Falling Blind: The Sentinel Wars (35 page)

“I don’t know, Joseph. This is all so fucked up.”

The sound of his name on her tongue made him shiver. He didn’t even try to hide it. There simply wasn’t enough strength left in him to preserve his pride. He had too much left to do before he could rest, and all of his energy had to go into finding this traitor before he killed again.

“Just tell me what’s going on,” he urged. “Let me try to help.”

She nodded. “Ella finally cried herself to sleep a few hours ago. Ethan was fussy, so I sat down to rock him.” She paused and pulled in a deep breath. “He . . . showed me something.”

“What? I don’t understand.”

“Neither did I at first. Ethan has always been a little strange—so sober and quiet. And he’s grown so fast.”

Warning bells went off in Joseph’s head. Small details all clicked together with an audible snap. Ella had been found in Synestryn hands. She’d said she hadn’t been there long—that she’d been pregnant when they’d taken her, but what if she’d lied? Joseph hadn’t seen Ethan at the day-care facility—not even when both Beth and Ella were working. In fact, he hadn’t seen the baby since he was born.

Ella hadn’t wanted the Sanguinar to help her through labor. She’d had the child in her suite, without medical help. Joseph hadn’t known her intent to go through labor alone, but even if he had, he wouldn’t have questioned it. Why would she want to trust a Sanguinar who would take her blood when she’d just escaped demons who had fed from her?

Unless she wasn’t sure of the child she carried—wasn’t sure if it was human or something else. Like its father.

One other half-Synestryn child had been born recently and survived. He was being raised by a Gerai family, well away from Dabyr. Few people even knew he existed, and even fewer knew how different he was from a human baby. He, too, had grown too fast. He, too, had been able to touch the minds of others, showing them things he’d seen.

“What did he show you, Lyka?”

She swallowed twice, and then squared her shoulders. “He saw Beth’s murder. He saw who did it. That’s what he showed me.”

This time, Joseph was unable to keep himself from approaching her. Only the sudden coiled tension radiating through her—as if she were poised to flee—made him stop in his tracks.

His voice came out cold and hard enough to make her flinch. “Who was it?”

“One of the Sanguinar. The one with the baby face and grass green eyes. I think his name is Connor.”

Joseph knew exactly who she was talking about. “Connal.”

Dread pooled in his stomach. A killing rage suffused his limbs. His sword was drawn before he’d realized what he’d done.

Lyka’s eyes had grown huge with fear. She hugged the frame of the door, making herself as small a target as possible.

“Stay here,” he barked, pissed that she’d even think she could be his target. “Close the blinds and lock the door behind me.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re a witness to murder.”

“Ethan was the witness, not me.”

“Yes, but he has no words. You do. Stay here while I go deal with this.”

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

“First, I’m going to get Ethan to show me what he showed you. And then I’m going to execute a Sanguinar.”

*   *   *

Connal knew from Tynan’s not-so-subtle snooping that he had discovered that Beth’s death was not suicide. He was looking for signs of tainted blood—even going so far as to check the sleeping vaults of their own kind.

There wasn’t much time before Connal’s act was discovered. The compound had been locked down, but he’d compelled one of the human security guards to open the gate for him later, when he was ready to leave.

And he had to leave. There was no choice but to go. He would be discovered. Tynan’s next act would be to scour the memories of those here and pull the truth from Connal’s mind. As strong as he was with Beth’s blood flowing through him, he wasn’t strong enough to thwart Tynan’s efforts. Of all of them, Tynan was the strongest, even when he was weak.

Connal’s mind raced for some kind of plan. He’d already collected his things and stowed them in his van. But where would he go? There was nowhere he could run that they would not find him.

Unless he turned to the Synestryn. They’d already fed him—albeit for a price. Maybe they would shelter him as well. They would no doubt demand payment for that, too, but it had to be better than what the Theronai would do to him if he was caught.

What Connal needed was leverage. Tribute. The only thing the Synestryn cared about was food, vessels for their progeny, and access to the Gate.

He wasn’t strong enough to move a Sentinel stone, and he didn’t have the time to create a way in through the walls. But what he did have was access to one of their offspring. And its mother. Ella had lived through birthing one of the Synestryn young. She could do it again. That had to be worth the price of admission and the protection the demons could give him.

Connal suffered only a moment’s hesitation at the thought of trading two lives for his own. Perhaps there had been a time when that would have bothered him more, but that time was past. He’d been backed into a corner, and like the animal he was, he would react accordingly.

He sensed Ella inside Lyka’s suite. He didn’t bother to knock on the door. He simply barged in. The child stared at him in accusation, so Connal sent him to sleep. The mother was already asleep, but he urged her to drift deeper into its clutches. He flopped Ella over one shoulder and scooped up the child in the other arm. The power he used to mask his presence was precious, but the loss necessary if he was to get out of here with his tribute in tow.

No one saw him as he rushed to his van. A couple of particularly sensitive humans frowned in confusion as he passed, but that was all. He stowed both Ella and Ethan in the back of his van, and drove out of the garage.

Just as he’d commanded, the human guard opened the gate, allowing him passage. Connal was certain the human would do the rest of his job as he’d been compelled to do.

Now all Connal had to do was reach safety before the sun rose. And he knew just where to go.

Chapter 24

R
onan was shaking with effort when he woke. The Synestryn lord’s hold on him was growing stronger. Ronan wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to maintain control. As it was, it took him several long minutes to shove back the swelling rage and need to kill that pulsed through his veins.

He needed to feed. He was weak from fighting, weak from keeping the demon at bay.

The smell of food drove him upstairs. Rory lay sleeping on the couch, her pink hair spread out across the leather arm. Her pulse beat in her neck, so steady and strong it made Ronan’s mouth water.

He glided toward her, seeing the light from his eyes spilling over her in an icy glare. He knelt by her side and lifted her toward his mouth.

The hiss of steel being drawn stopped Ronan cold.

“Bad idea,” said Cain from behind him.

Rage surged through Ronan, combining with hunger until there was no room left for rational thought. “I need,” was all he could spit out.

“Need someone else’s blood. She’s off-limits.”

Cain didn’t understand hunger. Not truly. He knew pain, but not weakness—not the grinding need for something he was constantly denied.

Just one drink. That’s all he needed to keep him going so he could seek out another source of sustenance. He would be careful. Gentle.

Ronan lowered his head. The cold prick of steel burned at the nape of his neck.

“Back off, Ronan. That demon is fucking with your head. This isn’t you.”

It was him. The real him. Shivering and weak with hunger, craving something so rare that the fleeting bits he got were barely enough to keep him going—more like teasing hints meant to torture him with what he could never have.

But he understood Cain’s quiet threat. He believed it. Theronai males were unreasonable when it came to the blood of their women.

Ronan set Rory down and turned to face Cain. “I’m too weak to hunt. The demon within me . . .”

Cain sheathed his sword and rolled up his sleeve. “Take only what you need to go hunt. Not a drop more. I need to be strong enough to fight.”

Ronan took what he was offered. Cain’s power flowed into him, fueling his mind enough for the fog of bloodlust to dissipate. As soon as he was able, he pulled away from the larger man, closing his wounds.

“I must leave now,” said Ronan, being careful not to look at the temptation Rory posed, lying there like an offering.

Cain nodded. “We’re hunting for the demon tonight. Call if you want to join us. I know you want him dead as much as I do.”

Ronan wasn’t so sure. As much as he
should
have wanted the demon dead, part of him was growing fond of the dark presence crouched in his thoughts. He knew that wasn’t right—that he shouldn’t feel that way—but there was nothing he could do to stop it.

The longer Raygh was in his head, the more familiar they became. Maybe if he just stopped fighting, it wouldn’t be so bad. Raygh had power. Oceans of it. He was rarely hungry, and when he was, he took his fill.

What would it be like to be sated? Truly full?

Ronan had no idea, but if Raygh could help him find out, then perhaps he wasn’t completely evil.

*   *   *

Cain watched Ronan go, knowing the man was running out of time. Having been near the end himself, he knew what that looked like. The desperation and fear. The realization that time was not an endless river flowing past, but a shallow kiddie pool too small to hold all the things he really wanted to do with his life.

And there had been something else in Ronan’s eyes that had bothered Cain. A kind of acceptance. Almost submission. The Sanguinar hadn’t even fought him for more blood.

Whatever was going on, it wasn’t good. And while Cain was a long way from trusting anyone the way he had Gilda and Angus, he actually liked working with Ronan. He wasn’t all creepy and mysterious like so many of the Sanguinar. He was more pragmatic, and that was something Cain respected.

The last thing he wanted was for Ronan to lose his battle with the demon and go crazy. Because if that happened, Cain worried that he might actually have to use his sword on the man, rather than merely threaten to use it.

Rory still hadn’t moved. He’d helped her to sleep. He was sure she’d be angry about that, but he knew what she’d face if she didn’t take care of her body. He’d fought by Gilda’s and Angus’s sides for enough centuries to know how it worked, and he’d rather Rory be angry than to have her simply run out of steam at a dangerous time.

He would have liked nothing more than to stay here and watch her sleep, but there wasn’t time for that. The longer that demon roamed the earth, the more threat he posed. And while he would have preferred to tuck her away somewhere safe, that wasn’t going to work. Not only was there no place he could take her without risking the inhabitants of Dabyr, he also didn’t trust anyone else to protect her the way he would—down to his last breath.

So, Cain tucked her in the car, buckled the seat belt, and hit the road.

He drove toward the system of caves closest to where Rory had first had her control ripped away by the demon. There were no guarantees that this was the place, but it was as good a guess as any.

Maybe once Ronan fed he’d have some better ideas about where to look.

The vehicle the Gerai had left for Cain’s use was smaller than he liked. His head kept bumping the headliner as they bounced along the country road. His shoulder brushed Rory’s every few minutes. Her scent filled the confined space, tempting him with memories of what they’d shared.

He would have rather spent the rest of the night lying with her, coaxing as much pleasure from her body as she could stand, but that was a dream for men whose mates accepted them. Rory wanted his power, and she’d even wanted his body, but she didn’t want him—at least not in the way that really counted.

Still, if the power he gave her drew her to him, then that was the lure he’d use. He refused to give up on her. There was too much at stake.

As they drew closer to a small town, she began to shift in her seat and make little whimpering sounds of discomfort.

Her visions. They seemed to be growing stronger if the tension vibrating through her was any indication. Every time a car passed them, her whole body jerked in her sleep. Finally, Cain took her hand in his, hoping his touch would make it stop.

A car in the opposite lane swerved to miss some roadkill, and Cain had to swerve off the road to avoid collision. He’d instinctively put both hands on the wheel, and in doing so, he’d stopped touching Rory.

She came awake with a start, and he could feel the clammy pulses of shock buffeting their link.

“Where are we?” she asked after a few seconds. Her voice was low and sexy with the remnants of sleep.

“Heading east, to where you first felt the demon’s presence.”

She opened the bottle of water sitting between them and drank deeply. “I think we’re getting closer.”

“How can you tell?”

“That cage Ronan built? I feel it rattling now.”

Oh, hell, no. If the beast got loose, there wouldn’t be a thing Cain could do to stop it. There would be nothing physical for him to kill. She would become the threat, and no matter who was pulling her strings, he knew he wouldn’t be able to strike her down. The best he could do was knock her out, and he wasn’t even sure that would work.

Cain pulled over on the side of the road. There was little traffic, but enough that it rocked this little toy car as it passed.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

He pulled out his phone. “Calling for backup. I think it’s a bad idea for you to go after this demon. I’ll call for someone else to guard you while I hunt for it.”

“What? I’m not sitting around with some babysitter. I’m not afraid, you know.”

“Yeah? Well, I am. I’m scared as hell that Ronan’s cage will fail and you’ll lose control again.”

“So? If that happens, knock me out. It worked last time.”

“I’m not taking any chances. The demon has to die, but you don’t have to come with me. I’ll find someone who will be willing to guard you with his life.” Morgan, perhaps. Or Nicholas. Both men were fierce, noble warriors. Both would come if Cain asked.