Dreams of a Dark Warrior (17 page)

again. “Have they done that to you? Are th-they going to do that to me?”

Regin looked at Natalya. “Not if I can help it.”

I couldn’t break the vampire.

As Declan stormed down the winding corridor, guards gave him a wide berth and researchers skittered

out of his way. He heard their whispers. …

“It was grisly, even by the Blademan’s standards.”

“I almost felt sorry for a leech.”

By the time Declan left him, Lothaire’s skin had been seared away to the bone, his body more ash than

flesh. Those UV lights burned vampires the way frostbite attacked a mortal—first the extremities, then

spreading up the limbs like gangrene.

Declan had been merciless.

Yet nothing he’d done could make Lothaire talk. Toward the end, al the creature would say was, “She

comes, she comes. She’s going to want it back. …”

Was the “she” even real, or a hal ucination?

More soldiers cleared a path, their expressions wary. Declan knew they feared him, often overheard

them talking about him. Recently, he’d heard a new recruit mutter, “Chase gives me the ever-living

creeps. Like he’d slit your throat just for shits and giggles.”

But Declan didn’t give a damn how they felt as long as they fol owed his orders.

As he strode down the ward, he stared down any prisoners who didn’t avert their eyes. Did they sense

something about him, as the vampire had? “You’re no normal mortal,” Lothaire had told him.

Paranoia had Declan running a gloved hand over the back of his neck.

His shite day only continued to worsen. He’d been off his game with Lothaire because of his encounter

with the Valkyrie. And MacRieve’s escape attempt just highlighted the security risks inherent in

overcrowding.

Yet Webb continued to accept prisoners, disregarding Declan’s repeated recommendations for cul ing.

The two would discuss this soon.
Either I run this place my way, or Webb should come take over.

Then Declan had a flash thought. What if Webb agreed with him—and wanted to terminate the

Valkyrie?

So be it,
he assured himself. Yet the idea sent a chil through him. And he didn’t know why! His job, his purpose on this earth, was to destroy her kind, one at a time.

If he couldn’t do it, then why was he here? Damn her, what hold did she have over him?

Tomorrow I plan to torture her. Yet I’m drawn to her, attracted to her as I’ve never been to another.

And he hated her for it.

THIRTEEN

H
ey, fresh meat!”
a Ferine demon cal ed from his cel as a burly guard led Regin down the ward. “Not so high and mighty when you can’t get to us, huh?”

Regin was cuffed, shaking off the effects of poisonous gas, and on her way to be either interrogated or

vivisected.

Now demons were going to taunt her? She half-lunged, half-stumbled toward the cel .

“Easy, Valkyrie,” the guard said, drawing her back in line. She believed some inmates had cal ed him

Vincente.

The demons shrank back from the glass. As she passed, she heard one say, “That Valkyrie made me

eat a crab trap last summer.”

Regin smirked. She’d thought she recognized him. Her smirk faded when she spied the occupant of the

next cel over.

Carrow the Incarcerated, one of Regin’s good friends and a party-hearty pal. The black-haired witch

stood at the glass, forcing a smile. “It’s like a bad hangover that won’t stop, huh?”

Behind her was a sorceress Regin recognized, the Queen of Persuasion. Sorceri were tricksy, some

good, some evil. “You al right in there?” Regin asked, as if she were stil a badass Valkyrie bosswoman

who’d fix the sitch otherwise.

Carrow nodded. “The sorceress is cool. So, you heading for an interrogation? Or an … exam?”

Regin made with the stiff upper lip when she casual y said, “Dunno. Chase or Dixon. One of them wil

have my foot up their ass directly.” She shrugged. “Catch you on the flip side, witch.”

About ten cel s down from Carrow was
Brandr—
Aidan’s kinsman. Who’d taken his vow to his leader

and friend
very
seriously.

“Regin!” He leapt up from a bunk.

“Wel , wel , the gang’s al here.” Nïx must’ve given him Regin’s whereabouts. Again.

“I’m going to get you out of here,” he said, his green eyes aglow.

She snorted. “Let me know how that works out for you, Job MacBangup.” Seeing Brandr here just

brought her situation into stark relief. “It’s curious though—you don’t usual y show until it’s time to bury him.”

Brandr flinched, and immediately Regin felt guilty. Both of them had a role to play in this curse. Regin

forever triggered Aidan’s death. Brandr was forever too late to save him. No matter how hard that man

tried.

Many in the Lore had begun to cal him Brandr the True.

In a milder tone, she said, “You know who brought me here?”

“Yes, it’s
him,
though I barely believe it. Regin, just hold on. I’l figure something out …”

Vincente forced her along the corridor.

When they passed the centaur king’s cel , Volós pointed at Regin and slid his forefinger across his

throat.

She replied, “Hey, didn’t I see you in a donkey show down in Tijuana? No? You’ve got a twin then—”

“Move on,” Vincente said warningly.

She gazed up at the guard. He looked like an ex-prizefighter—heavyweight—with a pronounced brow,

a brick-end chin, and a five-o’clock shadow that she’d bet no razor could KO. He was dark-haired, his

features a compel ing blend of Native American meets mafioso.

He was the first human here not to gaze at her with animosity.

“So, where are you taking me, big guy?” No answer.

Yesterday, guards had hauled Lothaire by after Chase had finished “interrogating” him. The vampire’s

shirt was ripped open, revealing skin seared to ash. His hooded red eyes had flashed to Regin, and he’d

hissed something in Russian.

Lothaire was an enemy—one who’d hurt the Valkyrie in unimaginable ways—so it’d been impossible to

muster up sympathy for him. She’d hissed back, “
Do svidaniya,
bitch.”

Now it was Regin’s turn for an appointment with either Declan or the mad scientist.

In a lower tone, she asked the man, “So am I going to get a zipper in my chest?”

Had there been a barely perceptible shake of his head?

“Am I about to be interrogated?”

Nothing.
Shit, interrogation it is.

Soon after, he led her into an austere room with a camera in the ceiling, an obvious two-way mirror on

one of the white wal s, and a table with two chairs in the center.

Vincente pointed to one of the chairs, the one bolted to the floor. “Sit.”

“S’al the same, I think I’l stand—”

He shoved her down, hooking her cuffs to a bar in the back of the chair, immobilizing her.

Once she was al battened down, a tech in a white lab coat entered to sink an IV into Regin’s arm. The

clear line snaked up to a bag, most likely fil ed with some kind of pharmaceutical torture juice.

Regin got the gist. The interrogator would be able to push a button and serve a dose.

After Vincente and the tech had left, Chase entered, his expression drawn, his ink-black hair stil wet

from a recent shower. He’d shoved it back off his smooth-shaven face, revealing more of those chiseled

features, as wel as the thin scars that climbed up his cheek. Dark circles marred his chil ing gray eyes.

For al his faults, Declan Chase had a kind of sinister, wretched attractiveness. She took comfort in

knowing that, for some reason, the man was as miserable as she currently was.

Without a word, he sat across from her. He wore his usual military threads, but today his wool pul over

stretched tighter over his deep chest and broad shoulders. He was more muscled than she’d initial y

stretched tighter over his deep chest and broad shoulders. He was more muscled than she’d initial y

thought.

“Wel , don’t you look al butch today?” When he shot her a kil ing look, she stomped one foot. “
What?

What’d I say?” It’d been a compliment.

Up close like this, there was no mistaking his unsettling hatred. Though she’d resisted any escape plan

that involved Chase remembering his past, now she realized she might have to declare him a misfire

regardless.

She gazed around with a bored air. “This feels just like
Law and Order
. But shouldn’t you lawyer up before I throw the book at you? No? So what’s in the IV bag?”

“Pain poison. Taken from the Sorceri Queen of Agonies and replicated for our purposes.”

A queen was a sorceress more powerful at manipulating a certain element than any other Sorceri.

Bottom line: this is gonna smart.

“Another tool cribbed from the Lore? Like with these torques. And rumor has it that this facility is

mystical y hidden. You use mysticism when it suits you, even though that’s
our
realm.”

As if she’d never spoken, he said, “You’l tel me what I need to know, or I’l administer a dose.” He held up a control pad with a red button in the middle.

“Torture doesn’t work on my kind, just pisses us off. It starts to col ect over the years.”

“Valkyrie, I wil get answers from you one way or another. Either through this painful exercise in futility, as you believe, or through a civilized conversation.”

“You cal this civilized?” She strained against her cuffs, leaning in to whisper, “Psst, Chase. The sexual tension between us is grueling.”

His face grew even colder, as if she’d just spoken blasphemy.

“So you’re the bossman around here, huh? I saw you took down Lothaire. You’ve got some low-

hanging goolies to mess with him.”

“Do you have information about that vampire? It might affect your own treatment.”

“Turn informant? Sing like a canary? The more I talk, the better I’l get treated?”

He just continued to stare at her with an undisguised loathing.

“Then get ready for an earful! So everybody thinks Lothaire is hotter than the sun he’l never see, but I

don’t get it.” Some of her Valkyrie sisters had deemed him as mesmerizing as a shiny-shiny. “I mean,

yes, his body is magnificent—when not extra crispy—but he’s a leech, a parasite. His irises are nearly

red. Females are always tittering about how you never know whether he’s going to kiss you or kil you.

And that’s just something I’d want to establish up front, you know?”

Chase narrowed his eyes.

“For the record, I like ’em young, dumb, and hung. And clever Lothaire only fits one of my criteria. Plus

he’s a vampire. I despise vampires. We probably have that in common—”

“You refuse to reveal pertinent information about your enemy?”

“I’l bet Lothaire won’t dish about me either. Matter of fact, I’l bet you don’t know much about the

Valkyrie at al .”

“If that’s true, you’re soon to remedy my lack of knowledge.”

“You’ve never captured a Valkyrie, have you?” Had her tone been gloating?

“But I have one now.”

When his thumb hovered over the red button, she stared at him aghast. “You’re truly going to … torture

me?”

He cast her a puzzled look. “Why
wouldn’t
I torture you?”

Because you used to love me, used to cherish me.
“I thought we had a moment yesterday? Didn’t you like seeing me in lingerie?”

In a monotone voice, he said, “Why did the charge throwers have no il effect on you?”

He’s truly going to do it? Then fuck him. DEFCON.
“Chase, I’ve tussled with vibrators stronger than your
charge throwers.
”

No reaction. “You consumed energy. And channeled it at wil . How?”

Al Valkyrie consumed it—they were each connected through a grid of mystical energy—but Regin was

the only one she knew of who could radiate it through her body. She’d inherited the talent from her birth

mother. “So how does one get started as a magister? Col ege or trade school?”

“I don’t have the time or patience for games. Now, tel me, why do you … glow?”

“I touched a radioactive alien cock once.”

He pressed the button.

As her eyes fol owed a bead of poison traveling down the tube, she muttered, “You’re not giving me

much of a choice here, Chase.”

She remembered al those centuries ago when Aidan had taught her war strategies. If this were a

battlefield, then she had only one move open to her—a charge. Could she be his doom once more?

To sit and wait in this facility would mean certain death. Regin hadn’t stayed alive for a thousand years

by
inaction
.

When the poison reached her arm, she clamped her jaw shut to keep from screaming—it was like liquid