Dawn of a Dark Knight (14 page)

Christian efficiently applied a pressure wrap around Ashor’s mid-section. “Think you can speed up the search for the
akhrian
? These fights are coming too fast. Look at Eth. He got his ass whacked again. It’s about time he found whatever special ability he’s supposed to get other than understanding daemon language, not that I think the
akhrian
can help him discover his mojo, but you never know. At least the healer could patch him up. Maybe that girl from the other day can fill in for a while or something.”

“Hey. I held up my end just fine. I’ve been working with
seichim
for a half century, and I’m still alive, aren’t I? Besides, even if we find the healer, there’s still that little issue about losing the amulet ten years ago. Going to be tricky for the
akhrian
to function, not to mention find recruits without it.” Ethan removed a bottle of water from the black duffle and took a big swig.

Ashor pulled on his shredded shirt over Christian’s temp. He retrieved his double bladed katar off the floor and slid it back into its sheath at his side. His black-blade scimitar was wedged deep into a stone column where he’d chest stabbed the daemon. He sucked air through his teeth before doing a King Arthur removal. The blade would require hours of sharpening and reworking.

“Whatcha think, Ashor? Girl the other day…think she’d be interested in filling in or something?” Christian prompted.

Like I want to hash out the Kira dilemma with you.
“You’re just worried, because the women are starting to notice you’ve got one too many scars.”

“Actually, that sizzling hot blonde the other night couldn’t get enough of them. Flexible girl. She could do this handstand thing in the shower.” Christian leered and thrust his hips in demonstration, rubbing his shoulder blades where her heels had dug in.

Ashor chuckled and shook his head when Ethan rolled his eyes.

Ethan said, “Gods, you’re such a slut. I bet you can’t go a week without.”

Christian ran a preening hand through his hair. “What’s my motivation to go celibate? You’re jealous. As I always say, if you’ve got it, get it. Come on, at least I care to give her the best night of her life, unlike Ashor.”

“Now you sound jealous. Ashor can pick them up without using all that disgusting charm. He just lifts an eyebrow, and they drag him back to their place.”

“But he doesn’t give a shit about the girl when he picks her up.”

“How do you know Ashor isn’t the best they’ve ever had?”

“What’s it to you? I never see you out there getting any. You’re like a goddamned monk.”

“I’m just looking for one. Not a nonstop fuckathon,” Ethan grumbled while picking flecks of blood off his fingernails.

****

Kira’s mind blazed through a lethargic haze into screaming awareness. Survival instincts flared. Cotton mouth. Dry, tacky—disgusting.

As she tried to remind her salivary glands how to work, she assessed the nondescript room. Nothing helpful identified her location. And no Markus. The room stank of cigarettes and a vaguely familiar Indian spice she couldn’t place. She pulled unsuccessfully to free her hands and feet. They were secured to a heavy wooden chair with zip ties. She tugged and wiggled, but got nowhere. The chair was bolted to the floor.

She’d been in plenty of gone-to-shit Markus situations, but this one was likely to end very badly, considering the magi symbol on that amulet.

Calm down and think
. Freaking out was pointless. She concentrated on slow breathing through her nose. A gag over her mouth and her deviated septum didn’t allow for exceptional nasal breathing.

Her right shoulder burned and looked bloody. At least she still had on the same jeans and sweater she’d purchased several hours before the meeting. Hopefully, nothing disgusting had happened while she’d been unconscious.

As the eighth deep breath hissed out of her nose, her mind felt clearer. She closed her eyes to sense the auras around her. A masculine aura approached her from behind.

Hashishin.

Didn’t feel as powerful as a
Fedavis
, but perhaps a
Refik
level. Three other malicious, but non-Hashishin auras hovered nearby.

“Where did Markus put the amulet?” an accented male voice hissed close to her ear. A waft of smoky halitosis that warned of repulsive dental disease hit her nose.

The duct tape was ripped from her mouth.
Ouch.

The Arabic Hashishin grabbed her braided hair and cranked her head backward. Dark, emotionless eyes met hers.

“The amulet?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she croaked. Only thing she could see clearly of the guy was a black serpent tattoo on his neck. Blood drummed a fast beat in her ears.

The man released her so unexpectedly her chin slammed into her chest. Before she could recover, he slapped her face, catching her nose. Mind-numbing, stinging pain brought tears to her eyes. Wetness trickled from her nose onto her upper lip. The flavor of blood exploded in her mouth.

“We asked Markus. He wasn’t helpful,” the man said and then chuckled low.

“What’d you do to him?”

“He can’t help you. I need the amulet. Where is it?”

“Don’t know.” Her tormentor’s face was now clearly visible, which was bad. Death was a sure end, regardless of whether or not she revealed info.

“How about we try this again?” The man placed his hand over her injured shoulder and ground his thumb into the wound.

She screamed.

“Anything coming to you yet?”

She shook her head. The man said something in an unfamiliar language. A short, copper-skinned man with a patchy, dark beard wearing a
keffiyeh
appeared, carrying a steaming teapot. The concoction had a cloying, sweet-smelling odor that was simultaneously frightening and seductive.

“Let’s see if we can jog your memory.” The serpent-tattooed man gripped her head in a vise lock, while the second guy poured the steaming liquid in her mouth.

He forced her mouth closed and ordered, “Swallow.”

Hot!
Then came a sweet taste, which quickly morphed into a bitter, acidic flavor. Poison. She shook her head and refused to swallow.

He pinched her nostrils. Panic hit her system with an adrenaline rush. Unable to fight the urge to breathe, she swallowed and gulped air.

Ashor’s voice blasted in her head a second later.
What the hell is going on?

Her mind barely registered Ashor as the poison spread like flames in her body. The sensitivity of her skin ramped up to high octane. The zip ties felt as if they were sawing through her flesh. A blast of air from the vent above her felt to be ripping the hair from her body, worse than any waxing.

Her primary tormentor smiled as he withdrew a small knife. He pressed the blade against the skin of her forearm. Blood pooled.

Lacerating pain. Distantly, she heard someone screaming while she thrashed to gain her freedom. Seconds later, she realized that ear-piercing noise was from her.

Answer me. What is going on?
Ashor thundered.

In her mind she screamed,
Hashishin poison. They’re going to kill me.

Assholes. I’ll get to you, but I’m not that close. You’ve got to hold on. Delay them somehow.

Delay them?
The room swirled around her.

The serpent-tattooed man forced her arm against the wooden chair’s armrest and dug the blade into her arm. “Where’s the amulet?”

The intensity of the focused pain rocked her into the stratosphere. Couldn’t breathe. And then everything went dark.

Chapter Thirteen

The
kem-seki
roared in Ashor’s mind. Pain bit into his wrist like a knife strike. He glanced around, searching for an attacker. No one. Upon inspection, the wrist he rubbed had no injury.
Her pain
.

He gripped a pew, fighting the swirling need for violence.

“Ashor?” Ethan asked in a puzzled tone.

“We have to go.”

He would annihilate the Hashishin prick that decided to play with poison and knives on her.

His mind reached toward her, but couldn’t connect. All he got from her was a disturbing shadowy void with her essence.

Did they kill her? Was Horus’s visit a forewarning of her death?

Panic squeezed his chest.
No
. He didn’t dare travel to that mental place. She was alive. Had to be. Perhaps, she passed out.

He demanded of Ethan, “Throw me your cell. Mine’s in pieces.”

Atypical fear shone in Ethan’s eyes. Ashor suspected the rage pounding through his blood must have darkened his face. The others all feared he’d lose it at any moment. Ethan’s look communicated his belief he was going into the Turn. Ashor closed his eyes and concentrated to resume a mask of control.

Ethan tossed his cell toward Ashor and asked quietly, “What’s the prob? New daemon?”

Ashor replied as he caught the phone midair. “Not a daemon. New situation.”

Twenty minutes later on the plane, Ashor increased the level of fresh air blowing on him in the copilot seat. “Christ, Javen, I’m getting light-headed from that shit you’re smoking.”

Javen took a deep drag on the chubby blunt and closed his eyes. Very slowly, he exhaled.

“I found this ramped-up cannabis from a dealer in Costa Rica. It’s brilliant. You should give it a try. It takes the edge off that dark monster we both know well.”

The
kem-seki
stain swirling in Javen’s eyes coalesced with his dilated pupils, making the blue irises difficult to see.

“Sure you’re sober enough to pilot?”

“Wish I was smashed. This stuff only worked that well the first time or two. It’s not like the lot of you would know the difference. I haven’t flown sober in over five months. You want me straight, then say the word, and I’ll get back into the fight. I’m beyond sick of viper patrol. It’s not even what I’d call a good workout.”

“None of them wants to see you Turn.”

“But they have no problem watching you go into it? That’s what I called fucked-up logic. This isn’t what I’d call living.”

“If I can convince the others, I’d vote you back in. We could really use the assist. I say it’s better to go out fighting than—”

“As a pansy-ass chauffeur that kills snakes to work his shit out?” Javen interrupted.

“Something like that.”

“Where are we going?”

“That way.” He pointed out the windshield.

Javen nodded and took a deep drag of the joint. “So, uh, the other night…”

“Yeah?”

“We tailed you ’cause I was worried. You’ve been going out alone and coming back fucked up a lot recently. You’re taking too many risks.”

“That’s my business.”

“You probably didn’t even realize it was a trap. The one you chased into the trailer park had two carloads of Hashishins following. I’m warning you, Ashor, those bastards are fed up with your shit. Next time they’ll make the trap more complicated. You’ve got to stop, or take me with you.”

Ashor hissed through his teeth. “Appreciate the offer, but I can’t.”

“Sure you can. Buzz me. I’m happy to drive. I can even stay on the sidelines ’til you need help. Last night was the best action I’ve had in months.”

“It’s not that I don’t want you there. It’s that I’m really close to the edge right now—you feel me?”

Javen nodded.

“Any time I pass out or sleep, I black out and go hunt Hashishins. Then I wake up in the middle of a horror movie a few minutes postclimax and have absolutely no memory of what happened.”

“That’s whacked. What about the smoking hot girl from yesterday? The healer lady? Eric thinks she’s your
senariai,
which means you’re home free once you two get it on
.
” He leered.

“That was info between Eric and me. It’s not like him to gossip.”

“Eric didn’t say anything. I just, uh, picked it up from him.”

“Well, forget it. She’s not the one for me. She’s the
akhrian.
”

“Great for us. Weird for you. We need to work something out to keep you from getting your ass killed the next time you have an episode.”

“We’ll figure it out later. Time to land. Find the closest airport.”

He still couldn’t reach Kira telepathically. He tried again. Nothing. His insides cramped like someone practiced knot-tying on his intestines. If they killed her… rage pushed to the fore of his brain. He gripped the cockpit console tight enough to indent fingerprints.

Javen slammed his right fist into Ashor’s chest, pushing him hard into his seat. And knocking the breath out of his lungs with a hiss. “Don’t you dare lose it in my cockpit! We will get her back.”

“How did you know—”

“I figured the doctor lady in trouble might make you lose it like this. And be the reason we’re headed somewhere of unnamed destination that doesn’t involve a daemon.”

“Right. Sorry.”

Thirty minutes after they deplaned from what turned out to be a ridiculously short trip landing them in Port Jefferson, Long Island, Ashor pinpointed Kira’s location. Ethan rode shotgun and Christian in the back of the rented SUV. They flatly refused to allow him to go alone. Both remained silent, but watchful while Ashor wove the car through the streets.

He paralleled in front of a three-story low income apartment building. Before slamming shut the car door, he ordered, “Phone Javen and give him directions to get here. This is my fight.”

He slid his field knife from his tactical vest and gave free rein to the rage that wanted control.

****

Ashor kicked open the entry door of an apartment on the third floor. The door crashed against the wall with a force that lodged the doorknob deep into drywall. The fluorescent-lit apartment lacked furniture and reeked of cigarettes.

Holy shit
.
The bastards had her tied into a chair.

Her eyes opened and locked onto his. The fear there hit him midgut.

Dried blood marred the pale skin on her face, and the shadow of an early bruise highlighted her left cheek. Blood soaked her shirt at her shoulder and her left hand. These fuckers planned to kill her. Painfully. Fury detonated like a bomb in his brain.