Maikoda: Power of the Moon (Blue Moon Trilogy Book 2) (15 page)

              “You want the power.” Layla whispered. It was not a question.

              Kuruk shrugged. “A man in my position would be able to use a few god-like abilities. It would go a long way to solidifying my interests.” He turned to face her. 

              “Here is where you come in. In order to kill Mai-coh, a special dagger is needed. Apparently, according to my contacts, that dagger is in Alaska and only the Hania or Spirit Warrior can retrieve it.” 

              He smiled and cold trickled down Layla’s spine. “A few of my…colleagues and I believe that you, Layla Donovan, may be the Hania.”

              Layla laughed. “Me? A spirit warrior?” She shook her head. “First of all, I have no idea what the hell a spirit warrior is and I can’t even avoid being captured. So, how the hell am I supposed to be this warrior that can get this special dagger to kill a god?”

              Kuruk glared at her. “Because you are. Because you are Mai-coh’s daughter. Because of the prophecy.”

              “Seriously? Don’t you think that this dude has kids all over the place? From what I’ve heard, he doesn’t tend to put down any roots. What makes you think I’m the one?”

              “You fit the prophecy and the legend.” Kuruk shrugged. “The hair, the eyes. Of all of Mai-coh’s children we have seen, you fit most of all.” 

              He walked back to the table and perched on the edge. “You better hope for your sake that you are, because that is the only reason you get to live.” He looked at his watch. “My men will prepare you. We leave for Alaska in the next few hours.”

              His suit barely creased, he moved toward the door. “I suggest you try to get as comfortable as possible. It’s going to be a long ride.” Then he was gone.

              Shit. Panic started in the back of her mind. He was moving way too fast. His cellphone rang and he answered it curtly, barking orders to the person on the other end. Something about plans to set sail before they met up with his private plane at a nearby airstrip. That had to mean they were moving to the neighboring city of St. Petersburg. There was a private airstrip right next to the St. Pete Pier. 

              They could easily sail there and transport her to the plane. Once there, she would be trapped until they got to Alaska, surrounded by Kuruk and his men. She may be a Werewolf, but she was not jumping out of a damn plane mid-flight, Hania or not. Her only chance was to escape now. If she waited, then she might have more guards watching her every move. 

              If she could pick up on the scent trails, she might be able to count how many Weres were on the ship and that might mean the difference between escape and recapture. And recapture could involve torture or other painful experiences at his hands. She closed her eyes and concentrated, using the skills Martin had taught her. 

              Almost immediately, she picked up on the dark gray and red bands which marked Kuruk. He was predictable, moving only to and from a few rooms. She could only hope he was nowhere near the room he used to watch her. 

              As alpha, Kuruk’s men boasted scent trails similar to their leader and she quickly sensed the other wolves, their bands mixtures of reds and browns. So far, in addition to Kuruk’s trails, there were only six other Weres on board. That was still difficult odds and she would have to bring her A game, but it could always be worse. It wasn’t like she was trying to kill them, she was just trying to avoid them and get the hell off this boat. Now to get out of her bonds.

              “Hello!” she called loudly to get the attention of the guard stationed outside of her door. She could smell him. 

              “Hello!” she called again, determined to be annoying until he answered. She took a deep breath to yell a third time, when the door was wrenched open.

              “What?” her guard snapped. He was new to the crew; at least she had never seen him before and she was quite familiar with Kuruk’s men. It made this a lot easier.

              She sucked in a pained breath. “I really, really, really have to pee.”

              He looked at her skeptically.

              “Dude, I had like five glasses of wine last night and you guys just gave me a juice box. If I don’t go now, I will pee myself.”

              The guard folded his arm across his ample chest. “Go ahead.”

              “Are you kidding me?” she cried, “I am about to go on myself.” 

              The guard turned to walk away.

              “Just think of what Kuruk would do when he finds out you wouldn’t let me go to the bathroom. Especially when I have to pee on myself.”

              The guard paused. She was getting to him. Good. His fear of reprimand from his alpha made him doubt his own gut instincts.  Not that it was any of her business; she was simply trying to escape.

              “Honestly, look at the size you and the size of me. Even if I transformed and tried to run, you could catch me in no time.” She sighed dramatically. “It wouldn’t even be worth the risk.”

              The guard looked back at her. “You try anything and I will break your legs myself.” He smiled wickedly. “You don’t need your legs to find the dagger.”

              Layla nodded quickly. “Thank you. Oh my god,” she whined to make it sound realistic as she channeled every drunk, whiny college girl she could think off. “I have to go so badly.”

              “Okay, okay,” the guard muttered. “Just shut the hell up!” He walked up to her.  “Try anything and I will fuck you up. You hear me, you bitch?”

              Layla bit her lip in an attempt to appear more desperate and to hide her anger. No use pissing off the guy about to release you. She looked at him as he pulled on a pair of gloves and pulled a key from his pocket. He released the latch that held the fiber across her chest and she held her breath until he released her legs, certain something was going to mess this up. 

              He deliberately pushed her towards the door and she stumbled, barely resisting the urge to kick him. They moved down a long corridor and the distinct mixture of salt, water and minerals from the sea outside assured her she was still in Tampa. He shoved her again and she walked ahead of him, stopping short when he grabbed her arm outside of a room.

              “In here.” He pushed open the door and roughly thrust her inside.

              Layla looked at the less than sanitary commode. The men here were obviously not interested in keeping this bathroom clean. She ignored the suspicious splatters on the floor and looked around for the toilet paper. 

              “Use your shirt.”

              She glared at the guard, but swallowed her tongue and walked further into the room. The guard eyed her. “Um, excuse me?”

              He shook his head. “You are not leaving my sight. So, go ahead and squat, sweetheart, I’ll be right here watching.” He grinned at her discomfort.

              The downside was that she actually had to pee now and this pervert was going to watch her do it. The upside was that he was already in the room. She didn’t have to waste time dragging his large bulk into the bathroom. She straddled the toilet and lifted her shirt out from her thighs and stretched it around her knees to add some privacy. No way in hell was she going to lift it up. The guard watched her movements avidly and she disgustedly looked the bulge in his pants.

              As she finished relieving herself, she used the hem of her shirt to pat dry. The guard licked his lips, his eyes fixed on the bottom of the shirt. She leaned forward slightly, careful to aim in the opposite direction of the ‘stains’ and slipped. Instantly, the guard was there. Just what she wanted. Before he could right himself, she slammed her elbow into the back of his neck. As he leaned forward, she reared up and delivered a vicious knee strike to his chest.

              He fell like a stone.

              She stepped over him. “That’s what you get for calling me a bitch. Bitch.” She stared at him to memorize his features. Besides transforming into her wolf, she had only used her transformation powers during her practice runs with Martin and once when she was tracking Brett but she could not copy someone of the opposite sex accurately.  However, she didn’t need to fool anyone up close, she simply needed to get off this damn boat. 

              Although not a tiny girl, she was still only half his size, she thought as she stared at his large body. Perhaps, from far and with his jacket, she might be able to pull this off. She leaned over him and worked quickly, transforming into her wolf and broke off a piece of metal pipe which she bent around his hands like cheap handcuffs after removing his jacket and secured him to the sink. 

              Once he woke up and transformed, he could easily break free, but she would have a bit of a head start. She briefly thought about grabbing the fiber off her bed, but then thought better of it. Her room had a camera and it would take too much time. If someone just happened to watch her walk back in without the guard, she would never escape.

              She ran her hands up and down his body, getting a feel for his shape and size, his smell, even the bit of stubble that covered his chin and then glanced at herself in the mirror. Man, was she ugly. The transformation worked, kinda; she looked like him, but with breasts and…she glanced down, no dick. She was a scary-looking woman. 

              With a grin, she threw his jacket over her shoulders and gathered her long hair in one hand, tying it in a knot and stuffing it down the back of the garment. Glancing over her shoulder, she delivered another blow to the side of his head, just in case. She wanted to make sure he stayed out for a while. 

              She opened the door and peeked out. So far, so good. The corridor stood empty and she ambled her way toward the door marked exit. She moved quickly, passing through without incident and moved to another door. She could smell the sea. She was so close. Just as she was about to slip out into the night air, a voice shouted behind her.

              “Bro, wait up!” Another guard called out. Layla paused as he ran towards her. Shit. Shit. Shit. She was going to get caught, she thought and slipped into the shadows as he got closer.

              “Bro, I need you to cover for me for a few minutes.” The man slowed to a crawl, his breathing slightly labored. He too was new at this. “The boss had to leave to finish some last minute stuff, so…” He trailed off as he neared her, his nose wrinkling. “Hey, you’re not—!”

              Layla’s hand or rather the guard’s hand slammed into the other man’s throat, effectively stopping his speech and he slumped to the floor. She quickly grabbed him and propped him in the darkened corner. She didn’t have time to drag him all the way back to the bathroom and she didn’t know who were in the rooms in this part of the ship. It was good news that Kuruk was not on board, though. That gave her just enough of an edge to actually make it.

              She passed through another door as she felt the Transformation start to slip. No matter, she was almost there. Once outside, she looked around. Sure enough, she was in a part of the Port of Tampa that housed industrial ships; it was not busy enough at night to really draw attention, but not desolate either. She knew how to get back to her house from here; she just had to get off the ship.

              Spying a ladder, she quickly climbed down, still a ways from the actual water. Glancing up, she hugged the ship as one of the guards came rather close to her location and prayed that he did not breathe deeply…or look down. Finally, he moved away and she lowered herself feet first and clung to the last rung of the ladder. She let go, pointing her toes and held her body straight to cut through the water. She landed with barely a splash.

*

              Brett revved the engine as he flew down the interstate. The car responded and leapt forward. He didn’t care if any cops had speed traps, he would simply have to outrun them. Focused on the road ahead of him, he deftly swerved around a minivan doing less than the speed limit in the fast lane.

              Layla was still missing. 

              He’d called her cellphone after Susan had called him, hysterical. Not surprising, the call went straight to voicemail. According to Susan, Layla had been in out with a few friends and had to spend the night. Then all hell broke loose. Someone had kidnapped her. And there had been blood. Layla’s blood. Just a few drops, but that was all it took to make him race home. 

              He was supposed to be her protector. He was supposed to guard her, keep her safe and now she was missing. His heart lodged in throat. He loved her. She was his everything and she might be gone. In the short while they had been together, somehow she had slipped through his defenses. She was his life. He had not been able to tell her that before he left, but damn it, when he found her, he would tell her then. It was more than ‘I love you’, it was more,’ I can’t live without you’.

              Traffic was light, which was good. He shifted gears again to skillfully move behind and around, another slow-moving vehicle. He hugged the edge of the lane determined to use the emergency lane if possible.

              His phone rang and he looked at the caller ID. Martin. “Any word?”

              “Not yet.” The usually unflappable man sounded worried and that worried him even more. “I tracked her from Orlando back to Tampa, but then I lost her scent.” Martin sighed. “What I wouldn’t give to have Layla’s gift right now.”