Banewolf (Dark Siren Book 2) (23 page)

Everyone had settled in for the night when Rhane met with York. It was past time. He spilled everything to his second in command, relayed all of his suspicions, and confessed every fear and concern. York
listened without interrupting. And even after Rhane had finished, he was silent.

Then, “This is a huge pill you’re trying to shove up my ass.”

“I know,” Rhane said regrettably.

“And you’re seriously considering just turning yourself over to them.”

“I’m reconsidering.” He sighed. “Do you think the Builders stripped Gabriel of the bane wolf before entombing him, and then bestowed that mark to me?”

“It’s a linear conclusion.”

“Oral history doesn’t portray him as ever having the mark.”

“It’s safe to say
that we’re starting to realize a lot of things our history failed to teach us.”

Rhane grimaced. “Yeah.”

“I’m worried.”

“Yeah.”

“If you don’t do what these guys want…” The need to finish the sentence aloud left him.

“Yeah.” Rhane
cringed inwardly.

For a long time, they were silent. Finally, York said it. “Don’t go.”

Rhane chewed his lip and thought of Kalista. He nodded slowly. “Let’s see if we can figure another way out of this.”

York was relieved. “Okay.”

“How’s she doing with training?”

Grateful for the subject jump, York breathed a little easier. “Really well. Her ninja skills are coming back. Pretty soon, she’ll be kicking your butt and looking good doing it. We should get her a cat suit. I’m thinking black and leather.”

“No. Her leathers would be of a mauve so deep they appear black.”

“Yes!” York made two fists and pumped them, jerking his elbows back to his sides. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

Rhane laughed. “Will a day off hurt her?”

“No. What do you need?”

“Let’s pay our Builder friend another visit. This time with a less direct approach.”

“Done,” York said with a wink. “Now, what the hell is mauve?”

#

Kalista was inside the icy cavern again. Her fingers trailed against the frozen walls, waiting for Rhane. He would come. Maybe he was already inside. It was so dark, she could see nothing. Anxiety pulled at her heart.

Kali stirred in her sleep as the real world tugged her back. She gave in easily. So many times before, she had been in the icy cavern. She was tired of feeling fear and sick of doubt. Recreating the horrors of the past did nothing to heal them. What the Primes had done and what they had forced her to do—it was not her fault. She didn’t have to relive it anymore.

Kali opened her eyes.

Owning such a bold decision meant forgetting past sins and moving on. She wanted to. With every cell of her existence, she wanted to. But some unnamed emotion tied her to the past. Did guilt bar her release?

She
squeezed her eyes shut.
It was not my fault.

No. Something else. Something else in the memory…

She searched, reliving it again despite the urgings not to. The realization hit her like a Mack truck.

After the villages burned, she had met Rhane in secrecy. And there was snow on the ground. In this memory, there was no snow. So who was in the cave? Who had she met?

Overwhelming pain and sadness descended on her mind, rendering her motionless. Something bad was coming. And it was going to rip them apart. Kali cried out, sobbing heavily into the sheets.

Rhane embraced her at once. His strong arms encircled her shaking form, damming the tears, repairing the breakdown.

She rolled, pressing into him as if were possible for them to become one.  The strength of his body brought her sobs to a quiet. “Don’t go,” she said.

A whisper answered from the dark and mollified all of her fears. “Okay.”

The final bell rang. It was the end of the school day, and Kali couldn’t get out of the building fast enough. War and Rion caught up as she crossed the ball field. Matthias and Ander joined them only moments later.

“Why don’t we drive anymore?”

War rolled his eyes. “Here we go again.”

Picking up her pace, Kali ignored them. Other things weighed too heavily in her thoughts. War and Rion debated the best strategies for a new shooter game while the kindred followed quietly. Every once in a while Matthias would interject a comment into the argument, effectively playing both sides. Kali waited for
a lull in the incessant chatter that never came. She finally interrupted. “Did you consider that thing I asked you?”

War turned to her with wide eyes. “You were serious?”

She gave him a stony stare. “As a heart attack.”

Rion looked back and forth between them. “What are we talking about?”

Everyone else had stopped walking, so War stopped too. “York is busy helping Rhane with something today. Instead of taking the day off, Kali wants me to help her train.”

“Oh.” Rion shrugged. “What’s the harm in that?”

“I could hurt her.”

“Don’t be a pansy. You’re not as good as York and look what she did to him.”

“I am the best of us at sword play,” War said with a huff. “With more practice I could be as good as Rhane.”

“Then practice with Kali.”

The two boys stared hard at each other. She knew Rion had probably taken her side only because of the constant rivalry circulating between him and War. She didn’t mind. If it worked to her advantage, she was willing to take it.

Thirty minutes later, the moor of the manor sprawled before her eyes. Clutching her messenger bag, she ran up the rest of the gravel driveway. “Meet me in the clearing,” she called back to War. “I’ll go get my things.”

It didn’t take long to find the long wooden rod York used in sparring and the twin fighting sticks recently crafted for her. Grabbing them, she dropped her book bag and raced outside. The kindred had already gone to relieve Orrin and Bailen from patrol. Rion and War were waiting in the clearing. Red ball cap turned backward, the auburn haired kin started to warm up. He twisted a couple of flips, spun several aerial kicks, and then shadowboxed a few punches. All in less than thirty seconds.

Kali wasn’t intimidated. She had been thinking about this moment all day. Images of fire and dances of graceful violence consumed her mind. She
didn’t push them away. When she tried, other thoughts took over. Ones of grief, sadness, and foreboding. She would rather fight.

After touching sticks with War,
she ignited her weapons and backed away. War circled slowly. His eyes searched for an opening. A second later, he charged. The sound of wood slamming against wood clacked in the air. War didn’t hit as hard as York, but he was much faster. His attacks came from both feet and hand, and Kali was hard pressed to keep up. Sweat poured from her brow. Her muscles strained. Her breathing was ragged. But the patterns of the light were there, keeping War’s assault at bay. All she had to do was follow them.

“Styganna Lumas,”
she whispered.

G
rey fire erupted into an impenetrable blaze. War jumped away, folding himself backward at an impossible angle to avoid the flames. When the fire cleared, it was as if he materialized in front of her. Kali reached out to block, before realizing she had nothing to block him with. Her sticks had been reduced to cinders. As he swung at her legs, instinct took over. Without thinking she leapt into the air, flipping backward to come down on her feet as lithely as a cat. Dropping back into a defensive stance when War attacked, she took the hit against both forearms, grunting as the rod brutally struck her flesh. Grabbing his weapon, she spoke a command to summon fire within the core of the wood. The rod crumbled into ashes. Panting, War looked down and then up at Kali. She couldn’t read his expression. Rion hooted and started to clap.

“I’ve never seen anything like that. Dude, you weren’t holding back, were you?”

War slowly shook his head. “There was no need.”

Adrenaline r
aced through her veins, pitching her heart into a jackhammer rhythm. She focused to slow her breathing. But it felt too good to stop. Stopping meant the misery would return. “Let’s go again.”

War
stared pointedly down at the ashes. “You burned our toys.”

“Find new ones.”

He shook his head. “We’d have to go live.”

Kali was intrigued. “Does that mean using real weapons?”

“Whoa,” Rion interjected. “Let’s not get crazy here. It was a good match. Leave it at that. We can go do homework or something.”

“I can’t.” Her chest tightened at the idea of sitting in the manor with grief overshadowing every second and every thought and every breath. Hot tears stung her cheeks. She hastily wiped her eyes.

“Don’t cry.” Rion looked absolutely panic stricken. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t say.” She turned away from him, trying to shut out the memories. She had to keep them at bay.
No snow.

“Okay,” War said quietly. “We’ll get blades.”

#

Three hundred eighty-eight. It was the number of times York had changed radio stations in the last hour and a half. A muted beep signaled the switch to yet another. Whenever York heard a song he liked enough to listen to, he
momentarily paused the endless channel surf, but lacked the attention span to let any song play in its entirety. Country rock was the flavor for two minutes. Hip hop for three. And then hard rock blasted through the speakers. Rhane listened with half an ear, unconsciously tapping a finger with the bass. His attention was split in about a thousand different directions.

“Why do they call this a stakeout anyway?” Beep. York changed stations again,
cycling through several more until he settled on pop. Backed by big band sound, some chick caterwauled about the hardships of young love. Rhane cringed. “We’re not eating steaks. We’re not using stakes to kill the undead. I see nothing stakey about this.”

“It’s a metaphor drawn from the human practice of marking land claims with wooden stakes. Construction surveyors still do it for buildings.”

York directed a baffled stare toward him. “That is a seriously useless piece of knowledge you’re holding onto. Get rid of it.” He stared at the radio. “This is god-awful, isn’t it?”

Rhane nodded, keeping his gaze to the window. “Change it as you have nearly four hundred times before.”

“More useless knowledge. Why are you counting?”

“To keep from strangling you,” Rhane muttered.

York laughed. Beep. Beep. Beep. Heavy metal. The vocals of the lead singer were barely audible, screaming indecipherable lyrics above a cacophony of electric guitar and drums. It was remotely better than sugar pop. “Are you sure our friend is in there?”

“Yeah. The second floor has a couple of rooms sequeste
red from the main section. Our guy is in that office. It's his light shining so brightly in the night.”

“Now you’re a poet.”

“Boredom inspires me.”

“You’re a terrible poet. Give it up.”

“You’re chock full of encouragement tonight.”

“Boredom makes me cranky.”

The window Rhane had watched for nearly two hours suddenly went dark. But even from across the street, his eyes could see a shadow moving throughout the second floor. Neither distance nor darkness were a challenge to his superhuman sight. “He’s on the move.”

York’s head snapped up. The radio switched off. “This is good. Movement is good.”

A figure exited the warehouse style building, secured the doors and alarm system before crossing the parking lot. The man was Wesley. He climbed into the only car parked on the deserted asphalt. A hybrid.

“At least we don’t have to worry about him
outrunning us.”

Rhane grunted. The light blue sedan pulled away, turning left onto the highway. After a few seconds, he started the pickup and followed. The hybrid boarded the ramp to the interstate. Rhane tailed its
every move, careful to keep at a safe distance. Traffic was pretty light during the late hour. So a safe distance was a pretty big one. Good thing for keen eyesight.

They followed Wesley for nearly twenty minutes before he took an exit that put them back onto a main highway. A few turns later, Rhane and York found themselves
cruising parallel to a rather upscale subdivision. It was country club, tennis court, golf course, and Olympic-sized swimming pool kind of fancy.

York whistled. “This is not what I was expecting.”

Rhane stopped a block away and watched a car pull through the gated entrance. It wasn’t the blue hybrid but rather a high-end luxury sedan. The security guard who manned the gate scanned an access card produced by the driver, and granted the sedan entry.

“He must be already inside. I guess we’re taking the back door.”

Not five minutes later, they scaled the wrought iron fence that surrounded about a hundred acres of private land, and scurried across the green of a nicely manicured golf course. Low and fast, they didn’t slow until they reached the residential areas. The light blue hybrid was parked in front of a residence with one of the largest floor plans in the community. Rhane led the charge, careful to keep away from the glow of dozens of streetlights, inanimate sentinels of the landscape. He and York ducked into Wesley’s backyard, stilling their breathing to listen. Multiple voices came from inside.

“Third floor,” Rhane said.

“We climb?”

“Yeah.”

The exterior was constructed of granite brick, making for easy and abundant footholds as they scaled the back wall. Reaching the third level, York and Rhane separated to search left and right. Peering into several windows, York located the exact location of the meeting and signaled to Rhane.

Just outside of the room was a balcony, complete with a full set of patio furniture and an overhanging ceiling to offer limited protection from the elements. Rhane and York slipped over the railing, landed lightly on the deck. They took positions on opposite sides of two large sliding glass doors. Flush against the granite, Rhane trained every sense to take in what was happening on the other side of the wall. 

“…is well. We need not worry about the health of the siren.” That was Wesley. “What of the child?”

Another voice spoke. “He con
tinues to elude capture. We made no plan for this.” The second voice sounded very familiar. Rhane realized with a start he knew who it was. From the corner of his eye, York saw the change in his expression. “What?” he mouthed. Rhane jerked his head left, indicating for York to take a look inside. Edging closer to the window, York lowered himself into deeper shadows and slowly eased his head forward. Damn. It was Rhane’s contact, Tsai. And his facial hair had never looked more terrible.

“Banewolf is taking steps to form new alliances. He has possession of the map, the ledger, and the key. He only has to assemble them.”

“And yet he has not,” Tsai said. “If he does not find the vessel, The Faction will come for the pieces. They will send their champion to assemble them.”

“It cannot be opened without the Heart.”

As the two creatures conversed, their faces never changed to show emotion. Voices contained no inflection. And they barely moved. York watched them, trying very hard not to be weirded out. Being around one Builder had been hard enough. In that moment, he felt grateful for the glass and granite between himself and them.

Tsai had fallen silent. Apparently,
his stillness made Wesley suspicious. “You know where the Heart lies.”

“I believe the Faction has it…or one of their representatives.”

For the first time, York saw a hint of emotion ripple through the creature’s face. Wesley was distraught. “Why can we not avoid war? Our masters do not have to awaken.”

“Wesley, you know it must be so.”

There was no reply. The silence stretched on until Tsai spoke again. “Banewolf’s ties to the girl hold him here.”

“Their bond is our strength.”

“Currently, it is a weakness that has only spawned inaction.”

Wesley nodded somewhat reluctantly. “We could intervene.”

“I cannot,” Tsai said. “I fear my powers may become too limited in the next cycle.”

“Then we wait.” Wesley bowed and left the room. The meeting was over.

Rhane and York dropped to solid ground and then made double time across the golf course and back to the truck. They reached the main highway swiftly enough to catch site of the hybrid’s glowing tail lights.