Taken by Moonlight (57 page)

Her eyes
flew open. Had Vivienne listened to him? She hoped not. Cassie tried to push
herself up, and only then did she realize that not only was she chained to the
chair, she was strapped down. She blinked. No, not strapped down. It was a
seatbelt. She lifted her eyes to the dark circles once more, and with her
clearer vision, noticed they were an air conditioning portal, a light bulb, and
what looked like a button. The sound in the background was that of an engine.

I’m on a
plane
. Even as that
information settled, more questions came. What the hell was she doing on a
plane? She lifted her head as far as she could, and looked around. She was
alone. Where was her mother? Had they done anything to Evelyn while she’d been
out?

As panic
set in, she willed herself to calm down. She thought of clear, sunny skies, the
great outdoors, anything to calm her nerves. She was doing fine. Her heart rate
grew steady, her breathing normalizing, when a vision of Alexander Petraeus
came to her. He seemed to be looking in on her, his face an impassive mask,
pale eyes unreadable. Cassie’s opened her eyes instantly. He was standing
before her. She blinked, and then blinked again. He was still there, staring
down at her with an unreadable expression on his face.

Calm was a
thing of the past.

After
thanking Rafael for the ride, Vivienne had made her way into the airport and frozen.
She was slowly beginning to recognize she hadn’t quite thought her plan
through. What was she to do now? He’d told her to meet him at the airport, but
the airport was huge. Did he mean departures or arrivals? Would he think she
hadn’t shown up, and would he then kill her family?

She spun
around, her eyes searching for—she didn’t exactly know who or what—but as she
stood there, looking around the Departures section for anything that would
alert her of Maximilian Cronin, and her family, she noticed that there were
men, many men, dressed in all-over black, at different points in the wing.
Feeling her hackles rise, she drew in a deep breath, scenting that they were
witches.

Unsure of
what she was expected to do, she remained where she was, her senses on the
alert, her powers swarming just below the surface of her skin. One of the men
approached her. Like the trackers she’d seen before, he was dressed in all
black. The only difference was that his face was visible.

“Where’s my
mother? My sister?” she asked as soon as he was close enough to hear her
clearly.

“Follow
me.” He did not wait for her nod or answer, but turned and began heading for
the exit.

Vivienne
easily kept up with his purposeful stride. “Where are we going?”

“To your
mother and sister.”

“Where?”

When he
didn’t answer, only continued walking, Vivienne gripped his arm and pulled him
to a stop. He cut his eyes down to her hand and a scowl touched his lips but
after seconds, he replied, “VIP lounge.”

Vivienne
released him, and he shook his hand, as if shaking off her hold.

“This had
better not be a—”

“The grand
wizard is waiting for you.”

He’d cut
her off from saying that it had better not be a setup, because Vivienne was in
no mood for games. Her mother and sister were being held by a mad witch who
craved power, and she was a druid who’d just found out that becoming enraged
released powers that wreaked enough havoc to be called cataclysmic. If
Maximilian Cronin thought that he was going to set her up, he had another think
coming. Quite literally.

“Get away
from me.”

Cassie felt
helpless, because essentially…she was. Her powers were gone due to the chains
securing her, making it impossible for her to get away from Alexander Petraeus.
He could easily kill her, and she couldn’t even put up a semblance of a fight.

“You do not
understand, Cassandre,” he began slowly, reaching out a hand as if to touch
her. She flinched backward, wishing the chair behind her would give out so that
she could escape. As if sensing her disgust, he withdrew his hand and took a
step back.

She closed
her eyes, not wanting to see him. He only reminded her that this was all her
fault. “Go away. Haven’t you done enough already?”

He didn’t
answer, and after minutes of hearing the white noise of the jet’s engine, Cassie
opened her eyes, thinking she’d dreamed him, or imagined him. She hadn’t,
because he was still there. The only difference was that now he was perched on
the edge of a seat, watching her.

“Why are
you still here?”

“Because I
want you to understand—”

“Understand
what, Alexander? That you made me trust you, then betrayed me? That everything
you’ve told me is a lie? God, how gullible you must have thought me, how stupid
and ignorant and naïve.”

“I don’t
think you are any of those things. You’re beautiful woman with a large, kind
heart, a love of nature—”

“WHY ARE
YOU HERE? You’re going to get everything you wanted. The druids will be
resurrected. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

He didn’t
deny it. “Yes.”

“Go away,
Alexander.”

“I will
allow nothing to happen to you.”

“I don’t
believe
anything
that comes out of your mouth.”

“That is
understandable.”

Cassie
closed her eyes and sighed. When she opened them, intent on yelling at him for
being the biggest ass she’d yet encountered, he was gone.

Once more,
Conall tried his mental connection with Vivienne, and once more, he found her
silent. She’d put up a mental block he couldn’t get through unless he wanted to
hurt her. A curse left his lips.

After
leaving Cronin’s covenant, and driving at break-neck speed back to Cedar Creek,
he’d learned two things. His mate had not been kidnapped as no witch had been
scented on the grounds, and Vivienne and Rafael had ridden off together to an
airport. Sloan had tracked their scents to LaGuardia, and Conall followed. He
had many questions, like why Vivienne would leave to go to Cronin without
contacting Conall or why she went with Rafael, knowing what she knew of the
were,
but he was more concerned with locating her first.

Scanning
the crowded airport, he closed his eyes and tried to pinpoint her scent. It was
hard, especially around so many humans, with their random mixes of musk,
perfumes, and other odors, and because it seemed like Vivienne’s scent was all
over the airport. It was almost as if someone was purposely trying to throw
them off, and Conall suspected that was exactly as it was.

“Through
the double doors?” Raoul asked, his nostrils flaring as if he, too, was picking
up on the same location. Their original group had grown in size and split into
two upon arriving at the airport. Conall, Raoul, and about seven other
weres
had headed to Departures while Sloan and the rest had swarmed to Arrivals.

Nodding,
Conall began a brisk walk in that direction. He heard Raoul’s voice, and knew
he was alerting Sloan. Even though running would get them there much quicker,
no one would do so. It was after all, the airport, and with the recent increase
in security, the fact that Conall was on edge and not particularly fond of
humans…. It would be better for all parties if they kept their pace to brisk
walks.

Vivienne’s
scent only grew stronger as they followed the unseen trail, which led them to
two security officers, who took a look at them and shifted their hands to their
guns. Conall was so pissed, he wasn’t in the mood to play nice with two
frightened officers. If they wanted to reach for guns, so could he.

As if
sensing an oncoming explosion, Raoul stepped in front of him, flashed a calming
smile, and began speaking with the officers. In the end, he ended up reaching
into his wallet and retrieving a card, which put the officers at ease, enough
that they actually smiled. After that, they stepped aside, allowing Conall and
his party to proceed.

“What did
you show them?”

“I’m a VIP
member. So are you.”

Conall’s
only response was a grunt. He took the stairs two at a time, following her
scent to the last room on the left. Without knocking, he pushed the door open.
It was empty but it looked like the third world war had erupted in the place.
Chairs were overturned, the coffee table was broken, the paintings on the wall
were torn and crooked. Her scent was strongest in here. It was everywhere, as
if she’d been there recently.

And then he
caught whiff of another scent. A wolf scent.
Rafael.
His ears picked up
a slight scratching sound, and he followed it to the door at the side of the
room. Pushing it open cautiously, he looked down at the battered and bloodied
body of a large chestnut-colored wolf and paused. Rafael’s breathing was
labored, and every so often a slight whine would leave his lips. What was he
doing here?

Lowering
himself, he reached out to touch Rafael’s shoulder. The wolf immediately went
on the attack, swiping at him with sharp claws as he struggled to sit up.
Instinct made Conall retreat before the wolf’s claws could connect.

“Rafael!”
Conall said firmly, waiting for his green eyes to focus. He saw recognition in
the wolf’s gaze moments before he gave up his struggle to sit up, and placed
his head against the cool tile of the bathroom floor. Many questions rushed him
but one was more important, so he asked it. “Where is Vivienne?”

Taken.

The
weakness of the voice in his head coupled with the fact that Rafael didn’t
shift back to his human form told Conall of the severity of his injuries.

“Taken
where?”

Don’t
know. Cronin…it was Cronin. Trackers. Shitload of trackers.

Conall
nodded, feeling his anger mount simultaneously with fear. Rafael was fading,
slipping in an out of consciousness, but there was one more question he needed
answered.

“Why are
you here?”

Followed
Vivienne. Strange. Her at airport without you.

Standing,
Conall turned to find Raoul standing behind him. “Have them take him back to
Cedar Creek.” Most
weres
could heal themselves, but when they were
injured this badly, they needed assistance.

Conall
moved out of the way when two of his pack members entered the bathroom and
proceeded to lift the wolf. A dark pool of blood marked the spot where Rafael
had been.

 Conall’s
phone rang and he answered it. It was Sloan.

“Santiago just called. Tiberius and Wilhem and are heading to London.”

Was it a
coincidence that Cronin had lured Vivienne to an airport at the same time the
other two New York grand wizards were flying to London? He didn’t think so.

“How does
he know?”

“His pack
was watching them. They both boarded jets at JFK within hours of each other.
More than likely, that’s where Cronin is.”

Where
Vivienne could be heading, if she was no longer at the airport. He didn’t have
to say it. “Call Eirik and Astrid. I want them alert and looking for any
increase in witches.”

Eirik
Lieverson and Astrid Lykopis were two pack alphas who sat on the Council in the
UK. Conall had met both on various occasions, and he trusted them.

He turned
to Raoul. “Find out if and when Cronin boarded a plane.” It was probably a
private jetliner. It didn’t matter. They had people who could tell them what
they needed. Soon they would know if he’d boarded the plane, and who’d boarded
with him.

Vivienne
awoke struggling.

Her hands
and feet were bound, and something was in her mouth. She tried to spit it out
and found she couldn’t. It was a gag.

She’d known
there had been a high possibility that Cronin was setting her up, but she’d
also known the druid inside of her was powerful enough to withstand an attack,
and give a good counterattack of her own. She’d been determined to give it a
chance if it meant the possibility of saving her family. She’d entered the VIP
room and surveyed it, finding Maximilian Cronin standing directly in the
center, a cane supporting his weight. She’d taken a few cautious steps forward,
ears and nose alert for movement, when she felt a slight prick at her neck.
She’d spun around, had seen the syringe the tracker was holding, and had
promptly blasted him, and anyone else she could find. She’d tired quickly, but
she’d made it into the hallway and was running for the stairs when they caught
her again. Rafael had appeared, and in that moment, she realized Rafael had set
her up. It had been too convenient, him riding out on his bike just when she needed
a ride to the airport. Conall had warned her about him, but she hadn’t
listened. Stupid. She’d wished for enough strength to blast and kill him before
the drug knocked her out. Wishes were futile because his was the last face she
remembered seeing before she awoke in this place.