belonged to a sister or a girlfriend or something, but I really have no idea. It seems to evoke some really unpleasant emotions, but I just can’t pin it down.”

When she looked down at his open hand, Tyra went cold. Lips parted, heart racing, she stood frozen in place like some dumb ass in headlights. Nothing could have prepared her for this, not in a million years.

Sitting squarely in the middle of Anton Smith’s palm was a gold signet ring with a heart embossed on it.

A wizard ring.

Anton Smith… or whatever his name was… was a freaking wizard. And he had no idea.

He curled his hand around the ring and stuffed it back into his pocket. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I should really go. This is not your problem.”

Jesus Lord, if that wasn’t the misstatement of the year…

Before she could do much more than stand there gaping like a hooked bass, adrenaline arrowed through her, so intense that it lit up every vein in her body.

Siddoh.

Her eyes met Anton, uh, Whoever’s. “I have go. I’m sorry.” This whole other can of worms was going to have to wait. Without waiting for an answer, she pivoted on the ball of her foot and booked back to the cafeteria to grab her coat.

Inside the kitchen pantry, Tyra clutched her jacket to her chest and pulled the door shut. Her eyes squeezed shut. It was a struggle to get control of herself so she could get a bead on Siddoh when her heart rate and breathing were set on overdrive, and the stench of corned beef and cabbage lingered in the air like toxic waste.

A thought blinked into her mind about how she’d raced away from Anton Smith without bothering to hide her preternatural speed, and damn, but that was stupid. Still, she had bigger and nastier problems. Anyhow, if his memory returned, that little tidbit would be the least of her issues.

Sucking air like it was an Olympic event, Tyra fought to calm her nerves. She had to find Siddoh, and doing so was going to require all her focus. Teleporting to him was no biggie by itself but she needed to go in cloaked. Trying to exercise two powers at once caused an exponential drain on her physical and mental energy.

The hum of Siddoh’s life force in her blood was like rushing river rapids beneath her skin. He was anxious but energized. Alert. He was priming for a fight. All in all, that was good news.

When Tyra had a lock on him, she concealed herself, blending in with the massive cans of tomato sauce and pumpkin puree. After a few more deep breaths, she said a quiet prayer and sent herself into a scatter of molecules.

“Christ, he’s heavy.” Thad stood by to let Lee hoist Gareth’s deadweight over his shoulder. The monumental effort that Gary had exerted trying to stop the car from getting away had left him effectively worthless. Poor bastard couldn’t pick up his own pinkie at the moment. Meanwhile, they all continued to trudge in the direction the runaway SUV had come from.

“I can help carry him if you want.” Lee would decline, but Thad offered anyway. The older male’s face was grim but his eyes were sharp as he continued to face forward, constantly scanning the road and the field in front of them.

Finally, Lee shook his head slightly. “It’s cool. I can handle it.” Sure, he could handle it, but a two-hundred-plus-pound sack of lean muscle was no picnic when it was effectively deadweight. Then again, Lee would sooner kiss Siddoh full on the lips than cop to needing relief.

Thad inclined his chin. “Let’s keep to the shadows here but stay along the road. They came from up here so I wanna check out that access road coming off Route 9.”

Lee nodded and forged ahead. He didn’t need the instruction, but Thad needed to give it. For much of the time before his father’s death, Thad had been a soldier like any other, and while they were indeed friends, Lee had been his superior in command. For Thad, having their roles reversed was still very foreign.

Both males swore in disgust when they crested a small hill heading toward a community of luxury homes and were met with a horrific sight: they had found the rest of Gary’s patrol.

In the ditch flanking either side of the access road leading from the gated luxury community lay the bodies of Levon and Eamon. “Lee, get on the phone and get Brayden the fuck over here, and call the other patrols and have whoever’s closest bring a car,” Thad barked. “And check out Eamon.”

Levon lay in a pool of his own blood, leaking from a large gash in his neck. The slick expanse of it coated the grass, shining in the moonlight like a puddle of motor oil. Thad dropped down beside him in the grass while Lee hurried past, having laid Gary on a patch of grass with a hasty, “Sorry, man.”

Lee was already on the phone. “Yeah, we need pickup at the Fox Hill Estate community, pronto. Gary’s spent, and Levon and Eamon are both down. Get a doctor, and if you can, get their mates. Hurry.” He flipped the phone shut and knelt by Eamon.

Thad ripped off the bottom of Levon’s shirt, using it to stanch the bleeding. Lee had already begun CPR on Eamon. All the while, Thad and Lee kept vigilant watch for more enemies, even though the night air was crisp and peaceful. Whoever had taken Isabel was gone and would have their hands full with Siddoh’s shenanigans for awhile.

“Fuck!” After a few minutes of compressions, Lee snarled, “Can’t get a heartbeat.”

The sound of vehicles rolling up came just as Lee was baring his fangs, poised to open his own vein. Doc Abel had arrived and was continuing CPR while Eamon’s mate, Theresa, had scored her wrist to give him blood. Her blonde hair fell in front of her face as she leaned down, cascading onto the shoulder of a blue flowered nightgown that covered a very large, very pregnant belly.

A guilty pang hit Thad. Jesus, he was such an ass. He’d forgotten Theresa was so close to her due date. It explained why she was dressed for sleep in the middle of the night. She shouldn’t have come out here; the stress was no good. In the moment, he hadn’t thought to say anything about her pregnancy to Lee. He was screwing up right and left at this gig.

Thad clenched his fists so hard that his knuckles screamed for mercy and his short fingernails bit into his palms. Fuck mercy. Not for himself, not now. The murmur of “I’m sorry” from Abel and then Theresa’s plaintive sobs floated to him on the cold breeze. Damn. Just… damn.

Thad’s gut clenched at the realization that he had just lost a fighter and a friend. Casualties were an inevitable part of their jobs, but he had never handled them well. Not with the kind of stoicism the others did. He managed, at least, not to puke right there in front of everyone.

Boy, that would be stellar.
You
know
the
new
king? He gives the old Technicolor heave-ho in the presence of death. What a leader.

He glanced up to see Levon’s wide-eyed mate, eyes full of tears and questions. Waiting for him to give instructions. Quickly, he guided Ani through getting blood into her mate’s slack mouth. Even though he was weak, Levon began to drink, and there was a collective sigh of relief. He would probably be just fine. Thad looked over to where Eamon was being loaded into the back of a Land Rover.

Eamon would not be.

Thad stayed still, even though anxiety filled him with the almost unbearable need to pace like a caged lion. Having civilian females out in the field like this was no good. Having them come made more sense than losing precious minutes getting the injured males home, but it was dangerous as hell. He prayed that Lee’s instincts were solid on this one.

Once Levon finished his feed, Thad walked over to guide Ani into the back of one of the SUVs. She sobbed quietly but uncontrollably as she climbed in, tears streaking her pale cheeks like rain on a window. And he was asking Isabel to sign on for this? Thad’s position prevented him from sobbing and openly broadcasting his fear for her, as Eamon and Levon’s mates had done. He was forced to admit that he didn’t know how the mate of a soldier survived this uncertainty night after night.