Winter's Warrior: Mark of the Monarch (Winter's Saga 4) (35 page)

Farrow smiled despite herself and watched Alik John-Wayne
walk to the back of the SUV.  She crossed her arms and leaned against the hood, telling herself to calm down. 

You’ve been in worse scrapes than a stupid blown tire, Farrow.  Get it together.
 

Then it occurred to her t
hat it wasn’t the blown tire that got her so worked up.  It was the thought of letting down all the people whose very lives were depending on her to get to Louisville safely that made her heart panic.  She sighed, intentionally forcing herself to breathe.

That’s when she noticed a big black
F150 ahead as it pulled up to the stop sign and looked as though it was about to enter the highway to head north, the same direction they were heading.  The driver leered at her, his bloodshot eyes scanning her up and down before he made an illegal right-hand turn and drove the shoulder until he stopped only a few yards away. 

Farrow could now see three men piled into the front seat.  The engine thrummed loudly, but country music could still be heard twanging over it.  The
vehicle’s tires were huge, monster-truck style.  The kind Freud would have a thing or two to comment about.

Farrow uncrossed her arms and inconspicuously pulled the knife she always kept in her boot, into her left hand.  Being ambidextrous had helped tremendously throughout the years especially when it came to hand-to-hand combat.  Her opponents were always surprised at her du
al abilities.

The driver opened
his door and leaped out of his overcompensating truck.  In his hands was a blackened and greasy crow bar.  His two cohorts followed him with less grace.  One had a beer gut that was a true testament to his redneck ways and the other was skinny and had tattoos all over neck and arms. All three men wore ball caps that looked to have been dipped in pigs’ slop.

“Hey beautiful, you need help with that flat.” It was a statement, not a question.  He tapped his left hand with the crow bar

From behind Farrow, she heard Alik’s voice rumble, “No, thanks guys.  I’ve got it.”

Farrow risked a glace back at him and blinked twice to be sure.  Alik had grown even more huge. 

What the heck?
  Farrow thought to herself, eyes wide with wonder.

The three men were a little surprised, too.  Alik was holding the spare tire like it was as light as an inflatable pool toy.  His eyes glowed, but the color was different from the bright indigo when he was retro-cognitioning.  There wasn’t any blue to them now—they were pure violet.

The two guys who were obviously the driver’s sidekicks glanced at their leader, nervousness obvious in the way they shifted both their footing and eyes.

“Why don’t you get moving, boy?  We’ll take care of the lady from here.”  The driver narrowed his beady eyes and nodded his head away as though showing Alik the door.

“She’s with me,” Alik growled protectively.

“She’s too much a woman for you, boy.  Beat it.  I ain’t asking nicely again.” He warned.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Alik seethed, dropping the tire next to the blown one, emptying his hands.  He took four steps toward the redneck interlopers.   Farrow watched his huge body move and was in awe. 

Every step had his muscles growing larger, his T-shirt stretching to the very brink of ripping across the wide, thick chest.  His biceps were throbbing with his heartbeat and growing with every pulse.  Already a tall guy, Alik seemed to grow even taller by at least three inches.  His jeans tightened around his muscular glut
es and thighs. 

“You need to leave.” Alik’s voice was deeper than it was a moment before.  “
I
won’t ask nicely again.”

The driver looked back at his minions and nodded.  They ran to Alik and grabbed both his arms.  Their plan was text
book.  Two hold the victim down and the leader beats the crap out of him.  The thought of them holding Farrow down so the beer-swilling driver could do something vile to her made Alik feel a burst of rage.

He raised his arms, the men still attached, lifting their weight easily before swatting them aside.  The
y flew and landed in the grass beyond the shoulder of the road.  The driver thought he’d take advantage of the distraction and came at Alik with the iron crow bar, swinging it at the back of his head. 

Faster than even Farrow’s eyes could see, Alik spun on his heels and caught the bar in his right hand.  “Oh, you’re going to regret that.”  He twisted the bar out of the driver’s h
and and tossed it under his SUV before grabbing the idiot by the throat and lifting him off his feet with one hand.  His bloodshot eyes bugged out as he grabbed and scratched Alik’s wrist.

“Behind you!” Farrow yelled, just in time for Alik to see the two idiots come at him with fists raised.  He tossed the driver aside and turned to meet his attackers with huge fists of his own.  One punch to beer-gut guy’s face and his head whipped back hard enough to cause a concussion.  He flew three feet back
in the air and crumpled to the ground.

Tattoo guy flipped a butterfly knife out of his pocket and held it menacingly toward Alik before jumping forward to attack.  In what looked like one swift movement, Alik blocked the hand holding the weapon with one massive forearm and punched him in the throat with the other hand.  He was disarmed and flat on his back holding his neck inside four seconds.

The driver sat holding his dislocated elbow painfully. 
“What are you?”

“I’m the ‘boy’ who just kicked your ass.  Now get out of here before I finish what you started.”

The driver and tattoo guy hobbled to their feet and helped beer-gut guy stand.  They all looked as though a steamroller had hit them, leaving them dazed, bloody and confused.

Farrow watched them climb painfully into the ridiculously tall truck and perform an illegal U-turn to get back on the highway. 

Alik turned to look at Farrow, his bright violet eyes filled with concern.

“Are you okay?”

Farrow could only nod at first.

“When I heard the way that guy talked to you, I wanted to rip his head off.”  Alik’s whole body shuddered as he walked toward Farrow, who still held the knife in her hand.

“Um, thanks Alik, but I really could have taken care of myself.”

“You’ve taken care of yourself your whole life.  No one was going to get away with speaking to you like that.  I hope you don’t mind that I stepped in.
”  He was reaching for her shoulders, carefully rubbing them as though trying to soothe her, when it was obviously he that needed soothing.

“Alik, what happened to you?”  Farrow asked, her mouth still wanting to hang agape.

“I don’t know, I just felt this surge of energy and my whole body tingling with what I assumed at first was adrenaline, until I felt my clothes get too tight.  My heart felt like it grew, too…pounding like a racehorse in my chest.  I just felt…” he looked down at himself—still wide and unbelievably huge, “…a massive burst of…” 

“Rage?”  Farrow offered.

“I just wanted to protect you.  I felt compelled to do whatever it took to keep you safe.”  Alik looked down at himself in disbelief.  “Apparently, my evolution has another part to it.  Meg’s was like this.  She kept discovering new and sometimes scary things she could do after her evolution.”

“So you think this is part of your evolution
?”

Alik was nodding.  “I’d love to run this by Evan, or even Meg.”

“From what I understood, during your evolution your abilities are enhanced further.  Meg’s sensitivity to emotions turned into empath abilities, psychometry, and ‘influencing’ others.” 

“I was the one with perfect memory and advanced strength.  It would make sense for me to become retro-cognitive and now, apparently I can get upset and become even bigger and stronger.”  Alik was shaking his head in amazement. 

“But Meg always had had some negative effects because of her advanced gifts.  You know the headaches and dizziness.  I don’t feel any negative effects except the occasional motion sickness for the retro-cogging.  My body’s response to anger hasn’t come with any caveats so far. 

“I wonder if you’ll get stretch marks,” Farrow teased.

“That’s not funny!”  Alik looked more closely at his skin.

“Vain!”

“No, but if I’m going to go all giant, I don’t want to look like a baggy, loose-skinned, freak when I’m normal.”

“This is truly something to think about.”

“The stretch marks?”

“No, the hulking-out thing.”

“I wonder if there will be more as time goes on.”

“More what?”

“Exactly.  I don’t know what, but this just proves I’m not done changing.”

“How do you feel?”

“Ready to go rip the arms off Arkdone and beat Bjorn with them.”

“Well, okay then,” Farrow’s brows raised
. “Let’s get this tire changed so we can get going with that well-thought-out plan.”

Meg had pulled the neck of her grimy T-shirt down enough to stare at her chest.  There, left of center was a cut puncture wound into her skin.  The skin was puckered red around the spot, like an infection was starting, though Meg knew she would be fine in a few hours with her incredible immune system.  
That is, if you’re still alive in a few hours. 
She grimaced at her beloved coyote still lying unconscious across the room. 

She had been racking her brain trying to figure how to keep Maze from running toward her when he awoke.  He would obey her order to stay, but only for so long.  Meg shivered and tightened her grip around her knees.  There was a damp chill in the cell’s air and she hadn’t
had anything to eat or drink since breakfast the morning she was taken.  Though there was no window, she estimated by the way she felt that it had already been at least thirty hours since she was taken. 

She had only used the corner furthest
from Maze once to urinate.  As humiliating as it was, she made herself pretend she was camping, only instead of a shovel to dig the hole, she used the butt of the gun she was able to grab with her feet to keep her chest even farther away from Maze.  She figured there was a video camera watching her, but at that point, she didn’t care.  If that sick SOB wanted to watch, there was nothing she could do to stop him.

The thought of Arkdone and his “offer” made Meg want to throw-up.  Just as she was thinking for the thousandth time about trying to reach out with her empath gift, she stopped herself.  Arkdone seemed in tune with her gift and may send a blast of pain right to her head as he did earlier.  She was so distraught about Arkdone’s viciousness, she wondered if she could negotiate something for the release of the others. 

Just as she was contemplating the possibilities, she heard a clicking from the door above.  Arkdone looked to fly as he leaped into the room.  “It’s time for you to come with me, dear.”

Without asking, h
e just grabbed Meg’s weakened body.  Blood still stained her shirt from the last time she crossed him, but that’s not what stilled her immediate need to maim the monster who dared touch her.  What stopped her from fighting the monster like a ferocious cat was the thought of getting too close to Maze, who had just gained enough strength to open his eyes and whimper.

His hot breath washed her face with its bile and sulfuric stench.  “I have great plans for you my lovely little trophy.”  He turned and jumped easily across the ten-foot expanse of the room
and up to the ledge.  Meg looked back as she flew in the arms of the devil to see her Maze lift his head, watching her leave him again.  Hot, salty tears stung her exhausted eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

Not now
.  Not in the arms of this monster.  I will never cry for you,
she seethed inside.

“The others have already assembled, but I saved the best for last,” he squeezed her affectionately
. “You, my dear need a moment to freshen up.  I’ve prepared a bath for you myself.  Come, I’ll show you.”

Still carrying her in his arms, he walked leisurely through his sick industrial-looking castle home.  Meg was too weak to fight now, something about being touched all over by the pure evil that was Arkdone drained her.  She even felt too exhausted to stop her body from moving against Arkdone’s
, however rigid she wanted to be.  His right arm wrapped around her back, his hand holding her under her right arm.  His left hand hooked under her knees.  She definitely weighed less than her usual one-hundred-twenty-pounds as she and the others usually had to eat a lot of quality food—their powerful bodies demanding more than a human to function properly.

She’d had no food or drink in far too long.  Arkdone was speaking and Meg knew she should be paying attention, but her mind, foggy with exhaustion and fear was having a hard time focusing.

“…My personal quarters.  Fresh towels and clothes, including undergarments, are waiting for you on the sink.  I would be glad to stay and help you.”  Arkdone feigned an innocent expression, as though he had nothing but the purest of intentions.  Meg knew better.  She could feel it oozing off him with every beat of that merciless heart.