Whispered Visions (Shifters & Seers Book 3) (20 page)

The next blow came just as fast and furious. This time, Mack went for the throat. Layne blocked it, but Mack blocked his counter-strike with equal efficiency. Another blocked strike. Another blocked counter-strike. Over and over again, until it became a dance of sorts. A dance of brawn and blades by two people who wanted nothing more than to kill one another.

Layne didn’t mind the dance. Actually, he reveled in it. Being a Shifter meant he was naturally light and graceful on his feet. Like Eliza Doolittle, he could have danced all night. Mack, on the other hand, was a human street thug whose strength might have held out, but his footing…

Layne took a wild swipe, knowing it wouldn’t land, but neither did Mack’s foot. There was a frozen cartoon moment where Mack’s oh-shit face was all Layne could see, and then Mack was rolling back down the staircase. Layne followed, and the moment Mack came to a stop, Layne drove his knife between his fourth and fifth rib.

And just like that, he had fulfilled his vow.

It wasn’t quite the cathartic experience he imagined it to be.

Pointedly ignoring the slaughtered fruits of his labor, he jogged back up to the top of the stairs and offered Lizzie a bloody palm. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.
”

Brownlow Manor had turned into a giant ship on stormy seas. Not that Lizzie had ever been on a ship before, but she imagined it felt very much like this with the walls tilting this way and that and the stairs rolling back and forth, making descending them much harder than it should have been.

Layne was right. She was barely standing. Everything was foggy. Her own thoughts muffled as if her brain was wearing a thick pair of wool mittens. Her throat burned, each breath like sandpaper on a sunburn. But in comparison to her face, her throat was a walk in the park.

She tried not to think about it, but it wasn’t working out so well. Overwhelming pain had a way of making sure it received the notice it was due. And then there was the way Layne couldn’t look at her for more than a split second at a time. She knew it was because seeing her so badly hurt was tearing him apart, but the voice of vanity in her head wondered if part of the reason, a part he wouldn’t even admit to himself at this point, was because he knew even if they made it out and she survived all this, she would never look the same again.

Would he still want her if she was scarred and ugly?

Maybe it would be best to give up and let the pain overtake her. It wouldn’t take much. Actually, it would be a gazillion times easier than fighting to stay conscious. She could just slip into a sleep where the pain no longer existed. Layne and Pari would have a much better chance of getting out without her. It was the best option, really.

No. No, it’s not.

The Scout voice was right. If she died, she would be breaking her promise to Layne. Too many people had abandoned him in his life. She couldn’t add herself to that number.

Pari was softly humming “Just a Spoonful of Sugar” to Caroline, and Lizzie didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. If they actually made it out of there alive, would their freedom be sweet enough to make all this violence easier to swallow? She had thought so before, when she’d been cuddled in Layne’s arms where she felt invincible.

But now?

Now she was barely standing on her own two feet and freedom seemed no closer than it had when she first woke up.

She missed a step, one she hadn’t known was there, and Layne caught her in his arms. His chest was a solid wall of strength. She wanted to stay there forever, despite the smell of blood clinging to them both.

Her mate was a warrior, fierce and proud. But he was also a seventeen-year-old who had just taken four lives with his own hands. Lizzie had been around the Shifter version of soldiers long enough to know the guilt and remorse he was feeling now was nothing compared to the days, weeks, and years to come. Five minutes of poetry-in-motion fighting would result in a lifetime of tortured nightmares.

And it was all her fault.

What made her think it was okay to stage an escape on a whim? Why had she set into motion something that might very well end with them all dead? And for what? Even if they escaped, would they ever be truly free of this place? Would Layne be able to look at her and not see the walls of this house or the lives he’d ended just to protect her?

Don’t worry about that now, Lizzie Lou. You have to keep fighting.

Keep fighting.

Yes, she would do that. Just as soon as the room they’d stepped into stopped spinning.

“Which way?” Layne whispered, looking around the cavernous hall. It was all stone and dust. A large crystal chandelier hung overhead. Lizzie suspected the ballroom was nearby. She could easily imagine ladies in beautiful ballgowns and men in cravats standing around this room, waiting to be introduced to the crowd waiting inside.

“Right,” she said, knowing the library lay to the left.

Since the stairs ended on the left end of the hall, Lizzie had never ventured far enough into it to see its full splendor. It stretched maybe forty feet across and doors lined the two outer walls. While the upstairs had an abandoned chic aesthetic, this part leaned more towards Target clearance rack fabulous. Someone had tried to hide the house’s ancient architecture with bright modern prints and cheap furniture with clean lines. Annoyed by the modern invasions on the vintage splendor, Lizzie’s fuzzy gaze drifted up high where no one had bothered to do anything since the invention of electricity.

Well, not much of anything. It appeared she was wrong about that whole no-cameras-anywhere-but-the-apartment theory of hers.

“We’ve got eyes on us,” she said at the same time as Layne snatched Caroline out of Pari’s arms and sat her in a monstrous fireplace covering a large section of the west wall.

“Stay down and stay quiet. Got it, princess?” Caroline nodded her terrified understanding as Layne snatched two sleek fake-leather chairs - one in each hand - and placed them in front of the fireplace, blocking Caroline from view.

They didn’t have time to discuss anything. The moment the chairs were in place a door opened somewhere down the narrow corridor branching off from the hall and gun shots rang out. Lizzie plastered herself behind a small column made of stone and saw Pari do the same across from her. They both raised their own weapons, although neither seemed to be able to hold them steady. She wasn’t sure where Layne was, but she could See him and knew he was safe and prepared to take on whatever came their way.

A bullet hit the edge of the column she was standing behind, sending tiny shards of stone into the cuts on her face. Blinking through the pain and blood clouding her vision, she dared a quick glance around the column to see five SHP members standing in a V-formation, all wearing bullet-proof vests. Only two of them carried guns. Either Alistair’s fascination with cutting things bled over into how he outfitted his people or they should be thankful they weren’t being held captive back in Kentucky where everyone over the age of ten had a hunting rifle.

Take a deep breath in, and then squeeze the trigger as you release it.

Taking the advice of the Obi-Wan Scoutobie her brain had concocted to get her through this, Lizzie leaned out from behind her pillar just enough to take a single shot. The shooter closest to her, a man old enough to be her grandfather, crumbled to the ground, clutching his thigh. She’d been aiming for his arm, but the thigh worked just as well.

Pari also tried to take a shot, but it went wide, shattering a picture frame miles from anything she might have been aiming for. With a huff of annoyance, she threw the gun and stepped out from behind her own column. The hairs on the back of Lizzie’s neck rose as the air changed.

Magic.

It didn’t feel so much electric as damp. The second gunman, a middle-aged woman with hair the color of a summer night, took aim, but the cough raking her body caused the shot to miss. Next to her, a woman with a baseball bat also started to cough. And then the man with a knife, followed closely by the
other
man with a knife.

If her brain was working better she would have had something witty to say about silly men bringing knives to a supernatural fight, but she was having too much trouble remembering how to breathe to come up with an appropriate one-liner at the moment.

There was a moment of pure joy, of complete and total belief that this was the end, and then Pari collapsed. Before the SHP could recover, Layne was there, taking advantage of the distraction Pari had provided. With her heart in her throat and gun at the ready, she watched as he went for the second gunman, slamming his elbow in the woman’s face while wrenching the gun out of her hand.

She was so focused on Layne, she didn’t see the man grab Pari’s discarded gun off the floor until he was standing no more than four feet away, ready to take the shot. Unable to aim her own gun quickly enough, she threw herself forward, slamming into him, causing them both to crash against the unforgiving stone wall. Gathering up all the strength she had remaining, Lizzie slammed the butt of her pistol into his nose, and then, before she could think better of it, she turned, aimed, and shot him in the head.

The room stretched and wobbled before two black bars started eating up her vision. She grabbed the wall and tried to shake it off, her stomach roiling. Somewhere down the corridor, a door opened and more voices floated through.

Reinforcements.

It was over. They couldn’t fight forever. At least they had tried. They hadn’t gone silently into that dark night. They had raged and raged, but sometimes raging wasn’t enough.

She hoped whatever came after included being with Layne. It wasn’t fair they’d had so little time together.

It wasn’t fair they’d wasted the time they had been given.

The floor was cold and hard beneath her cheek, although she had no idea how her faced ended up pressed against its surface. The last thing she heard was Scout screaming at her to not give up. Funny thing was, it didn’t sound like it was in her head this time.

Who would have thought the SHP would have saved their strongest fighters for the end? Certainly not Layne. And he would have never guessed his most fearsome opponent would be a lady with streaks of silver threading through her dark hair. He assumed she would be worthless without her gun, but the old biddy was some sort of kickboxing master. He could have handled her if it was just the two of them, but there was also a girl who fancied herself Sammy Sosa and yet another member of the Langford Knife Gang. It wasn’t exactly comforting to admit he would probably be dead if it wasn’t for the fact they were still suffering from the effects of Pari’s dry-land-drowning magic.

Still, he wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to last, especially now that he could hear others coming. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lizzie collapse. His coyote howled as he rammed his fist into the man’s trachea. Too late, he heard the whistle of the baseball bat swinging through the air. A Louisville Slugger was on a collision course for his face, but the moment before it slammed into his nose, it stopped.

“Need a hand?” his Uncle Charlie asked, a smirk on his face as he flung the bat across the room. Little Miss MLB screamed as Jase came up behind her, placing one arm around her neck and aiming a gun at her head with his other hand.

Charlie.

Jase.

The Alpha Pack swarmed around them, restraining anyone still alive. Either he was hallucinating, or they were being rescued.

“Charlie?” His voice cracked, but he didn’t care. To hell with not letting them see you cry. Anyway, unless he was imagining things, Charlie wasn’t exactly dry-eyed either.

“I thought you were dead,” his uncle said, wrapping him in a hug. “Jesus, Layne, I thought you were dead.”

Over Charlie’s shoulder, Layne could see Scout leaning over Lizzie’s prone form. “Don’t get too used to me being alive yet,” he said, wrenching himself from Charlie’s hold and rushing over to Lizzie.

“Talley, there is a little girl hiding in the fireplace. She’s scared and her mama is unconscious. Help her.” He searched the faces until he found one framed by short curly hair. “Maggie, this woman is a Thaumaturgic who has pushed herself too far,” he said, pointing at Pari. “See if you can help her.”

Scout looked up from her place by Lizzie. “So, what? You’re giving orders now?”

He ignored her as his knees gave out. Lizzie was breathing, but he didn’t know how. Her freckles were bright and angry against skin gone deathly pale. The bruises around her throat were already taking on a purple color, and this close he could see the cuts on her face were even deeper than he originally guessed. His beautiful, amazing mate had saved them, but had sacrificed herself in the process. If God were truly merciful, He would take him in her place.

Except, God wasn’t here. He couldn’t do anything more at this point.

But one of his angels could.

“Fix her,” Layne said, finding Joshua in the crowd. “Fix her like you did Ada.”

The Immortal shook his head. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

“Fix her!”

Ada Jessup, a girl from Scout’s hometown who had experienced her own brush with death months before, stepped forward hesitantly. “Maybe I could. I don’t know the exact—“

“No,” Joshua said at the same time Scout said, “Quit being a drama queen. We just need to give her time. She’s going to come back around.”

Layne glared at the Alpha Female, defiantly holding her gaze instead of submitting. “You don’t know that.”

“I’m Scout. I know everything.”

He would have gone for her throat right then and there, her overwhelming dominance and deadly husband be damned, but below him Lizzie’s eyelashes started to flutter.

“I told you.” Her voice was nothing more than a rasp, but it was the most beautiful sound in the world. “I’m not going to leave you. Ever.”

“Hey, you,” he said, attempting to brush a strand of hair back from her face. “Nice nap?”

“It was until some idiots came barging in here like a herd of elephants and woke me up.”

Layne picked up her hand and kissed each of the knuckles.

“So, this plan of yours…”

“The one where we finally get out of this hellhole?”

“Yeah. That one. I think it might work.”

“Really?”

“Really. But I don’t like the first part. The one where you go off on your own with a psycho and risk your life.”

Her lips barely moved, but he knew a Lizzie smile when he saw one.

“I think it’ll work out okay. I’m tougher than I look.”

She was tough. As strong and brave as any Shifter. He’d never thought much about how convenient it was to Change and heal all wounds, but now the injustice of it hit him like an Acme anvil. All of his cuts and bruises from this fight would vanish under the next full moon, but Lizzie would carry her battle scars forever. He knew she would still be beautiful - he would think so if she became nothing but one giant scar - but he hated that she would have to carry a reminder of this place with her for the rest of her life.

A high-pitched scream had Layne turning just in time to see Jase drop Caroline’s hand as she kicked him in the shin. Relief at seeing her completely unharmed nearly had him in tears again. He threw open his arms a second before her tiny body plowed into him.

“My mum is asleep and won’t wake up,” she said, clinging to his shirt.

“That’s because she was very brave and very strong and stopped the bad guys. She’ll wake up soon, and when she does, we’ll make her a cake for being such a big hero. What do you think?”

“I want chocolate cake.”

Planting a kiss on the middle of her forehead, Layne said, “Chocolate it is then.”

“And ice cream? Because I was a good girl and was really quiet in my hiding place?”

“All the ice cream you want. Promise.”

He would give her all the ice cream he could find if it would erase the fear in her eyes.

“Layne?”

“Yes, princess?”

“Who are these people? Are they bad guys? Are they going to take me away from my mum?”

Lizzie patted Caroline’s leg as Layne gave her a reassuring hug. “No, princess,” he said. “These aren’t the bad guys. They’re my family.”

Her eyes grew impossibly round. “You have a family?”

“I do.” It was hard to push the words out around the lump in his throat. Maybe his mom had bailed when he was a baby and his dad was dead, but that didn’t mean he was alone in the world. He had people who cared whether he lived or died. Some of them were related by blood, but most of them weren’t. Still, they were family.

He tried to discreetly wipe the corner of his eyes without disturbing Caroline. Around him, wet towels were being distributed to the wounded. Maggie carefully draped several of them over Pari while Talley gently dabbed Lizzie’s face. Even the surviving SHP members were getting the wet towel treatment courtesy of Jase, although his method was slightly less comforting than the care Pari and Lizzie were receiving.

Clean up seemed to take forever since the Taxiarhos normally charged with that task hadn’t come along on the rescue mission. Since discovery of what happened at Brownlow Manor could lead to the discovery of Shifters and Seers, the entire scene had to be cleared. Bodies were disposed of and blood was cleaned in what appeared to be an emotionless, utilitarian manner, but Layne knew it bothered everyone else just as much as it did him.

To lighten the mood, or maybe because they were truly concerned, occasionally someone would stop and ask Lizzie if she needed them to remove Layne from her presence. By this time Pari was once again conscious and cradling her sleeping child, leaving him free to gather Lizzie in his arms. He leaned against the wall, too exhausted to climb into a more comfortable seat. Lizzie sat in front of him, her back to his chest, and his arms held her to him, her warmth assuring him she was alive.

Once everything was clean and someone had arranged for a nearby pack to relieve the library of its contents - including Alistair’s body - they were moved to a house about thirty minutes away. Layne had no idea whose house it was or how the Alpha Pack came to use it, and after three seconds of reflection, he realized he didn’t care. The rooms were small, but clean, and all the doors opened when you turned the knob.

Arrangements were made to fly out the next day. The local pack’s doctor came out and examined Lizzie. He thought her throat would heal with time and rest, but her face worried him. Infection, he said, would be very bad news indeed, so he cleaned it with all the delicacy of Godzilla. It took both Liam and Charlie to hold Layne back as she struggled not to scream. She didn’t protest when he pulled out a needle and filled her veins with drugs, which was when Layne finally realized how much pain she must be in. Again Liam and Charlie had to restrain him, this time from going to hunt down the surviving SHP members.

Once Lizzie was asleep, he went in search of Pari and Caroline, and found them outside. Pari sat on a bench, her legs tucked up beneath her, while Caroline ran around collecting a bouquet of fallen leaves.

“Our plane leaves at ten in the morning,” he said, claiming the seat next to Pari. “A plastic surgeon is going to see Lizzie almost as soon as we touchdown. Scout sent him pictures, and he thinks he can at least ensure that she has mobility in most of her face.”

Pari accepted the leaf bouquet from Caroline, who immediately darted back across the yard to gather more.

“I hope he’s right,” she said, twirling one of the leaves between two fingers. “I owe her more than I will ever be able to repay.” She looked up at him for the first time since he arrived. “Her and you. Without you, Caroline and I would have been there until we no longer served our purpose.”

“And we would never had succeeded if it hadn’t been for you and your gift, so the score is even.”

The argument could have been made they would have all been better off waiting a few hours until the Alpha Pack found them, but according to Scout, that could have taken days, weeks, or even months. They didn’t know where to look, weren’t even sure if they had translated the message correctly, until Lizzie became so distressed Scout could finally connect with her again, and even then the connection was weak. They had driven around, using Scout’s gut feeling as a GPS in order to find them when they did.

“Liam tells me he offered you a place in the Alpha Pack.”

Pari nodded ever so slightly. “He did.”

“He also said you refused.”

“I’m not a Shifter nor a Seer. I have no place in your pack.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Layne said. “Maggie is a Thaumaturgic, like you, and she’s a Taxiarho. She belongs, and you could too.”

Pari turned, rearranging her body so she was facing him but still able to see Caroline where she played. “Maggie is, to my understanding, attached to one of the highest ranking members of the Alpha Pack. Are you suggesting I start hooking up with a Shifter to cement my position as one of you?”

“I’m suggesting you get off your bloody high horse and do what is right for Caroline for once!”

She wouldn’t have looked more shocked or pissed off if he had punched her in the stomach. Layne was a dominant Shifter who had killed a handful of people that day, and yet he flinched at the fury in her eyes.

“Caroline is the reason I will not become part of your pack.” She didn’t raise her voice but it sounded like a shout to Layne’s ears. “Your Alpha says he can guarantee her safety, but how? By making sure she is watched every hour of the day by bodyguards? By teaching her to fight and shoot a gun like Lizzie does? She would only need that level of protection because of who you are. I know what being a member of the Alpha Pack means. It means being a target, and I will not paint a red X on my child’s forehead just to make you feel better.”

He couldn’t argue with her reasoning. The SHP would no longer be a problem, not after the Alphas got through interrogating their captives and paying a few house calls to the remaining members, but there would always be a threat against the members of the ruling party of the Shifters. It was the nature of the game. When you’re on top, there is always someone who wants to take you down.

But even knowing Pari was right, he couldn’t just let them go.

“I’ll keep her safe. You know I will.”

Pari leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest. “We’re not going with you, Layne. Nothing you say can change my mind.”

“So you just up and decided? Without talking to me first?” Panic-fueled anger burned in his lungs. His legs jerked up and down, shaking the entire bench. They craved movement, but he was determined to stand - or sit, as the case may be - his ground.

“Yes, I just up and decided. I don’t require permission. She’s my child, not yours.”

“Yes, she is, and you know it.” She wasn’t his by blood or any other measurement a court of law might use, but she was his all the same. “We’re pack. Family. And I’m not just going to walk away and let her think I abandoned her. I won’t do that to her, and I won’t let you do it to me.” He knew what it felt like to have someone who was supposed to take care of you and love you walk away without looking back. He couldn’t do that to someone he cared about, especially not Caroline. Over the last few months, she’d used her grubby little hands and pinchable cheeks to worm her way into his heart permanently. He wasn’t letting her go. Ever.