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You think?Alexei wanted to shout, but at least they’d almost finished this hare-brained quest. A few more minutes and he could call the mission a bust, wait for the chopper, and be on his way back to California’s winter of short sleeves and warm sunsets instead of stuck in this bone-deep cold.
He twisted the knob of the closed door, testing it until he met resistance, and then eased his hand off the metal so as not to give away their location.
“Locked,” he mouthed. Sure, the night made seeing harder, but moonlight filtered through the crumbling construction. He could see the witch who stood only a foot away as well as the steel of the door and reinforced frame, something that’d been crafted to look like the others in this decrepit tower but would be much harder to open using force.
Diego lifted his rifle complete with a silencer—a suppressor, the witch insisted on calling it—as though he planned to shoot through the lock. Crazy sniper. The witch should know the probabilities of a bullet ricocheting, the sound involved, the sheer absurdity of this scheme. Which might be the crux of the problem. The man didn’t seem to bother with organizing actual plans. He operated more go-with-the-changing-situation, which meant his sniper partner must’ve been either their strategy architect or a suicidal timebomb.
Slashing his hand across his throat, Alexei snarled and withdrew a slim lockpicking kit he’d borrowed from his goblin-adopted cousin. He’d thank her later for teaching him how to sneak past locks, but right now he’d settle for making it through this folly without stitches for a gunshot wound caused by his temporary ally.
Making quick work of the lock’s tumblers, he worked the wrenches until the resistance gave with a soft pop. He pushed into the stone-walled ice box. His breath puffed in front of his face. A shabby mattress sat in the middle of the floor, heaped with ratty blankets. Creeping closer to the pile, he gestured for Diego to cover him.
Given the silence in the room he might assume that no one stayed here, but the sour stink ofonions, sausages, and gruel came from a tray by the door with the pungent mixture slopped in a bowl beside untouched silverware. A massive fireplace stood empty across the way. If anyone huddled beneath those blankets, they hadn’t been provided a fire, a space heater, or any warmth. Not like the furnaces and electrical heating units they’d found downstairs. The neglect of the property and certainly of any person they might find pissed him off, and he hoped this room would be empty like the others. Or he’d stop knocking guards unconscious with a well-placed thump of his fist and help Diego shoot their way out.
Dropping into a crouch next to the mattress, he used his hands rather than a weapon to draw the blankets away. The witch might need a gun to take out humans, but Alexei didn’t. Unlike male witches, he had plenty of active powers, so much that he kept his magic under tight control rather than risk a slip. His heart kicked into a faster tempo, the fear of what he might discover squeezing his chest tight.
When he realized who’d been curled beneath those blankets, his ticker thumped into overdrive for another reason altogether. A woman—a gorgeous showstopper of a woman with long hair that curled past her waist, delicate features, and a heart-shaped face with lush lips—captured his full attention. For her beauty, sure, but also because the symbols covering her skin pulsed warm light.
She opened her sky blue eyes, and he moved to put a finger to his lips, but damn if he didn’t freeze halfway through the gesture. Her gaze held him as though everything about her came through in the sharpest clarity when the rest of the world blurred at the edges.
Joelle?
No, she couldn’t be. His Joelle—the one he’d obsessed over for years now as a potential mate he’d met and lost—had disappeared so deep into the ether that no private investigator could find her. Where had she gone and how had she ended up as their target for a rescue mission? This had to be a trick, a magical play on the most vulnerable part of him.
Keeping his voice low, he warned, “Mesmerizing me won’t help your cause.”
Still staring with those far-too-hypnotic eyes, she said, “Same.”
Funny. She didn’t sound as if she was trying to fool him. No, her clear voice came out almost accusatory, and he didn’t have time for whatever reverse psychology game she played at.
“We need to go.” He did his best to sound stern without scaring her.
The way she quirked her mouth to the side suggested amusement instead of fear. “You must be new. Tell Noxx that I haven’t finished healing from the last pain session. I know she enjoys her sadistic fun, but if I die, she’ll need a new toy to break.” Her words held bossy boldness, but a tremor ran beneath her tough act.
Diego had mentioned torture, but who would dare to torture this woman? Anger flared in Alexei’s gut, igniting a desire to hurt whoever had inflicted pain on her.Later. For now, he needed to get her out of here and as far away from him as possible, since whatever magical lure she threw off—intentional or accidental—continued to tug at him.
“Dress,” he said.
“I don’t have anything else to wear.”
“Did your captors want you to die of hypothermia?”
She simply stared at him, wearing an oversized sleeveless shirt with slashes and rips in aclawed by shifterslook. Beneath the glow of the symbols in her skin, he could make out smudges of blood. More had matted in her hair.
The sight made his magic spark like his volcanic powers had unlocked, sending lava through his veins. “I’ll avenge you, but only after we rescue you.”
“Rescue me?” Equal parts curiosity and wonder flickered across her expression. “Who are you?” She seemed genuinely confused, and he didn’t like the way she made it sound as though she didn’t expect to be saved—ever.
“Your brother sent me.”
“Us,” Diego corrected, stepping next to him. “Josh sentus. Nice to meet you, Joelle.”
“Joelle?” Alexei shoved the witch back. He wanted to curse and tell him to give her some privacy, but before he could act on the impulse or ask if they’d met before—if she could behisJoelle, she sat up on the mattress, the blankets falling to her waist. The light from her skin shone even brighter.
“You know Josh?” she asked, sounding giddy despite her condition. “Is he all right? Have you seen him? Tell me he isn’t here, because if he is, I’ll be so angry with both of you. Do you know what Noxx and the Order have done to him?” Her words came faster and faster, and he didn’t know which question to answer first.
Diego didn’t seem to have the same problem. “Josh isn’t here, but he’s fine. I’m Diego. This is Alexei. We need to move out. A chopper will come soon to pick us up, and you can see him for yourself.”
“We’ll need to stop by the archives on our way out.” She made the demand like she orchestrated her own recovery missions on the daily.
