Blood Assassin

  Whatever the truth, the Sentinels had been tracked down by the monks and separated from the world for as long as even the eldest warrior could remember.

  Valhalla had been well established before they’d agreed to become a part of the community.

  “The founders of Valhalla tried to present a unified front. They realized that the humans’ fear of them could escalate into violence with the least provocation,” Lana continued.

  He glanced toward his desk where a file folder was growing thicker every passing day with information they were gathering on the Brotherhood. A secret society of humans that considered high-bloods their enemies.

  “Things haven’t changed that much.”

  Lana absently lifted a hand to touch the witch mark just above the curve of her lush breast.

  At one time that tiny mark would have been a death sentence.

  “I hope we’ve gained some trust.”

  “Some.” Wolfe’s mouth went dry as he forced his gaze away from the temptation of her low neckline. Humans might be terrified of the emerald birthmark, but for him it was a tantalizing invitation. Sentinels rarely mixed with humans. They were simply too fragile. A powerful man needed a powerful woman. He cleared his throat. “But it’s human nature to destroy what they don’t understand, just as it’s the nature of high-bloods to consider themselves superior to mere norms.”

  “True.” She grimaced. “As I said, we gave the image of a united front.”

  Wolfe searched her pale face, sensing the tumultuous emotions that she kept sternly trapped behind her calm composure.

  The creation of Valhalla wasn’t just a history lesson for her. It had been a personal journey.

  “But you weren’t so united?”

  “No. There were factions who were horrified by the thought of revealing ourselves to the humans.”

  Wolfe shrugged, well aware that even today there were high-bloods who remained in the shadows.

  He’d never understood the desire to fit in with norms. Why be another sheep when you could be the wolf? A philosophy that had earned him his name.

  “It wasn’t as if they hadn’t realized there were people who were different,” he pointed out.

  “Yes, but so long as they were allowed to pretend those people were nothing more than charlatans then they didn’t have to accept that their neighbor could actually read their mind. Or that their son’s little playmate was able to set things on fire with a stray thought.”

  “True.” Another shrug. “But if they wanted to hide their gifts then I assume they weren’t forcibly outed?”

  “No, but that didn’t keep them from doing everything in their power to undermine the Mave.” Her eyes darkened to charcoal, as if remembering a long buried pain. “And there were other factions.”

  He folded his arms over his chest. It was that or doing something stupid. Like stroking his fingers over her satin-soft cheek. Or worse, pulling her into his arms to offer her comfort.

  “Tell me.”

  “The original Mave was a brilliant, eloquent leader who also happened to be a powerful psychic,” she continued, her voice flat. “She had the ability to sway large numbers of people to follow her lead.”

  “A dangerous gift,” Wolfe murmured.

  He’d never personally met the original Mave, but he’d heard enough rumors to know that she could be a hard-ass tyrant with a bloated belief in her own greatness.

  Of course, it usually took an egomaniac to believe they could change the world.

  “It can be.” The beauty of her eyes was abruptly hidden beneath the downward sweep of thick lashes. “Especially when you happen to have a ruthless belief in your own destiny.”

  “The creation of Valhalla?”

  She gave a slow nod, her eyes still hidden.

  Shit. Whatever was coming had to be bad. Lana’s composure was the stuff of legend.

  If she was struggling to maintain it . . .

  Yeah. Bad.

  “She believed it was the only solution to avoiding an inevitable war.”

  “She was probably right.”

  “Yes.” A tense pause. “Unfortunately.”

  Wolfe waited for her to continue, his brows drawing together as she became lost in her thoughts.

  “Lana?” he eventually prompted. “Why unfortunately?”

  She gave a faint shake of her head, as if trying to dismiss her dark memories.

  “There were high-bloods who believed in the Mave’s vision, but not her methods for achieving her goals.”

  Wolfe frowned. The stories that talked about the birth of Valhalla didn’t mention the use of violence, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t been a part of the Mave’s rise to power.

  History had a way of rewriting itself.

  “Did her methods include Sentinels?” he demanded.

  “Assassins.”

  Wolfe sucked in a startled breath. There was only one reason she would have needed assassins.

  “She had her enemies eliminated.”

  Lana slowly tilted back her head to meet his disgusted gaze, an ancient grief making his heart squeeze in fear.

  “Not her enemies.”

  “I’m afraid to ask.”

  And that was the pure truth.

  Wolfe had been around long enough to know that sometimes ignorance truly was bliss.

  “She believed the norms would never accept Valhalla as long as there were high-bloods that were a danger to them,” Lana said.

  Wolfe frowned, not entirely sure where the conversation was going.

  “We’re all a danger to them.”

  “But there are some who are a danger by their very existence.”

  Wolfe couldn’t argue. That was the primary reason the hunter Sentinels had been formed.

  The mutations that created high-bloods weren’t always a blessing.

  Sometimes they were a curse that had to be contained.

  “We’ve always kept them properly isolated.”

  “Not always.” Her beautiful features tightened with regret. “And their very existence gave humans a reason to claim they would never be safe as long as high-bloods existed. For the Mave there was only one obvious solution.”

  Realization slammed into him, making his gut clench with horror.

  Oh hell. It was bad.

  Fucking hideously bad.

  “She used the assassins to kill her own people?” he rasped.

  “Yes.”

  “Christ.”

  Her eyes darkened to a stormy gray. “When her secret plans were uncovered a small group of dissenters banded together and tried to save the people targeted by the assassins.”

  A tightness in Wolfe’s chest eased at the low words. He would never judge Lana. They all had made dark choices in their lives.

  But he understood that she would never have forgiven herself for sacrificing an innocent. Not even if it meant achieving security for all high-bloods.

  “You were a dissenter?”

  She nodded. “Along with Bas.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The man she’d supposedly killed?

  Wolfe swallowed a primitive growl. Goddammit. The sound of the man’s name on her lips made him want to punch something.

  Hard.

  It didn’t make sense. But it didn’t have to.

  “You worked together?” he asked, his voice hard.

  “In the beginning,” she admitted. “Bas would track the high-bloods marked for death and I would use my magic to hide his trail so he could disappear with the target.”

  “A rebel.”

  She frowned. “You don’t have to mock.”

  “I’m not, I swear.” With an effort he forced a wry smile to his lips. “But I have to admit I find it difficult to imagine you as part of an insurrection.”

  She shrugged. “I believed in Valhalla, but I wasn’t going to build it with the blood of innocents on my hands.”

  “No.” His hand was moving before he could stop his instinct to brush his fingers lig
htly down the slender column of her throat. His breath was jerked from his lungs by the tiny sparks of pleasure that raced through his body at the feel of warm woman and tingling magic. “I don’t doubt you would always fight to the death to protect the weak and vulnerable.”

  Instantly she stepped from his touch, her face carefully devoid of expression.

  “Thankfully my martyrdom wasn’t necessary.”

  Wolfe waited for the pang of regret. It was a familiar cycle. He stepped over the boundaries. She shut him down. He felt like an ass.

  This time, any regret was overridden by the sizzling awareness that jolted through his body.

  Hell.

  It felt like he’d been struck by lightning.

  In a good way.

  The gray eyes narrowed in warning and Wolfe resisted any urge to press his luck.

  This wasn’t the time or place.

  Besides, she could shrivel his balls to the size of marbles if he truly pissed her off.

  “What happened?”

  “Eventually the Mave realized she was losing the trust of her people and altered her policy,” she said, clearly skimming over the dangerous years of being an outlaw.

  A role that would have made her miserable.

  “Altered them how?”

  “She began containing the high-bloods that were unstable or could hurt others by accident,” she said. “It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it halted the executions.”

  “That would explain the dungeons,” Wolfe said, referring to the cells buried deep beneath his feet.

  He had no moral objection to them. Hell, he’d used them for those high-bloods determined to cause harm to themselves or others.

  Lana nodded. “Exactly.”

  “So your rebellion came to an end and you became an advocate for a united Valhalla?”

  “Yes.”

  A faint smile touched his lips. He could easily see her returning to the first Mave, her chin held high despite the fact that she’d been considered a traitor. Her courage could never be questioned. Hell, it gave him nightmares.

  Then the image shifted to include a handsome assassin who stood at her side.

  The man who’d shared more than just a passing relationship with her.

  “And Bas?” he pressed.

  She lifted her brow at the edge in his voice. “The Mave disbanded the assassins.”

  Hmm. So that was the reason the assassins had been absorbed back into the Sentinels. Or at least, that was the command given to the monks.

  In truth, most of them simply disappeared until Wolfe had started the difficult task of tracking them down.

  “I doubt Bas was pleased with that decision.”

  “No, he disappeared.” There was a long pause. “I eventually tracked him down to bring the high-bloods he was hiding to Valhalla.”

  “He wasn’t as eager to forgive and forget?”

  She trembled, wrapping her arms around her waist. “It was worse than that.”

  Wolfe studied her pale face, caught off guard by her rare display of emotion.

  “Lana?”

  “I discovered that instead of protecting the people in his care, he was using them.”

  “How?”

  “He’d become a mercenary, selling his services and the services of those who depended on him for their safety.”

  “The bastard.” Wolfe’s gut twisted with revulsion. He fully backed this female’s decision to put an end to high-bloods selling their services. Their gifts weren’t meant to be used for profit. And he sure as hell wouldn’t endure a high-blood pimping out his own people for money. “No wonder you killed him.”

  “He wasn’t condemned to death because he was a mercenary.”

  “Then why?”

  Her lips tightened as she was forced to dredge up unwelcome memories.

  “Because he killed two Sentinels when he tried to escape from me.”

  Wolfe already knew he was going to kill the assassin. Not only because he was somehow responsible for Serra’s disappearance from Valhalla, but also because he’d betrayed Lana’s trust in him to care for the high-bloods he’d been given to protect.

  Now he knew he was going to make him suffer.

  A lot.

  Heat prickled in the air. “Did he try to harm you?”

  “I thought so at the time.” She hesitated, as if shuffling through her memories, before giving a shake of her head. “Now I wonder if it was a ruse so I would think my spell killed him and stop any attempt to track him down.”

  “Assassins would have the magic to feign their own death,” Wolfe agreed.

  The trained warriors could not only slow their breathing until it was undetectable, but they could place themselves in a deep trance that would cool their skin and mask their heartbeat.

  Like a damned vampire.

  She lowered her arms, squaring her shoulders as she mentally slammed the door on her past.

  “And Bas has more magic than most.”

  Wolfe narrowed his eyes, suddenly realizing the point of her story.

  “Is that why you want to travel to Woodward? You think he’s there?”

  With an abrupt movement she was pacing toward his desk, the scent of warm vanilla and annoyed woman teasing at his nose. He was the only one who dared question her decisions.

  “No, I want to go because one of the high-bloods in his care was a woman whose power interferes with electrical currents.”

  Ah. That might explain why Fane had texted him to check it out.

  “You think that she could be responsible for the blackout?”

  “Yes.” Lana turned back to face him. “If it’s her, I need to track her down as fast as possible.”

  The urgency in her voice sent a jolt of alarm down his spine.

  “Is there something else I should know?”

  She frowned in puzzlement. “What do you mean?”

  “I realize that being without electricity is a nuisance—”

  “It’s not a nuisance,” she interrupted, her expression grim. “It’s life or death. This isn’t just a transformer blowing. As long as the high-blood is in the area there’s no electricity, period.” She made a slashing motion with her hand. “None. That means the backup generators at the police stations and hospitals are worthless. Nothing will keep vital technology working. Even airplanes flying in the area will be affected.”

  Wolfe grimaced, beginning to realize the difference between a typical blackout and an electrical dead zone.

  “Shit.”

  “Banks are left vulnerable, computers are wiped of memory,” she continued to hammer home the point. “Not even cars will run.”

  He lifted his hand to halt her list of troubles. “I got it.” And he did. “Armageddon.”

  “Yes.”

  He pulled out his phone, contacting the Valhalla chapel to have a guardian Sentinel waiting for him at the portal.

  “Are you packed?”

  Bas was standing in front of the window seat, absently running his fingers over a cushy, zebra print pillow that still held Molly’s sweet scent.

  How many hours had she sat on this narrow seat, blissfully lost in her own world as Bas had worked at his desk?

  So tiny and vulnerable and yet filled with such incandescent joy.

  An aching emptiness exploded through his chest, crashing over the barriers he’d built around his emotions.

  Like a flood bursting through a dam.

  Oh . . . Molly.

  Pain, cruel and ruthless, surged through him, threatening to send him to his knees.

  He wasn’t sure how long he had stood there before the door to the office was pushed open and Kaede entered.

  There was the sound of approaching footsteps that halted in the center of the room. The warrior was well trained not to interrupt. Even if Bas was doing nothing more than staring at his daughter’s favorite pillow.

  Taking a beat to wipe the grief from his face, Bas slowly turned to confront his companion.

  He woul
dn’t show weakness. Not even in front of Kaede.

  “A change of plans,” he abruptly announced.

  Kaede stilled, on full alert as he took note of Bas’s grim expression.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I want Anna prepared to continue her journey.”

  “What about the psychic?” The younger man held up the file folder in his hand. “I thought you wanted to give her time to search for Molly?”

  “I intend to keep searching, but in the meantime, I want Anna taken to the location we were given.”

  Shock rippled over Kaede’s face. “Give in to the kidnapper?”

  “Yes, dammit,” Bas snapped. “If that’s what it takes to get my daughter home.”

  Kaede lowered the file, his gaze searching Bas’s stark expression.

  “Did something happen?”

  Bas clenched his teeth. He didn’t want to share his precious moments with his daughter. Not when his emotions were still so raw.

  But he understood that if he was going to depend on Kaede to have his back, the warrior needed to know exactly what was happening.

  “I spoke with Molly.”

  Kaede sucked in a startled breath. “How?”

  Bas nodded toward the computer. “The kidnapper allowed me a short conversation.”

  “She’s okay?”

  The image of Molly kneeling in the middle of the pink bed seared through his brain, his heart squeezing with merciless regret.

  “She’s scared, but putting on a brave face so I don’t worry about her.”

  “That’s our little trooper,” Kaede murmured, a hint of pride in his voice.

  “I don’t want her to have to be brave, I want her home,” Bas snarled, pointing toward the window seat. “I want her in here sitting behind me while I work, giggling because she’s snacking on peanut butter cookies she stole from my private stash.”

  Kaede flinched. The younger man was as devoted as Bas to the little girl. Hell, who hadn’t tumbled in love with the charming minx?

  She had that kind of effect on people.

  “She’ll be here,” the warrior swore in fierce tones. “Even if we have to tear apart the world.”