Authors: Felicia Jedlicka
The Ring Bearer (21 page)
“Cori is not involved with Efrat.” Ethan rolled his eyes. He couldn’t even muster anger to defend his wife. The suggestion was so preposterous. Cori loved him and only him. She wouldn’t betray him.
Efrat on the other hand…
Cori knew fear. She understood it intimately. She could usually put on her tough face and muster through like she was brave, but deep down she understood that the bravado was just survival instincts at work. Watching Efrat come toward her with a cleaver in his hand was different. She wasn’t feeling fear; she was feeling terror, and she was paralyzed by it.
Contrary to her past experiences, Efrat wasn’t going to kill her or rape her. He was going to amputate her hands. She would survive it, but it was going to be unimaginable pain, and for no other reason than a set of gold rings with magical powers. Powers that would fail miserably against sharpened steel.
The strange part was, Efrat wasn’t snarling maniacally at her. He was approaching slowly and speaking quietly, as if he could stave off her fear with placidity. He was explaining why he was going to cut off her hands rather than her fingers—something about a lesser degree of mutilation because it would only take one strike. She stopped listening when she realized he wasn’t just threatening to do this to get her to give up the rings. He actually intended to do it.
That was perhaps the strangest realization ever: the epiphany that no matter how much she had done to protect him, he still didn’t give a damn about her.
She let her head sink back against the wood floor and she stared at the ceiling. She was sure she was supposed to be doing something: screaming, negotiating, or struggling, but she didn’t have the energy for it.
She was tired of fighting Efrat. She was tired of trying to help him too. She may not be able to stop him from cutting off her hands, but in doing so, he was signing his own death warrant, and she no longer cared if he lived or died.
“Is it Efrat?” Ethan asked before Nevia could reveal her finding in the cell.
Daniel leaned in behind him just as eager to get the answer. Nevia cleared her throat and glared at him. “I’ve never met Efrat so I can hardly make an identification. Plus, I smell a lot a people in this area, past
and
present.”
Ethan looked to Daniel and he shrugged. “I think she’s saying we stink.”
“I’m not the best tracker. I’ll try to pick up her scent and follow it, but I should probably go alone.”
“Alone?” Daniel asked. “In the dark?” Nevia visibly cringed.
“Someone should go with you,” Ethan said. “This prison isn’t safe when the lights are
on
. If you don’t see well in the dark, I don’t want you accidentally stepping too close to a cell.”
“I’ll go,” Daniel offered before Ethan could suggest it. “She’d probably smell Cori on you after three showers,” he added with a brow lift.
“Good point. Heaton, you’re with me, I want to finish checking this floor. I’ll radio the guards to do a full sweep and surveillance outside. Daniel if you find Efrat, do me a favor, don’t kill him. I want that privilege.”
Daniel followed several yards behind Nevia. He didn’t want to interfere in her tracking. As much as he wanted to hold her hand in her vulnerable state, he knew it was more important to let her do her job. Cori was once again lost, and it appeared that Nevia was again the only one that could find her.
Nevia seemed to find a strong scent and was following into the back section of cells where the trial had been held. She didn’t seem nearly as concerned with the darkness while she had the scent to follow. It seemed the bloodhound in her was determined to get to the end of the trail no matter where it led.
She crossed by the detained werewolves and made it through the doors leading to the next section without so much as a stubbed toe. Daniel smiled and headed after her.
“Hey!” Callin called over from his cell. Despite the darkness he seemed no worse for wear. Given his crossed arm lean on his jail cell wall, he looked like he was just hanging out in his cell, and not really imprisoned by it. “What’s going on healer?”
Daniel let out a coughed scoff at the notion of being a healer. Callin only knew him as the guy who put his finger back on. A noble title for a generous deed, but if he knew that Daniel was one of the few people in the world that even a werewolf should fear, he wasn’t sure he would get to keep the title.
“Why are the lights out? The lights never go out here.”
“Budget cuts.” Daniel quipped, but Callin didn’t even give him a hint of a smile. He should know better than to joke during a crisis—toughest audience ever. “Efrat has damaged the electrical system, and may have kidnapped Cori.” Callin gave him a look that reminded him that he didn’t have firsthand knowledge of either of them. “Dude with lightning bolt hands fried the system and stole Ethan’s wife,” he clarified.
Callin’s face lit with concern, but quickly turned to loathing. “Release me and I will help find her.”
“Sorry, not my call, I’m just the hired help. Besides, I already got a bloodhound.” He glanced over to the door realizing that he had neglected Nevia.
“Please, I owe you a debt.”
“Seriously, wolf-man, I’m already Danato’s least favorite person in the world.”
“Are you immune to electricity?”
“No.”
“Then what will you do when you find this man.”
“I figured I’d stand behind Nevia while she waved her gun.” Daniel wasn’t really concerned about Efrat, but it would be difficult to use his power on someone while ducking bolts of electricity. “You aren’t immune either.”
“No, but it won’t incapacitate me like it will you or your friend. It will just hurt like hell.”
“Oh, is that all.” Daniel rolled his eyes and moved to the cell door. “Step back. I’m not sure who the thick one is: me for letting you out; or you for wanting out.”
Daniel focused on the lock and in moments the mechanism crumbled into ash. He was a good deal cooler, but not nearly cold enough to slow his body.
If Callin was surprised by Daniel’s talent, he didn’t share it. He just slid the door open and took the lead following Nevia.
The cleaver slammed down again and Cori couldn’t help but cry out. Efrat had yet to penetrate the ice shell that she had unconsciously formed around her hands and forearm. With every approach he chipped more ice away. Eventually, the shell would fail and he would reach his target.
The house was enraged by the attack on her. The floors and walls were creaking as if they wanted to close in on Efrat to stop him. There was no electricity to light the house, but the fireplace had lit on its own. Judging by the light it was giving off, the flames had to be shooting out the chimney. She hoped that meant help would be on the way soon.
“You should have known better than to cross me,” Frederique spoke to Nevia’s bluing face as she held her off the floor by the neck. They were eye to eye, which left Nevia more than a few inches off the ground.
Daniel was so taken aback by the scene he had walked in on, that he didn’t react in time to stop Frederique from breaking Nevia’s neck. Callin, however, did.
Callin’s catalogue casual male image ripped away when he leapt at Frederique. Daniel wasn’t sure he had even seen him move. He was just a breeze and an impact.
Frederique, Nevia, and Callin toppled to the floor. It was not technically the fall that broke Nevia loose, but the bite that Callin put on Frederique’s throat. She was forced to retract her attack so she could defend herself.
Nevia coughed and gasped for air. Daniel ran to her aid, but she was already crawling away from the fight, flailing her hands in search of something. Her gun.
“What the hell happened?” he asked just as Frederique shoved—or rather launched Callin off of her. The man hit the entryway to the section like a ragdoll, but he landed on all fours, positioned like an Olympic track runner. He bounded back at her, and Daniel could only get out of his way.
“Gun,” Nevia rasped.
“You can’t fecking see, what good does it do you!” He groused at her, but he knew at this point it was going to be a pacifier to her. If he didn’t get it for her, she would continue to scramble on the floor in a state of near panic. The absurdity of it all was that she wasn’t afraid of Frederique, just the dark.
The gunshot was loud. Cori had been shot and watched several people being shot since she had come to work for Danato, but she couldn’t remember it being so loud. Maybe the house echoed the sound better.
Seeing Efrat’s flannel sleeve fray before steeping with blood relieved her only slightly. Help was here and she was certainly safer than she was five minutes ago, but she so desperately wanted that rent in his fabric to be over his heart.
Efrat jumped away from her and out of the line of fire holding his arm. After he was situated he pulled her legs toward him bringing her further behind the island. As he swung her around she caught a glimpse of her savior before the view was obstructed.
Belus stood in the entryway. The pistol in his hands was hers. She had never seen him use one, despite the fact that he had trained her with it. He seemed rather comfortable with it, but she imagined he would look comfortable no matter what challenge laid before him.
She was happy that someone was here to help her, but a little part of her was disappointed. She would have been much more comforted by seeing Ethan or Danato’s face in that doorway. Belus was no doubt brave and clever, and despite his appearance he was formidable, but Efrat didn’t know Belus well enough to be intimidated by those qualities.
Cori loved Belus dearly and trusted him with her life, but in this particular situation, with this foe, Belus was not the hero she needed.
Daniel put the gun in Nevia’s hand and shoved her against a wall. He could see her grind her teeth to keep from saying something scathing about his man handling and condescension. He leaned in and kissed her, partly to keep things civil between them, and partly because he just really wanted to.
He could tell she wanted to pull away and at one point shifted to do so, but he cupped her cheek to keep her still. He finished the innocent though inappropriate timed kiss with a quick bite of her lower lip—a promise of more to come later.
He rubbed his thumb along her cheek and pleaded, “Please, stay here while I help Callin.” He couldn’t claim that there wasn’t still a glare in her eyes, but she holstered her gun and crossed her arms. She would be content to follow his instructions as long as the lights were out, which was fine with him. That was the only time he really cared about calling the shots anyway.
Callin was already covered in scratches from Frederique’s inhumanly hard nails, and his neck appeared to have a laceration twice the size as the one he had given her. Daniel wasn’t sure if anyone could beat a fem-wolf, but Callin was probably as close as anyone would get.
They were both panting, but the only breaks they took were to reposition tactically or ergonomically. Daniel couldn’t help Callin if he didn’t get away from Frederique, or at least hold still long enough for him to focus on her.
“Do you want some help, Callin?” Daniel asked.
“Stay away, Daniel, I don’t want you to get hurt,” Callin spoke clearly, despite Frederique’s grip on his nether region. Daniel found an even higher level of respect for the werewolf. He was starting to understand why Ethan had gone out of his way to help him despite their brief association.
“What about you Frederique? Can I get you some water, tea…puppy chow?” The insult worked wonderfully. The low growl that erupted from her, matched the ferocity of strength that she mustered to throw Callin across the room again. The crack that came from his back told Daniel that he probably wasn’t going to get up as fast as the last time.
Frederique lunged at him. She was a ball of fury with bloody fingernails and a bad hair day that would take a pair of scissors to cure. She had forgotten what he was capable of or never really understood it. Either way he was annoyed that he had to teach her a lesson twice for threatening his girlfriend—or whatever she was.
It never took long to focus his energy for the kill mode. In truth, he could disperse a body in seconds. It was not doing it in seconds that took the concentration.
Frederique’s body hit a brick wall long before she reached him. The look of shock on her face was familiar. It would have been amusing to him if he hadn’t seen it so many times and if he didn’t associate it with so much guilt.
Her body was frozen against that imaginary brick wall looking at him with wide eyes. She was feeling it now.
The heat.
