“His hideout. He wasn’t there,” Chago said, straddling a seat. “Why would he get involved with Tolbert? The demons hate the Nephilim as much as we do.”
Xander scanned the scrawled writing on the paper. “Mira, can you locate their headquarters?”
“Done.” She walked to the computer and tapped a few keys. The printer whirred to life and pages spewed out. Mira liked to keep busy. Busy kept her mind from worrying about Zoe, among other things. She looked up to find Kagan watching her. A desperate craving for his touch, his comfort, flourished deep in her chest.
Down, girl. Not now.
A few minutes and a big sigh later, Mira returned to the table and handed Xander the information.
“Thanks.” Xander read the address. “Looks like we’ve got more urban exploration in our future.”
“Fabulous.” Chago’s tone was sarcastic perfection. “Do I need hiking boots?”
“You will tomorrow.” Xander tossed back the rest of his soda and clicked off the TV. “And a snowsuit.”
Chago crushed his empty can and scowled. “If we get what they’re predicting, I’m going to need a fucking John Deere just to open the damn door. Have I mentioned how much I hate winter?”
• • •
Less than twelve hours later, Mira glanced at the digital clock above the stove while sipping her morning coffee. Four-thirty was not a reasonable time for anyone to be out and about. “Remind me again why we have to do this pre-dawn?”
“To stay under the radar.” Xander pulled on yet another layer of clothing. “Get in early, less chance of detection. You need more layers, Mira.”
She glanced out the windows, now glazed with snow and ice. “I’ve already got on three. Anymore and I won’t be able to use my arms.”
“
Santo Cristo
, it’s nasty out there!” Chago blustered through the door and shook off the snow collected on his shoulders and head. He unwrapped the scarf from around his face. “Can’t see anything, even right in front of you. You sure you want to venture out in this, Xan?”
Xander gave him a curt nod in response. “No choice. This alignment happens tomorrow. Whatever Argus has planned will go down then too.” He finished layering up and grabbed a cup of coffee. “Crunch time.”
“Jeez, I’m vacuum-sealed,” Mira complained as she returned to the kitchen with her fourth layer in place. She attempted to sit in her chair and failed. With a defeated sigh, she opted for a less-than-graceful slide into the seat. Chago chuckled and waddled to the sofa. He teetered into position before the couch and backed up, scowling when his heavily bundled limbs denied him the required flexibility to bend. After several failed tries, he tipped into a half-reclined position reminiscent of a swinger at a singles bar, his legs sprawled and his arms flung wide. Mira snickered. “Nice pose, mummy man.”
Xander gave an exasperated sigh and pulled out the schematics of the Tolbert compound. “I think our best bet would be to enter through here.”
She glanced over to where he pointed — a large area of wilderness beside the main building complex. “Aren’t there dangerous animals in the woods?”
“Nothing as dangerous as us.”
A grunt issued from the living room. They turned to find Chago slipping off the smooth leather sofa, his stiff limbs rendering him incapable of stopping his inevitable descent. Xander rushed over and jerked him up before he hit the floor. “Quit fucking around and get over here. We’ve got a plan to formulate.”
Mira couldn’t contain her fit of giggles. Chago formed an obscene finger gesture behind Xander’s back then toddled over to the table. When his infuriated gaze snapped to hers, she dissolved into laughter again. “I know. You hate winter.”
Chago shot her one more heated glare before focusing his attention on the maps. “Where’s the head honcho’s office?”
Xander pointed to a corner of the main building. “It’ll be the most heavily guarded. I say we enter here.” He indicated an area by the service bay on the opposite side of the complex.
Chago picked up another blueprint of the maintenance areas and traced a route from their entrance point to the office. “
Si
, it’s doable.”
“Now all we need is K, and we can get this party started.” Xander grabbed his phone off the counter, checked the time and hit speed dial. “Where the hell is he? It’s not like him to be late.”
After several failed attempts to reach Kagan at his apartment, Xander forged ahead. Mira was hesitant. Something was wrong. Her mark itched in response to the unseen threat, but dammit, Xander was right. They had no choice. The alignment was coming whether they were prepared or not.
“Don’t worry.” Xander gave her a reassuring smile. “I left the coordinates with Kagan so he can meet us there.”
“Fine. You’re right. We need to go.” Mira latched her arms around Xander’s neck and the trio flashed from Wyck’s toasty abode deep into the fierce December blizzard.
• • •
Kagan squinted at the clock on his nightstand, punched the snooze button then yawned and stretched before throwing his legs over the side of the mattress. He stood to peer through the window beside him. Thick snow blanketed the ground. Ice crystals shimmered on the glass and bitter winds shrieked.
One white Christmas coming up.
He turned to make his way to the bathroom when a glint of metal caught his eye. Muscles tensed, he assumed an attack stance and peered into the inky darkness. “Who’s there?”
“Very good, Scion.” The shadowy figure of a man approached with measured steps.
The greenish light from the digital alarm clock reflected off his intruder’s mirrored glasses. The uninvited guest stopped several feet away and clasped his hands behind his back.
“What the hell do you want, half-breed?” Kagan itched to dispatch this bastard and warn the others. “How did you get in here?”
“So many questions, Scion.” His trespasser smirked, a key dangling from his leather-covered fingers. “Your landlord was a most agreeable gent. Especially after I twisted his … neck.”
Kagan kept his gaze locked on the invader as he inched his hand toward the dagger stashed beneath his pillow.
“The man served his purpose.” The guy tilted his head as if he’d heard something outside the door. “He was expendable. Everyone is, you know.”
“State your business, half-breed, and get the hell out.”
The man smiled blandly and gave the briefest of nods toward the corner. There was another?
Merda!
He was off his game and knew why.
Mira.
Kagan rushed for his weapon. Too late.
He spun, winced when a needle jabbed deep into the side of his neck. Cold raced through his bloodstream, and his muscles locked. Kagan managed to land a hard blow to the second assailant’s torso and relished the sound of crunching bone and his attacker’s pained groan before his own knees buckled. He fell forward to the floor, paralyzed. The first assailant approached, toeing Kagan’s cheek with a booted foot to turn his face upward.
Si.
These
figlio di puttana
had just signed their death certificates. The man leaned down, his hot, rancid breath sweeping over Kagan face in a shroud of malodorous funk.
Vaffanculo!
The
stronzo
sneered beneath the armor of his shades. “You’ll be coming with us now, Scion.”
• • •
Wyck flashed into his apartment before dawn, earlier than expected, trying to outrun the blizzard. As bad as the snow was in Chicago, it was ten times worse in Colorado. He’d had a hell of a time getting the little barista home by conventional methods prior to his return. He flipped on the light in the kitchen and caught sight of the note taped to the fridge. Exactly where he’d left his own note two days before.
He scanned the message and pulled his phone out to call Xander. No service.
Bloody hell!
He clicked on the computer and the Tolbert International website popped up, showing the location of their headquarters. No signal? No wonder. The gang was stranded in freaking nowhere.
Wyck walked to the closet and pulled on several more layers of warmth before returning to the kitchen. He guzzled down the remaining orange juice and gnawed his way through a couple of stale energy bars. Chago was right. He needed to hit the grocery more often.
He cast a longing glance at his comfy bed and sighed before pulling on a knit hat and gloves. No time for sleep now. Had to get to Xander.
Tolbert was a trap.
• • •
Argus appraised the sterile holding room they’d escorted him to. After his so-called tour of the facilities, the bastards had brought him here under the guise of corporate security. Bullshit of the highest magnitude. He was the fucking king of misdirection and knew a set-up when he faced one. Hadn’t these nuggets ever heard of air conditioning? Sweat poured down his face.
He glanced at the bland steel and glass. Several small holes were cut into the ceiling surrounding the light fixtures. Surveillance cameras tracked his every move. He twiddled his thumbs. Should have known the half-breed bastards were behind this. Without the benefit of windows, Argus quickly lost track of time. Where the fuck was Mallory?
The guy had disappeared after dropping him off in the Director’s office. The two men had spoken words Argus had not heard in eons. Enochian. The language of the angels. Figures.
Fucking Nephilim asshats.
A door opened and he swiveled to find the Director, flanked by Mallory on one side and a stranger on the other. All three pricks wore those damned sunglasses and sported condescending smirks when they took seats opposite Argus.
We’ll see who’s smiling after I take over, shitheads.
“We have recently discovered you possess something our organization needs.” The Director spoke with all the emotion of a weather scanner.
“What exactly would that be?” Argus flashed them a cold stare. He studied a fidgeting Mallory. Streaks of red disappeared under the collar of the nervous man’s starched white shirt. Nail marks? His claws itched to make a few indentations of their own.
“Antares.” Director Douchebag leaned back in his chair, confidence oozing from his every stinking pore. The massive stranger to his left sat forward and clenched his beefy hands.
“Sorry, boys. The Scion took it from me a couple days ago.” The perfect replica on his chest was none of their fucking business. His mark heated and he swallowed hard.
Mallory whispered something in his boss’s ear. Director D turned to Argus with a satisfied smirk. “Open up the shirt.”
“Why?”
“Do it!” The big boss wasn’t smiling anymore. The hulking stranger moved to stand beside him, his suit coat pulled back to reveal a holstered weapon.
Argus loosened his tie and slipped the top button free.
The bodyguard drew his gun and cocked it. Argus undid the next and had reached for the third when an alarm sounded. Mallory pulled out his phone and stalked to the door before hanging up. A less than subtle sneer covered his weasel-like features. “We have company, sir.”
The Director rose, red-faced, and spoke to Mallory. “Make sure the girl is secure.”
Mallory bustled out. Director Douchebag reached down and ripped open Argus’s shirt. Buttons flew in all directions, clinking to the floor and pinging off the walls. The expensive broadcloth ripped with a prolonged scritch. A cold smile formed on the Director’s chalk-pale lips when he took in the perfectly replicated triangular burn. “Don’t let him leave this room.”
• • •
Zoe huddled on the corner of her cot while the siren blared.
They’d brought her here the day before, and she’d been terrified. Now, a calm reserve coursed through her. She’d read them easily enough, despite their obvious training. Their puny mental shields posed no real competition for her well-honed skills.
She’d kept her secret hidden since she and Mira had run away twelve years earlier. People had always treated her like a freak and her abilities only made things worse.
The door outside her cell opened, and the nervous little man who’d interrogated her earlier paced in front of her enclosure, speaking rapidly into his phone. She slipped into his mind, searching for a name. Mallory. She spotted the claw marks on his neck and smiled. She’d enjoyed giving him those. The little fucker thought he’d intimidate her, did he? Not a chance. He ended his call and faced her. “Enjoying yourself, bitch?”
Face placid, she stared back into the reflection of his mirrored glasses. “How’s the neck, Mallory?”
He swallowed hard and threw up his barriers. “Stay out of my head. I guarantee you won’t like what you find.”
Zoe gave him her nastiest smile and wrapped her arms around her knees. Nothing these men did to her would be any worse than her previous experiences. “Why the alarm? Someone escape?”
He stepped closer, his odious expression smacking of serial-killer charm. “Fresh meat.”
The door sprang open behind him and three men dragged in a large, black tarp. They dumped the contents into the cell beside hers, tumbling a body out onto the concrete floor. The guards slammed the steel bars shut and bumped Mallory on their way out.
Zoe glanced over at the jumble of limbs. She recognized the buzz-cut hair and the tattoo on his biceps. “What’s he in for?”
Mallory gripped the bars of her cage tight. “You’ll find out.”
• • •
“How much farther?” Mira whined as she tromped through the knee-deep snow. The ground sucking at her boots made each step a battle. Her legs burned from exertion, and her chest ached from breathing the sub-zero air. Her scarf and ski mask did little to prevent the chafing gusts from scouring her face. Had she ever been this cold in her life? Mira peered through her snow-speckled goggles at the sea of white surrounding them, glad for the windshield Xander and Chago’s big bodies provided.
“We should be close. Over the next hill.” Xander pointed a gloved hand to a ridge of pine trees about fifty feet away. “You okay?”
She nodded and trudged forward. The warriors weren’t faring much better. Chago kept mumbling behind his mask, and although she couldn’t decipher the words, their meaning was quiet clear. If her lips hadn’t frozen solid, she would’ve smiled.