The Keepers: Declan (24 page)

Torture wasn’t a method the Keepers had used before. But there was so much at stake that desperation had taken over. The safety of innocent people, their secret, the balance they fought so hard to maintain.

And Kate.

Strapped to a chair in the Bennett basement, Max finally relented, his words an anguished whisper against Declan’s ear that sent a renewed flash of fury through the Keeper.

Straightening, Declan reached for the warlock and snapped his neck.

“DECLAN!” Archer roared, walking into the basement, and bolted forward to pull Declan off Max. He checked for a pulse and glared at Declan. “What did you do that for?”

“He told me how to find Kate,” Declan said, shoving past Archer.

Archer was in the doorway in a burst of speed, a barricade of rigid anger. “So you killed him?”

“They took Kate!” Declan yelled, pointing at the dead warlock, despising the sound of those words and what they meant. “And he helped them!”

“Doesn’t mean you could kill him.”

Adrenaline in overdrive and patience wearing thin, Declan tried to shove Archer aside, but his brother refused to budge. “Get out of my way.”

“He’s bound to a chair!”

“Didn’t stop him from starting to spew some warlock crap in my ear!”

Ethan was suddenly between them, tugging them apart. “Enough!” he bellowed, grabbing each brother by the shoulder, separating them. “Get a grip, dammit.”

“Declan’s the one who needs the grip. He just killed Max!” Archer yelled, shoving a finger at Declan.

Ethan smacked his hand away. “Who the fuck cares if the Mimic is dead?”

“We don’t kill people just because we can,” Archer snapped.

“No, we don’t, but maybe we should!”

They stared at each other, heated silence prickling between them as they all absorbed the blow of Ethan’s words.

Ethan spoke first, his voice a rumble of anger, his body rigid. “Maybe that’s why we’re fighting a war that won’t die. We’re too
noble
. We defend. We protect. Even when attacked, we maim, but rarely kill.”

“We’re Keepers, Ethan. We took a vow. We don’t have the luxury of being anything but noble.”

“But right now we’re erring on the side of caution, losing everyone we’ve ever loved, and watching innocent people die. I don’t think
noble
applies anymore.”

“Ethan!” Sienna cried from the bottom of the stairs behind them. “Listen to what you’re saying!”

Her arrival ended the argument, tension filling the room. Archer shot them a final glare but didn’t argue and went to her.

Sienna glanced at each of them but didn’t comment, seemingly deciding to shelve the discussion sparked by Ethan’s outburst.

But they’d hear about it later when this was over, no doubt.

“Sienna,” Declan said, moving toward her. “Is there anything in your Grimoires on portals?”

“Of course.” Sienna frowned. “Why –?”

“Because Kate’s in New Orleans and according to the dead warlock, that witch bitch friend of hers used a portal to get her there.”

Her eyes widened and she paled. “Portals can be accessed by anyone magical, but only a dark witch caster can open one. We don’t even know if they still exist.”

“Two words,” Declan said, flashing a fake smile, “
witch bitch
.”

Ignoring her soft gasp, he turned and mounted the stairs two at a time.

“Declan!”

He stopped at the top of the stairs and looked at her, despising the worry on her expression.

“If Hazel has opened a portal, we have no idea what it’ll look like or where it is.”

He clenched his fists, refusing to admit defeat, reining in the rage that threatened to spiral him out of control.

“We have to find that portal, Sienna. We’re running out of time.”

He hadn’t defined exactly what Kate meant to him yet but the woman had reached him on a level no one ever had. The idea of losing her threw him into blind panic. The uncontrollable anger he welcomed; it gave him strength, fed his determination to find her.

“The moon hasn’t peaked yet,” Archer said. “They might not go through with the ritual tonight. It could buy us some time.”

“No,” Declan replied, not doubting it for a second. “They know we’ll come for her.”

“They don’t know that
we
know they have Kate.”

“We can’t take any chances.” Declan nodded at Sienna to follow him. “Sienna, the Grimoires. We need to hurry.”

But Sienna wouldn’t budge. Instead, the worry that had clouded her expression had given way to fear and she stared at them in silence.

Descending the stairs, he stopped in front of her, tipping her chin with his thumb so that she looked at him. “We can do this, Sienna.”

“If there’s a portal, it means there’s a dark witch caster out there.” Her words were edged with dread. “They practise a type of black magic that’s the ultimate evil, Declan. Different to Mason. I’ve never fought that before.”

“You’re not alone, Sienna.”

“I know,” she said, taking his hand. He frowned when he felt the slight tremor to her touch. “But I had Rose last time. This is more powerful than anything we’ve ever seen before.”

“Sienna, Rose gave you her powers for a reason. Maybe this is why.” He exchanged quiet looks with his brothers before pulling her into his arms, the need for words unnecessary. She was as fiercely protective of them as they were of her. Their bond was indescribable.

And every time they faced a war together, they fought not only to protect the balance, but also to protect each other.

“We won’t let anything happen to you,” he told her, kissing her forehead.

A small smile eased some of the tension in her face and she gave a brief nod. “I know. But it’s not me I’m worried about.”

****

The sudden motion woke Kate.

Someone was carrying her.

It took mere seconds for the horror to come crashing back and her eyes flew open as she realised they’d removed most of her clothes. She lifted her head, shuddering as she saw her exposed body. They’d left her in the underwear and T-shirt she’d worn beneath her clothes earlier that morning.

A morning where she’d woken up in Declan’s bed. God, had it really only been a day?

A fierce wave of longing washed through her and she shivered, the cold prickling her bare skin.

She winced as the two men carrying her set her down beside a wrought iron gate on the ground, with no attempt at gentleness.

She scanned her surroundings. The fires still burned, the acrid smell permeating the air. The warriors had closed in on her, glowering at her, their skeleton masks and hooded capes a vision of the living dead that had come for her.

The sound of their whispered chants filled the air, ripe with excitement and restless energy. They’d been biding time until they’d gathered the elements that would set their leader free and were now impatient.

Someone grabbed her arm, slamming her wrist against an iron rod behind her head. She struggled, lashing out her free arm, but a second warrior was quick to subdue her. They spread her arms and legs, using ropes to fasten each ankle and wrist to the gate. The fires burned around them, bright and angry.

“Let me go!” she shouted, tugging against the binds. One arm broke free, triggering a shout of warning from the warriors.

Hazel waved a hand at her, the motion instantly mending the broken ropes. Another motion and the ropes pulled tightly around her, extracting a grimace from Kate.

She twisted, trying to find a way out, the iron rods from the gate digging into her back, and recoiled when two warriors approached. The rustle of excitement that rippled through the crowd hinted at their importance.

They appeared to be women, although Kate couldn’t be sure, the usual clues covered by the mask and cloak. They each clutched something in their hands and Kate strained to see what they had in store for her.

They stepped forward, producing a bowl of water and a sponge, and began to swipe at Kate’s bare flesh, her hair, her face.

Cleansing her.

No, no, no!

“What are you doing?” Kate demanded, hating the helplessness that overruled all her other emotions. “Stop it!”

They dried her and draped her body in a cloak that matched theirs.

Although Kate welcomed the added warmth the cloak offered, it was theirs and rang of everything sinister.

Still chanting, four men approached, larger in build, and each took hold of a corner of the gate she was bound to. They hoisted her up, dragging her into an upright position, using poles to secure her.

Kate sought out Hazel. All traces of the friend she’d grown to love had vanished beneath the soulless eyes and black and white skeletal tattoo.

“Hazel, how could you do this?” she called out, hating the way her voice cracked with emotion.

Hazel met her gaze but didn’t reply and Kate fought back the tears. She refused to cry for the friend she’d lost – everything they’d shared had been a lie.

But Hazel’s betrayal hurt more than she’d ever admit, unsettling the small foundation of trust she’d begun to muster in the last few weeks.

“Hazel, it’s time,” said a female voice, coming up behind the older witch, a voice that Kate instantly recognised.

Megan.

She took her spot beside Hazel, linking hands. The whispered chanting came to an instant halt, followed by a tense silence as everyone waited in anticipation.

“Hazel, don’t do this,” Kate said, her words coming out in a breathless plea that went ignored.

The two women who had bathed her stepped forward, placing their bowls on the ground beneath Kate’s wrists.

Kate turned her head to the woman closest to her. “Please help me,” she whispered, surprised when the woman met her gaze, hesitating. Apart from her hands, her eyes were the only part of her that wasn’t masked and Kate locked her gaze on them, her only connection to anything humane. “Don’t let them do this.”

The woman’s gaze never faltered, her eyes peering into Kate’s. “Stay calm,” she said softly, her voice sparking instant recognition in Kate. “It’ll be over soon.”

Kate mentally scrambled to place the voice and gasped.

Jenna. From Hazel’s store.

Groaning at her foolishness, she closed her eyes. They’d been planning this from the start, meticulously setting her up every step of the way.

And like a fool, she’d fallen for their lies.

Jenna returned to Hazel’s side as the witch glanced at the moon before closing her eyes. Her whispered words made no sense to Kate, her words foreign, but the repetitive nature of the chant was creepier than anything she’d ever heard.

Oh, my God. The sacrifice. It’s happening.

Panic took flight and Kate began to scream, the sound ripping through the cemetery. And when she ran out of air, she took another deep breath and screamed again.

Confident at the lack of rescue, the chanting grew louder, more vigorous, mingling with Kate’s screams. The air thickened as a fog crept along the ground through the dark alleyways between the graves. It spilled out onto the clearing in the centre of the cemetery and worked its way around the feet of all the warriors.

Kate fell silent, blinking as everything around her grew murky, the fog illuminated by the moonlight.

The ground began to tremble, a soft rumble that failed to evoke any reaction from the warriors.

They were concentrating on the ritual, an epic transfer of magical powers.

As if they’d received a cue, they joined in Hazel’s chanting, their voices an echo of terror through the night. On and on they chanted, their repetitive chants gaining volume and power, and Kate wanted to cry at the absurdity of it all.

Jenna took one of the three daggers from the warrior beside her and stepped forward, her gaze on Kate.

“No!” Kate screamed, anger rearing to life as her survival instinct snapped to the forefront. She began tugging with all the strength she could muster, steely determination triumphing over hysteria.

Jenna stopped, inches from Kate, a flash of light bouncing off the dagger as she raised it in the air.

The slice of blade against skin was swift, pain shooting up Kate’s arms as blood began dripping into the bowls below.

This was it. It was over.

She thought of her mother and Lora. Two beautiful women she’d never truly known.

Declan.

Tears welled up in her eyes as dizziness took over and she looked at Jenna, her heart shattering into a million pieces at the thought of never seeing him again.

She hadn’t even told him how much she loved him.

Everything grew blurry and quiet, almost as though her body had begun shutting down one sensory organ at a time.

Hazel retrieved the two bowls that contained Kate’s blood, smiling wildly. She turned to face her followers, holding them up in the air.

The action put an instant stop to the chants and a hush fell across the army of skeletons.

“Let victory be ours!” she cried out and everyone cheered and clapped. She glanced at the warrior still clutching the two daggers in his hand. “Kill her.”

He turned to look at Hazel, seemingly confused. “Are you sure?”

Rick. The older warrior. And she’d bet that the man beside him was John.

“Do it,” Hazel ordered.

Jenna whirled around, the flare of her cloak making a soft whooshing sound with the movement. “Right here? Now?” she asked, sounding surprised.

“Why wait?’ Hazel asked.

“You’re the one who wanted to wait. You kill her now and there’s no more hybrid blood.”

“I have what I need and now I want her powers. You’ve seen the way that Bennett brother looks at her. Max won’t be able to fool them for long and when Declan discovers where she is, he’ll come for her. I can’t risk losing her.”

Without waiting for another order, almost as though he couldn’t wait to do the deed himself, Rick pounded toward Kate, the daggers in his hand.

Jenna lurched forward, anchoring herself between him and Kate, snatching the daggers from him. “I’ll do it.”

He grunted but didn’t get the chance to argue as Jenna was already walking to Kate with a determined stride.