Shadow's Awakening: The Shadow Warder Series, Book One (An Urban Fantasy Romance Series) (34 page)

Standing in the garage level of the service elevator, Alexa cocked her head in confusion. The labeled buttons covered every floor above her, down to G for the garage level. There was no apparent button to guide the elevator farther down. Alexa examined every inch of the interior of the service elevator, searching for anything she could press, turn or pull that might get the elevator to move. Below the G for garage, was a keyhole, sized for a small key. Maybe that was it. Access to the lower levels was by key. And she didn’t have one. Dead end.

Frustrated and annoyed, Alexa returned to the regular elevator bank and retraced her steps back to her office. She might as well pack it up for the day and write this off as a waste of time and resources. On her way out of the elevator on her floor, Alexa glanced down the hall and froze, a fragment of an idea tickling the back of her mind. Before the idea could fully form, she set off down the opposite hallway, following it to the end. There, hidden behind a U-shaped turn, were the fire stairs. Much like the utility hallway that led to the service elevator, this end of the hall was dimly lit. It contained the mechanicals and cleaning materials for the floor and didn’t need the full-spectrum lighting or plush carpeting of the office area.

The door leading to the fire stairs resisted her at first, giving away how long it had been since this stairwell had been used. Flickering safety lights lit the landings, their weak, reddish circles of light not quite meeting on the flights of stairs. Chandeliers of cobwebs draped the open space above her head, dipping into her path often enough to graze her face. Alexa wiped them away with conscious care, refusing to give in to her urge to bat at the cobwebs with girlish squeals.

Self-preservation demanded she flee the dingy, creepy stairwell. Curiosity pushed her forward. She was too far in to run away just because of a few cobwebs. Alexa descended, flight by flight, determined to see this through. It felt like hours before she reached the garage level. A quick peek through the narrow, grimy window in the fire door showed her gray concrete and rows of parked cars. She could almost see the edge of the elevators from her position on the opposite side of the building.

The area in front of the door was a dead end. Like the elevator, the fire stairs stopped abruptly at the garage level. Angry frustration swelled in Alexa’s chest. She’d used her best spell for this? She’d followed Michael all day and confirmed nothing. A total waste.

Unable to contain her aggravation, she kicked the wall in front of her. To her shock, a metallic clang echoed through the stairwell. In the dim light, the wall blended with the rest of the stairwell, the same dull gray, dingy with dust and cobwebs. Alexa lay a hand against the surface, surprised to find it was smooth and cool. Metal, not painted concrete. Irritation slid away, replaced by a resurgence of curiosity. Tracing her fingers over the flat surface, she searched methodically until she found the edges where metal transitioned into rougher concrete. A door. A door had been hidden in the dark stairwell. There was no label and no obvious handle, so it was unlikely the door was for mechanical repairs or another mundane purpose. Careful searching revealed the thin edge of a loop embedded on the right side, waist high. Wedging her fingernail under the loop, Alexa managed to pull it out an inch. She’d found the handle. Anticipation surged as she folded it all the way out, twisted and pulled on the door.

For a moment, Alexa wasn’t sure she could get the door to open. It resisted, squeaking and groaning for the first foot. Beyond the stairwell gaped dark, empty space. Thinking for a moment, she let the door close and retraced her steps to her office. Ten minutes later, Alexa returned with a small flashlight and an equally small doorstop, stolen from an empty office. She might be curious, but she wasn’t going down those steps without some light and a way to keep the door from closing behind her.

With care, Alexa eased the door open again just enough to slip through. She flicked on the flashlight, glad it wasn’t too bright. She wanted to see where she was going, but she didn’t want to broadcast her presence. The stairs circled deeper into the earth beneath the Citadel. Alexa followed, aware of the red safety lights in the stairwell above growing ever dimmer. Here the cobwebs fell in curtains. If she caught the skitter of anything else moving in the dark, Alexa didn’t think she’d be able to stop herself from turning around and bolting back up the stairs.

Two flights passed without exit doors. The third flight below the garage was the bottom, as far as Alexa could tell. A fire door, like those on the higher floors, was set into the wall opposite the bottom of the stairs. Unlike the other fire doors, the window on this one had been painted over on the other side. Breath held, Alexa carefully turned the handle and pulled back on the heavy door, silently begging it not to squeak.

It did; a tiny chirp of metal on metal. Alexa froze, holding the door open a centimeter. Barely enough to see anything. Feeling suddenly like she’d pushed her luck to the thinnest edge, she eased to the side and pressed her cheek against the cold, dirty cement wall of the stairwell, trying to see through the tiny crack she’d managed to open between the door and the frame. Shock washed her in ice. Whatever she’d expected, it hadn’t been this.

Bright, clean, glaring white light illuminated what could only be a high tech laboratory or clinic. Like the fire doors on floors above, this one opened onto a hallway. It was hard to tell from so close, but it looked like a desk and some boxes had been placed in front of the door, obscuring it from normal view. It seemed the fire stairs were as forgotten on this floor as they were on those above. From her narrow view at the end of the hall, Alexa couldn’t see much. A long white hallway with doors set every ten or fifteen feet. One of the doors appeared to open into a room with a wide, tall window set into the hallway, as if for observation. A few of the others had windows set in the upper half with what looked like wire security mesh in the glass.

Alexa almost released the door in surprise as a man she didn’t recognize exited one of the rooms carrying a tray with a plastic cup and plate piled with food. Alexa caught a whiff of butter and chicken. She managed a glimpse of counters and the handle of a refrigerator before the door swung shut behind him. The man walked quickly, his white lab coat fluttering behind him, until he reached a windowed door halfway down the hall. Pausing in front of the door, he balanced the tray with one hand and used a key connected to his belt to unlock the door. When it was open, he entered the room, disappearing from view. Less than a minute later, he exited the room without the tray. The door closed as he watched, staring at the lock as if confused. His shoulders slumped, at odds with his earlier, purposeful, stance. Finally, he pulled out the key and relocked the door.

Someone was in that room. Someone locked in. Someone who needed to eat. Conner’s Shadow? It was impossible to know. For the first time since she’d cracked the fire door, Alexa became aware of the low level hum of wards running along the wall. It was a good thing she hadn’t been able to get the door open further. Since the door opened into the stairwell, as opposed to opening into the hallway of the secret laboratory, she hadn't broken the wards. If she’d been able to open the door more than an inch, she might have accidentally tripped them. Alexa had no doubt Michael would know the second these wards gave the alarm. Deciding she’d risked enough for one day, Alexa eased the heavy door closed and returned to her office, her brain boiling over with speculation.

Chapter Twenty-One

The wide leather ankle restraint was gratifyingly loose. Hannah tried to keep her foot still, afraid to dislodge it completely and give away her game. Efforts to get Henry to leave the door unlocked had been unsuccessful so far, but she was making headway in getting him to loosen her restraints. Not that she was planning on leaping off the metal examining table and making a run for it with both Henry and Michael in the room, but it seemed like a good idea to practice on Henry when she could. He usually strapped her to the table in her locked room, then rolled her down the hall to an examining room where they ran their tests. She didn’t know how many days they’d had her. A week? Sometimes they drugged her after testing and she lost track of time.

It was cold, always cold in the lab. They’d never given her more than the thin hospital gown, not even a set of scrubs. Hannah guessed she should be grateful she wasn’t naked, as she had been during their first examination. The gown didn’t cover much, especially in the back, but at least it gave her a semblance of modesty.

Henry approached with a syringe, aiming for the crook of her left arm. Yay, more blood tests. By now they must have drawn a gallon of blood to play with.

“Hold still,” Henry said, sticking her with the needle. She winced. He had good aim for her veins, but no finesse. He always jabbed the needle in like her vein was going to run away. Hannah may have had a well-developed fantasy of running from them, but she wasn’t going to do it while Henry had a needle in his hand and she was strapped down.

Yet another vial of blood in hand, Henry turned his back and hunched over a microscope on the other side of the room. From her angle, Hannah couldn’t see what he was doing, just that he was using the blood he’d drawn. Time passed, punctuated by Henry’s mutterings and the click of him moving things on the counter near the syringe and microscope. At one point he gave out an excited yelp, then leaned closer to the microscope. After another few minutes of work, another, smaller yelp escaped. Pausing to send Hannah an exultant glance, he exited the room with a quick step, leaving Hannah alone in the lab.

She spent her unsupervised time trying, unsuccessfully, to free herself from the examining table. Her ankle bonds might have been loose, but her wrists and chest were not. Hannah was careful not to move her feet, in case she couldn’t get her upper body free. Good thing she hadn’t knocked the ankle restraints loose, since she was still stuck on the table when she heard several sets of footsteps echoing down the hallway. Henry led the group into the room, speaking rapidly in the subservient tone he reserved for Michael.

“I ran the test twice after I got the positive, just to make sure. There’s no question about it.”

“How far along is she?” Michael asked, nearing the examining table. A tall, dark-haired man followed at his side, his deep set eyes locked on Hannah. The new arrival gave off an overwhelming crackle of power that vibrated with the humming buzz Hannah had learned to associate with Vorati. If she’d been in any doubt, the deep red aura outlining the man gave him away.

Michael had brought a Voratus into the lab. And this Voratus was the most powerful she’d encountered. Her shields trembled under the force of his discordant energy. Hannah was so focused on holding her shields strong against the shock of the Voratus, she almost missed what they were saying over her head.

“Not very. It looks like Shadow biology is similar to ours. Implantation occurs quickly. The egg was probably only fertilized a few days ago. If she was human, we still wouldn’t know. In gestational terms, she’s about three weeks pregnant.”

“Excellent news,” Michael said, resting a proprietary hand on Hannah’s abdomen. She flinched, her retreat hindered by the chest strap anchoring her to the table. A whimper escaped as a flood of thoughts drowned her brain. She was pregnant. With Conner’s child. And Michael had been hoping she’d be pregnant. Which meant he wanted her child.

His heavy hand on her belly was a dark brand. If that thing with him, the terrifyingly powerful Voratus, tried to touch her, Hannah thought she might just pass out. Her head buzzed, shields wavering under the force of the Voratus combined with the stress of this new knowledge. Mentally scrambling to shore up her defenses, Hannah heard Michael continue.

“I wanted to do the job myself, but it seemed smarter to wait and see if Munro impregnated her once we determined she’d had sex with him. Henry is preparing the spell to secure the pregnancy. Miscarriage is extremely uncommon, but better to be careful.”

Patting her abdomen once more, Michael stepped back from the table to make room for Henry. He stood beside the Voratus, who still hadn’t looked away from Hannah’s prone form. There was no clear expression on his face, but to Hannah the demon gave off a deep sense of satisfaction.

Henry loomed over her, pulling up her hospital gown to expose her midsection. She twisted away, not wanting to be bared to these men. Especially not now. Unable to do more than rock her hips from side to side, Hannah was held in place for Henry to carry out the spell crafting.

The spell itself appeared simple. Henry sprinkled a golden powder over her belly, chanting words Hannah couldn’t quite make out. As the grains of powder hit her skin, they disappeared, absorbed by her body. Comforting warmth spread over and into her everywhere the grains of powder fell, as if Henry was dusting her with hugs and hot cocoa. The sensation was so incongruous in the clinical setting that Hannah squeezed her eyes shut in denial. A few endless minutes later, Hannah felt herself being wheeled back to her room. In the distance the Voratus asked Michael about potentials for infection. Michael began to talk about a Warder posted in Georgia and someone named Blake, his voice fading as Henry rolled her farther down the hall.