WarriorsandLovers (18 page)

The bullet went wide and Elijah ducked, pulled out his knife
and came up ready to fight. Something hot sizzled past his ear and slammed into
David’s chest. He exploded into white-hot flames. The ferocity of the blast
should have scorched everyone standing in the space, but the heat seemed
contained to the burning figure of the man. After a fraction of a second, the
light vanished. All that remained was a tiny pile of dry ash.

“Fuck,” Lije gasped. “What is in those things? How do they
burn like that?”

Eora shrugged, dusting her hands together to dislodge a few
grains of powder. “I use ’em. I don’t make ‘em.” She turned to look at Nieko.
“Do you know?”

“No, and I don’t care. How many of these bastards do you
think we’re likely to run into?”

“I only ever saw Hopewood.” He swallowed the rush of bile as
he nodded toward the ashes. “And David.”

A uniformed security guard rounded the corner behind Eora,
knocking her down with one hard punch, stamping hard on her throat while
reaching for the gun holstered at his side.

Elijah took a flying dive forward, striking the man
mid-chest. The thick-bladed knife slid in. The guard crumpled, landing
partially sprawled across Eora. He was dead before he hit the floor.

Eora scrambled out from beneath him, her hand to her throat,
coughing a little. She spared one glance for the man and turned away. For
someone who had been afraid of an elevator less than twenty-four hours before,
she took a dead man bleeding all over her with cool control.

She had only taken a step forward when two more men came
running into the foyer from opposite directions. Nieko launched himself into
the air, his hand moving in a blur as he first hurled one fireball then spun
one hundred and eighty degrees and threw another. Both struck their targets.
Again the space blazed with white magnesium glare.

Nieko stood with his hands on his hips, legs spread at
shoulder width. “I can’t hear any more coming.”

Elijah said, “Doesn’t mean there aren’t any.” He wiped the
bloody knife on the leg of his pants. “Keep an eye out. We’ll go straight to
Hopewood’s apartment.”

“What kind of reception should we expect?” The flat quality
of Eora’s tone revealed no fear, just a need for information.

Whoever trained these Dvalinn had done the job well. Their
efficiency left him awestruck.

“He’ll probably have weapons with him. We need to be
careful. But he’s old and infirm,” Elijah replied.

“Don’t waste your pity on him,” Eora said. “I don’t care how
old and frail he is, he’s a monster. He deserves to die.”

“And you’re the executioner,” Elijah said. He’d known it, of
course. It was what they were there for after all, but he hadn’t considered the
implications of killing someone in cold blood. Stabbing the security guard had left
him feeling sick. Watching the others burn…he couldn’t describe the horror.

His reaction must have shown on his face because Nieko
snapped, “He used you to try to wipe out an entire race of people. By himself
he killed thousands of our people. Mothers. Fathers. Children. Hopewood set
himself up as judge and executioner. He won’t stop while he lives.”

Elijah took a deep breath and acknowledged the truth of what
Nieko said. Hopewood was evil and this was justice. “Let’s do it,” he said.

He led them up the stairs, senses alert, ready to defend
himself against anyone who might be waiting, but they reached the door of
Hopewood’s apartment without incident.

Once again, Elijah did his trick with the lock and eased the
door open.

He hadn’t been in Hopewood’s personal area when he’d been there
training, but at first glance the layout of the room looked simple enough.

Hopewood had Spartan tastes. The room they were in combined
a living area with a basic kitchen—nothing more than a cooker, a sink and a
couple of cupboards.

Leading off this room was a single closed door. Beyond it
had to be Hopewood’s sleeping quarters. The layout of the warehouse meant there
couldn’t be more than this main room, a bedroom and, Elijah supposed, a miniscule
bathroom.

He signaled to the other two. They moved silently across the
floor and took up positions beside the door. Elijah considered kicking it in
with the dramatic flourish seen on television cop shows, but that would only
serve to warn Hopewood, and stupidity would be rewarded with death.

Instead he turned the door handle and pushed gently, hoping
there’d be no betraying squeal of hinges. The door opened as silently as the
grave. A small shudder raced down Elijah’s spine. Not the image he should be having
at this moment.

He walked in, Nieko and Eora close behind him. When he got
to the bed he stepped aside. This was for the Dvalinn to do. It was their
people Hopewood had murdered. Vengeance belonged to them by moral right.

He waited. No one spoke.

Then Nieko bent down and shook Hopewood awake.

“What are you doing?” Elijah gasped.

Hopewood opened his eyes and looked blearily up at them. He
didn’t start up or seem surprised. “Mr. Denton, your unwelcome presence
suggests you failed the simple task I set,” he said. “Not only are you alive,
but the presence of these two vermin indicates the Dvalinn, too, still live.
How disappointing.”

“We are here to carry out justice,” Eora said.

“Justice for what? There has been no crime,” Hopewood said.
“The Dvalinn are a pestilence. I do humanity a service”

“You’re wrong,” Elijah shouted. “You lied to me! The Dvalinn
are good people. Honorable. Better than you.”

“You would say that, wouldn’t you?’ Hopewood replied. “After
all, you’re half-Dvalinn yourself.”

“You knew?” The words escaped Elijah in a soft whisper.

“Of course I knew. That’s why I targeted you. Only someone
of Dvalinn descent would be able to teleport. I’ve been searching for years.
Ever since the last incompetents sent to destroy me failed.” He pushed himself
up against the headboard of the bed. “My search engines picked up the news
stories about you. Once I researched your background and accessed your birth
records, I knew I’d found what I’d been looking for. I suspected your nameless
father was a rogue Dvalinn, spending time on the surface, violating our women.
Your mother must have discovered she had been seduced and impregnated by a nonhuman.
How else can you explain the revulsion she so clearly felt for you?”

“And yet you promised to make me rich. Trained me to achieve
your goal.”

“Oh, Mr. Denton. You can’t be that naive. Surely you realize
by now that I never had any intention of letting you live to collect that
money. You must admit I would have fulfilled my other promise. Had you died as
you were supposed to, you would no longer have had the powers you found so
troublesome.”

“Why didn’t you kill this shit while he slept?” Elijah
snarled. “Do it now.”

“He has a right to hear the sentence pronounced against
him,” Nieko said. He turned to Hopewood. “In the name of the men and women and
children you murdered, with the authority of the Dvalinn council, I condemn you
to death.” He took a step forward.

“If I’m going to die, I want do it on my feet,” Hopewood
said. “Not cowering in my bed.”

“You didn’t accord our people the same privilege,” Nieko
replied. “But the Dvalinn are more compassionate than you have ever been. Get
up.”

Hopewood pushed himself out of bed. He stood there unsteadily,
his skinny legs and knobby knees looking pathetic. He was a murderer, Elijah
reminded himself. No matter how weak he looked now, he had committed vile acts
and had intended to use Elijah to commit more.

Hopewood suddenly swayed and collapsed to the floor. Before
any of the onlookers had time to catch him, he rolled. Elijah felt a sharp
sting in his chest. He looked down to where a patch of red flowered on his
shirt. A wave of pain hit him and the world went black.

Nieko felt Elijah’s pain with the force of a rockfall, then
nothing. Hopewood had shot him! They should have burned the monster from
existence while he slept.

With a roar, Nieko reached for the fireball in his pocket.
His fingers closed around it and he began to squeeze. But for the first time
the powder did not yield to the pressure. He fought desperately to initiate the
chemical reaction but his hands refused to obey. They formed hollow claws,
fingertip to fingertip. The fireball, safe and inert, dropped and rolled away.

His muscles contracted. He swayed, unable to balance, his
whole body racked with searing agony. He tried to take a step and his legs
collapsed beneath him. He fell and lay contorted and motionless.

The pain felt as if he were being ripped apart, fiber by fiber.
From the corner of his eye he saw Eora on her back on the floor, her hips
arched up in a grotesque parody of sexual pleasure, her mouth twisted, her eyes
wide.

“Denton is dead—now it’s your turn.” Hopewood’s dry, rasping
voice seemed to come from miles away. “Did you imagine I would let myself be
beaten by such disgusting creatures?”

Hopewood’s bare feet shuffled into view. The man stood over
him and lifted his hands to show Nieko the two objects he held. “I always have
a gun and a portable radiation generator clipped to the side of the bed. You
creatures are so unintelligent. You didn’t even attempt to search for weapons.
It will be a pleasure to rid the world of you.”

He bent down and emptied Nieko’s pockets of the last of the
fireballs, tossing them aside. “You won’t be able to use these, but unlike you
foul creatures, I don’t take foolish risks.”

A feral grimace stretched across his lined face. He turned a
knob on the little black box in his hand. “I’m backing off the power a little.
Not enough to present any risk to me, but I want to hear your screams. I
do
hope you enjoy your pain as much as I will.”

The clamp gripping Nieko’s muscles eased. He found he could
flex his jaw, move his lips and tongue. Pain ripped at him but he refused to
make a sound. No matter what happened he would not give this bastard the
satisfaction.

Eora whimpered. Hopewood moved nearer to her. “Did you say
something, my dear? If they were last words, you really should have tried for
something more articulate and more profound. No one is going to want to record
a mere whimper for posterity.” He laughed, a cruel huff of a sound. “Silly me.
There isn’t going to be a Dvalinn left to record anything.”

Eora pursed her lips and spat. The wet droplets landed in an
ineffectual blob on his bare toes.

“You filthy cow!” Hopewood screamed. He lashed out, kicking
Eora in the temple, snapping her neck sideways. Her eyes closed and she lay
motionless.

“Bitch. That hurt.” Hopewood wiped his foot on her shirt. “I
hope you’re not dead. I want you to feel much more pain. Wake up!” He
straightened and looked at Nieko. “While I’m waiting, I can have fun with this
one.” He moved from one foot to the other. “After I’ve been to the bathroom.”
His lip curled. “It’s not that I object to pissing on you, scum, but I wouldn’t
want to run the risk of damaging my valuable electrical equipment. I’d happily
shit on your grave if you had one.”

He disappeared into the next room.

Across the room, Nieko heard Eora moan. Her eyes stayed
closed and she didn’t move.
Couldn’t
move. Hopewood’s sadistic machine
held his beautiful, feisty Eora locked in place, suffering unimaginable torture
with no way of escape except into the oblivion of death.

Nieko’s hands clawed and curled. Hatred rose like an acid
fountain, so strong for a moment that he failed to understand what was
happening. He could
move
. The field Hopewood had generated with the
battery-powered device wasn’t strong enough to hold him. If he could move his
hands, he could stand. If he could stand, he could kill Hopewood. He flexed his
biceps. The movement felt like shards of glass slicing him but he ignored the
pain.

He didn’t know how long he had. If he could reach Eora he
might be able to use her fireballs, but she was across the room in the opposite
direction to Hopewood’s bathroom. By the time Nieko got to her, found the
chemicals, worked out whether he had sufficient power in his hands to compress
them and enough control of his muscles to aim the projectiles accurately, it
would be too late.

He slumped back, then lifted his head to look around. There
had to be something he could do. He refused to die without a fight.

Metal glittered on the floor next to Elijah. The knife!
Human weapons weakened the Dvalinn to the point of death but the knife still
clutched in Elijah’s hand was the one hope he had left. He was going to die
anyway. He would take Hopewood with him and save Eora.

He tried to push up to his feet but he didn’t have the
strength, so he crawled the short distance to where Elijah’s body lay sprawled
facedown in a pool of blood.

Tears and sweat ran down his face but he ignored them. If
there was an afterlife he would meet Elijah there. But not until he had avenged
his death. Not until he had saved Eora.

It took him two goes to pull the knife from Elijah’s grasp.
When he finally wrenched it free and closed his hand around the haft, a wave of
weakness hit him. The weapon clattered to the floor. Nieko swung his gaze to
the bathroom door but it remained shut.

He rolled to a sitting position, using his booted feet to
maneuver the knife. With his hands behind him to help with propulsion, he
scooted on his bottom to the door of the bathroom, kicking the knife along in
front of him. He propped himself against the wall and twisted around and pulled
the knife up against his chest. He wrapped his hands around it. A gray mist
swam in front of his eyes, seeping into his brain, eating at his consciousness,
destroying his sense of who and what he was.

With every ounce of strength he had, he fought his way
through the smothering cloud and waited until he heard the sound of the lock
turning.