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

“Self-destruct?  You mean commit suicide.”

“Yes, of course.”

“What a loss that would be.”

“It has only happened a handful of times, but yes, to lose a well-trained candidate is definitely irksome to our clients.  On the other hand, they never have to worry about them disclosing confidential information.  Clients usually place an order for another candidate soon afterward.  They become accustomed to having someone they can rely on without question who has certain—how shall I say it—skills.”

“What sort of skills can your candidates acquire?”

“They are perfect assassins, but some clients prefer a seedier skill set.  The adult film industry, for example, has many a Monarch in its employ.”

“
Hmm, yes well, that’s not of interest to me,” Williams restrained his urge to shudder.

“To each his own,” Arkdone shrugged and tossed back another swig of the expensive Scotch like it was tap water.

“So that I’m sure we’re on the same page, here are my thoughts,” the doctor began.

“Okay, shoot,” Arkdone’s speech wasn’t slurring yet, but his eyes were definitely glassier from the Scotch.

“Imagine a Monarch candidate who is also a metahuman.”

Arkdone stopped swirling the last of the Scotch at the bottom of his glass and looked up at his new best friend.

“Absolutely brilliant, Dr. Williams. The possibilities are—
infinite!
”

“I was thinking the same thing.”  The doctor grinned widely as he reached down to pick up the eyeballs off the table and absently swirled them around in his hand.  They were becoming beautifully fleshy and warm again.  “Infinite.”

Just then the lights went out.

Meg instinctively dropped to her knees and squeezed the trigger, never missing the empath image of the soldiers in the room. 

Pop, pop!

Her ears heard two bodies hit the floor just as a burst of light and a loud popping burst from the semiautomatic across the room. 

Panic gripped her with two hands. 

“Alik!” she screamed.

A sound of pounding, strong feet echoed in the corridor behind her and she turned in time to see two red glowing eyes.  A vicious, guttural growl echoed across the floor, vibrating her to the core. 

Maze?
Her mind skipped to the illogical. 

But it was.  It had to be.

Even as her brain was trying to understand what was happening, she saw those angry red eyes stream across the room.  His attack was intense, barking and ferocious in the faint moonlight trying to seep into the small window on the far side of the room. 

Red emergency lights flickered on.

Another
ratta-tat
ricocheted off the cement walls, the burst of fire offering a strobe-like image of the otherwise blood red scene in the room. 

Maze had leaped onto the remaining soldier and was shredding his throat with his razor-sharp canines.

Confident Maze was handling the remaining metasoldier, Meg ran to her brother, yanked the pillowcase off his head, and reached into her boot to retrieve Laz’s knife.  She went to work slicing the ties holding her brother against the wall. 

“Meg, did they hurt you?” Alik’s eyes were desperately searching his sister for damage even in the dim light.

“Me?  They hurt you a lot more than me, little brother.”   Meg cringed at the partially dried blood clumped in his hair and staining his shadowed face before pulling her brother into a hug, being careful not to squeeze too hard in case there were other injuries.  

The scuffling beside them stopped.  They looked over at Maze and the soldier he was finishing off.  The coyote was still breathing hard, and his muzzle was dark with what was undoubtedly blood, but he stood stock still and stared at Meg and Alik as though awaiting further orders. 

His usually soft, clever yellow-eyes looked bright, wild and haunted.  Generations of canine predators and fighters pulsed through his veins.  In that moment, Meg understood what a sacrifice her coyote had made when he chose to stay with her and her humans instead of running wild and free. 

“Come here, boy,” Meg cooed softly.

Maze looked back at the body he’d taken down and licked his muzzle as though realizing he needed to clean up a little before he went to his Meg.

He walked slowly toward her outstretched arms, holding his head down just enough to show submissiveness.

He stepped right into her hands and licked them before nuzzling his furry, muscular body into her embrace and huffing as though to say, “
The things I do for you!”

“Thank you, Maze,” Meg whispered into his fur, finding comfort in the familiar musky scent of her best friend.

Alik was gathering weapons from the metasoldiers’ bodies. “I’m glad you’re here, too, buddy.  But if you’re here, where’s Mom?”

Maze whined in response. 

Alik and Meg exchanged worried looks.

“I’m going to guess Evan’s responsible for the blackout,” Meg scowled.

“You didn’t really think he was going to leave us, did you?” Alik asked even as he yanked off what was left of his T-shirt so he had easy access to his pockets where he was shoving weapons and clips taken from the metasoldiers.

“I wish to God he had obeyed,” Meg frowned as she peeked out the darkened window looking for movement.

“I’m hoping Mom stayed on the outside of the gates and just sent Maze in to give us backup.”

Meg looked over at her brother, one brow raised skeptically.

Alik caught her look and frowned.  “I know, but a guy can hope, right?”

The siblings peeked out the one small window of the room, trying to see something, anything that would give them an idea of what was going on outside.

“Where is everyone else?  Did they accomplish their part of the mission?” Alik posed.

“Give me a sec, and I’ll see what I can find out.”  Meg rolled her head, trying to work out the extreme tension that had taken up residence in every muscle in her shoulders.  She leaned her sweat-soaked forehead against the cool of the sickly green wall beside the window trying to ground herself as she sent out her empath feelers across the European night searching for the others. 

“Slider turned traitor and Gavil was killed,” Meg blurted from reading Creed, her strongest connection.

Alik’s face paled, but he held his tongue, giving his sister quiet so she could concentrate.

“Williams escaped with Slider.”  Meg scowled as though she were editing the venom she read from the evil doctor.

“Evan is with Creed and Farrow downstairs.  They’re trying to find us.”

“And Mom—oh no, Alik.  Mom’s in the compound.”

Maze, who had been sitting silently at Meg’s feet, pressing his strong back against her legs, whined painfully at hearing the word
Mom
.

“We have to go to her.”  Alik turned, walking quickly toward the door.

“Alik…we also have to go back to the basement.”  Meg looked torn.

Alik’s eyes seethed with determination. “Damn right! Let’s get the hell out of here!”

Meg ran in front of her weakened brother, shielding him with her body before looking back over her shoulder offering a gentle nod.  “Me first, little brother.” 

Then to Maze she added, “You watch our backs, Maze.  Got it?”

The faithful coyote growled in affirmation as he positioned himself behind Alik.

Meg breathed slowly and used her gift to feel everything around them.  Her lids fluttered closed
from the effort.

“Follow close at my back, brother.  Williams isn’t far and he’s very much aware that he’s lost sight of us with the power shut off.  He’s sent for backup, and he’s pissed.”

Meg glanced back at her brother, who nodded understanding.  She ducked back into the hallway.  Her eyes registered the emergency lights glowing around her, but she kept running through the eerily lit corridor back toward the stair well.

The metasoldiers had been having too much fun beating the crap out of their captive, but the levels of adrenaline coursing through Alik’s thick veins deadened any pain. 

Instinctively they hugged the walls as they made their way at a fast clip.  Alik followed Meg without thinking; the Glock he’d taken from one of the soldiers in his massive hands, cocked and loaded. Meg flung the stairwell door open and the brother and sister bolted down the stairs.   

Time seemed to stand still when Alik saw Meg stop abruptly at the door that would release them to the first floor searching for emotions on the other side.

He took the moment to work on breathing through the pain ripping through his skull from the multiple whacks to the head he’d sustained compliments of the overzealous metasoldiers.  His vision was beginning to waver.

“I feel Evan, Creed and Farrow,” Meg whispered anxiously.  “But they’re not alone.  How are you holding up?”  She turned and locked eyes with her brother, trying to assess his ability to fight.

A flash of ferocity boiled in Alik, forcing his visual disturbances to right for a moment as he stared back at his fearless sister.

“I’m good.  Let’s go.”

Meg studied her younger brother and in that instant she fed him a flurry of empathetic strength.  “We’ll survive this Alik.  Stay focused.  Breathe.”

Her brother took a slow deep breath.  His shoulders eased and his blue eyes glinted with the effect of his sister’s strength.  The long dark locks of hair draped across his masculine forehead clung to droplets of sweat. 

“Stay with me, Ali,” Meg coaxed.

“Always, Meggie.”  Alik nodded reassuringly.

Creed opened the door slowly but just wide enough to press his eye against the slit and peer down the hallway.  His dark-blue eyes looked black as he watched and listened for danger.  His hearing, acute beyond any other metahumans’, picked up the buzzing of the emergency lights.  But it didn’t drown out the sound of rushed footsteps coming from down the hallway.

He waited—listening. 

“Footsteps approaching from the nurse’s station,” he spoke barely above a whisper to Farrow and Evan who stood, holding their breath behind him.

He closed his darkened eyes, to allow his ears to become the focus of his senses. 

“The front door is opening, and there are more footsteps.  These are metasoldiers.  Get ready to fight.”

Evan reached into the pack still draped across his shoulders like a mail carrier and pulled out a
Micro Uzi. 

Farrow watched him quietly.  She nodded her approval at his automatic. 

“You know how to shoot that thing, doc?” she whispered.

He gl
ared at her.  “I’m almost a better shot than I am a surgeon.”  He stood his full height at six feet and squared his wiry shoulders.

Farrow nodded
approvingly, having only lived because of the 13-year-old’s skill with a scalpel, and turned her attention back to Creed.

“Metas—four or five.  Ready?”  He asked rhetorically.

All three held their weapons up, ready for battle.  Creed pushed the door just wide enough for his massive physique to slip through.  Creed didn’t hesitate.  His gun burst to life in his deft hands.  Farrow and Evan were right at his heels.

Pop, pop, pop, pop!

Four bodies spun, as though executing macabre pirouettes in midair before crashing, dead to the ground. 

Evan and Farrow exchanged glances.  Neither of them had time to fire one shot.  Creed was masterful with his weapon.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Creed hissed orders, “Meg’s in the stairwell.  She’s coming to us.”

“How do you know?” Evan asked
.  His jaw was still slightly slack at his newly established awe over Creed’s perfect soldier status.

Creed glanced back at Evan, and locked eyes.  “I can feel her.”

“What about Alik?”  Farrow asked, her heart pounding in her throat.

The three were pressed against the wall opposite the stairwell doors.

“We’re about to find out,” Creed whispered.

The door in front of them opened on quiet hinges.

The stairwell door opened slowly and out stepped a small-framed girl wearing a white lab coat.

Evan and Farrow glanced at Creed, knowing he would make the decision as
to whether she was a threat.

“Dr. Mor?” Creed’s face looked equally shocked and relieved.

“Mr. Young?” The girl in the white lab coat whispered back.

He motioned her to cross the hallway, which she did without hesitation.  Farrow and Evan exchanged confused looks.