Blood Assassin

  The perfect size for a young girl to sprawl on while she was looking through her picture books or playing with her dolls.

  His breath was jerked from his lungs with a pain so fierce it nearly drove him to his knees.

  With a grim determination, he forced his feet to carry him toward the large desk that dominated the center of the room, perching on the corner. Only when he was able to regain his composure did he meet Kaede’s knowing gaze.

  “How widespread is the damage?” He got straight to the heart of their current trouble, his voice cold.

  The only way to get through this was to lock away his emotions.

  Kaede grimaced. “Extensive enough to attract media attention.”

  Bas narrowed his eyes, sensing that was just the tip of the iceberg.

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  He turned around his phone to display the image of a smoldering pile of tangled metal.

  “A small plane crashed just a few miles from town.”

  “Shit.” He pressed the palm of his hand against his right eye. Stress was making him feel like someone was driving a railroad spike through his head. “That means government officials sniffing around.”

  “They’re already arriving.”

  Of course they were. The spike drove even deeper.

  “What about Anna?”

  “Already moved to a more isolated location.”

  “She’s still in stasis?”

  “Yes, but her powers—”

  Bas sliced his hand through the air, silencing his companion’s protest.

  “That can’t be helped for now.”

  Kaede gave a reluctant nod. “I’ll tell Stella to keep her locked down as tight as she can.”

  “Good.” Bas didn’t need to be reminded it was a risky solution. He was walking a tightrope with no net, but there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it. Not unless he could track down the kidnapper. “I need you to do something for me.”

  Kaede didn’t hesitate. “Anything.”

  “I want you to make a list of any former colleague and their current location.”

  “Okay.” The younger man didn’t try to hide his confusion. “That’s going to be a short list.”

  Bas dropped his hand, giving a weary nod of his head. When high-bloods joined his organization it was with the understanding that the only way out was death. He had way too many secrets to risk having dozens of employees coming and going.

  Besides, it was the one certain way to protect his people from the wrath of Valhalla.

  No policy, however, was foolproof and there had been a few stragglers who’d been allowed to slip away.

  “Then I’ll expect it by the end of the night,” he said.

  Kaede was headed toward the door. “I always deliver.”

  Bas waited for the door to close behind Kaede before he allowed his furious resentment to boil over.

  Goddammit. Shoving away from the desk, he paced from one end of the office to the other.

  This is what came from trying to play the good guy.

  He should have sent Anna to the designated location without hesitation.

  What did it matter to him if the kidnapper was some sort of terrorist nut job who intended to use Anna’s abilities to destroy whole civilizations? Or more likely, a greedy bastard who wanted to force cities or even governments to fork over millions of dollars to halt the electronic dead zones that Anna created.

  As long as he had Molly back home, the rest of the world could go to hell.

  Rounding the desk, he sat in the leather seat and clicked on his computer, opening his only connection to the kidnapper.

  He tapped an impatient finger on the arm of his chair, smoothing his face into an expressionless mask.

  Once again he was acutely aware of the risk he was taking by contacting the bastard who held his daughter, but he also understood that every time he had the opportunity to get a glimpse of the kidnapper, even when he was disguised, it offered him more clues to his identity.

  Besides, it would be strange if he wasn’t concerned that Serra had been attacked and this risked attracting the attention of Valhalla. The kidnapper would instantly realize that he must be plotting behind his back.

  Abruptly the monitor flickered and the shadowed form of the kidnapper appeared on the screen.

  “Are you deliberately trying to piss me off?” the distorted voice demanded.

  He leaned forward, pressing his hands flat on the desk. “The psychic was attacked tonight.”

  The figure gave a faint shrug that Bas closely studied. Once Kaede had names to offer him it might trigger a memory.

  “And?” the stranger prompted.

  Bas allowed a portion of his seething frustration to tighten his features.

  “And Valhalla will be sending Sentinels to investigate.”

  “I warned you to get rid of her.”

  “You also said I had four days.”

  Another shrug. Always with the right shoulder. And his head tilted to the side without any disturbance in the shadows that would indicate long hair.

  “She’s an unwelcome distraction from our game.”

  Bas stilled, shock jolting through him at the offhand words. “You think this is a game?”

  “Of course.” Even with the voice distorted, Bas could detect the mockery. “Two masters of strategy battling to the death. What could be more thrilling?”

  Fuck. Bas forced himself to lean back in his seat, barely containing the fury that blasted through him.

  A game?

  The son of a bitch thought this was a game?

  “Masters don’t use little girls as pawns,” he rasped.

  The pause was less than a heartbeat, but it was enough to tell Bas his accusation had struck a nerve.

  “She was necessary.”

  “For what? If you’re such a skilled player then meet me in a face-to-face challenge.” Bas twisted his lips into a sneer. “Don’t hide behind a child.”

  He heard the hiss of an annoyed breath. “You don’t get it, do you?”

  “Get what?”

  “Molly isn’t the pawn.” A deliberate pause. “You are.”

  The ground shifted beneath Bas.

  He’d considered a dozen different reasons for Molly’s kidnapping.

  But not once had he considered the hideous possibility that it was personal.

  “Me?”

  There was a low laugh, made all the more chilling by the distortion.

  “The infamous Bas Cavrilo. The mercenary who lives his life in shades of gray,” the stranger taunted. “What better way to test your claim to moral ambiguity than to place you in a position where a choice has to be made?”

  Bile clogged Bas’s throat, nearly choking him. Goddammit. Who the hell was this bastard? And what had he done to inspire such rabid hatred?

  “A choice between the lives of hundreds or thousands—”

  “Millions,” the kidnapper smoothly interjected.

  “Or my own daughter?” Bas continued between clenched teeth.

  “Exactly.”

  Christ. The man truly was a lunatic.

  Bas clutched the arms of his chair, his knuckles white as he battled back the urge to grab the monitor and toss it across the room.

  “Have you considered the possibility that the use of Anna as a weapon will spark a war between high-bloods and norms?”

  “Of course I have.”

  “And it doesn’t bother you?”

  “If there is a war, there is no one to blame but yourself.” Bas didn’t have to hear the gloating in his voice to know it was there. “You could keep Anna locked in her cell, and the world would never learn of her and her apocalyptic powers.”

  “This isn’t a game, it’s revenge,” Bas rasped. “What have I done to you?”

  “You offend me simply by being alive,” the man fired back without hesitation.

  Anger. Bitterness. A feral need for payback.

  Could Bas somehow use
the man’s seething emotions against him?

  “Then come out from the shadows and fight me like a man,” he taunted. “Or are you like all cowards who talk a big game but never have the balls to stand up to a superior opponent?”

  The shadow twitched, as if Bas’s words had landed a physical blow.

  Which meant he might be a high-blood, but he hadn’t been trained by monks.

  “Careful, Bas.” With a jerk of his arm, the man reached to press something in front of him. “Have you forgotten what’s at stake?”

  Bas’s lips flattened. “I haven’t forgotten.”

  “Perhaps you need a reminder.”

  There was a flicker on the corner of his monitor as a second screen was opened.

  Bas frowned, studying the darkened room in confusion. Then the overhead light was flipped on and he could see the camera was focused on a narrow bed with a tiny child covered by a pink blanket.

  The ruthless control that had been hammered into Bas during his training threatened to shatter.

  Christ. He threatened to shatter.

  His sweet, innocent baby.

  What kind of monster snatched a child from everything that made her feel safe, just because he wanted to punish Bas?

  It was only the knowledge that the kidnapper was still watching him, eager to see him break down, that kept him from laying his head on the desk and howling out the bleak agony that filled his soul.

  Instead he reached an unsteady hand to touch the monitor as the light woke the slumbering child and she slowly sat up, rubbing her eyes in confusion.

  He swallowed his tears at the sight of her unruly mop of silver-blond curls and the round cheeks that were pink from sleep.

  “Molly,” he breathed.

  Astonishingly, she abruptly turned toward the camera, her eyes the same unique bronzed shade as his, widening with hope.

  “Daddy?”

  Oh, hell. She could hear him.

  He leaned forward, his nose nearly touching the screen. “I’m here, sweetheart.”

  She perched on her knees, her arms wrapping around her thin body that was covered in a pink nightgown. Bas’s jaws clenched until they nearly crushed his molars.

  Molly hated pink.

  “Are you coming to get me?” she demanded, her voice low, as if she was afraid of attracting unwanted attention.

  Which meant there must be a guard on the other side of the door he could just catch a glimpse of them at the corner of the screen.

  Other than that there was nothing to indicate her location. White walls, a kiddy bed that could be bought at any discount store. No windows. Cheap carpeting.

  Shit.

  There was no way in hell he was going to risk asking Molly if she could offer him any information about where she was or who had kidnapped her. The bastard holding her captive thought this was a game. A twisted, sick game. If he didn’t play by the rules, there would be no hesitation in snuffing out the life of this precious child.

  “Soon.” He used his magic to lace his voice with a soothing spell that would ease her fear. “I promise. I just need you to be patient for a little longer.”

  She nodded, but her lower lip trembled. “I miss Daisy.”

  Bas bit his lip until he could taste the blood. The battered stuffed hippo was now on his bed, a reminder of the child who utterly trusted that he would protect her.

  “She’s here waiting for you,” he assured her, keeping his voice light. “Just like I am.”

  She managed a tiny nod. “I’m being a good girl.”

  His heart twisted at the soft promise. Molly had always been a child too old for her years.

  As if she’d been born with a wisdom that she would one day share with the world.

  “I know you are, sweetie,” he softly assured her. “I’m so proud of you.”

  Without warning the connection was broken and the monitor was consumed with the shadowed form of the kidnapper.

  “That’s enough,” the man announced. “Decide. Send me my prize or she dies.”

  Bas busted the arm of his chair as he desperately sought to hide his desperation.

  “The psychic—”

  “Will be taken care of.”

  The monitor went black. The connection severed.

  “Shit.”

  Wolfe was standing in central command, the very heart of Valhalla despite the fact it was nine levels below ground.

  Surrounded by three of his most trusted Sentinels, Niko, Arel, and Gideon, he was going over his final instructions when the air was abruptly sucked from the room.

  His lips twisted into a wry smile as he turned toward the open door of his office. No surprise the Mave was standing next to his desk, her dark beauty emphasized by the sleeveless yellow sweater she’d matched with a pair of white capris.

  With her glossy hair pulled into a braid and her feet encased in a pair of casual sandals, she looked young and deceptively harmless.

  An image that had no doubt fooled any number of idiots into underestimating her.

  Wolfe wasn’t one of them.

  “Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me?”

  With a haste that made Wolfe smile with wry amusement, the massive warriors scrambled to find some task that would take them to the other side of the long room.

  Shoving a weary hand through his hair that he’d left unbound to brush his shoulders, Wolfe walked past the long bank of surveillance equipment. He’d been working nonstop since receiving Fane’s coded message, assigning his duties to his Sentinels to make sure everything ran smoothly during his absence.

  Now it was well past midnight and he had less than an hour to finish up his preparation and meet the guardian Sentinel in the chapel so he could be transported by portal.

  “Mave,” he murmured, stepping into his office and closing the door behind him.

  Instantly he was wrapped in the cool wash of magic and intoxicating female power.

  His pulse kicked into overdrive, everything male inside him stirred to full attention.

  Including parts that had no business being stirred when they weren’t going to get any satisfaction.

  At least not with this woman.

  “Do you have a minute to speak with me?”

  He hid his grimace. Like it was a choice?

  “Of course.” He leaned against the door, folding his arms over his chest covered by a black T-shirt that matched his black jeans and black combat boots. Hey, he was a warrior. He bought clothes that were comfortable, not fashionable. “What do you need?”

  “I received your message that you were leaving Valhalla.”

  “I shouldn’t be gone for long.” He gave a lift of his shoulder. “A few days at the most.”

  “Where are you going?”

  He frowned, pulling out his cell phone to reread Fane’s text.

  “Woodward, Oklahoma.”

  “Is this Sentinel business?”

  Wolfe nodded, shoving the phone back in his pocket. “Fane asked me to investigate a series of power outages there.”

  The gray eyes narrowed in confusion. The same confusion Wolfe had felt since receiving the message.

  “Why would he be interested in power outages hundreds of miles away?”

  “That’s what I’m going to find out.”

  Her lips parted, but even as he waited for her predictable command to keep her informed, her lips were snapping together and she was pacing toward the glass display case that held his prized samurai swords.

  “I think I should come with you,” she at last said.

  “No.”

  The word escaped his lips before he could call it back. Well, hell. He really was tired, he acknowledged, bracing as his companion turned to glare at him in full Mave-mode.

  “You are becoming far too fond of that word.”

  He held up a hand, trying to minimize the damage. The last thing he wanted was to provoke her pride.

  Like any good leader, Lana was always willing to listen to suggestions from her various adv
isors. But she didn’t take commands. Not from anyone.

  “We don’t know what danger we might be walking into.”

  “I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

  She was.

  She was, indisputably, the most dangerous woman on the face of the earth.

  But she’d already hinted at a past connection to the man they believed responsible for Serra’s disappearance from Valhalla. He didn’t want her conflicted emotions compromising her when they didn’t know just how dangerous the mission might be.

  He gave a tiny shake of his head, his lips twisting into a self-derisive smile.

  All very noble.

  Or it would have been if there wasn’t a tiny voice of honesty whispering in the back of his mind that he didn’t want this woman anywhere near Bas Cavrilo.

  “I have never doubted that. Not ever,” he said, the sincerity in his voice unmistakable. “But there’s an unknown threat out there and someone needs to be in charge of Valhalla.”

  The anger prickling in the air eased, but her determination remained.

  “I understand my duty, but on this occasion I believe my talents will be necessary.”

  Wolfe frowned. Okay. This was more than mere curiosity about an old flame.

  Lana would always put the safety of Valhalla and her people first.

  If she was demanding to travel with him then she believed there was a threat only she could eliminate.

  He straightened from the door, his weariness abruptly replaced by a swelling sense of unease.

  “What do you know?”

  She turned back to the display case, effectively hiding her expression.

  “Nothing more than rumors.”

  “Are you going to share?” He stepped forward, lightly touching her shoulder. “Lana, talk to me.”

  There was a long pause before she at last turned to meet his searching gaze.

  “It was a difficult time when Valhalla was being formed and the high-bloods were exposing their presence to the world.”

  Wolfe frowned. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but it sure as hell wasn’t that.

  “I have a vague memory, but I was still in my training behind the walls of the monastery,” he said. “There was little contact with the outside world.”

  Long before the first Mave had started her crusade to convince the high-bloods to come out of the shadows and band together, the monks had already formed their monasteries to train Sentinels. Actually, if the recent information that’d been uncovered in the depths of the Middle East was to be believed, the monasteries might have been around since the original high-bloods had been driven underground by infuriated humans who’d once worshipped them as gods.