Unborn (21 page)

“Not an issue,” he yawned, stretching his arms high above his head. “I’m too tired for that today.”

“Sean isn’t bringing an army with him; there’s too much going down out east for that. We need to be organized and prepared, two things we haven’t been thus far. We’re likely to only get one shot at this. We can’t afford to waste any of our resources.”

Drew’s eyes narrowed harshly at Oz.

“Fine,” Oz grunted in response. “You’ll have the information you need by sunset.”

“Casey,” he continued, directing his attention away from Oz. “You need to track Azriel down and find out just what the hell happened last night. If you are convinced by the end of it that he did indeed sell us out, you need to send a message. A big one. Understood?”

“Loud and clear,” Casey replied with a killer smile.

“If he didn’t, then you need to find out everything he knows, and I mean everything. Employ your usual charm to make sure that happens,” he commanded. “Pierson, you get to work on protecting Khara from the draw of the Stealers. If there’s something that can be done there, you need to do it. We can’t protect her very well if we can’t keep her from going to them willingly.”

“I’ll be upstairs,” he replied, heading in that direction before he even finished his thought. Stepping around Oz, he ascended the stairs and disappeared to his favorite companions: his books.

Drew then shot a curious look to Kierson.

“What do you need me to do?” Kierson asked, his enthusiasm for retribution plain.

“Someone needs to stay behind with Khara.”

“But Pierson will be here—”

“And he will be occupied.”

“What about you? Where are you going?” Kierson’s interrogation nearly sounded like that of a petulant child.

Drew’s gaze shot over to Oz.

“I’m going with him.”

Oz launched to his feet, agitated at Drew’s plan.

“The hell you are.”

“I need to see that you’re doing what you say you will,” Drew explained unapologetically.

“You’re just going to slow me down,” argued Oz.

“I’m confidant I can keep up.”

“Listen, I said I would get you the information you need, and I will.”

“Great. Then you won’t mind me tagging along for peace of mind,” Drew pressured. “Consider it my insurance plan.”

Oz’s eyes narrowed.

“You don’t trust me . . .”

Drew shrugged.

“Trust is a funny thing, Oz. It’s not freely given; it’s earned. You haven’t done a lot to do so in the time I’ve known you. And I have known you many lifetimes,” he said, slowly approaching Oz. “You have always and will always suit yourself, which has never been an issue for us, but, in this situation, it is. Khara’s life, or soul, or whatever it may be that they are after, likely hangs in the balance, and I am not willing to hand that over to your minimally invested ass. If you want to take my lack of confidence as a personal slight, so be it. I’ve never questioned your ability in battle, Oz. But I do question your loyalty.”

“I work alone or I don’t work at all,” Oz rumbled, his defiance dominating both his tone and posture. It was clear that there was no middle ground to be found between the two of them.

“Drew,” I said softly. “Let him go. He has said he will do it. Let him prove his loyalty to you.” I turned to face Oz, deliberately waiting until his eyes met mine before I continued. “He proved his loyalty to me last night. In the context of battle, he is exactly what you told me: fiercely effective. He did not have to warn us of the Stealers, nor did he have to come to our aid. Is that not loyalty? I am well aware that he enjoys violence as much as Casey, but he left the battle and promise of bloodshed, only momened, he ts after showing up, with the express purpose of getting me home to the safety of the wards. Oz has proven to be selfish, arrogant, abrasive, and even vile at times, but one thing he has never proven himself to be is a liar. I do not suspect he will do
so today.”

Oz’s mouth pressed into a straight line, trepidation overtaking his expression. Something was stirring behind his eyes, though I could not determine what it was.

“I’ve got some shit to do,” he declared, heading to the front entrance. “I’ll let you know what I find out when I get back.” He stopped abruptly just before the front door, looking back over his shoulder directly at me. “Try not to do anything crazy while I’m gone, will you, new girl? I’d hate to go to all this effort for nothing.”

I stared at him silently—I could not muster a response. How could one promise such a thing when my ability to make rational decisions all but disappeared in the face of the Stealers? His words had proven to be the only thing to clear my mind in their presence, and he was leaving. I was left solely reliant upon Pierson’s skill with magic to prevent their call from getting the better of me.

And to fight off that darkness required mighty skill indeed.

22

While the others worked on their assignments, Kierson and I sat around the house, the hours passing in slow monotony. It was a tedious way to await the inevitable. Kierson was so agitated by late afternoon that he nearly stabbed Pierson when he came down the stairs, throwing a blade that narrowly missed him. Perhaps their twin connection kept Pierson safe from the otherwise deadly strike.

I inquired about the battle in the Heidelberg Project, having not been present for the majority of it. They told me that things had taken a turn for the interesting upon my departure. They were aware that we were followed initially but were certain that Oz was capable of handling whomever showed up, if they even made it that far. However, the atypical aspects of the fight seemed to arise only minutes after that. Pierson said that they had thought the dwindling numbers of Stealers had been due to the losses they had taken, but, when he hazarded a glance at the amassing bodies, there were not nearly enough to account for the numbers the enemy had presented with at the outset of the fight. It was at that point that Pierson had retreated to the house to quickly observe what he had become convinced was true: the Stealers were strategically escaping the battle, but were not headed in the direction they had come from. They were headed toward the distant Victorian in numbers far surpassing those that he had expected.

Their explanation made sense of what I remembered from my more lucid moments of the battle Oz and I had fought outside the house. And it served to only further confirm what Oz had claimed: The
Stealers truly were after me and were willing to suffer countless losses during their elaborate ruse to ensure they got me.

When I shared my thoughts on the matter, the twins wore the same expression. It was not an inspiring one.

“I’ve performed the ceremony for what I think should protect you from their thrall, Khara, but I cannot guarantee it,” he admitted. “I have no reference for a spell like this. I had to improvise.”

“I’m sure it is better than the alternative,” I reass
ured him, knowing that the alternative was nothing at all.

“What’s taking them so long?” Kierson grumbled, pacing laps around the living room furniture. “I hate all this waiting. It makes me edgy.”
p>

“I had not noticed,” I replied dryly. When he turned his bloodshot eyes to meet mine, he saw something in them that made him smile.<
p>

“I didn’t know you had it in you, sis,” he proclaimed in admiration. “Sarcasm . . . it works for you. You should try it out more often.”

“If I survive the evening, I shall try my best.”

His smile immediately fell.

“If that was another attempt at humor, it sucked.” The sadness in his eyes kept any response I had at bay. He was still hurting from the previous attack, which could have left me dead or unrecognizable. Neither fate seemed to sit well with him. He was a sensitive soul indeed.

“When will Sean be arriving?” I asked, directing my question to Pierson.

“I’m not sure. He will alert Drew with the details soon, I imagine,” he said plainly. “Sean is rarely, if ever, late.”

As we spoke, Pierson’s phone made a buzzing sound, and he quickly retrieved it from his pocket.

“Speak of the devil,” he mumbled, staring at the screen.

“Is it from Drew? What’d he say?” Kierson asked, coming to stand behind Pierson. He peered over his shoulder to see whatever Pierson was looking at, a gesture that seemed to instantly infuriate his twin.

“Drew is on his way back now, and Sean has reported to him that he will be arriving very shortly.”

“And having Sean present for this is a good thing, I presume?”

“Khara,” Kierson started, his face the very definition of gravity, “Sean is seriously badass. He can’t be killed, for fuck’s sake! You think you might want that kind of manpower on your side?” I started to reply when he threw up his hand to deflect my response. “That was a rhetorical question, Khara, because the answer is now, and will always be, yes. When shit gets serious, you want Sean on your side. Period. End of story.”

“Just as you would want Oz on your side?” I prodded, hoping to gain some insight into why they despised one another.

The twins shared a look at one another before returning their gazes to me.

“Something like that,” Kierson said tightly.

“Agreed,” Pierson added. “Though it might be best if you kept that analogy to yourself after Sean arrives.”

“If they detest each other so much, how can they be capable of fighting alongside one another?”

“That’s simple,” Pierson replied, his expression every bit as haughty and condescending as I had ever seen it. “You.” I felt my brow furrow at his words, unable to mask my incomprehension. Pierson sighed at the realization that further explanation was required. “You are why they are willing to fight on the same side, Khara. They have a mutual interest in the outcome.” My expression remained unchanged. “I would think that Sean’s attachment to the outcome would be fairly obvious. Oz’s is less so, but it is apparent nonetheless.”

“How so?”

“I have studied his behavior since your arrival. It has been perplexing, indeed, but my theory is that somehow, on some level, you are what has made his current lifestyle . . . less comfortable.”

I found his words fascinating.

“I have never met someone more comfortable with who they are and what they do,” I countered. “And yet you are telling me that he is not because of me? I do not understand this.”

“I don’t profess to know the inner workings of our not-so-angelic squatter, but my powers of observation are unmatched. He has changed. Of that, I am sure.”

“And how do you view his current behavior? Is it an improvement or a devolution?”

“It is different. I’m not sure how to qualify it beyond that.”

It was quiet for a moment while I processed Pierson’s words, until Kierson decided to make an observation all his own.

“All I know is he’s still a raging asshole.”

“Agreed,” Pierson chimed in, his expression still severe.

I could not help but see the humor in Kierson’s response.

The abrupt opening of the front door jarred the three of us to attention. Our momentary distraction had let us all forget what was headed our way. Thankfully, all that found us in that second was Drew.

“Casey back yet?” he asked as he walked into the living room. “I’ve been trying to reach him.”

“If he is looking for the gargoyles, he will most likely be in the sewers. I can’t imagine that the service there is at all foolproof.”

“Good point,” Drew replied, but something in his eyes said that he wasn’t fully convinced of the veracity of Pierson’s claim. “I just can’t imagine it’s taken him this long to hunt them down.”

“Well, if they did sell him out, I highly doubt they would hide in their normal places,” Kierson offered. “I mean, do you want a pissed-off Casey hunting your ass down?”

Drew’s look of skepticism disappeared with Kierson’s observation.

“Better point still,” he said with a smile. “He beat you to that one, Pierson.”

“That’s because he has copious experience pissing Casey off and hiding from him.”

Kierson, appearing bested, did nothing to defend himself from Pierson’s allegation.

He would not have had a chance to, even if he had sought one. Seconds later, Casey stormed through the front door, slamming it violently in his wake.

“Azriel’s dead,” he blurted out before entering the room.

“So, I guess you decided he did sell us out then?” Drew asked cautiously.

“No. I mean I’ve been looking for him for hours, but it’s hard to find a gargoyle during the day, especially when he’s already dead.”

“Already dead? You didn’t kill him?”

“Didn’t need to,” Casey growled. “I’m not sure which pisses me off more: not getting answers or not getting to kill him myself.”

“That can’t mean anything good,” Kierson noted, tightening his grip on the dagger that hung at his waist.

“No shit,” Casey snarled in response. “I knew he was holding out on me, but I guess I won’t know why now.”

“Someone is cleaning up their loose ends,” Pierson stated matter-of-factly. “There is no possibility that this is a coincidence. Azriel has lived too many lifetimes to fall easily.”

“Yeah, well, if you’d seen what was left of his corpse, you wouldn’t think that. He was so mangled I hardly recognized him as a once-living being. It was only after I rooted around in his virtually liquefied remains that I found his lower jaw. His one canine never did look right. It was nearly twice the size of the others.”

“And he was alone? You didn’t see any of the others?” Drew pressed, trying to piece together what little information he could to better grasp the meaning of what Casey had found.

“There was no sign of any other gargoyles to be found in all of the greater Detroit area. That’s the main reason I’ve been gone so long. After locating what was left of Azriel, I’ve been trying to find a single one of them,” Casey explained, his typical demeanor traded in momentarily for one of confusion. “It’s like they just vanished.”

“Jesus Christ . . .” Drew uttered in disbelief.

“You called?” Oz shouted from the foyer of the Victorian, punctuating his remark with a slam of the front door. He strode in, looking every bit his arrogant self, but it belied a tension that I could not ignore. I did not know why I sensed this, but I did. The second his eyes met mine, I was certain. “Never mind with the pleasantries, boys. Our little situation has been upgraded to a big fucking catastrophe.”

“What did you find out?” Drew demanded, striding across the room to meet Oz.

“I found out that there are more Stealers than you could possibly imagine. I found out that they aren’t working alone—that other supernaturals are working alongside them. And, most importantly,” he started, hazarding a glance at me, “I found out who’s behind their uprising.”

“Who?” Drew pressed, anxiously awaiting his response. Oz, however, looked uneasy, not wanting to divulge his secret.

With a heavy breath, he finally did.

“Deimos. He’s one of the—”

“We are well aware of who he is, Oz,” Drew snapped, cutting him off. A brief silence then filled the room just before chaos overtook it. “But what you’re saying doesn’t make any sense.” He looked to me for confirmation. “Khara said herself that if Deimos were aware of her whereabouts, he would just come for her.”

“I must agree with Drew. Your information is false. If Deimos were here, I would know it,” I said calmly, though the mere mention of his name sent a shiver down my spine.

“Oh, really?” Oz retorted, his condescension plain. “How could you possibly know that?”

“Because he plagued my time in the Underworld since I was a child,” I reminded them, my words more heated than I expected them to be. “He views me as a long sought-after prize, and if Deimos were here I no longer would be. He would have stolen me right out from under your noses and taken me back to the Underworld to resume his demented form of courtship without giving a second thought about it. He is not an elaborate schemer, Oz. He is a taker. And when he wants something badly enough, that is precisely what he does.”

Oz’s eyes narrowed harshly at me.

“You are his?” he asked, unable to disguise the disgust in his voice.

“I am no one’s.” I stared back at him, my eyes devoid of the emotion that brewed within me. It was strange and inexplicable. “And you are wrong. Deimos is not behind this.”

His eyes widened with rage momentarily before he contained it.

“Who told you about Deimos?” Drew asked, still standing between Oz and me.

“That’s not really important now, is it?” Oz snarled. “What’s important is that we figure something out, and really fucking quick, because I don’t know about you but I don’t know how to kill that bastard. So, unless you want to wait until he shows up on your doorstep to r d%" align=try a few things out, we need to move. Now.”

But the brothers did not. In complete contradiction to the night at the Tenth Circle
,
when they whisked me away from perceived danger on Oz’s command, they stood defiantly, unwilling to take him at his word. Something was amiss, and I was in the dark as to what.

Clearly seeing their lack of cooperation, Oz’s anger rose to a level that even his well-manufactured façade could not contain.

“Of all the times you could question my judgment, you choose now?” he roared. “Listen to the words coming out of my mouth: Deimos is here. He is coming for her with an army of soulless bastards. You need to get her out of here now!”

“Maybe that’s exactly what you want us to do,” Drew shrewdly observed. “You know more than you’re saying, and until I know what that is, we’re not going anywhere.”

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” Oz shouted.

“I don’t think I have,” Drew replied, maintaining an eerie level of calm. It was a complete contradiction of Oz’s fury.

“Drew,” Kierson piped up from behind us. “If he’s right, then we need to go. I don’t know what you think is going on but—”

“It’s not what I think, Kierson; it’s what I know,” he said, addressing his brother with a glance over his shoulder. Then he pinned hateful eyes back on Oz. “What do you think I’ve been doing all day? Khara may have thought you were to be trusted, Oz, but I didn’t. There were too many red flags to be ignored.” Oz’s body twitched with anger. “So I followed you. Your arrogance clouded your focus, thinking that you had once again wriggled off the hook. But you hadn’t.”

“What happened?” Kierson asked, his voice a ghost of a whisper.

“Do you want to tell them, or should I?” Drew posed the question to Oz, but received no answer. “Fine. I’ll do it.” He turned to address the rest of us, his eyes fierce and sharp. “I followed him down to the old shipping district on the outskirts of the city. He never faltered once, as though he had always known where they were—like he’d been there before.” He paused dramatically, allowing the implication to settle fully in our minds before continuing. “I looked on as he entered the building without hesitation, even though there were guards at the door. They never made a move to stop him.”