Mate Bond Page 26

  “It’s might be another gate,” a voice said from the path up to the arena.

  Bowman turned in anger to see Gil, who’d spoken, walking toward them. Pierce, his sword prominent on his back, came behind him. Ryan was walking close to Pierce, looking both scared and curious.

  “What’s the matter?” Bowman asked Pierce, meeting them. “What the hell did you bring Ryan for?”

  Pierce gave him a pained look. “You think I could leave him behind? I tried. He stowed away in the back of Gil’s car.”

  Bowman growled at his son, but he’d have to deal with Ryan later. Pierce wouldn’t have come here in person if he hadn’t discovered something of great importance, too important to trust to a cell phone.

  “Guardians around the country have reported gates opening along the ley lines,” Pierce said, a worried look in his eyes. “They’ve rigged a way to sense them, sort of the way seismographs work for earthquakes. A lot of gates have been popping up around here lately, especially tonight. Something’s going down, but no one knows what.”

  A Fae attack—or an attack from something else that used these pockets Gil talked about—would be just perfect right now. But that was not Bowman’s immediate concern. “Do any of them know how to open the gates? From this side? Or where they lead?”

  Gil answered before Pierce could speak. “You need a talisman. A Fae one. Something permeated with magic.”

  “Like the silver thing we found?” Bowman asked. He pulled it out of his jacket pocket.

  Gil took it and studied it. “Doesn’t have that magic tingle, but who knows? Worth a shot.”

  “Hold up,” Cade said, inserting his bulk between Gil and Bowman. “If you’re telling Bowman to hang on to that silver thingee and march into the mists, on your say-so, think again. We don’t exactly trust you.”

  He glared down at Gil, and Gil actually looked intimidated. But then, Cade was huge, his buzzed hair emphasizing his hard face, his tatts black on his arms in the dim light, his brown eyes blazing in anger. Picking a fight with a grizzly Shifter in the middle of the woods wasn’t the best idea Gil could have.

  “You want me to try it?” Gil asked. “I’ll probably die if I get through, but hey, you’ll know it worked.”

  Cristian reached for the silver talisman, careful not to close his fingers around it until Bowman released it. He held it up, letting it wink in the dawn light. “It is unmistakably Fae, but perhaps not magic. An ordinary pendant, I would have thought. The most interesting thing about it is the place in which you found it.”

  “Not far from here,” Bowman reminded him, impatient.

  “Exactly. Why should a Fae brooch fall in the woods near Shiftertown? With no sign of any Fae attached to it?”

  “I told you, it’s magical,” Bowman said. “I think Turner used it to pay off the sniper, but it wanted to stay around here, close to something Fae, like one of the gates.”

  Cristian slanted him a glance, opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again. He tried to hand Bowman back the pendant, but Bowman shook his head.

  “Keep it,” Bowman said. “You’re better at figuring out Fae crap than I am. If it has anything to do with Kenzie, tell me. If not, I’m not interested.”

  Cristian raised his brows, but nodded and slid the talisman into a pocket.

  “Dad,” Ryan said, so sharply that Bowman jerked his attention to him. “Is that him?”

  Bowman spun to where Ryan was pointing. The Shifters around him came alert, and Bowman moved in front of Ryan.

  The mists cleared, and Turner stepped out of them.

  Jamie shifted and went for him. The cheetah sprang fast and hard, with Cade, still human, just behind him. Doing their jobs, fighting to protect Bowman and bring down an enemy.

  Something buzzed in Turner’s hand, and Jamie’s Collar went off in mid-leap. Lighting licked all the way around his neck, surrounding him in a blue nimbus. Jamie tumbled swiftly downward, his mouth open in a furious snarl, and landed hard on the dirt.

  Cade moved into the opening Jamie left, growling as he reached for Turner, but another buzz, and his growl turned to a shout of pain. The big man went to his knees, arcs of electricity snapping into his human skin.

  The others were already moving forward, Pierce’s sword ringing as he drew it. The primary purpose of the Sword of the Guardian was to release souls to the Summerland, but on any other day it was simply a damn sharp weapon. The runes on the blade gleamed in the gray light, as though they wanted to join the fight.

  Turner shot a look at the sword, the only thing that seemed to frighten him. He showed no fear of the attacking Shifters.

  Bowman decided to change that. He charged him, not bothering to shift, and grabbed Turner by the lapels of his padded jacket. Bowman jerked him from his feet. “What the fuck have you done with my mate?”

  Turner’s eyes were icy behind his glasses, with absolutely no feeling in them at all. Bowman had never seen anything like it. Though Cristian could be cool and calculating, the man had fire inside him. Turner had nothing.

  Bowman’s Collar went off. Turner jabbed something into the top of Bowman’s thigh—a knife? A Taser? Whatever it was, it hurt like hell, and Bowman’s skin crackled with the shocks from his Collar.

  He transferred his hold to Turner’s throat, no longer interested in keeping him alive. He let his claws come to cut into Turner’s flesh, but felt his own body weakening as the Collar kept up its punishment. Blood ran hot against Bowman’s leg, and he heard something crack.

  The Sword of the Guardian swooshed past Bowman’s head. Turner’s eyes widened, and he shoved Bowman away as the blade came down.

  The fire high in Bowman’s thigh left him, though clenching pain remained. He heard Gil’s shout.

  “Grab the—” He said a strange word Bowman didn’t understand. “Aw, damn it!”

  The mists swirled, and Turner was gone. Bowman fell to his knees, his Collar still sparking.

  “Dad!” Ryan was at Bowman’s side, his small hands reaching for him. Cristian came to him as well, his touch surprisingly gentle as he steadied Bowman.

  The mists thickened. Bowman reached for them but felt only moisture on his hands.

  Kenzie! he called silently, then collapsed into the arms of his son and his archenemy.

  * * *

  “Bowman!” Kenzie leapt to her feet. Brigid lifted her head from where she lay and regarded her quizzically.

  All was silent.

  Kenzie had heard Bowman’s voice; she knew it. A call across distance, mists, worlds . . . Wherever the hell she was.

  Another trick? Kenzie turned slowly in a circle, searching. The vision she’d had earlier had shown her Bowman and Ryan smiling, happy, beckoning her to join them.

  This time, she’d heard only Bowman’s voice, which had been filled with rage, pain, and anguish. No smiling illusion. Desperation, hurt. Emotions that had grabbed Kenzie and wouldn’t let go.

  “Bowman!” she shouted back in the same desperation. “I’m here!”

  The echoes of her words died, and silence descended.

  “Did you hear him?” Brigid asked, her voice gentle.

  Kenzie nodded, her eyes wet. “Like he was standing next to me. Shouting in that crabby way of his.” She gave Brigid a shaky smile. “Have you heard your kids or sisters calling to you?”

  “No.” Brigid shook her head. “They only stand where I cannot reach, tempting me to go to them, but I cannot hear their voices. They are demons in fair guise.”

  “This was different.” It had been Bowman’s true voice; she was certain of it.

  Kenzie’s chest ached, her breath catching. She turned from Brigid so the Fae woman wouldn’t see the tears rolling down her face.

  Bowman, Kenzie called silently. I’m here.

  I love you.

  * * *

  Bowman’s eyes jerked open. He was lying, of all places, on the bed in Turner’s wrecked trailer house. The bedroom ceiling was still intact, but the walls were full of h
oles from where Shifters had torn away wallboard, searching for anything Turner might have hidden. The bed had been shoved into the middle of the room, with Bowman spread out on it.

  He sat up straight, which stabbed pain deep through his middle. “Kenzie!”

  She wasn’t there, of course. But he’d heard her voice, loud and sweet as a bell. I’m here. I love you.

  Bowman tore the sheet from his lower legs and swung out of bed. He was naked and had bandages wrapped around his chest and thigh, the cloths stained with dried blood.

  Jamie filled the doorway, now minus a door. “What are you yelling about?” Jamie growled. The man looked taller than ever in the doorframe, his head touching the top of the opening. He appeared to have recovered from his Collar shock and his fall, though his face retained a greenish tinge. Collar hangover was a bitch.

  Bowman grabbed his clothes from the bottom of the bed. “You couldn’t leave my underwear on? You needed to see everything I had?” His heart was pounding, his voice harsh. Sentimentality right now would finish him, so he stuck with temper and gibes.

  Jamie, true to form, flipped him off. “Get over yourself. You were stabbed by a knife—a Fae dirk, Cristian called it—and it barely missed your junk. Pierce had to stitch you up. He wasn’t thrilled about it, by all the swearing he did.”

  Bowman looked down and saw white tape over a line near the base of his cock. He shuddered. “Too damn close.”

  “Be grateful. Now when you find your mate, you can still show her how happy you are to see her.”

  “I intend to.” Bowman drew a long, agonizing breath, realizing he had a few cracked ribs. “She’s alive. I know she is. I just don’t know where.”

  Jamie’s hard gaze softened. “We’ll find her, boss.”

  “Damn right we will. Where is Gil? Whoever or whatever he is, I need him to give me some answers.”

  “He’s still here. You haven’t been out that long.”

  Bowman winced as he leaned over for his boots. “What did Pierce sew me up with? A machete?”

  “I don’t know. I just hope the dirk wasn’t poisoned. Fae weapons tend to be.”

  Bowman went cold, though a quick assessment told him he felt normal for recovery from a stab wound. Which was to say deep pain, soreness, and anger. “Thanks, Jamie. You’re good at making your patients feel better.”

  Jamie shrugged. “I’m realistic. I came to help you get your ass up to show Cristian you’re all right, before he tries to take over.”

  “You said I haven’t been out that long.”

  “An hour or so. That’s enough time for a Dimitru to decide it’s his turn to rule. I don’t feel like taking orders shouted in Romanian, so get out there.”

  Bowman gave him a tight grin. “You’re a shit. I appreciate it.”

  “I live to serve you, boss.”

  “The hell you do.” Bowman pressed his side and groaned softly, but he knew he was already starting to heal. He was good at it; he’d had a lot of practice.

  He and Jamie went out together. The sun was up, the woods cold, the ground filmed with frost. His trackers and Cristian were continuing to sift through Turner’s things. Pierce lay on a piece of tarp, eyes closed, his sheathed sword lying next to him. He was their combat medic and a good healer, but he always needed to rest afterward.

  “Kenzie’s alive,” Bowman said from the doorstep. The others stopped what they were doing to look at him.

  “How do you know?” Cade asked, his dark eyes hopeful and skeptical at the same time.

  “I heard her.” Bowman shook his head and stepped down to the ground. “Maybe I dreamed it. I can’t tell. But . . . I know.”

  He saw the uncertain looks, but he didn’t care. Ryan was right—it didn’t matter about the mate bond. He and Kenzie had a connection they’d formed the moment they’d first seen each other. They belonged together, and nothing could change that.

  “Hey, Dad,” Ryan said, strolling to him, Gil behind him. “Feeling better?”

  Bowman growled at them both. “What are you doing with him?” he snapped at Ryan.

  “You always tell me we should keep our friends close and our enemies closer,” Ryan returned calmly. “Did you come up with that saying?”

  “No.” Bowman couldn’t remember who had coined the phrase, though Kenzie no doubt would know. “But you were supposed to stay with Afina.”

  “I know.” Ryan shrugged off his father’s orders. “But I had an idea, and I had to come out here to test it. Gil thinks it might work. I just need to . . .”

  Ryan turned around and darted to Pierce. Before Pierce could come awake, Ryan had the Sword of the Guardian in his hands, struggling to unsheath it.

  Pierce opened his eyes, blinked, then got to his feet with Feline speed. “Hey, don’t touch that.”

  Ignoring him, Ryan ran with the sword to the place where Turner had come out of the mists. Gil, closest to Ryan, went after him and caught him.

  “Whoa, slow down there,” Gil said. “You don’t know exactly what it’s going to do.”

  “So?” Ryan struggled from Gil’s grasp and finally managed to pull the sword out of the sheath. “It’s worth a shot.”

  “What is?” Bowman demanded, his voice thundering. “Ryan, put that down.”

  A beam of sunlight broke through the clouds and thick trees and landed on the sword. The blade glittered brilliantly. Or was the sword itself creating the light? The lit runes seemed to dance.

  Mists suddenly boiled up around Ryan. Bowman shouted and leapt forward. Gil seized Ryan and held him tightly as the sword shot forward, trying to pull Ryan with it.

  “Damn it,” Bowman yelled. “Stop!”

  Pierce was right behind him, shouting as well. Cristian came running, but Jamie bound past them all and reached Ryan and Gil before the others could.

  Ryan cried out as the sword pulled at him. Gil held him, but the sword tugged hard, lifting Ryan’s arms straight out. Jamie reached them and wrapped his arms around both Gil and Ryan, trying to pull them back.

  The mists whirled, and a wave of thick fog poured into the clearing, obliterating everything.

  Bowman waved his hands in front of his face in the sudden whiteout, calling for Ryan. Cristian, beside him, yelled for him too, as did Cade.

  “Aw, shit!” Ryan’s voice rose high and shrill above them all.

  The fog shrank back, as though Ryan’s cry had slapped it apart. The dense whiteness lessened until it was nothing more than a dampening mist, and trees, Shifters, and Turner’s trailer swam back into view.

  Ryan kept swearing, using words Bowman hadn’t known he knew. Bowman reached his son as Jamie and Gil set him down. Pierce was standing over Ryan in a towering fury.

  “You dropped it?” Pierce yelled. “You dropped the Sword of the Guardian into an unknown, out-of-reach, magical world?”

  The sword was gone. Ryan didn’t have it, Jamie didn’t have it, and Gil looked as baffled as the other two.

  Ryan stared up at Pierce without flinching. “Not on purpose,” he said, meeting Pierce’s gaze. “Obviously.”

  “Shit!” Pierce swung away, fists clenching, his face draining of color.

  Cade scrubbed his hand over his short hair. “This can’t be good.”

  “We must retrieve it,” Cristian said. His scowl was fierce, the man more troubled than Bowman ever remembered seeing him. “There is too much magic in the sword for it to be safe there.”

  “No kidding,” Bowman said. “But how the hell do you propose to get it back?”

  “Aw, crap.” Gil’s exclamation dragged Bowman from his irritating uncle-in-law.

  Bowman’s impatience turned to fear a second later. Gil was standing by swirling mist, and Ryan was gone. A sweep of the clearing showed that his son was nowhere in sight—the others were looking too.

  “He was standing next to me,” Gil said, stricken. “And then he wasn’t. Bowman, I’m sorry. I had him . . .”

  The mist cleared again, revealing the trees beyon
d, as they’d stood in that woods for centuries. Tall, serene, silent, dripping as the sun began to dispel the early-morning frost.

  The mists had taken Ryan, and now he too was lost.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  “Mom!”

  Kenzie lifted her head, which she found difficult. Grief was tugging her, profound grief, wanting to embrace her in its darkness.

  Don’t give up, not yet, she told herself fiercely. There is a way out, a way back to Bowman. You’ll find it.

  Shifters found grief debilitating. Loss was something they’d had to learn to live with, but getting through it was tough, and sometimes the Shifter didn’t make it.

  Kenzie knew it could not be Ryan’s voice she heard. She’d seen the vision of Bowman and Ryan three more times, both of them waving madly to her and looking puzzled when she didn’t run to them. Each time, it had broken her heart.

  Turner was dead meat.

  “Mom! Hey! Help me!”

  Kenzie closed her eyes. There were bad things in the mists, Brigid had told her—bloodsucking vampire-like creatures and other evils she’d never heard of.

  “Geez, Mom! You can’t be that mad at me.”

  Kenzie’s eyes popped open. Sure sounded like Ryan.

  Brigid was alert, peering into the warm darkness. “I hear,” she said. “Resist. Do not go to it.”

  “I’m stuck!” Ryan yelled. “In lots of mud. Sucking me down. I need someone with longer arms than mine. Mom, what is wrong with you?”

  Kenzie took a few steps into the trees, the darkness closing around her like a glove. She heard things out there, faint snarls, saw a flash of red eyes.

  Ryan’s voice cut through the night. “Shit, what is that? I thought Dad said zombies weren’t real.”

  Kenzie’s heart pounded as she quickened her pace.

  “Aw, man, this would never happen to Harry Dresden.” Ryan coughed. “No, wait, this would totally happen to him.”

  Kenzie ran forward. “Ryan! Keep talking. I’m on my way!”

  Brigid dashed after her. “No. Kenzie!”