Unhidden (The Gatekeeper Chronicles Book 1) (12 page)

My prisoner, who had been cooperative until this point, balked at the prospect of entering the aging lift. “Where are you taking me?” he asked. I could feel his muscles tense and twitch. “Are you going to try to kill me?”

“That depends. Do you want to die? Because, if not, I would strongly recommend that you answer the many questions I have for you.”

I body checked him so he stumbled through the doors, hitting the far wall of the elevator. I followed him in, keeping my gun pointed at his chest, then pressed the only button inside the elevator that would take us to the bottom of the shaft, fifteen stories below ground. The doors slid shut, and with a jerk, the elevator began moving.

It was only when my prisoner began to change that I realized it might not have been the most brilliant idea in the world to cage myself into a small box suspended over open air with a complete stranger. I had once again forgotten I was potentially dealing with a supernatural enemy, and I shouldn’t have assumed my tail was only a normal human being.

The man standing huddled in the corner straightened to his full height of only ’five-foot-ten, and his eyes began to glow a pale yellow.

“I’m more of a lover than a fighter …” he said, his voice becoming deeper and rougher with every word. I heard the snapping of what I realized were his bones, and his skin bulged and rippled as if something living beneath it was trying to get out. His face elongated, and wickedly sharp teeth extended from what was quickly becoming a muzzle. “But I can dish out a pretty good disemboweling,” he completed in a growl before the transformation of his mouth prevented any further human speech. His clothes tore away as his limbs bulged and bent. He fell to all fours as course, gray hair sprouted over his entire body.

Cold terror bled through my body, filling my veins with ice as I tried to remember all the rules I had seen in movies about taking down a werewolf. I had no way of knowing whether there was any truth to them, but it was all I had to go on. Unfortunately, the bullets in my gun were made of steel, not silver.

He completed the transformation from man to wolf in a matter of seconds, although even before then, I had put three bullets into him. I continued to hold out hope that I could interrogate him; therefore, I didn’t aim for his head. Instead, I blew out his knee, trying to incapacitate him.

I was surprised when the creature actually let out a yelp of pain as a spray of blood and cartilage hit the back wall of the elevator, and the wolf’s leg collapsed under it. He still had three good legs, though, and he lunged at me with snapping jaws.

I got off another two shots, but they went wide, missing him as he barreled into me. I managed to keep hold of the weapon, but the wolf’s jaws clamped down on the gun. Unfortunately, the muzzle was not pointed into his mouth; thus, pulling the trigger would just put a bullet harmlessly into the wall of the elevator.

I needed the gun though. I wasn’t about to let go of it. With my free hand, I punched the wolf square in the muzzle, raining repeated blows on its face, my hand going numb as my knuckles split and bled, but I kept hitting him. His eye was a bruised and swollen mess, and blood poured freely from his nose.

When I felt his jaws loosening, I pushed past the pain in my hand and hammered him with one final fist to the nose, throwing my entire body weight behind it. He released me, and I brought up my gun, but he was changing again.

Thinking he was shifting back into a man and conceding the fight, I held my fire. Instead, his muzzle sharpened and hardened into a point. His gray fur sprouted feathers, and his arms extended into broad wings that flapped wildly. His injured leg was less of an impediment now that he could fly.

He lifted from the floor and dove straight for me. I ducked, instinctively raising my arms to protect my head and face. He hit the wall behind me yet recovered quickly and flew at me again.

Staying low, I tried to get a bead on him with my gun, but he was moving too fast. The cramped elevator wasn’t large; however, this form made him quicker, more capable of tight turns, and gave him more room to maneuver since he could take advantage of the air space above my head. He launched at me with talons bared and sliced through my forearm as I shielded my eyes. The pain was sharp and intense, and blood flowed freely from the lacerations.

The elevator continued to descend, and I knew it would be only seconds before we reached the bottom and the doors opened. If he flew out of the elevator in this form, I would lose him and my chance at getting some answers. He could easily elude me in the large, dark space we would be entering; consequently, I had to subdue him, and I had to do it fast.

When I ducked against his next swooping attack, he entangled his talons in my long hair, attempting to pull my head up to peck out my eyes. I kept my head low and reached up, grabbing onto his skinny bird legs with a vice grip. He subsequently flapped wildly, trying to lift off, but I held on tight, pulling him downward. Hair that was still tangled around his talons tore painfully from my head. I struggled against the powerful down strokes of his wings while he threatened to escape my grip.

Once I wrestled him down far enough, I released one leg and grabbed a hold of a wing, quickly followed by the second wing. He tried to pump them furiously, but I managed to launch myself on top of him. He fell to the floor under the weight of my body, and I pinned his wings beneath my knees.

Reaching into my boot, I freed the knife hidden there and plunged it through the bone of his wing with such force the knife drove into the elevator floor, pinning him like a butterfly in a display case.

A piercing screech rose from the bird’s throat and gradually turned into the wail of a man as he shifted back into human form. He was naked beneath me, sweating and panting in pain from the knife that was impaled through his bicep.

Just then, the elevator chimed gently, announcing we had reached our destination, and the doors slid open, revealing the darkness beyond.

“W
ake up, sleepy head.” I lightly kicked the unconscious shape shifter in the leg I had shot. He jerked and let out a moan of pain.

He had passed out soon after the elevator doors had opened. I used his torn clothing as tourniquets for his knee and bicep and then dragged him into the abandoned train car that sat waiting on unused tracks.

This railway tunnel had once connected to the glamorous Waldorf Astoria hotel as a discreet means of transporting the hotel’s more famous guests, like presidents, dignitaries, and the occasional celebrity. The train car was heavily armored yet pocked with rust and falling into decay from disuse. Access to the tunnel from the hotel had been cut off decades ago when the Waldorf walled over the entryway. I doubted any hotel employees still alive would remember it had ever been there.

I didn’t bother restraining the shifter, since I had nothing to tie him down with. He wasn’t in any condition to escape anyway. I found the circuit breaker and turned on the limited power supply. It was enough to get the train doors open and cast dim light throughout the cabin. I propped him onto one of the rotting cushioned seats and placed a larger remnant of his jacket over his naked lap. It wasn’t out of respect for his privacy; I did it to lull him into a little bit of comfort before I really put the screws to him.

“What’s your name?”

He just groaned again, his head lolling against his chest and his eyes unfocused. Another kick, harder this time, brought a higher level of awareness back to him, and he screamed hoarsely. That was better.

“What is your name?” I asked him again, louder and more slowly than the first time.

After a brief struggle to regain muscle control in his neck, he managed to lift his head and look at me. “Eddie,” he panted, gritting his teeth.

If he was going to be cooperative, there was no need not to be pleasant.

“Hi, Eddie. I’m Emma. I’m actually happy to make your acquaintance.” He contorted his face in pain and confusion. “I’ve been looking for answers, and you are going to be the one to give them to me.”

He took a deep breath and sat up taller, which drew another wince from him. Once he had gotten himself settled more comfortably, he smirked, noticing the coat in his lap. “Sorry, love. Did me huge doinker make you uncomfortable? I only get that reaction from the prudish types. Most times, the birds really love it.”

So, he was the joker type.

I shifted my hips seductively and purred, “Oh, I am far from being a prude.” As I leaned in, his eyes affixed themselves to the Star Wars logo pulled tight across my chest, with the S’s curved around the sides of my breasts.

Slowly, I dragged the tattered jacket off his lap and slid my hands up his tensed thighs. It got the reaction I was looking for, which made it all the more fun when I placed my knife at the base of his “doinker.”

He let out a high pitched wail that sounded like it had come from a six-year-old girl and scrambled backward on his seat, trying to get as far away from the blade as possible, but he had no room to maneuver. He had forgotten his injured arm, and when he placed his weight on it, trying to push himself away, he almost sobbed at the pain and injustice of it all.

“Does that mean you’re ready to talk now?” I asked sweetly.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah!” He nodded furiously. “Just get that shiv away from me todger, and we can talk.”

I didn’t move until I felt satisfied he had received the message. Then I stood, keeping the knife held loosely in my hands.

His eyes never left the blade. “Are you planning to use that?”

“Do you plan to make me?”

He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, his shoulders sagging as the tension left his body. That smug smile made an appearance again. I had a feeling it was his factory default setting.

“I would love to make you do all sorts of wicked things.” He winked.

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, Eddie, get your mind out of the gutter. Why were you following me?”

“Maybe I just wanted to find out where you lived so I could watch you get undressed through your window.” He jerked violently as my blade suddenly lodged in the seat between his legs. “Bloody hell! Have you gone barmy?”

“Why were you following me?”

“Someone hired me to keep tabs on you. That’s sort of what I do. It’s easy for shape shifters to move around unnoticed. We can be anybody or anything you want.”

Knowing where that innuendo was going, I quickly cut in. “Who hired you?”

“Sorry, love, I can’t tell you that. I like breathing.”

“I thought you also liked shagging, but maybe I was wrong about that.” I lowered my eyes to the knife, and he instinctively covered himself with both hands.

He leaned his head back in frustration and muttered, “This bloody job has really gone pear shaped.”

“Did Vincent Darko hire you?” I asked.

“Darko?” he responded, sounding genuinely surprised. “How do you know of Vincent Darko?”

“I’m the one asking the questions. What do you know about him?”

“I know all I need to know, love. Never met him personally, but the bloke has a reputation, and not a good one. He’s powerful; can’t say what he is, though. Nobody seems to know that. I take that to mean anybody who’s seen the real Darko under that human mask is dead. I got no interest in knowing the man beyond that.”

“So if he’s not the one who hired you then who did?” I asked nudging the knife blade to make my point.

He was thoughtful for a moment, weighing his options before coming to a decision. “No point in living if I can never get between the legs of a good lass again, is there? Gabriel Marduk hired me.”

There was that name again—Marduk, the man Zane worked for. This guy was throwing multiple henchmen at me. Why was he so interested in me?

“Tell me about Marduk. Who is he?”

Eddie squinted at me with suspicion. “Let me ask you a question, love. What’s your game?” I cocked my head in confusion. “I may not know much, but I do know you are quite familiar with Marduk. Are you trying to put one over on me?”

Why would he think I knew Marduk? Could I get Eddie to reveal more by pretending I knew what he was talking about, or should I come clean and admit I was completely clueless?

I leaned casually against a seat, trying to look like I knew a lot more than he did. “Humor me. What do you know about Marduk?”

He considered the request for a moment and seemed to think it was reasonable. “I get it. You want to know what I know. Fair enough, love. Marduk is one impressive bastard. Came up from nothing and is now vying for leadership over Urusilim. I think he’ll get there too. Got a lot of support from our kind, but who else would we support, really?” His eyes held a solemn, faraway look for a moment before he shook himself out of his reverie. “Anyway, he seems quite interested in you. Why else would he go through the trouble of sending so many of his best men through the gate?”

“The gate?” I asked, forgetting I was supposed to be sly about my questioning. His sharp look made me realize I had blundered. Clearly, I was asking lots of questions that were common knowledge where he came from. I quickly corrected myself. “Why do you think he’s interested in me? What did he tell you about me?”