I was midway through when the energy around me began to change. Their confusion deepened, hardened. Became dangerous. I didn’t alter my pace; any move, any suggestion of fear, would have them all over me. Yet fear stepped into my heart nevertheless, and its stain ran through my matter.
Wrong, a voice at the back growled. Not mistress.
Rhea save me, I thought, and bolted, with every ounce of speed I could muster, for the false rift. I tore through the energy of several vampires, felt their matter slash at me—through me—a sensation not unlike sharp claws tearing at flesh. Particles ripped and spun away, and I realized the true depth of the situation I was in. They didn’t have to force me into flesh. They could render me dead by simply tearing me apart, piece by energy piece.
I bolted over the broken door and streamed toward the false tear. There was no reaction as I drew close. The sphere showed no awareness of my presence and no jagged bolts of energy leapt out from the brightly lit surface to snag me.
Flesh, I realized suddenly. It was set to react to flesh, not matter.
I swore and began unraveling the shadows. Halfway down the room I hit the floor running, even as the darkness continued to bleed from my torso. The vampires screamed and claws lashed at me, biting deep, drawing blood. One arm re-formed; I was still gripping my weapon, so I fired it. The wooden stakes tore through shadows to the left and the right and bounced harmlessly off the walls. Hair re-formed; hands snagged at it and yanked me backward. I fired over my shoulder, heard the squawk as the wood tore into flesh and the taint of blood stained the air. The scent seemed to incite greater fury in the vampires, but they didn’t tear their fallen comrade apart. Didn’t eat his flesh and drink his blood. They simply ran over the top of him and continued to tear at me, their desperation and fury so fierce I could barely even breathe.
The surface of the false tear began to rotate. The lightning stirred, flickered, as I drew closer. One jagged bolt speared out, wrapping around my ankles, capturing me. I stumbled, swore, then caught my balance, trying to move faster than that burning, biting lash seemed to desire. More claws tore at me as another jagged piece of energy snared my other leg. The vampires were close—far too close.
With no other choice, I stopped running, twisted around, and raised both weapons, firing nonstop as I was drawn purposefully—but far too slowly—toward the rift. There were at least twenty vampires fighting to get at me, and more pouring through over the broken door as I watched.
I needed space. I needed time. Needed to get into the false rift and hope like hell I had the strength to survive its agony. Because no matter what, I wasn’t about to stay here.
Some vampires fell under the barrage of stakes, but others spun into darkness, re-forming once the bullets had torn past. Their screams filled the air, their fury and desperation to stop me evident in the bloody glow of their eyes.
Dark energy lashed my back. Whips snaked out and snared my upper arms, its touch biting deep. Blood stained my shirt, and the scent fueled the vamps into a greater frenzy. One gun clicked over to empty. I tried to snag it back onto my belt and reach for a knife, but the sphere’s energy had pinned my upper arm to my body and severely restricted my movement. I swore and kept firing the second.
The vampires lunged at me from all sides. I screamed and thrust backward—straight into the fierce energy of the false rift. It sucked me in, then ripped me apart, and I hung in the darkness for I don’t know how long, silently screaming, unable to do anything else. Then, with agonizing slowness, my particles were reassembled and, with little finesse and a whole lot of force, I was ejected.
I didn’t even stumble. I just fell flat on my face and, for who knows how long, I stayed there.
After a while, I somehow found enough energy to roll onto my back. All I could smell was my blood, and it felt as if every bit of me had been beaten and bruised. Even my soul ached.
I took a deep, shuddering breath that did little more than fling a dozen fresh arrows of pain across my torso. I ignored them, closed my eyes, and reached for the healing. It took a while, but eventually, calm descended and my body began to repair itself. Unfortunately, the healing state didn’t last anywhere near long enough. While I could heal just about any wound short of limb, head, or heart removal, the depth of the repairs depended on my strength. I’d pushed myself hard today, and all with little more than bitter coffee in my belly. It wasn’t enough.
But at least blood no longer poured from the multitude of slashes caused by both the vampires and the false rift. It was better than nothing, I supposed.
I rolled onto my hands and knees, then slowly pushed upright and stared at the wall of darkness that stood between me and getting home. The thought of going through it again churned my stomach, but there was no other option. Not if I wanted to get out of this place—and I did. Desperately.
I forced my feet forward. The darkness soon enveloped me, its thick strands resisting every step forward but not as fiercely as it had on the way down. Nor did it tear at my flesh as it snapped away—which was good, because I doubted I had a whole lot of unmarred skin left.
I came out of it so suddenly I stumbled and fell on my hands and knees. Energy whipped around me, filled with concern, and it took me a moment to realize it was Bear and Cat. Then the little bit of strength I had left fled, and I fell into unconsciousness.
• • •
I woke to shadows and noise. There was warmth around me and comfort underneath me rather than the chill of the weather and the cold bite of ground. The air smelled murky and was thick with so many scents it was hard to pick one from the other. Obviously, I was no longer in Carleen.
I frowned and opened my eyes. The room in which I lay was small and neat, with little more than the bed, a side cabinet, a somewhat grimy mirror, and a washbasin beside which rested two small but clean-smelling blue towels.
Cat and Bear whisked in from wherever they’d been, the force of their excitement making me smile even as their energy seeped into my skin, allowing me to share their adventures and explorations. Images flowed through me, around me, in dizzying succession, filling me in on all that had happened even if in a somewhat confused manner. We were not only back in Chaos, but also at Nuri’s. Jonas, from what I could gather, had carried me here—over his shoulder, like a bloodied sack of potatoes. He was in the room next to mine, stripping off clothes stiff with my blood—which suggested we had not been here very long at all.
And Jonas? I asked them. What did he do while I was away?
More images flooded my mind. Jonas had retreated as far as the park, but once the rift had passed, had come back to the rim of the crater to wait. Nuri had joined him a few hours later, and while she’d prowled around the edges of the crater, she hadn’t entered it. The Carleen ghosts, Cat noted, had been wary of her.
I frowned again. Why are ghosts afraid of her?
Their uncertainty filled me, then Bear’s energy touched mine more deeply and he said, It is the darkness, as much as her power, that they fear.
I guess I could understand their fearing her power, because witches traditionally had control over the dead and she could, if she so chose, banish or destroy them.
Before I could question them further, the door opened and Nuri ducked into the room. “Ah, you’re awake,” she said, not sounding the least bit surprised. She held a large jug in one hand and clothes in the other. The room was almost too small for someone her size, though it wasn’t so much her weight but rather the sheer amount of power radiating from her. It overwhelmed this tiny space. Was it any wonder the Carleen ghosts feared her? They surely wouldn’t have come across many like her, even when they’d been alive.
“I’m afraid your clothes were a little beyond repair,” Nuri continued, “so you’ll have to make do with this tunic. Your weapons are in the shoulder bag at the base of the bed. Once you’re washed and dressed, come downstairs and join us. We’ve fresh bread and stew ready, if you’re up to eating.”
“How long have I been h
ere?” I said as she poured the hot water into the small basin.
She glanced at me, brown eyes shrewd. “Worried about that date you have this evening, are you?”
Jonas obviously didn’t feel the need to be restrained in any of the information he passed on. I raised an eyebrow. “And what business of yours is it if I was?”
She smiled, though there was very little humor in it. “No business of mine at all, though I cannot help but be curious as to what is so important about that date you would rush off so soon after near death.”
Near death? I’d been depleted and bloody, for sure, but I doubted I’d been anywhere near death—though, given what Cat and Bear had showed me, I’d certainly looked it.
“Perhaps I merely desire the company of the man I’m intending to meet.” I paused. “How long was I out?”
“Not long enough by half.” She finished pouring the water, then turned to face me. All sorts of speculation was evident in her sharp gaze. “Come downstairs and tell us what you found. You owe us that much, at least.”
I owed them nothing, and we both knew it—especially after their initial attack on me. But this mystery was already far bigger than I could handle. I needed help, and Nuri and her shifters were the logical choice—even if a dangerous one, given their undenied government links.
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll be down in ten minutes.”
She nodded and left, closing the door behind her. I listened to her retreating steps, then flicked the blanket off and rose. Muscles twinged, but there was little in the way of true pain. Most of the lash marks had disappeared, but there was a cut on the inside of my left wrist that was raised and angry-looking. It was, I suspected, where the vampire had slashed through my particles, spinning some of them away. And maybe that meant it wouldn’t—couldn’t—heal any more than it already had. Dried blood stained most of my body, as well as matting my hair, if the itchy state of my scalp was anything to go by.
Grimacing, I grabbed one of the towels and the flowery-smelling soap, and cleaned myself up. Then I dunked my head into the bowl, scrubbing my short hair, freeing as much of the gunk as I could, even as I wished I was back at the bunker and in one of the hydro pods.
The tunic Nuri had left for me was full-length, and made of a soft gray wool. It was V-necked and split to the thigh along one side to allow easier movement. I’d worn this type of garment many times in the various camps I’d been assigned to during the war, and knew from experience they were not only extremely comfortable, but also sexy, as the flowing nature of them accentuated rather than hid curves. It was the sort of garment I could easily wear to meet Sal tonight, and couldn’t help wondering if I’d been given it for that very reason. There was a pair of leather sandals with the dress, and they also fit perfectly.
I glanced at a mirror and frowned at my reflection. As much as I rather liked the startling contrast of white and black stripes in my hair, I’d seen no tiger shifters in Central for a while, which meant I’d stand out a little too much in that place. And given I needed to be orange if I were to have any hope of getting the job at Winter Halo, maybe it would be better if I started wearing that form to get comfortable with it. I pictured what I wanted in my mind, then reached for the shifter magic. It swept through me, fierce and fast, and in very little time the stripes were replaced by orange and my naturally lean form was a little more curvaceous.
Which meant it was time to go downstairs and face Nuri and her crew. I slung the hessian bag holding my weapons over my shoulder, took a deep, steadying breath, then said, “Let’s go get this over with.”
Bear whipped around me, excited we were on the move again, and headed out. Cat, as usual, stayed close, though there was little in the way of concern in her energy.
Jonas waited in the corridor beyond our door. His muscular arms were crossed and he leaned one shoulder against the opposite wall, his stance casual yet oddly guarded. His dark hair was damp, and he smelled fresh, clean, and wild. His gaze swept down my length, a leisurely caress that sent delight skittering across my skin. Desire stirred, its scent stinging the air, his and mine combined. But when his gaze finally rose, there was little of that heat evident in either his expression or his eyes. This man might want me, but he still didn’t trust me, and that, right now, held greater sway over his actions. His restraint should have pleased me—he was a ranger, after all. The war had been a long time ago, but it seemed that—for him—it might well have been only yesterday. I had no doubt sex with Jonas would be good, but it would also, given that hate, be dangerous. It would take only one tiny slip on my part, and that would be the end of me. And yet I also knew that none of it would have made any difference had he shown an inclination to act on desire.
But then, I’d been bred to seduce shapeshifters such as he—shifters who were not just warriors, but leaders. Jonas might not be in control of this little lot, but I had a suspicion he could have been. That once upon a time, he had been. Maybe not of this group, but another. There was just something in the way he moved, something in the way he reacted, that reminded me of the shifters who’d been my targets so long ago.
“This way,” he said, and pushed away from the wall.
I followed his easy strides along the short corridor, then down a set of stairs. The room we entered was the small one I’d seen when linked to Bear the first time I’d been in this place—the one with the small electric stove and half a dozen motley-looking chairs. Only one of those was currently occupied—unfortunately by Branna, the thickset, golden-haired man who’d darted me with Iruakandji. I flared my nostrils as I neared him, drawing his scent. It was sharper—dryer—than Jonas’s, reminding me more of grass and sand rather than the wildness of storms.
His golden gaze swept me, enticing little in the way of reaction, then lifted, lingering longest on my hair. He didn’t say anything; he simply rose and walked to the other side of the room, as far away from me as was possible without actually leaving. Where he could watch, and react if needed, I very much suspected.
Bear, you want to keep an eye on him? He’d already acted once without thinking—I had no doubt he’d do it again if I so much as twitched the wrong way. It was a somewhat common occurrence among male lion shifters, who tended to be fiercely protective of friends and family. Bear whisked off to stalk the grim-faced Branna, but Cat stayed close.
“Stew?” Nuri asked, holding a metal spoon over the divine-smelling pot of meat and vegetables.
“Definitely,” Jonas said. He grabbed the bowl she offered him and headed for the small table tucked behind the stove.
“Tiger?” Nuri glanced at me and raised an eyebrow. I had no doubt she’d noted the change of color, but she made no mention of it. But then, Jonas had no doubt informed her I was a body shifter, so it wouldn’t have come as a surprise.
“Yes, thanks.” I tried not to sound like I hadn’t eaten fresh meat for the best part of a year. Stealing fruit and veg was one thing, but meat was expensive and not so easily snatched. And wildlife was rare in the park these days, thanks to the vampires. Jerky—my main meat source—was definitely a poor substitute.
She handed me a large bowl, and I followed Jonas to the table. It had been set for four, and there was a large loaf of bread sitting in the center.
I slung my bag over the back of the chair opposite Jonas and sat down. Nuri sat to my right. Branna stayed right where he was. Maybe he wasn’t hungry. Or maybe Nuri thought putting him in close quarters to me wasn’t such a good idea, and had ordered him on watch.
“So,” I said, figuring I might as well get the conversation happening, “what did you make of the magic that lies within that crater?”
Nuri picked up her spoon and ate some stew, considering me as she munched. “It is unlike any magic I have come across before.”
I scooped up some of the stew, and briefly closed my eyes in utter enjoyment.
Amusement crinkled the corners of her eyes. “Good, huh?”
“The best stew I’ve tasted in years.” Hel
l, it was the best stew I’d tasted since the war, but I couldn’t exactly say that. “So the magic is wraith in origin?”
Nuri slid the bread across to me. “No, it’s not, though there are parts of it that definitely have their feel.”
I tore off a chunk of bread, then pushed the loaf over to Jonas. “Meaning what? That the wraiths have learned our magic?”
“No, rather the other way around. Someone here has learned theirs.”
I frowned. “How is that even possible? The wraiths don’t speak our language, nor do they hang about long enough to learn it. They just appear, kill, and leave.”
“That is the truth as far as anyone is aware,” Nuri said. “But that doesn’t mean things haven’t changed.”
“Something certainly has,” Jonas commented. “The mere fact the wraiths are getting into Central to steal children is evidence enough of that.”
“They could be coming through that rift I found in Deseo’s basement. It may not be a direct line from their world into ours, but there are plenty of rifts in Carleen. At least some of them would have to be active entry points for the wraiths.”
“Even if they were using the rift in the brothel,” Jonas said, between mouthfuls of stew, “it still doesn’t explain how they’re getting from that basement and into the children’s homes without being either seen or crisped by the UVs.”
“Unless, of course, they have help from someone in Central,” Nuri commented. “And I’m afraid I believe that to be the case.”
I munched on some bread. It was still warm, and as delicious as the stew. “But how would the wraiths even make a deal with someone from Central? As I’ve already said, they don’t speak our language, and it’s not like they can advertise.”
Nuri half smiled. “True. And I don’t think that’s what’s happening here, anyway. The magic is more a bastardization from both worlds, and there is something very volatile about its feel. It’s almost as if the two were fused together by force rather than desire.”