“I wouldn’t think going against someone like Rinaldo would be the best idea,” I said.
“You’re right, it’s not.” He produced a knife and flicked the blade open. “But what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. The name, Emberly. Otherwise, this knife will taste the sweetness of your flesh.”
I hesitated. The knife’s point replaced his fingers against my pubic bone. Sweat broke out across my brow and dribbled down the side of my face. Or maybe that was tears. “Ronda Peterson. Her name is Ronda Peterson.”
“Indeed?” Frederick glanced at Hunt. “Do we believe her, Theodore?”
“With the drug in her system, she can’t lie.” His reply was little more than a low, husky growl. “It has to be the truth.”
I bit back a harsh laugh. If they believed that, then they truly knew little about phoenixes. No drug designed to work on a human would ever be able to withstand the sheer amount of heat currently boiling through my system.
“Indeed,” Frederick repeated. “What did you and Miller find in Brooklyn?”
“Rotting dead people,” I replied. “What sort of sick spell was that?”
“It was neither my magic protecting that area nor my spell cast on those cloaks.”
“Then why were they rotting?”
“That, it would appear, was an unfortunate side effect of the virus.”
I blinked. “It rots you?”
“Not everyone. Did you never wonder why some infected were branded, and some were not? It was easier to identify which type of ‘infected’ we were dealing with.”
“Meaning those who were branded were the ones who would putrefy?”
“Yes. It is also what sends them mad.”
Meaning Sam—and Jackson, if he was still infected—should be safe. Unfortunately, it also meant that Frederick was. Not that that would really matter. Not once I got free.
“What else did you discover?” he said.
“Nothing much.”
The tip of the knife pierced my skin, and blood began to flow. “I’m not believing that,” Frederick said.
“If you were Luke’s second, you should know what was in that area.”
“Oh, I know there were labs somewhere in Brooklyn, but he would never reveal their location.”
“So much for your earlier boast that he completely trusted you,” I said.
Frederick smiled benignly. “Boasts and lies all have one purpose—to make people like you do as we wish. And if that doesn’t work . . .”
The knife sliced deeper into my skin, and pain flared brighter. I really was going to enjoy hurting this bastard . . .
“Did you teach Luke to use magic?” My voice was still surprisingly without inflection. Which was a good thing—Hunt was already enjoying himself far too much for my liking.
“That, I believe, was an unfortunate side effect of the infection. He could not control me, but he did have some access to my thoughts and memories. Did you find the labs, Emberly?”
“I don’t fucking know. We found an air lock that’s accessible through a hidden entrance in his office, but whether that’s the labs or merely a large safe is anyone’s guess.”
There was little point in lying about what we’d found—if Rinaldo did have a mole in PIT, he was probably aware of what went down there.
It also meant all this was pretty pointless. Unless, of course, Frederick was simply confirming information they already had.
“And did you manage to gain access?”
“No. It was code locked and had a hand scanner attached.”
“Meaning it will take some time to break in.” His expression was irritated. “Which means more unfortunate delays.”
“For whom? And where are the scientists?”
I didn’t really expect an answer, and I didn’t get it. Instead, he withdrew the knife’s tip from my skin. “You, my dear, are far too dangerous to keep around. Rinaldo might think he has you by the short and curlies—” He paused, amusement touching his thin lips as he wiggled the knife back and forth across my pubic hair. Tension rolled through me as I waited for the flick of pain that came with flesh being pierced, but it didn’t happen—not this time, at any rate. “I, however, do not believe that to be wise.”
“He hasn’t finished with me, Frederick. I wouldn’t—”
“Oh, he’s going to be incredibly annoyed by my actions,” he cut in. “But he and I have been business partners for a very long time. One might even say decades. He will, in the end, respect my actions.”
Decades? That wasn’t possible—not without him either being nonhuman or a thrall. But even if he had sworn blood service—thereby becoming Rinaldo’s human servant and gaining a very extended lifespan in exchange—he wouldn’t have the free will to do something like this. Unless, of course, being a dark witch gave him some sort of immunity.
Hunt’s hand came down on top of Frederick’s and stopped the knife’s movement. Relief washed through me, though it was tempered not only by the knowledge that Hunt’s ministrations would be far worse, but also by the feel of his fat fingers splayed across my belly.
“Enough,” he growled. “She is mine to take apart, remember.”
“Indeed.” Frederick’s gaze came back to mine. “Which also means I can hardly be held accountable for your death—especially given there are no witnesses to your kidnapping.”
No witnesses? “What about those women?”
“Those women only saw two ambulance officers who are now no longer with us.” He smirked. “Dead men can tell no tales, after all. Of course, the same can be said of dead women. Perhaps it would be better if I simply rid the world—”
“We have a deal,” Hunt cut in. “One sworn on blood and magic.”
If Hunt believed Frederick would keep any deal that didn’t suit him, then he was a bigger fool than I presumed.
Of course, he was also a fool who had the upper hand right at this moment. But only for as long as I was restrained from the mother’s power.
“We do indeed,” Frederick said, altogether too cheerfully. If that didn’t warn Hunt the deal wasn’t worth the blood it was sworn on, nothing would. “Which means, dear Emberly, I must now leave you to Theodore’s tender ministrations.”
Hunt removed his hand, and Frederick raised the blade. He licked its tip, and then sighed almost wistfully. “In many respects, it is such a shame to waste your blood—there is such power in it. But a deal is a deal. Good-bye, Emberly.”
With that, he turned and disappeared into the darkness. A second later a door closed, and footsteps retreated down what sounded like a metal walkway.
Leaving me alone with Hunt.
I closed my eyes, reaching for strength and the fires that burned deep within. All that did was make my skin glow; there was no heat in my fire. No threat. Frederick had designed his spell very well indeed.
Hunt chuckled again, but it was the accompanying sound that sent fear and desperation rushing through me.
He was stripping off.
I twisted and heaved, fighting the cables that bound my arms and legs, trying to find some give, trying to free myself. My wrists and ankles became raw and slick with blood, but it did little good. I swore and raged and reached harder for the mother. Her fires twisted and spun, a whirlpool of heat that was close—so damn close—that I could feel the wash of it. But while the threads of magic holding her from my grasp were beginning to unravel against the constant pressure, they hadn’t yet collapsed.
“I have dreamed of this.” The thick scent of his desire was suffocating, and his eyes were glazed and unfocused—drunk on desire and the sight of my helplessness. “For endless nights.”
“I will kill you,” I spat back. “Be it in this time or another.”
He smiled benignly, hoisted himself up on the table, and knelt inside my splayed legs. His cock was thick and hard,
and stood out from his body like a lance waiting to be used.
His hands came down both sides of my shoulders, and heat and hate were all I could smell, all I could see.
“I’m going to fuck you senseless, and then I’m going to tear you apart piece by tiny piece and scatter you to the four winds. Try coming back from that, phoenix.”
With that, he thrust inside of me. It hurt—god, how it hurt—but I bit back my scream and my instinctive need to fight both the bonds and the man that pinned me. That had already proven useless—just as useless as my fire for as long as the witch’s spell was online. I needed to reach the mother. Needed to concentrate on shattering the magic that separated us rather than on what was happening to my body.
But as much as I tried, I couldn’t entirely ignore Hunt’s invasion. When he was fully sheathed within me, he shifted his weight, then stopped. I didn’t react. I just kept my eyes closed and kept reaching for the mother. The magic was so thin, it was little more than gossamer. I could feel her heat and her rage now, but neither would do me much good if the gossamer held on.
Hunt wrapped a hand around my jaw and squeezed hard. “Look at me.”
“Never.”
His grip tightened. Tears slid down my cheeks.
“Don’t think I won’t break your jaw. Look at me.”
I did. There was little point in doing anything else, and I certainly didn’t want a broken jaw in addition to a broken toe.
Hunt’s expression was gloating. He didn’t release me; he simply began to thrust again. “Call me master.”
“Master,” I said tonelessly.
His movements became more intense. “Again.”
“Master.”
His breaths were becoming shorter, sharper, and his eyes more glazed. “Again. Again. Louder.”
“Master,” I intoned dutifully. “You are my master.”
He made a strangled sound, his body stiffening against mine. But even as he came, the wall finally shattered. The mother swept through me and into Hunt, searing both his seed and his cock in one swift action.
And then she paused, as if waiting for reaction to set in. It did—his eyes bulged, and his groan of ecstasy became a scream of sheer and utter agony.
A heartbeat later, the mother snatched the rest of him from existence. There was nothing left; nothing except the lingering echo of his agony.
The cables binding me were treated with similar contempt; then the mother’s energy wrapped around me, warm arms that offered comfort and a place of safety. Part of me wanted to linger, to grow strong in her grip, to give in and let go.
But that part of me had little hope against the greater sum that wanted revenge.
I had a witch to catch and no time to waste.
I hauled myself off the metal table, standing on one foot as I studied the room. If the machinery parts still scattered about were anything to go by, this place had once been some sort of pump room. I couldn’t spot any spell stones on either those bits and pieces or the floor, but the rainbow flare of the mother’s light made something glitter in a small, recessed section of the grimy wall to my right. I directed her energy at it, and, with very little fanfare, the entire wall disappeared. Dust ballooned, catching in my throat and making me cough. I didn’t care, because the minute that wall collapsed, my fires returned. I was torn from flesh to flame in an instant, a process made even headier by the mother’s presence. Her song continued to spin around me, sweet and beguiling, but it was a temptation that stood little chance against the darker tune in my heart. I dismissed her and flamed under the doorway.
I wasn’t entirely surprised to discover I was once again in a sewer tunnel. I flowed down the metal steps to the tunnel’s floor, sending spiders and rats scattering as I raced after the footsteps I could no longer hear.
In very little time, I came to a junction, and it was one that felt oddly familiar. I paused, the brightness of my flames sending yellow-white light spinning across the grimy bricks and highlighting not only the gated entrance to one of the offshoot tunnels, but also the shattered remains of a metal barrel.
This was the junction where two of the kidnapped witches had eaten their friend, and where I’d been attacked—and almost killed—by hellhounds.
The place was silent now, and though the tunnel that had held the hounds was once again barred, I had no sense that anyone—or anything—was in there.
Instinct tugged me left, into the tunnel opposite the one Jackson and I had used . . . The thought stalled.
Jackson.
What if Amanda had been nothing more than a ruse? What if she’d been used to split us? The best way to conquer was to divide—history and experience told me that—and Rinaldo obviously knew enough about my character to guess that I wouldn’t leave without at least checking that Janice was safe.
Even if Frederick was being honest and his actions were his alone rather than Rinaldo’s orders, Amanda’s presence at the house could still have been some sort of trap—especially given neither of us had reported back to him as specifically ordered.
But to contact Jackson and make sure he was okay, I’d have to change form, because only another phoenix could understand me when I was in this one. And as much as I hated to admit it, my need to grab Frederick was stronger than my fear for Jackson.
I moved on, into the smaller tunnel, the same one the red cloaks had come from as the hellhounds had attacked in the junction. I could once again hear footsteps, but they were distant and oddly seemed to be moving toward me rather than away.
Had Frederick forgotten something? Or had Rinaldo caught wind of his little scheme and ordered him back?
I flamed around another corner, only to run right into someone. As my flames surrounded him, energy surged, a response that was protective and familiar.
It wasn’t Frederick. It was Jackson.
“Em,” he yelled, both aloud and in my head. “It’s me! Tone down the heat!”
I did so and immediately changed form. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“What the fuck do you think I’m doing here?” He grabbed me, pulled me close, and wrapped his arms around me. Tightly. His whole body shook, and I doubted it was a reaction to almost being crisped. It actually felt a whole lot like rage. “I’m here to rescue you.”
“I’m okay—”
“Don’t give me that shit. I know what happened.”
I pulled away from him, my gaze searching his. Not only was there rage, but also horror and a very deep sense of defilement.
Oh fuck . . . He’d felt it.
Everything that had happened to me in that old pump house had echoed through him.
“I’m sorry, Jackson. I should have thought—”
“Don’t,” he growled, “because you have nothing to apologize for.”
“But—”
He placed a finger gently against my lips, stopping me. “Are you okay?”
“I’m cut, and my damn toe is broken—”
“I don’t just mean physically.”
I knew that. “I’ll be fine.”
Eventually. It wasn’t like it was the first time it had happened, and while that didn’t really ease the trauma of this event, I not only knew how I’d probably react but also how to cope with the flashbacks, nightmares, and anger if they did occur.
But I doubted Jackson had ever experienced something like that, even if it was just an echo rather than a real event.
I raised my hand and gently cupped his cheek and chin. “The real question is, how are you?”
“I haven’t really stopped to think about it. I just wanted to get here, get to you, and stop it happening.” He took a deep breath and released it slowly. “At the very least, there will be anger. But we can get through it together.”
I hoped so. Hoped that he’d talk about it rather than let it fester in the deeper rec
esses of his mind, gathering guilt and blame, until it poisoned our relationship and he ended up hating me.
“So how did you find me?”
“Tracked your phone. Or rather, PIT did. I know you wanted that number kept private, but—”
This time, I put my finger against his lips. “It’s okay, Jackson. It wasn’t my phone, and I would have done the same thing anyway.”
“Good.” He released me, stepped back, then stripped off his coat and held it out so I could slip my arms into it. “It also means that three PIT officers are no more than a few minutes behind me.”
Which wasn’t really surprising—not with Rinaldo’s right-hand man having been involved. “I don’t suppose you came across Frederick on your way here, did you?”
“As a matter of fact, we did. He’s currently unconscious and being hauled none too gently back to the scene of his crime.”
I frowned. “Why is PIT bringing him back here rather than taking him to PIT headquarters?”
“Because the man in charge just happens to be Sam, and he was decidedly determined to make sure you were okay.”
Under normal circumstances, news like that might have made my heart do a little jig, but I was all out of that sort of happiness right now.
“Then ring him and tell him I’m okay.” As much as I wanted to question Frederick myself, it was probably better if I didn’t. I wasn’t entirely sure my control could withstand the desire to make the bastard pay.
“No need,” Sam said as he appeared around the corner. The flashlight’s beam swept me, no doubt taking in my near nakedness, the bloody bruises around my ankles and wrists, and the dried blood trails down my legs—the only indication that I’d suffered wounds elsewhere. Something hardened in his eyes, and the air around him grew dark—almost explosive. He and I might no longer be an item, but if that darkness was anything to go by, Frederick was going to pay for his actions.
Big-time.
He stopped to the right of both Jackson and me, his expression giving little away, but the darkness still fierce and bright and very, very scary. “Where’s Hunt?”
“So dead he’s not even dust.”