Blood Price (9 page)

With a sigh, she opened the back door and climbed out. Instead of setting off at a run, she went to the driver’s side and opened the door, pulling the slack driver out onto the pavement. She made certain he wasn’t in the flow of traffic before getting behind the wheel. Disdainfully, she tossed the handcuffs into the passenger seat and drove away with a peel of rubber. Fool that she was, she couldn’t leave Atar defenseless to whatever purpose those men intended.

Chapter 7

Nikia made several random turns, taking them deeper into New Town. Pedestrians were numerous and unpredictable, darting out in traffic without a thought for the vehicles. It forced her to focus on the road every second, although she wanted to turn and check on Atar. He hadn’t stirred since the dart hit him and she was at a loss for what to do. She wasn’t at all familiar with Prague and had no idea where they might hide.

Slowly, a low beeping sound caught her attention. She dared to look away from the road, hoping one of the many people out to experience nightlife wouldn’t run in front of the mini. She scanned the dashboard and gauges quickly then checked the road ahead again before looking down. The beeping came from the box that should have displayed the toll for the ride. Instead, it was a black screen with a red and green dot. Both were moving approximately the same distance apart. Her brow furrowed, she tried to work out what it was. Her migraine intensified with the effort, dwindling the fragile source of strength that had somehow kept her going during the incessant pain, until she wanted to curl into a ball and sob. It was tempting to stop trying to solve the puzzle to bring relief but Nikia sensed the answer was crucial, no matter how much it depleted her reserves.

Cursing and yelling caused her to look up and she slammed on the brake, stopping within inches of hitting a small group of partygoers dressed in suits and flashy dresses. One of the men cursed at her and stopped to pound his fist on the hood before they continued across the street.

A horn beeped impatiently behind her but Nikia’s racing heart prevented her from moving the car. She took a deep breath, steadying her hands on the wheel, not wanting to think how close she had come to running down someone. When the horn sounded again, she resisted the urge to respond with loud expletives and took her foot off the brake. As she did so, her eyes fell on the display again, revealing the green dot was now moving so slowly as to barely register, while the red dot raced toward it.

It clicked into place that this was a display unit for a transceiver. No need to guess where the transceiver was. The men had been able to follow them from the start and now they were gaining on their position. What should she do?

The car behind her must have been leaning on their horn. The shrill noise set Nikia’s teeth on edge. With a sharp turn of the wheel, she parked the car at the curb, absentmindedly returning the obscene gesture given to her by the impatient driver as he rushed past.

Her hands shook, making it difficult to open the door handle. Nikia tried to distance herself from her fear and doubt by concentrating on the moment. Right now, she had to get Atar up and moving as far away from this car and as fast as possible. Up ahead, she could see the Charles Bridge, with a throng of people. It was the busiest group around and she hoped they could melt into the crowd as they escaped.

She opened the back door and bent over Atar, feeling his neck. His pulse was still slow but it seemed faster than the last time she had checked. He had slumped over and she heaved him to a sitting position so she could search for the dart. It was in his right shoulder and she pulled it out, not sure if it was continuing to release the drugging agent as long as it remained in him.

A line of blood trickled from the wound but her hunger was satisfied for the moment, so it didn’t distract her. She shook his uninjured shoulder vigorously. “Atar, you have to wake up right now.”

His head lolled and the quality of his breathing changed. When his eyelids flickered, she experienced a stir of hope. “Atar? Can you hear me?”

He mumbled something before his eyes closed again. Shaking him once more made his eyes open and a surly, “Leave me ‘lone,” issued from him.

Nikia looked at the terminal, alarmed to see the red dot was almost touching the green one. In desperation, she slapped Atar’s cheek as hard as she could, wincing at the sound. His eyes snapped open and he seemed aware. “We have to go. They’re coming. Now!”

Whether the slap or her urgency galvanized him, she didn’t know. Nikia was just grateful he was reacting. He held himself upright without her assistance and slid toward her. There, his strength appeared to leave him and he required her assistance to get out of the car and stand. Atar stumbled as if intoxicated, anchoring his arm around her waist. In other circumstances, Nikia would have savored each sensation that rushed through her but she was too distracted to do anything other than notice the response. With a combination of coaxing and demanding, she got Atar’s feet moving. He still leaned heavily on her, slowing them both down. She didn’t dare take another peek at the terminal, for fear of Atar falling. With his weakened condition and her migraine, it would take all night to get him up again and right now, they would be lucky if they had a minute or two.

Nikia kept her gaze focused ahead, although her senses constantly searched for danger. Atar walked alongside her as best he could, although his gait was shuffling at best. The hairs on her neck prickled as they made it to the bridge, pushing through a group of people standing close together. She deliberately dropped her hand to Atar’s pocket, covering his wallet and cell phone to discourage a pickpocket. That she had the presence of mind to think of that shocked her.

She didn’t linger in the crowd, hoping it would hide them from view. The men were determined and would search Charles Square and the surrounding area for them upon realizing they had abandoned the car.

Their progress was slow, as those loitering about weren’t eager to move. It was made slower by Atar, although he was clearly doing his best to stay awake and manage under his own power as much as possible. She kept her arm around his waist, as he did the same to her.

A stir in the crowd behind them spurred Nikia to push through more insistently. She didn’t need to turn around to know that at least one of the men was only a few feet behind them.

Perhaps those in the crowd noticed her urgency or maybe her tenaciousness blinded her to resistance but it was as though the Red Sea parted. Suddenly, they were off the bridge and moving to the park. It was shadowed in the darkening twilight and more than likely dangerous but the alternative wasn’t any better.

The statues of great Czech artists, writers, and scientists scowled at them with stern visages as Nikia led Atar into Charles Park. She looked away quickly, not liking the sensation of being watched. Logically, if eyes followed them, they came from predators inside the park, rather than the statues but her mind wasn’t equipped to deal strictly in the rational. Panic was finding fertile ground in her mind.

The nape of her neck prickled and she acted on instinct, pulling Atar into a clump of bushes. Her heart raced in her ears as she cautiously eased aside a branch blocking her view to search the area. First, she saw a group of young men sitting in the grass, talking loudly and bobbing their heads to punk music at least fifteen years old.

By turning her head an inch at a time, she honed in on the person causing her alarm. It was a man in a suit but not one of the three who had chased them earlier. They must have stopped for backup. This one had the same slick, sly look about him, with only one incongruous element—a huge rifle braced casually over his arm. Due to the distance separating them, Nikia couldn’t discern if it was a standard weapon or meant to fire more tranq darts. She didn’t plan to let him close enough to find out.

As he turned in their direction, scanning the park visually, she released the branch and huddled with Atar, surprised to find she was blocking his body with her own. The protective instincts he stirred were dangerous. Already, they had kept her from leaving him and going to Belarus as she should have.

She held her breath as footsteps came closer, just a whisper in the grass. The sharp sound of a twig breaking made her jerk in response and Atar’s muscles bunched. She rubbed his arm in what she hoped was a soothing way, while mentally willing him to remain quiet.

Her heart jumped in her throat when a shiny black shoe paused at the edge of the bush, pivoting in their direction. He had found them, although she didn’t know how. Before he could act, Nikia leaped at him, allowing her human form to melt into that of a wolf as she did. Her clothes fell to the ground in a heap.

An aborted scream escaped him as she landed on him, clinging to his jacket by hooking her claws through the raw silk. Her teeth provided more of an anchor when she buried them in his throat. She braced herself for the taste of his blood, fearing it would ignite a wild impulse in her and allow Illiana to take over in a moment of weakness. Thus far, she had managed not to transform because of her worries that the added wildness inherent to the werewolf nature would weaken her defenses. The man left her no choice except to change. She also had no option but to end his life. If she didn’t, he might survive his first transformation to become a werewolf himself. She couldn’t allow that to happen. It could expose everyone in Corsova.

When the man stopped struggling and dropped to the ground, Nikia loosened her jaws but didn’t release him. Not until death spasms racked his body did she let go and move away from him. She trembled too, from the onslaught the violence had wreaked on her nerves. Her control remained firm and she had been aware of her actions the entire time.

She bent at the waist and vomited, expelling the taste of his blood along with her repugnance for what she had done. Doubt hammered at her, inquiring in a sly voice if she had really needed to kill him. The voice sounded a lot like Illiana’s and she did her best to block it out. Later, she could deal with the guilt from her actions but now, she had to get Atar on the move once more.

The transformation had garnered an unexpected result, she mused, while hurrying to dress again. The intensity of the migraine had dropped significantly, indicating transforming had helped her heal some, to start rebuilding her reserves of strength. As she finished buttoning the jumpsuit, she scanned the area for more men with guns, seeing no others, to her relief.

A groan from Atar diverted her attention. Before returning to him, she took the rifle from the dead man, wincing at the heavy weight of the bulky gun. She used a precious second to open the chamber to see what ammunition it used. Three darts filled with liquid were loaded and ready to fire. She closed it with a click and slung the rifle over her shoulder. As she turned to retrieve Atar, she saw the group of young men watching her with mouths agape. She looked away quickly, hoping the darkness wouldn’t allow them to give an accurate description of her, should they stay around to talk to the police when the body was discovered.

She tried to comfort herself with the knowledge no one would believe their tale of a woman transforming to a wolf but the bite marks on the dead man might lend credence to the story.

With a deep sigh, she walked to Atar, pleased to find him kneeling. He was making a faster recovery than she had anticipated but was nowhere near self-sufficient yet. She knelt, offering him an arm up. He made it to his feet with difficulty but seemed to find walking easier once she helped him establish a rhythm.

She brought the rifle closer to her right hand, while keeping an arm around Atar. She wanted to feel strong and capable but right then, she could have happily hid and let someone else be the hero. She was the villain-type, not the rescuer—or she was when Illiana was in control. So far, it seemed easier to be evil and power-mad.

She shrugged off the useless thoughts and put her energy into seeing them through the park. Luck might have favored them because they emerged on the other side a little while later without anyone else approaching them. The street they exited on seemed free of the men in suits but she didn’t waste time lingering to see if they showed up. Hiding was the only prudent course of option and with that intent, she veered away from the main street, following smaller streets and a few alleys in a meandering pattern, until they emerged onto Narodni Trida awhile later. It was another busy street but filled with a different type than she had seen around Charles Square. From the surrounding businesses, she garnered this was a safe place during the day, a neighborhood making the effort to restore its grandeur, with only moderate seediness. At nights the seediness re-emerged, drawing a particular breed she wasn’t anxious to attract the attention of.

She would have preferred a group of boisterous tourists to the sullen, quiet types watching their progress. The gleam of interest was too bright in many of their eyes, making her senses stir with danger. As a group of three burly men and a bleached-blonde girl walked toward them, Nikia took Atar down the nearest street. It was dimly lit and her slippers slapped against the cobblestone, sending out an easily followed signal.

Somehow, she managed to eke a little more speed from her aching muscles, half-dragging Atar with her. Hearing the ring of heavy footsteps behind them made her heart race and she knew she had to go faster still. Unfortunately, her body couldn’t cooperate.

Fear chased her down the darkened street, accompanying her when she made a sharp left onto the next street. It offered marginally better lighting but the inhabitants didn’t seem any less dangerous. Aware that the footsteps were still behind her, Nikia led Atar into the nearest doorway of a tavern named
Ranstikø
.

There wasn’t anyone waiting to collect a cover but she saw a muscle-bound man in a denim shirt with the sleeves ripped off eyeing her from a darkened corner near the door. She thought briefly of appealing to him for help but the gleam in his eye was as disturbing as the presence of the men who had followed her.