Soul Resurrected (Sons of Wrath, #2) (15 page)

“What is it, Calla? What’s wrong?”

“He planned to let the bounty hunter take him. In exchange for Calix. He … asked me to tell his brothers that he loved them. And to tell Zayne he was sorry.”

Ayden’s head jerked back to the road, her mouth tightened, brows furrowed.

“I should’ve stayed to help him. He stalled the hunter so I could escape. Oh, God, what if he …?”

“It’s okay, Calla. They’ll bring him back.”

Calla reached for her head; a dry crust and the jagged edges of a healing wound on her scalp passed beneath her fingertips. “We’ve been trained for so long not to fear anything. Ayden, I was really scared. I saw that thing throw Zeke around like he was nothing.” She sat up a little in her seat, and the city zipped by in a blur as she shook her head. “I felt so weak.”

“You’re not weak, Calla.” The bite in Ayden’s voice carried the firmness of an Alexi soldier. “Gavin summoned one of those things last week when a Saevious demon had gotten into Sanctuary. I couldn’t believe the size of it. The way it moved. Creepiest shit I’d ever seen.”

“I can’t imagine you being creeped out by anything.”

“I have a keen sense to know when I’m outmuscled.”

Calla stared through the window for a moment as a stretch of boarded-up, seedy-looking buildings whizzed by. “Know what’s weird?” she asked, twisting back to Ayden. “It had the chance to kill me. It looked me right in the eye as I was hanging. And it didn’t. It looked me over and left.”

“It left you?”

“I don’t know why. Came back, though, when Zeke set me free. God, I hope Zeke’s okay.” Calla went back to clutching her skull. “All this time, I thought of him as kind of an asshole, and really, he’s one of the good guys.”

“Zeke likes to talk shit. Always has your back, though.”

Ayden’s words spurred tears that Calla blinked away. “Yeah.”

They finally reached the mansion, and once Ayden had parked the Bentley in the circle drive, Calla twisted to step out of the passenger door.

“Calla … your back,” Ayden said from the driver’s seat.

Calla hadn’t even thought about what her back looked like, but knowing she’d been dragged across rebar, wooden planks, and everything else that littered the building, she could only imagine it to be a mutilated mess. “I’m fine,” she said over her shoulder. “It all heals, right?”

She made her way up the stairs with Ayden following behind, met at the door by Ben, as usual, his eyes quizzical.

“They’ll be back soon, Ben.” Ayden patted him on the shoulder, perhaps sensing that the troll seemed on edge.

Anna came around the corner drying her hands on her apron, but halted, eyes wide. “Oh, heavens, Calla, you look a mess!” She quickly shuffled over and hooked an arm in Calla’s, guiding her toward the staircase. “I’ll draw you a bath and fetch you some clothes.”

Logan stood at the top of the staircase, his presence stopping Calla before she’d even taken the first step. Unlike Ben’s simple curiosity, Logan’s eyes held a more demanding expression. “Where is everyone?”

“Logan …” Ayden’s voice carried a calmness, like she’d been thrown into a cave with a lion and hoped not to set him off. “Zeke and Calla were attacked. By a bounty hunter.” Ayden cast her eyes downward, perhaps knowing what was coming.

“I knew it! I fucking knew it!” He paced the upper hall. “So, where are they? Did they take him down?”

Ayden took a deep breath and lifted her gaze in his direction once again. “It has Zeke. It took Calla, too, but she got away. The others are looking for him now.”

The gritted-teeth
you’re fucking dead
glare he aimed at Calla had her stomach muscles tightening, before Logan cradled his face and shook his head. “No. No, no no. I should’ve never listened to him. I should’ve fucking left.” He tromped down the stairs. “I’m leaving now.”

As he stopped in front of Calla, dryness crept into her throat and blood hammered in her veins. Had his piercing stare been loaded with bullets, she’d have been a dead woman.

“You.” A million accusations screamed out from his expression, his jutted jaw, the glower in his eyes. “I should’ve been there tonight. Not you. Zeke and I could have taken him down.”

Cold spikes of rage shot through her insides, twitching her already shaky muscles, and a flash of gold flickered through her eyes. “Zeke told me to leave. I would’ve stayed by him.”

“I’d have told your ass to leave, too.” His brown eyes made a head-to-toe sweep of her. “Probably annoyed the shit out of him. Picked the lesser torture.”

“Logan!” Ayden barked. “Give her a break. This isn’t her fault.”

Calla’s chest tightened, her brain sending distress signals to react. So badly, she wanted to clock his jaw, but all she’d get out of that, aside from one really pissed-off demon, was a mangled hand.

“No, you’re right. It’s yours, Ayden.” He marched to stand in front of her. “You should’ve fucking left her to the wolves that night at the party.”

“Master, please!” Anna’s grip tightened on Calla’s hand, but Calla broke free as a lack of air struck her dizzy like her windpipe had been severed.

Knowing that listening to anymore would have her doing something she’d surely regret, she wrenched herself from Anna’s grasp and stomped up the stairs.

* * *

As Blondie’s hair whipped behind the bloody mess of her back on her climb of the stairs, Logan couldn’t deny the satisfaction of knowing he’d probably hurt her.

“You’re an asshole, you know that?” Ayden placed her hand on her hip. “You know damn well she couldn’t have taken on that bounty hunter. Neither could you.”

“You don’t fucking know me very well, Ayden. I suggest you shut up while you’re ahead.”

“Quit the shit, Logan. For real. Why do you have to be such a dick to women?” She shook her head. “All she’s done is tiptoe around you! And let’s not forget, it was
you
who ruffled Ryke’s wings enough for him to sic the hunter.”

Logan growled and lurched forward. “Where is he?”

“I’m not telling you. You
died
last night, in case you’ve forgotten already. I don’t think your brothers want to live through that again.”

“They’re
going
to live through it again.” Logan pointed toward the door. “You think that hunter is going to let Zeke just walk away?”

“They’ll find him.”

“They won’t find him. Bounty hunters of the other realm aren’t flashy, fucking, longhaired blonds, named after mutts and looking to get famous. Finding a fugitive for them is like finding a new toy. They hide them away and torture them for the goddamn thrill of it.”

“Sounds like you.”

“Which is why I need to go find him.” Logan pushed past Ayden and headed toward the door that Ben stood guarding again. “Move. Or I’ll further deform that face of yours, Ben.”

“Master Gavin—”

“I don’t give a fuck what
Master
Gavin said! Move, Ben!” He gave the troll a forceful shove that only kicked him back a step.

Ben gained his stance, straightened his bowtie and cleared his throat. “I’d really hoped I wouldn’t have to do this, Sir. But you leave me no choice.” A darker, more menacing expression claimed his face, like he’d been possessed by the league of badass trolls, and his eyes rolled back to nothing more than white orbs.

Foreign words drifted into Logan’s mind, rendering him weakened and slack-jawed. His heavy body teetered on muscles that shook with warmth. A drunkard bastard probably had more balance than he did at that moment. “What … did … Ben … why …”

The foyer did a tilt-a-whirl on him.

Fuck!

CHAPTER 12

Blackness had seeped into Zeke’s mind like a plague.

His legs—numb.

His arms—numb.

Only the sound of harsh gurgles and a dull ache in his chest let him know he still breathed–though even that had begun to wane.

The last vision he’d had felt like hours ago, as he’d still hung from the rafters, arms bound once more to his sides, watching the hunter drag a gut hook across his stomach.

Everything fuzzed out after that, like a TV on the fritz.

Whatever had been done to him since didn’t register as pain, though. Zeke was pretty damn sure if the blackness lifted, the bone-penetrating agony would leave him pretty frickin’ close to skipping through the fields of absolute death.

Bounty hunters had gifts.

The kind of gifts that would make serial killers follow them around like wide-eyed rats through the streets.

Gifts that could leave a bastard one breath away from death’s mercy, only to thrust him back into the hell of his reality.

Momentary numbness simply meant that Zeke had been blessed with a piss break of relief, before the nightmares would settle into his brain once more.

Something solid smacked against Zeke’s nose, and pressure to his stomach stole the last bit of breath from his battered lungs.

As his body bounced, the crinkle of plastic rattled in his ears.

He listened past it.

Gavin’s voice called out to him—deep, commanding, smothered in the
I’m-motherfuckin-ready-to-crush-skulls
anger that Zeke had only heard on rare occasions.

Dreaming?
Probably. Yet, Zeke still opened his mouth to answer.

Not a single word came out.

* * *

Draven muttered a curse as he led the group through the backs of buildings and across yards, like shadows through the night along Jefferson Avenue, to the chorus of barking dogs.

They’d picked up a few more soldiers along the way. At least a dozen Alexi scrounged up from camps across the city—though not as many as Draven had hoped.

None he’d come across possessed the Lywa antibody or Wade’s journal.

Who the hell would’ve taken it?

Only a power-hungry Alexi came to mind, as he trudged toward the old Boblo Dock, where Deuce said one of them had fled, spewing nonsense. He’d quite possibly been tripping out on something that would’ve likely been purchased with Lywa, considering the Alexi had no money.

The ladder to power on the streets could be scaled by two means: weapons and drugs. A smart soldier would’ve secured one of them on the first night. Ryke would provide both for Draven.

Each Alexi cleared the fence and came to a halt beside Draven, as his gaze trailed upward to the ten stories high building that stood creepy against the night sky. Glass had been busted out of windows; a spattering of graffiti patterned the walls.

None of that bothered Draven so much as the quiet.

Only the clang of metal reached his ears as pulses of waves beat against the dock. The river had been beautiful once, along with the old dock. Like every other abandoned Detroit building it stood dormant, breathing phantoms of life long forgotten.

Probably cold as a motherfucker, too.

A rough opening in a sheet particleboard served as a portal into the building for each Alexi to slip inside. The soldiers tiptoed through the building on alert, as they’d been trained, those with weapons braced for drawing. Draven led them through the wreckage, his eyes scanning the blackness as he stepped over shadowed rebar and concrete.

“You sure it was here?” he murmured over his shoulder.

“Yeah. Zack said they camped out here.” Deuce’s boots scraped the ground as he traipsed behind.

“Pick up your feet, man, you’re like a fucking dinner bell on my tail.” Draven’s irritation carried thick in his words.

A clatter up ahead seized his steps, and the others halted behind him. Daring a breath, Draven signaled the others to wait and steadied his gun with both hands.

A white, ghostly glow flashed in the distance, and streaks of white zipped past Draven.

Grunts echoed from behind.

Draven spun around.

Screams hit the air and bounced off the ruined walls.

Jaw clenched tight, Draven watched with muscles too stiff to move, as a pale, naked body tore away at the throat of an Alexi and took long sucks. Skinny red channels appeared and disappeared with each pull from the soldier’s vein.

Breaking from his stupor, Draven aimed the gun and shot the creature in the head. An explosion of red sprayed upward and bits of its skull landed with a thud.

The downed soldier’s body shook and convulsed on the ground, his throat open and exposed, mangled and meaty, spouting blood as he choked.

Draven curled his lip, took a breath, and shot another bullet.

Through heaving breaths, Deuce stared at the body. “What the fuck was that?”

“I don’t know. But I think we just found out what happened to the other Alexi. Did anyone happen to arm themselves after leaving the compound?”

“No, aside from a couple Glocks. We didn’t know what Ayden or those demons had planned for us. Everyone scattered.” There was a shaky quality to Deuce’s voice that grated on Draven.