The Keepers: Declan (6 page)

Failure burned more than Declan cared to admit.

And although he should welcome the unrelenting headache as it meant he was alive, it only fuelled his frustration.

Refusing to dwell on the mammoth crap of Kate’s disappearance, Declan turned his Harley Davidson toward Rapid Falls.

A town where people were friendly, sociable and determined to maintain their traditions. A peaceful village surrounded by mountains, rivers and grape vineyards.

Peaceful, my ass.

Frustration chewing at the last of his patience, he slowed the bike to a crawl and made his way through the main road. The street was lined with ancient trees, immaculate gardens, quaint stores, and old thatched buildings meticulously restored by the townsfolk. Everything was shrouded in snow.

It was quite a contrast to the hustle and bustle of New Orleans.

He parked his bike outside his brother’s restaurant, abandoned his helmet on the seat and went inside, waving at old friends standing further down the sidewalk. He should have gone over to greet them. They’d all be combing the Bennett vineyards soon to assist with the annual harvest, but his mood was beyond idle chit chat.

He stood in the doorway, willing away the gloom that always came over him whenever he walked into the restaurant.

Sarah’s restaurant.

Raw brick walls, a wooden bar, and low lighting. It was modern, but warm and comforting. Although still unfinished, the old pub had been converted into a dining experience his sister would’ve been proud of.

Her dream – gone in a flash of violence.

The memory reared its head before Declan could stop it and he slammed the door so hard that the hinges groaned in protest.

“Whoa, look what the cat dragged in,” Ethan said, walking into the room. He unloaded a box of alcohol onto the bar counter, his easy smile fading as he took in his brother’s harsh frown. Without saying a word, he reached under the counter and produced a bottle of bourbon.

Declan discarded his gloves and jacket on a nearby table. The drink was needed, the warm liquid offering the comfort he sought. He held out the glass for a refill.

Ethan’s narrowed eyes scrutinized Declan as he judged his brother’s mood. His own short dark hair arranged to perfection, freshly shaven, and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, Ethan looked a far cry from Declan’s ragged appearance.

Not that Declan cared. He glanced around the room and gave a nod of approval. “You’ve made progress.”

“No thanks to you.”

“Hey, I told you that this was your baby. Besides, I’ve had my hands full.”

“With bourbon and women apparently.”

Declan held the glass to his lips, pausing, and flashed his brother a smirk. “Careful, brother, you’re starting to sound like Archer.”

“He’s worried, Declan.”

“He should back off. I’m not about to lose the plot again.”

Once had been enough; he’d almost drowned himself in alcohol and grief.

Sienna walked through the swinging door, a slender vision of red hair and pale skin, carrying a box of wine.

His witch.

The woman he was duty bound to defend and did so without resentment or regret. A devotion few others could understand. But they fought the same war, carried the same weight that came with their responsibilities, and shared the same grief over the ones they’d lost.

She was his best friend, his ally, and one of the few people who could maintain a stand-off with him. They’d often butted heads, but she was like a sister to him and he adored her.

“Declan!” she gasped, her pensive expression shifting to pure delight. “You’re back!”

He went to her, removing the box from her arms and setting it on the floor. When he turned around, she pounced, throwing her arms around him.

He kissed her head, breathing in her familiar smell that always reminded him of home. “Hey, witchy.”

She pulled back to flash him a smile but it was quick to vanish when she took in his messy appearance. “You look  … ”

“Gorgeous? Handsome?”

“Tired.”

His teasing smile faded and he gave a quick nod. “It’s been a crap few days. Is Archer here?”

“He’s at Lora’s store,” she replied. “She needed help shifting a few boxes.”

Lora’s clothing boutique was situated across the street. She was an old friend of Rose’s and a witch, but had given up magic many years ago when her daughter had fled town. Even though Lora had refused the protection of a Keeper, they were equally protective of her. “Is she okay?”

“Lora’s fine. You just missed Tara. You should call her.”

“The harvest?”

“She has everything under control but I don’t think she’s itching to speak to you about work.”

Declan frowned, not up for a chat about his relationship with Tara. Their attractive estate manager had a great smile and an even better personality. She’d been a fitting distraction but that’s all it had been. “Don’t tell her you saw me.”

Sienna shot him a look of disgust. “You’re such an ass to her.”

“I’ve only ever been honest with her. She knows where we stand.”

“I don’t know why she still wants anything to do with you.”

“Of course you wouldn’t know,” Declan retorted, cracking a smirk. “You’ve never had sex with me.”

Her face scrunched in horror and she punched his arm. “Declan! Ew!”

He laughed and finished his drink, nudging the empty glass at his brother.

Raising a brow, Ethan refilled the glass and slid it toward him. “Where’s the girl?”

Declan exhaled noisily and sank onto a vacant bar stool. “She’s gone.”

Sienna’s shocked gasp nipped at his words. “As in Harper has her or killed her?”

“She’s still alive.”

“Where is she?”

Declan rolled his eyes. “If I knew, she’d be here, not off with the damn warlock.”

“You lost her?” they asked in perfect unison and he almost flinched at their incredulous tones.

Almost.

But flinching would reveal his disgust.

“How could you let that happen?” Ethan asked, irritation lining his words.

“The wildcat drugged me this morning.” Declan took another sip of whiskey which did nothing to ease the growing frustration. “Long story.”

“She sounds feisty.”

“Feisty’s going to get her killed.”

“You know what this means, right?”

“Trust me, brother. I’ve had all day to process what this means.”

And it only fuelled his anger every time he did.

“Why did they take her? They could’ve killed her right there, absorbed her powers, and got on with it. Why go to the trouble of taking her?”

Exactly.

But Harper hadn’t killed her, which meant he needed her for something else. What that was worried him more than he cared to admit.

“Maybe they’re hoping she’ll side with them,” Sienna suggested. “She’d be more powerful than Harper could ever be as the magic originated with her.”

“She’d never side with them.”

“You say that like you know her.”

Every damn inch of her.

“We’ve met before.”

“You have? Why haven’t you said anything until now?”

“Because it wasn’t relevant.”

“She broke in here, stole two of our daggers, stabbed your brother –”

“I’m very well aware of her crimes, Sienna.”

“– and you failed to think it was relevant?”

“Unless it was more than a simple meeting,” Ethan added, watching Declan. Apparently, the warrior knew his brother too well.

“Can we focus on what’s important here?” Declan snapped, slamming the glass on the table. “Harper has her and he’ll use her powers any way he can. Once he has access to them, we can kiss our sweet-assed victories goodbye.”

The truth behind his words hung in the air like an unwelcome ache.

Sienna nibbled her bottom lip, her eyes filled with renewed concern. “If Harper insists she sides with them, her options will be limited. If she doesn’t do it willingly, he’ll kill her.”

Declan swallowed, hating to hear the words spoken aloud. He nodded, reached into his pocket and pulled out a pocket knife and a map.

“What about the hybrid in her?” Ethan asked.

“No one knows about that. Besides, her mother used a spell that kept that side of her dormant. Her witch side is stronger. Any Keeper ability she has is nowhere near ours.”

“If Harper’s discovered she’s a hybrid, would it help him?”

“Not much,” Sienna replied. “The powers they scavenge are always diluted in the process. If her Keeper side is weak, there’d be little to gain.”

Declan spread the map across the bar and glanced at Sienna. “Up for a location spell?”

Green eyes flashed with curiosity. “She’s magical. A location spell won’t work for her unless I have her blood.”

Declan reached for the knife and slashed his palm, ignoring the pierce of pain.

“Declan?” Sienna’s voice tore through the silence, laced with confusion.

He held his hand above the map and pumped his fist.

“Declan!” Sienna snapped, snatching the towel off Ethan’s shoulder as he went to lock the front door. “What are you doing?”

Blood dripped onto the map, red and angry, a reminder of the war they’d face if Harper scavenged Kate’s magic.

Like hell.

He took the towel from Sienna and wrapped his hand. “The location spell, Sienna.”

“This won’t work. I need her blood.”

“Use mine.”

“I can’t search for her without her blood!”

“I’m not asking you to search for hers.”

Sienna’s eyes narrowed before widening as understanding dawned. “You marked her, didn’t you?”

Damn right.

Kate had never been afraid of the dark.

Until now.

Although she’d been unconscious most of the time, she suspected Harper had taken her underground. It was too dark, cold, and quiet to be anywhere else. The walls were damp, the air smelt musty, and Kate wasn’t sure what she wished for more – fresh air or sunlight on her face.

Both would signal freedom which now seemed like an impossible feat. Not with the shackles around her wrists and ankles. Her skin was raw, the flesh red from the binds.

She had long since given up trying to free herself. They’d used shackles that were impossible to destroy, despite her strength. Since they’d taken her, she’d hoped her powers would set her free.

But no.

Her captives knew how to curb them.

Bastards.

The sound of approaching footsteps sent Kate’s heartbeat racing. She drew in a quiet breath, bracing herself for the onslaught of evil coming her way.

The key turned in the lock, the sound loud in the quiet room. The wooden door pushed open, scraping along the sandy floor. A beam of light flooded the room, a brief respite from the darkness.

Harper.

Kate lay still, pretending to be asleep, hoping to gain the element of surprise. She peered at him through the hair that fanned her face. Her stomach recoiled as he approached, a mocking smile on thin lips; a syringe in one hand, a torch in the other. Without saying a word, he turned around to hang the torch on a hook in the wall.

The face of a demon stared back at her. Piercing black eyes drawn into a frown of hatred, snarling teeth, and an expression designed to instigate fear.

Air evaded her and she stared at it in horror.

He turned back to her, and she almost baulked as he edged closer, his heavy boots thudding across the floor.

A tattoo.

Suppressing a shudder, Kate forced herself to breathe, knowing she had little chance of ever getting out of here if he injected her again. With each dose, she grew weaker. Their drug of choice brought with it an overwhelming exhaustion she’d never experienced before. It had been hours since her last dose and a fresh one would seal her fate.

Kate waited, biding her time. He reeked of alcohol, the smell permeating the air as he approached. The bed creaked from his weight and she tried not to flinch when he stroked her hip. His hand played with the hem of her shirt, scraping calloused fingers along her skin.

“All this time we’ve been looking for a way to beat the Beckham witch and her trio of guard dogs. Little did I know that the weapon I needed would come so beautifully packaged.” His calm voice made her insides twist. With a sinister gentleness he swept the hair from her face.

He stroked her cheek with one hand whilst the other rested on her hip and she had to bite down on the inward shudder.

Sighing, he shifted beside her and withdrew to ready the syringe. “But you’ve also been a pain in the ass.”

Kate reared up, ramming her elbow into his face with a force that surprised her. She was weak from the drugs but it was enough to disarm him.

He fell backward with a grunt, knocking over the torch. Kate sprang to her feet, her movements shaky, head fuzzy, body still shackled. Somewhere through the haze, she was able to charge forward, her drive for freedom stronger than ever.

This was her only chance.

She grabbed him by the shoulders, ramming her knee into his face. He yelled out as blood spattered from his nose.

“You bitch!” he screamed as he struggled to his feet, swiping at the blood.

“Small price to pay considering everything you’ve done to me.” Her voice, croaky with fury and hatred, sounded foreign.

He charged her, the syringe clasped in his hand. The tiny room prevented her from dodging him and they stumbled across the bed.

She caught the flash of the syringe as he rammed it toward her – his only chance of subduing her – but she rolled out of its aim, reared up and butted her head against his.

Ignoring the pain, she scrambled for the syringe, a loud guttural groan echoing through the room. Lightning quick, she ripped it from his hand and slammed the lethal dose into his neck.

His eyes widened as his jaw fell open. The effect was instantaneous, the debilitating concoction all too familiar to her.

“No matter where you go, I will find you,” he murmured.

“You should have killed me when you had the chance. I will never give you my powers willingly.”

He didn’t reply, his eyes fluttered and he slumped forward, silent, before going still.

Serves him right.

Kate searched for the keys he’d pocketed to unlock the door. She couldn’t resist grinning when she found them along with a small pocket knife and the silver chain that held Declan’s skeleton key. Her hopes soared as she fastened the necklace around her neck, tucking the key inside her shirt where it nestled like a comforting reminder of freedom. Her fingers shook as she unlocked the shackles and secured Harper to the bed.

Sweet justice.

She bolted for the door, relieved to find a dimly-lit passage that led to a wooden staircase, and headed straight toward it.

Her head snapped up at the sound of voices above her. All her senses were on overload. Everything was louder and clearer. Her mind spinning, she tuned into the voices behind the door. The television was on in the background, muffling their words, but she recognised them all. Despite the aroma of fried food, she could even smell them. Musky men, oozing aggression. Ugh.

Wincing, she nudged open another door, fear curling her insides. The passage was clear and she edged closer. Her heart screamed in her chest.

Keeping her back to the wall, she peered around the corner, her breath catching when she found the living room empty.

Her spirits soared at a massive glass sliding door that led outside, but sunk when she took in the endless mountains surrounding them.

God, where had they taken her?

Two black Hummers were parked in the driveway that turned into a long dirt track down the mountain.

Kate closed her fingers around the skeleton key and hoped like hell it would jimmy a locked car too.

A door slammed in the room next door, followed by footsteps and Max’s voice, spurring her on.

Dizzy from the adrenaline coursing through her, she rushed through the sliding door and ran to the car, not caring if they saw her.
Hoping
they saw her.

They did.

It was Megan who sounded the alarm and within seconds the four warriors had bolted through the front door. A woman wearing a woollen hat pulled low across her face hung back in the doorway, apparently not up for the chase.

Her hands trembling, Kate headed for the second car, crying out in relief when the key slid into the ignition and the engine roared to life.

Max was beside her in a flash.

Panic surged, clashing with her desperation for freedom. She shoved the car into reverse, spun it around in a whirl of dust, and took off.

“Come on,” she whispered, watching them in the rear view mirror, and grinned when they jumped into the second car.

She pressed ahead, scanning the treacherous dirt road for the bend that would set her free.

Moments later, one hand on the steering wheel, the other on the door handle, she held her breath and aimed for the cliff.