Soul Resurrected (Sons of Wrath, #2) (14 page)

For what?

She whimpered at the chasing burn of its probing across the back of her head.

With a thrust of its hand, it released her, and leaving her to swing, it walked off—until it finally disappeared from view.

Calla held back her breaths as she listened for footsteps, anything that might tell her of the hunter’s return.

Nothing.

Wriggling, she turned her head toward Zeke. “Zeke,” she rasped. “Zeke, wake up!” She flexed her muscles against the bindings, wriggling just enough to get her body swinging again. Back and forth she glided through the air, until she struck Zeke’s side. “Zeke!”

Still, the demon didn’t move.

“Wake up! Zeke! Please!” Her voice slowly came back, getting louder. “Zeke!” Her body slowed until she finally stopped swinging.

He spasmed and jerked, drew in a gasp of air, and his eyes flipped open.

Thank goodness.
Even if this thing killed them both, at least she wouldn’t feel as alone and vulnerable as she did a moment ago. “Zeke, are you all right?”

“Do I
look
all right to you?” He turned to face her. “Where is it?”

“It left about a minute ago. I’m so scared right now.”

Zeke arms had also been bound at his side. “You’re going to be all right, Calla. Just stay calm, okay?” He glanced up at himself. “Do you see the dagger at my hip?”

Strapped inside its holster, the blade’s hilt glinted at her. “Yes.”

“Can you move your hands?” he asked, his calm voice a lifeline to her panic, as if whatever plan he had in his head was fail-proof.

“Yes,” she said again.

“I’m going to swing toward you.”

“Zeke …” The pressure in her head almost gave a nasally tone to her voice. “What if I drop it?”

“Don’t.”

Goddamn, if he was relying on her to save their lives they might as well wait for the bounty hunter to do the honors. She’d seen movies where victims pulled the same move off flawlessly—ridiculous scenarios that even the moviegoers were reluctant to believe.

And there Calla hung, living it, as she stretched her fingers out and curled them tight, as ready as she could.

Zeke shifted his body, just as she had before. Each time he got closer, her eyes fixed on the dagger at his hip, her heart pounded faster. Her fingers stretched out as the hilt of the dagger taunted.

Closer.

Impatience settled over her.

Closer.

Zeke’s breath brushed her neck as he got nearer and nearer with each swing.

“Zeke.”— Her voice broke with the pressure of wanting to cry. “I can’t get a good handle on it.”

He stopped swinging, though his body still swayed back and forth. “Calla, I’m going to try something. Please don’t hate me for this.”

How could she possibly hate him? Zeke remained the one and only reason she hadn’t broken into hysterics.

He jerked as before, swinging fast. Closer and closer until … pain pierced her shoulder.

Calla bit back the urge to scream.

Fangs lodged into her flesh, Zeke tugged to inch closer. The burn of tearing skin slid along her shoulder, her leather jacket the only buffer from him taking a chunk out of her arm.

As he bit down harder still, her trembling hand reached, straining against the binds until a cramp formed in her fingertips. She wanted to cry out. Instead, she gripped hold of the dagger, fighting the stiffness that begged her to drop it, with her fingers so stretched, they hardly curled at her command.

Zeke’s fangs dislodged and he fell away from her. “Sorry, babe. I know that hurt like fuck.” He finally stopped swinging beside her. “That’s not earthly steel. Be careful. It will cut through just about anything like butter.”

Her quivering hands had begun to numb as she carefully turned the dagger in her fingers until the blade faced down. Guiding its sharp edge along the rope, she set to work on the steel binding her arms at her side.

A scorching sensation zipped along her scar as the blade sliced into her wrist damn near to the bone.

The chain snapped, the pressure causing her to drop the dagger. “Oh, shit! Shit!”

Zeke exhaled a sharp breath and hissed.

Her arms had been set free, though. She clenched her stomach muscles and, with a shaky body, forced herself to reach for the bolas. With every ounce of strength being an Alexi afforded her, she shook while tugging to separate the metal spheres. “I can’t get them apart!”

“And you won’t. But I can. Reach for me, Calla.”

She leaned back, hanging upside down once more, and did as Zeke instructed, swinging until she gripped tight to the chain wrapped around his body. Her fingers slid beneath the links and she pulled as hard as she could, blanking the bite of the chain against her palm.

Zeke twisted, bending his arm until it broke free. “Hang on to me, okay?”

A ghostly sensation crawled across her skin, leaving goose bumps in its wake, and she tilted her head back.

Across an acre of abandoned ruins, the hunter stood inside a doorway.

“Zeke,” she whispered. “He’s back.”

* * *

“You didn’t see anything tonight?” Gavin asked, standing outside the Bentley as Kane and Ayden approached.

Back in his human form and dressed in fresh clothes, Kane shook his head. “Nothing.”

Gavin rubbed his hands through his hair. “We came across an interesting find tonight.” He scratched the back of his head. “Juvenile.”

“Wolf?” Ayden frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Human form. Silver eyes. Pretty sure.”

“Where?”

“We were attacked. The kid got away.”

“I thought they
ate
the kids they turned.”

Kane flinched beside her.

“Wonder how he managed to get away.” She shook her head and froze, her eyes scanning. “Where’s Zeke and Calla?”

“You guys didn’t come across the two of them?”

“No. They went across the field last we saw them.”

Calix placed his hands on his hips. “You don’t … think Zeke tried to get a piece of ass, do you?” He swiped at his nose. “I mean, you know, a virgin for Zeke is like finding a golden ticket in your Wonka bar. Any visions of Calla having sex lately?” He snickered.

Gavin shot him a glare. “No. I haven’t.” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed Zeke’s number. No answer.

“We need to spread out and find them.” Ayden sniffed. “I doubt she’d let Zeke touch her.” As all eyes focused on Ayden, she shrugged. “I think she kinda has a thing for Logan.”

“What?” Calix frowned. “Girl’s got some serious daddy issues to pine for that fucker.”

“I got a signal on Zeke’s cell phone number,” Gavin said, opening the driver’s door of the Bentley. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Logan paced his room.

He had a bad feeling. Real bad. All these different sensations he’d experienced in the last two hours could only mean that something had gone down on the hunt.

He sat on the edge of the bed, clutching his skull.

Can’t take this shit.

Insanity would consume him if he stayed in the house much longer. Ben had been programmed not to let him out. If he so much as tried, he’d have the dogs, the ghouls, and every other supe within a twenty-mile radius after his ass.

“Fuck it. I’m out of here.” He rose from the bed, strode across the room to his bedroom door, and flung it open.

Ben stood on the other side, arms crossed over his chest. “I wouldn’t, Master.”

Logan’s eye twitched. “Tell me something, Ben. How the hell can you call me
Master
while standing in my way? Ain’t that kind of an oxymoron?”

He slammed the door in the troll’s face and spun away.

Spotting the cat perched on the windowsill again, Logan charged it, prepared to throw the bastard across the room—until it leaped off, ran right through his legs and slipped under the bed.

Logan dropped to his knees, swiping for its tail.

No joy.

To be sure, he patted around the floor under the bed, but his fingers brushed only the leather box he stored there.

“Where the hell …?”

* * *

As she watched Zeke work quickly with one hand, Calla’s pulse raced, heart thrumming in her chest. Had she breathed any harder, she’d have probably passed out.

The hunter tromped toward them, the chains and weapons at his hips beating a warning of his proximity.

Tightness at her ankles suddenly loosened and the bolas fell like cannonballs at the same time that the gravelly bed of the building slammed into Calla’s wounds on her back.

Free.

She nabbed the dagger up off the ground to cut Zeke’s bindings.

“
No
!” he ordered. “Calla, listen to me. You don’t have time. Tell my brothers … tell them I love them, okay?” He talked so fast, Calla had to strain to catch the words. “All of them. Tell Zayne I’m sorry. He’ll know what you mean.”

“No.” She shook her head and reached for his binds. “I’m not leaving you.” Adrenaline flooded her veins, preparing her to fight off the hunter if she had to. “I’m not. Leaving you.” She popped the chains free, loosening Zeke’s arms.

“Go! He must think I’m Calix. This will end tonight.” He reached inside his pocket and shoved something inside of hers. “Don’t stop until you find the others.”

“I’ll fight him while you get yourself free! Do it! Now!”

“Calla, please. Gods, just go! A human can’t fight him off!”

Her chest seized; her breath caught. What to do? Each second brought the hunter one step closer.

“I’ll tell them where to find you. We’ll come back for you.” Calla wanted to free him, would’ve stayed by him, but if Zeke was right, they’d both die. He stood a much better chance of surviving if she left to get help.

With the hunter only a few yards away from both of them, she hobbled through the building in the opposite direction, ignoring the ache in her ankle as she scaled beams and rotted wood.

A growl climbed her spine and turned her muscles to mush. The thing sounded pissed. Real pissed.

A daring glance back revealed Zeke reaching for it, grabbing the hunter by its neck. With the hunter’s approach stalled, she hustled to climb through the debris.

Stumbling, she fell outside into the snow and scrambled to her feet before running through the field with no idea where she was headed.

Somewhere in the thick of Detroit.

She kept limping along.

Maybe the old prison?

A roar hit the night sky and echoed in her ear. Zeke’s.

No, no, no.

It took all of her inner strength to keep moving forward instead of tearing back in there, and the world spun around her as she trudged through snow and tall reeds of grass.

She must’ve walked two miles along the old train tracks, every emotion beating through her in the silence—fear, panic, sadness, anger, hopelessness–when headlights approached. She jogged forward to flag the car down but it pulled off the road in front of her. With relief weakening her knees, she ran straight for the Land Rover, as Ayden and Kane hopped out and Gavin’s Bentley pulled up behind.

“Go!” Calla screamed, running straight toward them. “We have to go back for Zeke!” She shoved against Ayden, urging her back into the vehicle as the Bentley doors opened and slammed closed.

“Where? Where is he, Calla?”

Damn near tackling Ayden, Calla pushed at her to get back inside the vehicle. “The old prison, I think. C’mon, we don’t have time!”

“Calla, you’re covered in blood,” Gavin said, reaching her. “Ayden, you and Kane take her home in the Bentley.”

“No!” Calla snapped. “You’re going to need all the help you can get. A bounty hunter has him.”

When Gavin’s eyebrows winged up, a sadness consuming the calm confidence from just a moment ago, Calla’s heart sank even farther.

“No, no, no. Oh, fuck no.” Calix walked away. “This is all my fault. He was after Logan and me. Oh, Jesus.”

“Let’s go.” Gavin’s voice remained level and commanding in spite of his expression. “Kane? You cool?”

Kane nodded.

“Good. Calla’s right. We’ll need all the help we can get. These sons uh bitches never go down easy.”

* * *

Sat in the passenger seat beside Ayden, Calla tucked her head into her knees. “How did you find me?” Her muffled voice beat against her skull.

“Gavin traced Zeke’s cell phone.”

Calla lifted her head. “What?” A brief memory of Zeke stuffing something in her pocket came to mind. She’d been so distraught that she’d completely forgotten about it. Zeke’s small black cell phone lay in her palm when she pulled her hand from her pocket. “Oh, no,” she whispered, clutching her hair with her other hand.