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Authors: Lynn Viehl

BOOK: Frostfire
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“She means the high lord,” Gabriel said. To Nick, he said, “The
tresoran
council would have notified Richard when they sent Ms. Trovatella to America. In matters such as these, he prefers to have alternative measures in place.”
“So you’re Plan B.” Nick studied the other woman. “I don’t want to insult you, second string, but how, exactly, does a cute little spy take out a rogue?”
“I was first trained as a dispatcher, my lady. Since I am very familiar with America, I was happy to volunteer my services.” Her tone turned brisk. “The rogue has assumed the identity of a human soldier. Before I could deal with him, he and the female stole my vehicle and stranded me here. They are presently en route to Denver.”
Swearing wouldn’t bring them back, but Nick muttered a few choice words anyway.
“Why Denver?” Gabriel asked.
“The sheriff has been conducting a discreet investigation. It seems the woman stole a mobile phone from the local doctor. According to the records from the service provider, which the sheriff obtained this morning, she used it to contact a wealthy antique dealer. He could be anything to her. A friend, a lover, or an accomplice.” She shrugged. “We won’t know until we catch up with them.”
Nick’s brows rose. “What’s this ‘we’? ”
“
We
are here for the same reason,” the other woman reminded her. “Your chances of successfully locating and eliminating the rogue are better if you allow me to accompany you and Lord Gabriel.”
The subtle change in the female’s scent told Nick that she wasn’t being entirely truthful. “What’s in it for you? And don’t bother lying—we can tell.”
“The GenHance employee who arranged the transport of the rogue to the States and the abduction of Lilah Devereaux is a
tresora
named Teresina Segreta,” Valori said. “She is now trying to recover them, and if she reaches them first, she will kill them both, and quite possibly expose the existence of the Darkyn to the human world.”
“A
tresora
who works for a biotech company, who would betray us?” Gabriel sounded as dubious as Nick felt.
“A former
tresora
, my lord. She was cast out many years ago for betraying her line, and now it seems she is set on taking revenge for that.” For the first time Valori’s mask slipped and Nick saw a glimmer of real grief. “Her brother was my mentor, and through him I knew her very well. I believe I can stop her before it is too late. I would appreciate the chance to at least try.”
“We could use some backup,” Nick said to Gabriel. “Especially if things go down during the day.”
“Very well, Miss Trovatella. You may join the hunt with us.” When she would have thanked him, he held up one hand. “We cannot permit this outcast
tresora
to endanger the Darkyn.”
“Once the rogue has been dispatched, I will take her back to Italy and turn her over to the council myself,” Valori promised. When she saw Nick’s face, she frowned. “My lady?”
“I didn’t get the whole dispatcher-dispatching thing, but now I do. You’re not a spy—you’re an assassin.” She glanced at Gabriel. “Any reason no one has ever mentioned to me that the
tresoran
council trains humans to kill Darkyn?”
“We do not dispatch those Darkyn who are loyal to the high lord, my lady,” Valori said quickly. “We are sent after only those who have chosen to betray or turn their backs on their lords.”
“It is considered a kindness, Nicola,” Gabriel said quietly. “Such rogues recognize and attack other Kyn. Often a dispatcher can get close without alarming their target.”
“We are trained to assure those we dispatch do not suffer, my lady,” Valori added.
“Why don’t you just call it what it is? Execution.” She realized she was practically defending the rogue. “In case I haven’t mentioned it in the last fifteen minutes, I hate being a vampire.”
“But, my lady, you are not . . . ” Valori trailed off as she saw Gabriel shake his head.
“It’s okay, sweetie. Whatever you want to call the fangs, I didn’t ask for them.” She thought for a minute. “There’s a civilian mixed up in this, and she probably thinks she’s in love with the demented bastard. So when we find them, Valori, your job is to get her out of the way, sit on her, and keep her alive while Gabriel and I finish the job. Are we clear?”
“I will see to it that she is not harmed, my lady.”
“Good. That’s all I care about.” Nick headed for the door. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
 
Nathan moved away from the cabin’s back window, and gave a hand signal to the other men surrounding it. They moved as one, dispersing into the shadows as soundlessly as they’d emerged from them.
He’d nearly jumped the smiling little slut in town after he caught her coming out of the sheriff’s office with Ethan’s blood on her. But the mild ache in his head that had jolted him out of bed told him she hadn’t killed his brother, but had simply knocked him unconscious.
She was a resourceful and determined bitch, judging by the ease with which she’d helped herself to a pair of snowshoes on Annie’s porch, and the quick pace she’d used to follow the two new arrivals up the mountain. Their scent infuriated him almost as much as Valori’s, calling for the Fury, but years of painful lessons had taught him to wait before unleashing the mountain’s wrath on anyone.
Now after listening in on the conversation between Valori and the two strangers, he was glad he’d held back. They were leaving the pass, and that was better than killing them in it. As much as he still ached for the promise of the woman, it was not to be. In a way he was glad. He’d never admit it to Ethan, but his brother was right: The best way to handle trouble was to run it out of town.
Nathan waited until they were out of sight, and then climbed higher up the slope, past the trees, and into the deep snows surrounding the caves. Smoke rose from one of the vent holes, telling him they were waiting for him.
He entered the main cave, glad that for once he had some good news to deliver.
Chapter 19
T
he Land Rover they’d stolen must have belonged to Ethan’s girlfriend, Lori, Lilah decided as she looked around the tidy vehicle. She could smell the other woman’s perfume, a light, sweet floral that seemed to be coming from the glove compartment. She opened it, retrieving a small spray bottle of fragrance and a zipped black vinyl case. When she opened the case, she found a folded bundle of twenties, four passports, and a long, thin knife with a sharp, dark-colored blade.
Walker glanced over, scowling as soon as he saw the dagger in Lilah’s hand. “She’s an assassin.”
“Or she’s a woman traveling alone who doesn’t like guns.” Lilah slipped the dagger back into the case and examined each of the passports. “Lori Baker. Laura Parker. Valerie Teller. Larry Barker?” She chuckled. “I can’t believe it. She dresses up and poses as a man, too.”
“The best killers can be anyone.” He picked up one of the passports, flipped it open, and then handed it back to her. “Are the rest stamped by Italian customs?”
“Italian, French, British, Swedish . . . ” She reeled off a few more nations. “This girl really gets around.” She put the passports back in the case and counted the twenties. “Whew. She also carries a thousand dollars in cash.”
“There will be more hidden away.”
Lilah replaced everything in the glove compartment and sat back. “Did you know that woman?”
“No, but I know who sent her.” He slowed as they joined a long line of cars at a ramp, waiting to merge onto the highway. “This wealthy friend of yours that you called—Samuel—do you trust him?”
At this point Samuel was the only person besides Walker whom she trusted. “Completely.”
“We will need his help,” he said, as if he hated admitting it. “New identities, transport out of the state, and a place where we can stay for several weeks without attracting notice.”
“I’m sure he can take care of it.” She studied his face. “But before we contact him, we should stop for the night, get something to eat and a room somewhere.”
He smiled a little. “Yes. I would like that.”
So would she, his tone implied. But now that they weren’t in danger of being dissected, locked up, or torn to pieces by werewolves, there were other matters they had to settle. “We should also talk about a few things, like what we’re going to tell people about you.”
“Such as?”
This was going to be harder than she thought. “Your name, for one thing. It’s too dangerous for you to keep using Walker Kimball. And we also have to stop telling people that you’re from Denver.”
He looked at her, frowning. “Why?”
“Because you’re not from Denver. I’m guessing that you’re not even American.” She hesitated before she added, “And you’re not Walker Kimball.”
He didn’t say anything, but a muscle along his jaw ticked.
“It’s okay.” She put her hand on his arm. “I’ve known for a while now.”
“When did you realize?”
“I knew when you told me what you saw in the parking lot of that truck stop,” she admitted. “I didn’t think about what you said at the time, but it kept bothering me, and then later I figured out why. Someone from Denver would have instantly recognized Colorado license plates.”
He nodded. “Why didn’t you ask me before now?”
“A lot has happened since we jumped off that truck.” She tried to gauge his mood, but all she could feel was despair. He didn’t want her to know who he was, and yet she also felt sure that was the key to everything about him. “How did you end up with Walker Kimball’s dog tags?”
“We met in Afghanistan. Kimball and his men were ambushed, and I went in to bring them out. Everyone got out alive but us.” The muscles of his arm bulged under her fingers as he tightened his grip on the wheel. “Grenades were falling all around us. The chain around Kimball’s neck became snagged on a tree branch and snapped, but I caught it before it could fall to the ground. I remember holding his tags in my fist, and trying to shield him from the explosions. They must have found them on me when they recovered my body.”
“Is Walker Kimball dead?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “After the final explosion, I remember nothing until I woke up in the truck.”
“So what country were you fighting for?”
“I have no country.” His tone hardened. “No home, no family, no friends. I went to war as a mercenary, intent only on joining the battle where and when I could. No.” He sighed. “I went to Afghanistan to die, Lilah.”
The harsh words made her heart constrict. “But you rescued those soldiers, and you tried to save Walker Kimball. People who want to kill themselves are selfish; they only think of themselves and the pain they feel. You risked your life to keep those men alive.”
His mouth hitched. “Most of those men were little more than inexperienced boys.” He glanced at her. “You’re not angry with me.”
“You’re not the only one with a secret.” She wanted to tell him—if they were going to be together, she had to—but the words just weren’t there. It wasn’t something she wanted to tell him while they were in a car; she’d wait until they were someplace safe, with four sturdy walls around them. “My name isn’t Lilah Devereaux. It’s Lillian Emerson.”
“Lillian.” He said it slowly, drawing out the syllables. “It is a lovely name, but I think prefer Lilah.”
“Me, too. Lillian seemed so old-fashioned and dreary to me when I was a girl. Everyone but my mother called me Elle.” She thought of Evelyn, and what a disappointment she’d been to her, and what a relief it had been to shed Lillian Emerson. Maybe her lover felt the same. “I’m not trying to push you into telling me your real name, by the way.”
“I want to tell you everything,” he said slowly. “But some knowledge is dangerous, especially if we are captured again. For now, it is better that you not know who I was.”
“Not a problem,” she assured him. “Samuel and my Takyn friends know me as Delilah, and I’ll probably use that until we’re out of here. We just need a new name for you.”
“Yes.” He thought for a moment. “I know.” He smiled. “Samson.”
Lilah laughed. “Oh, that’s terrible.” The phone in her pocket rang, and she was still chuckling as she took it out. “Uh-oh. Please don’t be a lady in labor looking for Dr. Jemmet.” She flipped it open and read the screen. “It’s Samuel.”
When she answered the call, a man with a deep, smooth voice said, “Del? Are you all right? Where are you?”
“We’re fine. We, ah, borrowed a car and we should be in Denver in a couple of hours.”
“I was so worried when I received your text,” Samuel said. “You said ‘we.’ Who is with you?”
“A new friend.” She really did have to come up with a new name for her love, and fast. “We were both kidnapped by GenHance, but he and I were able to escape together. In fact, I wouldn’t be talking to you if it weren’t for him.”
“Then I’ll be very glad to meet him and shake his hand,” Samuel said. “Now, what can I do to help?”
“We were just talking about that. We should really leave Colorado before GenHance or the law catches up with us.” She gave him a brief explanation of what had happened without going into the stranger details about Frenchman’s Pass or the werewolves who had helped free them from their kidnappers. “I don’t know if we have enough money for plane tickets,” she added. “Could you wire us some funds?”

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