I'd only been a pup when Blake had thrown me off the cliff. But even now, I could recall those moments clearly, simply because the world around me had suddenly seemed to slow. Oh, the wind had battered me full force and the ground had rushed toward me, filling my vision, filling my world, forever embedding itself into the worst of my nightmares. It was just time itself that crawled. The falling seemed to go on and on and on. The ground rushed toward me and yet never seemed to get closer. I'd screamed, I'd quaked, I'd fought to grab something, anything, to stop my fall or to at least break it. To no avail.
But never once in any of those long minutes had my life flashed before my eyes.
Maybe it was because I'd been so young, had done so little.
I was older now.
And as I fell toward the sparkling blue of the ocean and the jagged rocks that lined the cliffs base, images of my past reeled drunkenly before my eyes - the flashes almost too fast for me to even see them. Mostly they were memories of good times. With Rhoan, with other people I'd cared about, and boyfriends of old. And there was Quinn, who could have been something more had he only played it fair.
But with all those memories came something else. Something deeper. Stronger.
Regret.
For all the things I hadn't done, for all the steps I hadn't taken.
And the biggest of those regrets was Kellen.
I should have given him the time he wanted. Should have given him commitment.
I should have shoved the fear aside, and made a grab for my dreams. He'd been right in saying that I was never going to find what I was looking for if I didn't occasionally stop looking and take a damn chance on someone.
Dammit, I didn't want to die!
Not now, not when there was finally someone in my life that I loved, someone who showed every sign of being the one. And even if it turned out that he wasn't my soul mate, then at least I could say I gave it a go. At least I'd know the fear of being left broken hadn't stopped me living life to the full.
I twisted around, grabbing at the cliff as it rushed by. My fingertips scrapped stones, finding no purchase on the slick surface. There was nothing here, nothing at all, that would stop my fall. No grasses, no branches, no tree roots sticking out of the sandy soil. Nothing but slick rock.
I swore and continued grabbing at the cliff face, refusing to give up, refusing to believe that this was the end. But the ocean and the rocks were rushing ever closer, and there was nothing, absolutely nothing, I could do to stop it.
I closed my eyes, not wanting to see the death that was speeding toward me, The best I could do was hope that either fate was kind, and made it a quick one, or that by some miracle, I missed the worst of the rocks and somehow found the ocean.
God, how I wished I was a bird. Wished I could just shift shape and fly like the seabirds that drifted around the cliffs. Wished I had wings to ride the breeze, skimming the rocks and riding the wave-tops to freedom rather than splattering myself all over them.
Even as the thought crossed my mind, the tingling of shapeshifting ran across my body. Panic surged and I desperately fought to stop my body shifting shape. My wolf form would have even less chance on the rocks below, her bones more delicate, more easily smashed.
But the shifting would not be denied. It surged on regardless, heedless of the danger, reshaping flesh and bone, until what was falling was something other than human.
Only it wasn't my wolf.
This form felt lighter, freer.
I looked at my arms, saw red-tipped wings - feathers - instead of paws.
A bird, I was a goddamn bird.
Oh God, the drug. It was changing me, as it had changed the others who'd taken it.
No, I thought, no,
Then I shoved it all aside. Shoved aside the fear. I had no time for it, not if I wanted to live. I frantically pumped my newly formed wings up and down. But having a bird shape didn't exactly mean I knew how to fly. Obviously there was an art to it, because I was flapping for all I was worth and still falling. I didn't even think my speed was slowing.
I cursed fluently, but it came out as a weird croaking cry. A cry that sounded an awful lot like that of a sea-gull.
Great. I was going to die in the form of a creature considered little more than a winged rat.
The rocks were so close that the salty droplets of sea spray was splashing up from them and hitting me. There was little time - so little time - for a miracle.
And yet, it came.
The sea breeze hit me, battering me sideways, and momentarily lifting me upward. In desperation, I stopped pumping and spread my wings wide. The wind caught underneath, feathers fluttering as I was lifted up, away from the rocks and out into the deeper ocean.
There the wind dumped me. I landed chest-first in an ungainly, unsightly, and very un-birdlike way. It didn't matter a damn.
I was alive.
I felt like flapping my arms and dancing for joy on the rolling waves. Against all the odds, I was alive.
But it was an exuberance that was short lived.
I might be alive, but the means by which I'd survived had been a dramatic one. The ARC 1-23 drug given to me over a year ago had finally stopped making little changes and started making big ones.
I could take on other shapes, and that was the one thing I'd been absolutely hoping would never, ever happen. Because it meant that my hopes of escaping the Directorate and my role as a guardian were ashes. I was Jack's girl now, like it or not. My only other choice was being sent to the military to join the other half-breeds who'd been affected by the drug in the research centers.
There was no way in hell that was going to happen. At least with the Directorate, I could have some semblance of a normal life - even if my job there could in no way ever be considered normal.
But at least not all my hopes were dead. When it came to Kellen, the how of survival didn't matter. I was alive, and now had the chance to give him - to give us - the commitment we deserved.
Fate had booted me up the rear end with this fall, and I wasn't going to ignore the warning, I was going to make a grab for what I wanted, and hope that it was right.
Movement caught my eye, and I looked up. High atop the cliff top, two figures had appeared. Both men had their rifles slung over their shoulders, but Jorn was looking a little worse for the wear, his arm and leg bloody and hair in disarray.
He'd be easy to track once I got back onto land. The scent of his blood would leave a lovely trail for the keen nose of a wolf to follow.
The two men argued on the top of the cliff for several minutes. I floated on the waves, paddling for all I was worth against the current to remain where I was. It was more tiring than I thought it would be, but maybe that was a combination of the short seagull legs and overall weariness from all the running I'd been doing up until the fall.
Yohan glanced at his watch, but neither of them moved, just stayed there watching the ocean, either waiting for signs of life or confirmation of death.
Exhaustion was creeping over me, and the need to resume one of my regular shapes was growing.
And deep inside, the niggle of concern was beginning. What if I couldn't resume my regular shape? That had been one of the main problems facing the others who'd been shafted into the military - the inability to resume human shape.
But then, they'd apparently gone through multiple shapes, exploring the width and breadth of their new skills, until the cells in their bodies could no longer remember original forms.
I had no intention of being that stupid.
I might explore this new ability, but it would be under controlled conditions, with Rhoan by my side.
Though the form of a red-winged gull was not exactly an enticing one. Why a damn gull? Why couldn't I have chosen something more exotic? Sexy? Dangerous, even? Like a hawk, or an eagle. Hell, even a cockatoo had more appeal than a damn seagull.
Still, the wings of this gull had saved my life. And maybe, just maybe, it might ease my fear of heights. After all, if I learned to fly, I'd never again have to worry about getting pushed off a cliff.
The two men finally moved away. I waited for another five minutes, watching the cliff top, searching for any sign that they were merely in hiding rather than having left, but there was nothing.
I paddled sideways across the waves, riding the surges and letting the current pull me ever so slowly toward the cliff base. To the right of where I'd fallen, the steepness of the cliff eased and the rocks weren't as fierce looking, I paddled closer and let a wave surge drop me on the top of one. My webbed red feet gripped the wet stone securely, and I waddled away from the waves, shaking my body and fluffing my feathers to get rid of some of the water.
Once I was far enough away from the foamy fingers of water, I took a deep breath, then reached down, deep down inside, to where the shapeshifting magic resided, and called for my human shape.
For a moment, there was no response, and panic surged. I closed my eyes, fighting for calm, picturing my human shape in my mind, remembering my body shape, my scars. The funny shape of my toes.
My skin began to tingle, then the shapeshifting magic surged, sweeping across my body, remolding flesh and muscle and bone, until what was sitting on the rock was once again human.
A human shaking with relief and fear.
I hugged my knees close to my chest. Every inch of my body trembled, my chest felt tight, and my wounded leg felt like jelly. But I was alive, I was whole, and I was human again. I sucked in great gulps of air, and tried not to think about what I would have done if my body hadn't responded, if the part of my soul that made the shifting so easy had suddenly forgotten the patterns of my humanity.
It was a good five minutes before the shaking stopped enough for me to concentrate on what I had to do rather than what might have been. What still could be if I wasn't very careful.
I rose and looked up, studying the cliffs. God, it was a long fall. My stomach rose, and my body began to shake. I gulped down air, fighting the rise of terror. I was here, I was alive, and I had a brother to save. There was no time for fear or panic right now.
Thinking about Rhoan helped. As the panic began to ease, I switched my gaze to the lower regions of the cliff, looking for some way up. There wasn't even a track a goat could climb.
Not that I was intending to become a goat anytime soon.
I shifted, my gaze following the cliff top, seeing the gradual fall before the island dipped around to the right and disappeared from sight. Hopefully, there was a bay or something around that corner.
I made my way forward, leaping from rock to rock, carefully picking my way through the sharp rocks and shells but cutting my feet nevertheless. I ignored the wounds, trusting the sea would wash away any blood I left behind.
Right now, I just needed to get to solid ground, away from the cliffs and the sea.
When I finally rounded the corner, and saw that the cliff tops did indeed sweep down into a shallow sandy bay, relief flooded me. I jumped into the sea and paddled toward the shore. I wasn't the world's greatest swimmer, but I think I would have broken world records right then. I dragged myself up onto the sandy beach, then on into the trees. There I threw my hands wide and dropped down onto the ground.
Land. Solid and real. Not sand, not sea, not rocks. Land.
I would have hugged it if I could.
After wasting several seconds simply enjoying the solidness under my body, I rose to my knees and shifted to my wolf shape. I needed her nose to hunt my quarry, and to do that, I needed to go back to the cliff top. Just the thought of it had my knees shaking.
But there was no other choice. While freeing Rhoan was a priority, getting the bomb control was even more so. Until that was destroyed, there was no point in pulling Rhoan out of his cell. And I doubted the twins would be hunting him today, given the injuries I'd inflicted on Jorn.
I turned and padded through the trees, my limp not quite as bad in my wolf form, I followed the coastline, keeping well away from the cliff edges as the land began to rise again.
Finding the area where I'd gone over wasn't hard. Footprints marred the sandy soil and the undergrowth where I'd fallen and they'd stood was all broken and flattened. The scent of Jorn's blood lingered on the air, a sweet aroma that stirred the hunter to life. I nosed around the ground until I caught a slightly sour, foresty scent. Yohan, undoubtedly. At least if I lost Jorn's trail, I might be able to follow Yohan's.
Nose to ground, I made my way through the trees, slipping easily through the underbrush, avoiding the sunlight so that my red coat wouldn't gleam, melding with the deeper shadows of the forest. Hopefully making it harder for anyone to spot me.
Not that I thought they'd be looking for me, but I'd learned a long time ago never to underestimate the bad guys. They just didn't think in the same linear patterns as sane people.
Jorn's scent sharpened abruptly. I stopped, sniffing the wind, tasting the flavors that ran underneath it. He was still bleeding heavily, the blood smell thick and rich on the air. Twined around it was the reek of sweat and the musk of man.
He was close. I twitched my ears, trying to hear him. His scent was coming from my left, but given the way the wind swirled through the undergrowth, I wasn't relying on it to give me position.
If he was making any noise, I couldn't hear it - and as a wolf my hearing was pretty keen. So he was either unconscious, sitting quietly, or it was a trap.
I laid on my belly and crawled forward. It wasn't exactly easy, given the undergrowth and the fact my wolf form was designed more to run than creep.
I ducked my nose through some thick greenery and discovered a small clearing. Jorn sat on a log on the far side, leaning back against a tree trunk. Blood caked his left arm and leg, his shirt was caked with sweat, and there was a decided look of pain on his face.
Couldn't say I was sorry about that.
Though his eyes were closed, I doubted he was unconscious. The pain, the way in which he sat, the tension in his clenched hands - it all spoke of awareness.
I looked beyond him, my nose raised slightly, tasting the air for Yohan's sour scent. It lingered - a memory more than a reality. He'd definitely been here, but not recently.
Which gave me my chance at Jorn.
Despite the rush of eagerness that had my toes twitching, I didn't move. The clearing might be a small one, but there was still open space between me and him, and he had his rifle within easy reach. I wasn't about to bet my speed against his, even if I should be faster. Not when there were silver bullets involved.
Which meant I had to try and provide a distraction, and hopefully give myself extra time to attack before he reacted. I carefully backed through the undergrowth, then rose and padded through the trees, making a wide, looping arc around the small clearing before coming up on his right side.
When I was close enough to smell the stink of his sweat and blood, I shifted to my human shape and reached down to pick up a nice big rock. With my fingers clenched around it securely, I crept forward until I was within throwing range.
This close, I could hear his breathing, see the blood still running from the wounds. Maybe Yohan had gone to fetch medical help for his brother, which meant I had to do this fast.
I raised my arm and threw the rock as hard as I could. It tumbled through the air so fast it was little more than a blur and yet, somehow, Jorn sensed it.
I should have known fate wasn't going to let me off so easily.
He twisted around, avoiding the rock and bringing the rifle up in one smooth movement. I laid low and wrapped the shadows around me. Jorn frowned, his gaze sweeping the tree line, moving past my position with barely a twitch or pause.
He couldn't see me. Couldn't sense me.
Maybe Yohan was the one who could sense - track - nonhumans.
But Jorn still had extraordinary hearing, because he'd obviously heard the whir of the rock through the air. It had been warning enough to assume fighting readiness but not enough to fire randomly. For that, I had to be grateful.
Thankfully, the rock had disappeared back into the trees, and he wasn't making any move to discover just what had flown at him. Maybe - hopefully - he thought it was a bird rather than the beginnings of an attack.
I waited until he settled down again - albeit more watchfully - then slowly, carefully, inched my way backward. Given he obviously had good senses, I'd have to do this the old-fashioned way - with speed and power and a whole lot of luck.
Once I had retreated deeper into the forest, I rose and padded around until I was roughly behind his tree. I could see his elbows to either side of the tree trunk, and underneath one was the butt of the rifle. He was ready for action, so I really would have to be quick.
I took a deep breath and released it slowly, then silently counted to three and moved forward. Fast.
He was going to hear me, but I was counting on my vampire speed and the cover of the shadows to fool his senses long enough. But a good hunter didn't rely on sight alone, and given the thick carpet of debris lining the forest floor, there was no hope of ever remaining silent.
I felt the bullet even before I heard the gunshot. I leapt high in the air, making my body an arrow, flying straight at Jorn. The bullet ripped past my belly and disappeared into the shadowed forest.
And then I was on him, hitting him, knocking him backward. He grunted, the weapon flying from his grip. I hit the ground and tumbled to my feet, racing over to the gun.
I only barely beat Jorn there. I dropped beneath his blow, then swept low with my leg, sweeping him off his feet. He hit the ground back-first. I stepped on his left leg, flipped the gun around, and smashed the barrel down as hard as I could onto his knee. I had a whole lot of strength behind me thanks to my dual heritage, and his knee didn't stand a chance. Bone smashed and splinted under the force of the blow, and he screamed, his body crumbling as he tried to protect himself.
The sound of his pain echoed through the forest, and I had no doubt it would bring Yohan. It would have called me, had it been my brother laying there screaming.
Which meant I didn't have a whole lot of time to do what had to be done.
I hit his chin with the heel of my hand, forcing him backward, then straddled his belly and dropped down onto it, my knees pinning his arms and preventing him from moving. I didn't really have the time - or the strength - to waste cutting through his shields, but my guardian training under Jack had taught me some neat little tricks, and one of those was a means of preventing him from contacting his brother telepathically.
I reached out psychically, skimming his shielded thoughts, wrapping them in a field of power not unlike I was wrapping a gift. It wouldn't stop Yohan from knowing something was wrong, but it sure as hell would stop Jorn from telling him the details. My tired state meant I probably wouldn't be able to hold the shield for long, but it would be long enough to do what I had to do.
And Jorn hadn't yet seemed to realize what I'd done. "You will - "
"Yeah, yeah," I cut in. "I know the song, you'll make me pay for your pain, yadda, yadda, yadda. In the meantime, you're going to answer a few little questions."
He spat. Unpleasant fellow.
I wiped the spittle from my face, then hit him. Hard. "You want to do this the hard way, we will."
"My brother will fucking kill you."
"Your brother isn't here yet." He's coming.
Of that I had no doubt. Once I'd cut the telepathic link between them, Yohan would have immediately turned back to see what was going on. I would have, had it been Rhoan sitting here. I hit Jorn again, smashing his nose, and sending blood flying.
He swore and bucked hard, trying to dislodge me. "Your partner is so dead."
"You haven't got the controls, Jorn. Yohan has." It was a guess, nothing more. It was too dangerous to release him and pat him down.
"Yeah, and it's only going to take one little press - " As power surged across the shield I'd raised around his thoughts, he stopped, and frowned.
The realization that he had no telepathic link to his brother had hit. His gaze jumped back to mine. "What the fuck have you done?"
I smiled benignly. "Never underestimate the powers of a guardian. And if you want to live, you'd better tell me how to disconnect that bomb."
"It won't help you. You're dead, whether you kill me or not. Yohan will get you."
"So humor me anyway. What have you got to lose?"
He smiled. It was still an arrogant and confident thing. Not believing he would die, even now. And, for the moment, he was right. I couldn't kill him just yet - not until I'd ensured the bomb unit was out of Yohan's way, and my brother was safe.
"The unit is only dangerous when it's activated. Turn it off and it's as safe as can be."
"And Yohan has it?"
"Of course."
I saw the flick in his eyes. Tasted the lie.
Yohan wasn't running toward us as I'd presumed. He was running back to activate the unit.
I thrust a hand against his neck and began to squeeze, my fingers digging deep into his flesh, cutting off his breathing. Cutting off his blood supply.
"Where is the unit kept?"
"House. Safe," he gasped.
"Where in the house?"
"Trophy room," he said, voice little more than a wheeze as his face began turning an interesting shade of purple. "Far end."
I hit him then, knocking him out cold. It would have been good to kill the bastard but I just couldn't risk Yohan getting to the controls first and taking revenge on my brother.
I rose and ran. Down the hill, through the forest, ignoring the pain in my leg and the pain in my body, my feet flying as I ducked and weaved through the trees and undergrowth. Yohan might have had a head start, but I had a vampire's speed and I was using every bit of it.
Still, the house was on the other side of the island, and even the fittest vampire can run out of breath occasionally. And I wasn't even full vampire, so I was blowing hard and dripping sweat by the time I ran down the last slope and onto the main driveway that lead to what they quaintly called their lodge - a massive, sprawling series of connected buildings that was undoubtedly built from their blackmailing activities.
Something pinged near my toes before skittering away into the nearby trees. I looked up, and saw the gates and the armed guard in the security box next to it.
That bullet hadn't felt like silver, meaning they wouldn't be deadly unless they hit something vital. Not that I was intending to get shot if I could help it. Without breaking stride, I bent and scooped up a largish stone with my free hand. Bullets ripped through the air - several so close I could feel the burn of them as they passed by my arms and legs. If that guard wanted to kill me - or at least bring me down permanently - he would have been trying for torso shots. Yohan must have wanted me alive and wriggling, and that was just fine by me.
I threw the stone hard. It whirled through the air, little more than a deadly blur. If the guard had any awareness of it, he certainly didn't show it. The stone smacked into his face and blood spurted. He barely had time to howl before I was on him. I ripped the weapon free from his grip, then hit him with the barrel of Jorn's rifle. He slumped to the floor, out cold before he'd even hit it. I tugged him onto his side so that he didn't drown in his own blood, then looked around the small box until I found the gate switch, and threw it.
I bet the gates of hell itself didn't open so quietly or quickly.
I grabbed the guard's rifle, broke it open to grab the bullets, and shoved them into my pocket. It never hurt to have spares. The weapon I tossed into the forest - at least it was one less that I had to worry about.
I raised my nose and tasted the air. The tang of eucalyptus was strong, combining sharply with the salty freshness of the ocean. I couldn't hear the crash of waves, but if that scent was anything to go by, we were close to a beach. The island wasn't that big, after all, and I'd just run through the heart of it.
But Yohan's scent was absent, as was the hint of any other male's. I didn't trust that information one bit - they were here somewhere. I could "feel" them, feel their growing sense of anticipation.
They were probably setting a trap, waiting for me to walk right up to it. I might still be considered green when it came to guardian skills, but I wasn't stupid.
That anticipatory feeling was coming from directly ahead, which was where the house was. So therefore I went left, through the trees, avoiding the paths and the occasional infrared sensor. Once around the back of the house, I stopped. All the windows were closed, and I was betting the doors were locked.
I studied the walls and eaves, looking for cameras and infrareds. There were several, and I had no doubt they were active. The roof had more than a couple of loose tiles and presented a definite opportunity if I could get up there unseen. My gaze went to the trees, and I smiled. Several had long branches that overhung the roof, and I could get to them without being spotted by the cameras. Lovely.
I backed into the forest and walked back to my chosen tree. I scrambled up the trunk and then out onto the limb. It was only a short drop to the tiled roof. After that, I padded quickly and quietly to the nearest batch of loose tiles. It was easy enough to slide them aside and slip quietly into the roof cavity. From there, it was simply a matter of crawling over the ducting and wiring until I found a manhole.
What I dropped down into was a workshop that looked bigger than my whole damned apartment. There were all sorts of machines and tools here - some I could name, many I couldn't. The smell of metal and oil and stale, sweaty man was thick in the air, and my nose twitched in distaste. Obviously, whoever worked in here didn't believe in deodorant.
I padded forward, following the wall until I found a door. Pressing my ear against it revealed little. I blinked and switched to infrared. No telltale signs of body heat, either. I gripped the handle and slowly opened the door.
A wide corridor filled with shadows lay before me.
The long layout of the building suggested this corridor was probably a main one. The house itself was deathly quiet. No surprise given it housed a trophy room filled with stuffed nonhumans. I just had to hope no ghosts haunted the corridor. I mightn't be able to converse with "older" spirits, but I could see them and I could feel them. And I didn't need to deal with their fury on top of everything else.
I moved forward quickly, my feet making little sound on the wood flooring. I glanced at the rooms that I passed, but found nothing resembling a trophy room.
I was almost at the top end of the house - and surely near the trophy room - when I heard the footsteps. The scent of man sharpened abruptly. They were coming my way fast.
I broke into a run, moving quickly through the shadows, scanning the rooms as they flashed by. Nothing. Down the far end of the hall, a red light winked. They had sensors in this end of the house.
Damn.
The body heat of six men suddenly leapt in focus through the walls, all of them bearing weapons. I wrapped the shadows around me, but kept on running. I had to find that room before they found me.
Two men rounded the corner. I raised my stolen rifle and fired without sighting. The men scattered and the shot ripped through a window, sending glass flying.
More men appeared, low and fast. I fired another shot, heard an answering retort. Felt a sting of pain as the bullet burned across my forearm and pinged away. Then, finally, I found the trophy room.
I dove for doorway, hitting the floor chest-first and slid several feet forward on the smooth flooring, crashing headfirst into an armchair. Behind me, the door slammed shut, and the sour scent of man spun around me.
I'd dived right into the middle of a trap.
I gripped the rifle and spun around. Yohan was standing at the door, a rifle aimed at my head in his left hand and a little silver box clenched in his right hand.
Well, fuck.
"I wouldn't attempt to fire that weapon," he said softly, his thumb poised over the button, "because I'd hate to kill either of you before it was absolutely necessary."
"If you had any sense," I replied, wishing I sounded less winded and a whole lot more threatening, "you'd kill me anyway. A guardian is not someone you want to be playing with. We tend to get nasty."
He smiled. It was a rather amused little smile - one that suggested little understanding and an overwhelming sense of superiority.
"My brother has felt some of your nastiness. You should be glad you didn't kill him, or else your partner would now be smeared against the walls of his cell."
Part of me wanted to snarl right back, to bare my teeth against the threats and go after him, regardless of the consequences to me. Rhoan's safety was what held me back. I wouldn't risk his life, no matter how confident I was of beating the cocky bastard in front of me.
"I didn't kill him because I intend to drag his sorry ass back to the mainland. Yours, too."
"Oh, you can try, little girl," he said, as his finger moved away from the button. "You can try."
"Okay, then." The words had barely left my lips when I raised the rifle, pressed the trigger, then flung myself forward.
My bullet hit him, smashing into his arm, flinging it backward and spraying blood and bone everywhere. The control went flying and a shot fired out, the bullet burning past my left side.
I caught the control one-handed mid-dive, hit the floor hard and rolled to my feet. Another shot echoed. I threw myself sideways, sliding behind a large leather sofa. It offered little protection, leather and stuffing flying as the bullet blazed through and barely missed my belly.
Yet I stayed behind the sofa, all senses straining for any hint of movement, and looked at the control.
It was a simple affair, with just an on/off button and a second red button. I switched it to off, then gripped the until and smashed it against the floor as hard as I could. It probably wasn't the best way to get rid of a firing mechanism, but it was all I could do right then. I couldn't risk Yohan getting his hands back on it if I went down. At least Rhoan was safe. As safe as he could be until I took out Jorn and Yohan, anyway.
Another shot echoed. Stuffing and leather went flying as the bullet streaked past my nose and disappeared into the nearby wall.
I twisted around, and scrambled to the far end.
"Give it up, little guardian. You're trapped in this room. The windows are shatterproof and there are guards waiting in the hall."
"Go fuck yourself, Yohan." I rose, shot out the light with the last of my bullets, then tossed the gun to one side and dove toward the window, hitting the auto-close button.
Another shot rang out. I twisted away, but not fast enough. The bullet ripped through the fleshy part of my calf, missing bone and tendon, but tearing flesh and muscle. Pain exploded and I fell, my leg momentarily unable to support my weight.
Darkness swept into the room as the curtains closed. I pushed to my knees, barely restraining a hiss of pain as sweat popped out across my forehead.
Yohan laughed. Laughed,
What was it about bad guys that made them feel so superior in moments like this? Just because a quarry was down didn't mean it was out. Besides, Yohan and his psycho brother had enough respect for the capabilities of guardians to leave the UK when the Directorate started investigating their activities, so why the laughter now?
Or was it just me he didn't respect?
"Do not think the shadows will protect you, little guardian. I can smell your fear. Smell your blood."
"Humans haven't got senses that sharp," I said, wrapping the shadows around me and moving as soon as the words were out of my mouth.
It hurt - hurt bad - but nowhere near as bad as the bullet that smashed into the spot I'd just vacated would have.
"Ah, but we are the pinnacle of human development. We are what you animals strive to be."
"What's with the animals comments?" I moved position as soon as I spoke. Again he fired the rifle at the spot where I'd been. The noise was beginning to hurt my ears. "Does it make your slaughter more palatable or something?"
I moved position again, scooting around behind a desk. Despite his earlier claims, he obviously wasn't smelling my blood or my fear, because he was only shooting after I spoke.
"It was an animal that killed our father, and such animals will continue to pay for that as long as either of us lived."
And if he thought he was going to live for too much longer, he was more insane than I figured. "That's a warped way of justifying murder, you know."
He took another shot, then said, "It's not murder. It's ridding the world of dangerous pests. Besides, there's nothing more magical than seeing the realization of death spark in your prey's eyes."
Definitely, certifiably crazy.
He continued, "Give this game up, guardian, and you'll get your chance in the forest. If you don't give up, I'll simply shoot you dead in whichever hole you've crawled into."
Great options. Dead now, or dead later. How generous of him. I took off my sodden tank top and wrapped it around my bleeding leg. As tourniquets went, it wasn't great, but at least it would provide a little support when I had to stand.
I reached up onto the desk and felt around. My fingers brushed against papers and pens, then finally hit something more solid. A stapler. I gripped it lightly, then carefully rose to my feet.
Pain bloomed, roaring up my leg. I gritted my teeth against the urge to scream, and forced myself to breathe deeply and softly. Sweat rolled down my cheeks and my back, and my stomach rolled threateningly.
I tried to ignore it all, and threw the stapler across the room. It hit the wall and fell to the floor with a clatter. Almost instantly, Yohan fired, the flash of the gun a flame in my infrared vision.
I ran at him, as hard and as fast as I could. He heard my steps, but he barely had time to react before I was on him, grabbing the weapon with one hand and breaking his arm with my other, making it impossible for him to hold a weapon let alone fire one.
He went down, screaming for help.
Whiny, little coward...
The door opened. I flipped up the rifle and fired without sighting. One man went down, his gut exploding. Two of his colleagues leapt over him, coming at me. I fired again, hitting one and missing the other.
That one ducked to one side and raised his gun. But despite the light seeping in from the hallway, the shadows still covered me, and he hesitated, confusion on his face.
"Shoot her, shoot her," Yohan screamed. "She's here somewhere. Just bloody shoot."
Other men were coming into the room now, preventing the first man from simply firing at random. I pivoted on my wounded leg, hissing in pain as I hit the nearest guard in the chest, pushing him backward into another. They both went sprawling.
I shifted position, this time moving as silently as I could, and came up behind the door. With the benefit of infrared, I could see two more men entering. They were the last of the reinforcements - at least for the moment.
I gripped the door handle, waiting until they were closer, then slammed the door closed hard, sending them reeling backward. Then I was diving away as the sound of several gunshots roared, echoing in my ears.
I hit the ground and rolled to my feet, only to go down on one knee as my leg gave way yet again. I gritted my teeth against the scream rolling up my throat, my fists clenched, my nails digging into the heel of my hand in an effort to deflect the pain. It was tempting to shift shape and begin the healing process, but shifting wasn't instantaneous, nor was it discreet. And I wasn't entirely sure the shadows would cover the change.
I scrambled away and heard the footsteps behind me. I'd taken two men out, but there were still two guards left in the room and two men out of it. Time to get serious.
I pushed to my feet, spun, and lashed out with a still-clenched fist at the nearest man. He went down like a ton of bricks. I dove forward, grabbed his gun, and twisted, firing at the other man. He, too, went down.
"If you want to live," I shouted to the two remaining men in the hall, "I suggest you get the fuck away from this place."
There was a moment's silence, then the sound of footsteps retreating. Wise men.
I rose, hobbled over to the nearest window, and hit the nearby button. The curtains swept open, tearing the shadows from my side and revealing the contents of the room in all its grisly glory. Not just the bloody remains of the men I'd downed or killed, but the remains on the walls.
Jorn and Yohan's trophies.
I'd been expecting to see the three missing Australians, as well as the seventeen from the UK, but there were more here than that. Dozens more. All mounted on wood like animal trophies of old. All posed smiling and happy. All so lifelike, as if at any moment they would tear themselves free and step from the wall, whole in body and soul.
And all with a hint of terror and fear lingering in their glassy eyes, as if their souls still abided nearby, waiting for help that never came.
My stomach roiled, and it was all I could do not to throw up. I'd seen some pretty damn gruesome things in my time, but somehow, this seemed far worse than anything else. These two had been taking their revenge for their father's death for years and years. And in the process, had killed well over fifty women.
I turned and looked at Yohan, I don't know what he saw in my eyes, but his face twisted in fear and he pushed backward with his legs, as if trying to get away from me. He slid on the flooring, but not very far.
"I'm human. I demand my time in court," he screamed, spittle spraying from his lips. "You can't shoot me."
"That would work if I actually cared. But I don't."
I raised the gun and shot him, splattering his brains out the back of his head and across the floor.
It was easy. So easy.
Seemed I was more of a guardian - more like my brother - than I'd ever wanted to believe.
And right now, looking at their trophies on the wall, I didn't damn well care.
I shifted shape to start healing my wounds, then threw the gun on Yohan's remains and walked out of the room to find Rhoan before Jorn could.