walker saga 06 - dronish (23 page)

As the water beat onto their skin, massaging and caressing every sensitive nerve ending, she dropped her head back and let the water wash over her. Brace couldn’t help but follow that movement, placing his lips against her throat. Kissing his way up to her mouth. Passion flared again, but they didn’t have time for anything more than these few hot, drugging kisses.

Eventually he had to place her down so they could clean up.

“Do you want to come with me to Que’s?” he asked.

Abigail had a toothbrush hanging from the corner of her mouth, she still preferred this method of teeth cleaning. She spoke around it. “Yes, I don’t want you checking out anything dangerous without me.” It was goddamned adorable that she thought she could protect him. “And Lasandra needs to get used to seeing me around.”

His mate was beautiful and brave. “Okay, baby. Well, we have ten minutes, so unfortunately time is up in here.”

Abigail dropped her lower lip in an exaggerated pout. “This is the best shower in all the worlds. I think I could live in here and be a happy, wrinkly-skinned person.”

Brace threw back his head and laughed. “Walkers’ skin doesn’t wrinkle in the water.”

She shoved him. “You know what I mean.”

 

They spent longer than planned in the shower. Dressing was also hindered by the fact they kept undressing again, but eventually they left their home and made their way hand-in-hand across Abernath. The parties had died off a little as the later hour approached, many retiring for the night. Brace knew they’d be back the next day. He could feel the ebbing flow of his people, nothing specific, just energy, but it was comforting all the same.

Lasandra was waiting in front of the building, alone, arms crossed over her body as she stared up into the darkened sky. The four suns which lit up the sky of Abernath had sunk to the other side of their world. They’d be back in a few hours. But for now there were only slivers of light from the stars.

His mother finally noticed them. Her face fell a little when she saw Abigail at his side, but she covered it up quickly enough.

“Follow me.” Her words were short as she turned and slipped through the open door.

Brace hid his distaste as they entered the cold, glass-fronted building. He hated this dwelling. It was the place he had been brought to for punishments on those all too frequent occasions he’d dared to question Que. The former princeps had had this laser which actually marked the skin of Walkers. Brace still had slight divots littering his body. They were hard to see but they were there. It was also the place he’d lost his sister and mother, the space which had consumed the soul of his father.

They ventured further inside along the sparse walkways. Que was not big on personal possessions. The only room which had anything in it was his office, and that was a scene of macabre displays that made any normal individual want to run for the hills. Unfortunately, that seemed to be where Lasandra was leading them.

“This place is giving me the creepiest of creeps,” Abigail muttered as she stared around, always very aware of her surroundings.

Brace pulled her closer. “Hold on to that thought. Pretty soon you’re going wish we were back in this walkway.”

“Awesome.” 

A set of stairs led up to the second level, most of which made up the office of the former princeps.

Lights flickered on as they entered. A series of gasps sounded from Abigail. Brace knew it was probably only his mother’s presence which stopped the curses following, and he couldn’t blame her.

“I should have had this place destroyed long ago.” His anger cut through the air like the blades of swords. It renewed his pure hatred of his father every time he saw the trophies scattered around.

“Please … please, for the love of my own sanity, tell me that these aren’t body parts mounted on the walls … and in jars.” Abigail’s nose screwed up as she tried not to stare too hard in any direction.

Brace rubbed her back in slow, reassuring movements. “This was where he brought Abernaths for punishment.” He pointed toward a hand that was mounted above the huge black desk at the back of the space. “That’s mine … it’s lucky we regenerate or plenty of our warriors would be lopsided.”

The breath whooshed out of Brace as Abigail threw her arms around him. He could feel her barely concealed rage as she squeezed him tightly. A full range of emotions flooded him.

Besides Lasandra, no one had ever worried about him. He was the strong one – responsibility and risk were thrown at him without thought.

But this slip of a girl put his happiness and safety above that of all others. He’d never had any doubt, of course, but sometimes it was crystal clear … he was the luckiest damn man in existence. With all the horrible shit he’d been involved in through Que over the years, he wasn’t sure he deserved the gift that was Red, but even so, he was keeping her.

Lasandra was shooting Abigail narrow-eyed glares. Brace locked his gaze on his mother, warning her he would not tolerate any more of her bullshit attitude toward his mate. She dismissed him with a wave of her hand, but he’d seen the sadness draw across her features before she turned away.

He tightened his grip around Abigail, but his eyes were glued to his mother as she crossed the room. Lasandra paused at the back wall, and with barely a hesitation she reached out and gripped the hand that was attached to the wall. Brace’s hand that he’d lost to Que in a fight just under three hundred years ago.

“What the hell is your mother doing? Has she lost her ever-loving mind?”

Brace hadn’t realized that Abigail had her head turned to the side and was also watching the regal blond. A blond who appeared to be shaking hands with his long-ago removed and petrified arm.

Brace laced his fingers through Abigail’s and together they crossed the space. He wanted to get close enough to see if his mother had lost her ‘ever-loving mind’, as Red had declared.

As they took the first few steps across, their footsteps echoing on the white and shiny tiled floor, the space directly behind the hand shifted and a doorway appeared.

Brace’s stride faltered minutely, but he knew that this had to be the entrance to the experiment room. He wondered how Lasandra had known of it.

“Did your dead hand just open up a doorway to Que’s secret torture lair?” Abigail’s voice was a mixture of freaked out and impressed.

“Something like that,” he replied.

They quickened their step. Brace did not want Lasandra to venture down there without him. The doorway was large enough to easily fit his height and width, so clearly it had been designed for Que. The stairs were steep, made of metal grates with large gaps separating each one. The path was too narrow for two, so Brace pushed Abigail directly behind him; he was going down first. He could see his mother a few steps ahead in the dim light. He felt a hand reach out and grasp the back of his shirt, which he was happy about. Red was exactly where he wanted her. Safe.

The descent seemed to take a really long time, and there was a weird energy in the air that he was unfamiliar with. And knowing everything Que was capable of, that was an ominous sign. Brace feared nothing for himself, but his mother and mate were here too, and he felt the slightest trickle of nerves – the unknown lay ahead and he wasn’t sure if he could keep them safe. He was confident, not stupid, and Que was a monster.

There was nothing to see for the first half of their descent, but twenty steps down a light started to filter up from below. Brace knew Abigail couldn’t see much – his frame would be blocking most of her view – which was a good thing. Because when the first signs of the secret room came into his line of vision, it almost knocked him off his feet, and he had seen some pretty messed-up shit in his life.

“Is everything okay?” Abigail whispered to him. “You’ve gone all stiff and growly.” She was pushing against him.

He knew she was trying to see over his shoulder.

“Prepare yourself, Red. You’re not going to like what you see down here.”

He heard her sharp intake of breath, and felt the way her hands, which were clutching his shirt, shook. They didn’t speak anymore as they continued their descent. Brace could see Lasandra had stopped dead at the base of the stairs, staring, unmoving. He couldn’t blame her.

Finally the stairs ended, and Brace had to step to the side so Abigail could move into the light of the large energy cage.

“Oh, my effing god. What the effing eff is happening here?” She gasped her words, and then strode forward until she was right on the edge of the dome.

Que had the same sort of energy dome set up here as had been on Nephilius, and contained within the walls appeared to be all kinds of things. But it was two tanks on the far back wall which had drawn the most attention and caused the most distress.

Suspended in one was Josian, the liquid encasing him whole. His eyes were closed as he drifted up and down in the solution. Brace couldn’t tell if he was dead or not. He had no idea what Que had been experimenting with down here. Abigail turned back to him, tears tracking along her cheeks.

Brace crossed the space between them and gathered her into his arms.

“What does this mean?” she choked out.

He shook his head. “I don’t know, Red, but we’ll free him; we’ll break the energy dome.” He paused … she deserved the rest of the truth. “If we break the dome we might free Josian, but I’m just not sure what else we might be releasing.”

Especially given the fact that in the tank next to Abigail’s father was his own.

Que’s dark hair and craggy features were unmistakable. Well, most of his features were clear, but he was also changed – missing his right arm and leg. Although there were small growths protruding from the empty sockets, as if these limbs were being reformed. Only they didn’t really look Walker any longer, as if the DNA of something else had been mixed in there.

Something really scary.

Abigail clutched Brace closer. “What the hell is going on here? What is Que creating?”

Brace shook his head, wishing he had an answer, but in reality no one knew but the man himself, and he was looking less than alive.

Just as he had that thought, Que’s eyes flew open.

 

***

 

 

 

 

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About the Author

 

Jaymin Eve loves surrounding herself with the best things in life: a good book, chocolate and her two little girls. She’s been writing for about ten years and now it’s settled into her blood and she can’t get it out. Not that she wants to.

 

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