Blood Assassin

  But even as Fane lowered his body to press his stiffening cock against her lower stomach, his head was jerking toward the side.

  She blinked, her body protesting as he leaped off the bed and pulled on a pair of camo pants.

  “Fane?”

  “Bas is coming down the hall.”

  Serra heaved a resigned sigh, heading to the bathroom for a quick shower before dressing in a pair of jeans and scooped stretchy top in a cheery shade of yellow. She added a pair of tennis shoes and pulled her hair into a high ponytail. God only knew where the bastard intended to drag them today.

  She entered the sitting room in time to watch Fane pull open the door. He’d added a white muscle shirt to his camos and a heavy pair of boots, but his expression remained grimly unwelcoming.

  Not that the too-handsome assassin seemed to care as he stepped into the room, a mocking smile curving his lips as he took in Fane’s barely contained frustration.

  “Am I interrupting?”

  Serra moved forward, assuming Bas had a death wish. Why else would you taunt a Sentinel on the edge of a meltdown?

  “What do you want?” she demanded.

  Bas shrugged. “Kaede managed to discover three potential candidates.”

  Fane folded his arms over his chest. “Have you tried to contact them?”

  “Why would I attempt something so pathetically simple as trying to contact them?” Bas asked, once again tempting death.

  Fane took a step forward, the heat from his body blasting through the air.

  “Don’t press me.”

  Bas lifted a hand, his own composure so brittle Serra sensed it would take very little to shatter it into a million pieces.

  Shit.

  This could get real bad, real quick.

  Reaching beneath the jacket of his smoke gray Armani suit that he’d matched with a pristine white shirt and cranberry silk tie, Bas pulled out a folded sheet of paper.

  “I have my computer experts running searches on them and Kaede is out trying to track down any friends or family they might have in this area,” he said, shoving the paper into Fane’s hand.

  The Sentinel unfolded the sheet with a frown. “What’s this?”

  “The addresses I want you to check out.”

  Fane muttered a curse, lifting his head to glare at the assassin.

  “There’s over twenty of them.”

  Twenty? Serra moved to glance at the paper in Fane’s hand, her heart sinking.

  Shit. She’d hoped when Bas had realized it might be a former colleague he would be able to pare down the list to one or two.

  “Most we’ll be able to search by just driving by,” Bas assured them.

  Serra stepped away from Fane. When she stood too close to the Sentinel her senses were consumed with the heat and scent and sheer power of him.

  Nice when they were in bed.

  But right now she wanted to concentrate on Bas.

  Something had happened.

  Something that had him so on edge he couldn’t maintain his magical barriers.

  “And the others?” she prompted.

  The bronze eyes were carefully guarded. “They will be more difficult to investigate.”

  Fane narrowed his gaze. He didn’t have her own psychic abilities, but he was a predator who studied how to read his prey.

  He had to be able to sense that Bas was hiding something from them.

  “How dangerous are the high-bloods we’re tracking?” he asked.

  “A dead Sentinel, although I have serious doubts about him,” Bas readily said. “A mediocre psychic. And a psychotic healer.”

  Serra studied the handsome face, wondering if he was trying to be funny.

  “A dead Sentinel?”

  “We never found the body,” Bas said. “But the man who has contacted me wasn’t trained by monks.”

  Fane didn’t miss the small revelation. “You’re sure it’s a male?”

  Bas gave a grudging nod. “Yes.”

  Serra continued to study the assassin, her senses searching for the cause of his tension.

  “Which are you leaning toward?”

  His lips twisted with an unmistakable bitterness. “I’m trying to keep an open mind.”

  Okay. Enough trying to be subtle.

  If there was trouble, she needed to be prepared.

  “Something happened.”

  The bronze eyes narrowed at the flat certainty in her voice.

  “You can read me?”

  “I don’t have to. You’re leaking.”

  Genuine indignation touched the lean face. “Leaking?”

  Fane snorted. “You really have to stop using that word, milaya.”

  She rolled her eyes. Good God. She hated the word as much as anyone, but right now she didn’t give a shit about political correctness.

  “Your emotions aren’t fully shielded,” she clarified. “I can sense you’re upset.” She hesitated, hit by a sudden surge of emotion from the assassin. A chill inched down her spine. “And frightened.”

  Fury flared through his eyes. But it wasn’t directed at Serra. At least not this time.

  “I was allowed a brief conversation with my daughter.”

  Serra’s heart missed a beat. “Was she hurt?”

  “No. But the warning was clear. Time is running out,” he said, his voice coated in ice. Not that it disguised the emotions stewing just below the surface. Abruptly, he turned back toward the door. “We have to go.”

  “Not yet.” Fane stepped next to Serra. “Serra needs breakfast.”

  She lightly touched his arm. “It doesn’t matter, Fane.”

  “It does.” He sent her an impatient glance. “You haven’t eaten in hours.”

  Bas turned back, the air sizzling with the emotions he could no longer contain.

  “Have you forgotten I’m not the only one on the clock?” he rasped. “Serra—”

  His taunt was cut short as Fane had him slammed against the wall, pressing an arm against the assassin’s throat.

  “Remind me again and I’ll slice out your tongue.”

  The bronze eyes shimmered, as if the idiot was happy that he’d at last provoked Fane into a physical retaliation.

  “Careful, Sentinel,” he mocked. “You need me alive.”

  Fane’s face was stripped of emotion, his body poised for violence.

  “You’re a fool if you believe I won’t destroy you and everything you value to protect her.”

  Bas shoved at Fane’s chest. “Do you think I feel any different about my daughter?”

  Serra hissed in annoyance, not sure who was pissing her off more.

  Bas for being a jerkwad. Or Fane for rising to the bait.

  “Can you men measure the size of your dicks later?” she snapped, moving to glare into Fane’s startled gaze. “There’s a little girl out there who’s depending on us to rescue her.”

  Both men grimaced, but it was Bas who answered. “She’s right.”

  “Of course I’m right.” She stepped back, her chin high. “I’m a woman.”

  Slowly Fane lowered his arm, allowing Bas to straighten from the wall.

  The assassin carefully straightened his thousand dollar suit, at the same time reconstructing his shields.

  Once they were in place he sucked in a deep breath and squared his shoulders.

  “I know a place that serves the best chicken and waffles in town. It’s on our way to the first location.” He sent Fane a tight smile. “Satisfied?”

  Fane planted his hands on his hips. “Not even close.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake.” Brushing past the assassin, Serra grabbed the purse she’d left on the table next to the door and headed into the hallway. “Let’s go.”

  She had reached the elevator when the men caught up with her, stepping into the small interior as soon as the doors opened.

  The two men entered behind her, Bas leaning over her shoulder to press his key card into the console and punched in his security code.


  “Serra,” he murmured softly.

  “What?”

  He spoke directly into her ear. “When we do have the time to measure our dicks, mine will be the biggest.”

  She closed her eyes, giving a weary shake of her head.

  “Christ, this is going to be a long day.”

  It took Wolfe a minute to regain his balance as they arrived at the monastery in western Oklahoma.

  Traveling by portal was always the fastest way to get from point A to point B. Unfortunately, it usually left his stomach queasy and his knees weak.

  In an effort to disguise his momentary weakness, Wolfe studied the exquisite hieroglyphs carved into the stone walls of the chapel. The same hieroglyphs that were tattooed on the guardian Sentinel who stood next to the copper post in the center of the floor.

  Guardians were the only Sentinels that had the necessary magic to travel by portal, and only from monastery to monastery.

  Who had created the magical pathways had been lost in time, although they’d recently discovered an ancient temple that was revealing the truth of the high-bloods beginnings. The scholars were busy trying to decipher the hidden glyphs.

  Wolfe was sure it was all very fascinating. But he was a man who looked to the future, not the past.

  With a grimace his gaze slid past the dark-haired Sentinel to the female who stood at his side with a cool composure.

  She was still dressed in her casual jeans with a pair of running shoes and a jade sleeveless sweater. Her hair was pulled into a tight knot at the base of her neck, and her pale face was devoid of makeup.

  There was nothing to draw attention to her, but she had only to walk into a room to take center stage. It was more than her compelling beauty and the power of her magic that sizzled around her. It was a calm confidence that made people follow her without question.

  She could be dressed in rags and sitting in a gutter and she’d still look like a queen.

  With a shake of his head, Wolfe turned toward the young man dressed in a rough brown robe who entered the chapel. The boy’s lean face and recently shaved head marked him as a Sentinel in training, although he was still too young to have the tattooing of a guardian.

  Smiling with a faint air of boredom, the novice met Wolfe’s piercing gaze, his eyes widening as he caught the distinct streak of white that stood out like a banner on Wolfe’s glossy black hair.

  A flush stained the cheeks that still didn’t need a razor as he cleared his throat.

  “Tagos.” He used the formal title, a hint of hero-worship in his voice. “Welcome to our abbey.”

  “I need a vehicle.”

  “Of course. And . . .” If the youth had been impressed by the sight of Wolfe, he was completely overwhelmed as he realized who was traveling with him. “Oh.” With a smooth motion he dropped to his knees, his head bowed. “Mave. We weren’t warned of your visit.”

  “It wasn’t planned,” she said, sending Wolfe a wry glance.

  “On your feet, son.”

  As hoped, the boy instinctively obeyed the command in Wolfe’s voice, rising to his feet although his expression remained dazed.

  “How can I be of service?”

  Wolfe resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Novices.

  “The car?”

  “Oh . . . yes.” He backed toward the door, his gaze remaining locked on the Mave as if she were some myth that had magically appeared in the quiet abbey. “Right away.”

  Lana held up a hand, her smile kind. “First I would like to speak with Father Valdez, if he’s not too busy?”

  “No . . . I mean . . . he’s not too busy.” The boy turned to bolt toward the opening. “Follow me.”

  Wolfe paused to hand over his bag along with Lana’s to the guardian Sentinel, commanding him to have them taken to the garage so they could be loaded in the vehicle they would use while in Oklahoma. After that the Sentinel would find rooms and wait for them to return.

  Then, with long strides he caught up with Lana as she followed the novice out of the chapel and down a narrow corridor lined with a stone colonnade. They at last came to a large bay that was decorated with fine frescos and silver candelabras shimmering in the early morning sunlight peeking through high arched windows.

  “If you’ll wait here I’ll tell the abbot you’re here,” the novice offered.

  “Thank you.” Lana offered a small smile. “I didn’t catch your name.”

  The smooth cheeks reddened, the poor schmuck falling beneath Lana’s potent spell.

  “Landon.”

  “Thank you, Landon.”

  With an awkward bow, the novice turned and disappeared through a medieval archway.

  “I hope he doesn’t trip on his tongue,” Wolfe said wryly.

  Lana shrugged, moving to study a fresco depicting a row of scribes bent over their desks to write on scrolls with their feather quills.

  “He’s young.”

  “You have that effect on every male, no matter what their age.”

  She turned to study him with an unreadable expression. “Do you have a point?”

  Did he?

  Not really.

  Time for a change of subject.

  See? He wasn’t entirely stupid.

  “Why do you want to speak with Father Valdez?”

  “He’s been the abbot of this monastery for many years, he’ll have a better knowledge of the area,” she explained. “Hopefully he’ll be able to help us pinpoint the epicenter of the blackout.”

  Wolfe nodded. It made sense.

  “Do you know the high-blood responsible?”

  She frowned. “It’s still just a theory.”

  “Fine. Do you know the high-blood you suspect might be responsible?”

  Lana paced toward the fresco on a far wall. This one had golden fields and what looked like angels dancing in the sky.

  Wolfe didn’t believe for a minute she was truly interested in the faded picture, but it conveniently kept him from reading her expression.

  “Her name is Anna,” Lana finally offered. “She was born in a time when her disruptive powers could be easily hidden by leaving her in remote locations.”

  Wolfe folded his arms over his chest. “She probably had no idea how quickly electricity would spread.”

  “Or that the invention of air travel would make it impossible to find a home even in the most isolated area where she wasn’t at risk for causing destruction.”

  Wolfe felt a pang of sympathy for the high-blood. “What did you do?”

  “As the world became more and more dependent on electricity we had to surround her with a stasis spell to mute her powers. Even then she has to remain in a special cell or the area becomes saturated with her magic.”

  “So someone removed her from the cell and then broke through the stasis spell.”

  Lana turned to face him. “No. She must still be in stasis. Otherwise the entire state would be feeling the effects.”

  Wolfe frowned, struck by a sudden thought. “How could they be moving her if she knocks out electricity?”

  “I would suspect they’re traveling the old-fashioned way,” she said. “Horse and carriage.”

  Wolfe cursed, slowly beginning to realize the depths of the danger. God. If the female could cause blackouts and plane crashes while she was still wrapped in a stasis spell, what the hell would happen if she were walking around with no protective barrier?

  Apocalypse.

  “A perfect weapon for a mercenary,” he rasped.

  Lana gave a dip of her head. “That’s what I fear.”

  Wolfe shoved his fingers through his hair. “Damn. What a mess.”

  “For everyone.” Lana’s expression tightened with regret. “Poor Anna. The healers tried to help, but they couldn’t do more than put her in a deep sleep so she doesn’t suffer.”

  “Mave.” A tall, gray-haired man entered the bay, his still powerful body covered by a simple brown robe and his lined face wreathed with a pleased smile. “Welcome.”

&nbs
p; Moving forward with an innate grace, Lana held out her hands.

  “Father Valdez.”

  The abbot took her hands, pulling her forward to press a kiss to her forehead.

  “Michal,” he insisted in gentle tones.

  She returned his broad smile. “Michal.”

  Wolfe frowned. There was a familiarity between the two he hadn’t been expecting. It wasn’t the usual dazed appreciation of a man stunned by a beautiful woman.

  This was more . . . friendly.

  Almost like father and daughter.

  “You know one another?” he asked.

  Lana never allowed her gaze to waver from the older man. “Michal saved my life.”

  The abbot clicked his tongue. “Nothing so dramatic.”

  “What happened?” Wolfe demanded.

  It was Lana who answered. “When I was just a child he took me into his abbey after my parents were killed.”

  “It was hardly a burden,” Michal protested, his voice fond. “My brothers squabbled over the privilege of caring for her.”

  Wolfe’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “Nothing has changed.”

  Lana ignored him as she concentrated on the abbot. “I need your help.”

  He gave her hands a last squeeze before dropping them and stepping back.

  “You know you have only to ask.”

  “I’m afraid the Woodward blackout might be caused by a high-blood.”

  The older man looked startled. Obviously the same thought hadn’t crossed his mind.

  “Sabotage?”

  Lana shrugged. “The high-blood would be unaware of the damage, but those holding her might be deliberately causing the damage. It’s impossible to know at this point.”

  Turning, Michal pointed toward the novice who hovered in the doorway.

  “Landon, bring us the latest satellite images.”

  “At once.”

  The boy disappeared and the abbot reached into the pocket of his robe to pull out a small electronic pad.

  “I’ve been monitoring the situation, although I never suspected it might be the result of one of ours,” he said, flicking his finger over the screen of his pad, no doubt searching through the latest news and police reports. He abruptly stiffened, lifting his head in surprise. “Oh.”

  Lana looked concerned. “Has it grown worse?”