Embraced by Darkness (35 page)

The crate thumped down on something solid, making me jump. But it didn’t ease the crazy fear running through my system, so I continued to breathe slow and deep, trying to keep calm as gears crunched and the truck began to trundle away from the dock.

The scent of eucalyptus gradually replaced the salty scent of the ocean. I shifted, peering out one of the holes, watching trees and thick ferns pass by. Oddly enough, this island looked almost tropical. The plant life was thick and lush, and many of the plants weren’t the types to survive in the colder climes of Victoria.

The truck bumped along the track, occasionally bogging down and sending sand spurting into the air as the wheels spun then gripped. The incline got stronger, suggesting we were going up.

After about half an hour, the road flattened out and the crunch of stone under the tires replaced the squeak of sand. Light twinkled tantalizingly in the darkness, and the scent of barbecuing meat touched the air, making my taste buds water and my stomach rumble.

Unfortunately, I didn’t think we were going to be the recipients of that barbecuing meat.

And indeed, the truck trundled past the lights and the smell, coming to a halt in an area of darkness. We weren’t in the middle of nowhere, though. Through my peephole I could see the shadowy form of a building. It seemed more barnlike in structure than houselike—though if it was a barn, I couldn’t smell any of the usual scents that went along with it. Definitely no horses or hay, that was for sure.

Then another engine kicked into gear and the box was on the move again. I gripped on tight as it swung into the air then around to the right, swaying crazily as it was lowered. I let out a relieved breath when the box hit something solid, then I was being wheeled toward the barn. My box was dumped, doors slammed shut, then footsteps retreated.

Alone again.

This was making no sense whatsoever.

“Rhoan?” I said into the silence. “You here?”

I didn’t hold much hope that he was, simply because I couldn’t smell him.

The continued silence was my only answer. I peered through my hole again, seeing concrete and heavy metal bars. The type even a werewolf would have trouble getting through.

It actually took me a moment to realize that my box was no longer covered by the silver mesh. I kicked out with a bare foot, smashing open the box in an instant.

Even though my cage hadn’t been small, the feeling of freedom that hit when I was no longer confined was immense. I sucked in the cool night air, then stood up and looked around.

The barn was a large one, and had at least a dozen pens just like this one. Some had hay, some didn’t. Some had the silver mesh nets covering the heavy metal bars, others had nothing but metal and concrete floors. Some, like mine, had bunk beds in them—though given the filthy state of the mattress, it’d be pretty much a given I’d be sharing the bed with more than a few bugs. I shivered. Give me cold concrete any day.

I turned and walked closer to the front bars, giving them a shake to test their strength. They didn’t budge. They might not be meshed like some of the other cages, but there wasn’t a hope in hell of me breaking out of here. Which made me wonder just what the meshed cages had been designed to hold.

I leaned my arms against the metal and studied what lay beyond the open doors of the barn. A wide road swung away down the hill, lined on either side by thick greenery. The house and lights I’d seen earlier weren’t visible through that door, and the one to my left was shut.

I stepped back, my gaze rising to the ceiling. Even that was barred. Which meant a lot of thought had gone into construction of this cell, and that sent a chill skittering down my spine. This wasn’t just a one-off, nothing-left-to-lose capture. This was something else entirely.

But until someone popped along with an explanation as to what the hell was going on, I wasn’t about to guess. My imaginings would probably be far worse than the reality. After all, I’d been in some pretty shitty situations over the last year or so—and I seriously doubted whether fate could throw anything else at me worse than a god of pain set on world domination.

So I sat on the floor and waited yet again. I
hated
waiting, but there was nothing else to do but pace. And that would get old very quickly.

The moon had passed its zenith and had begun the long track toward dawn before someone finally got motivated enough to visit.

His scent touched the air long before I actually saw him—musky, spicy human. Jared. Or Jorn, as the case may be.

His footsteps were light, measured. A man who was sure of himself. A man who was used to power and getting his own way. I reached out telepathically but, like on the island, felt nothing except an odd sort of blankness. Only it didn’t feel electronically induced, but rather natural. He had shields every bit as strong as mine. Meaning, I wasn’t going to be able to read him or control him—not without a lot of time and effort.

And I had a bad feeling time was the one thing I didn’t have much of.

Jorn strode through the door, dressed in jungle greens and thick boots, and stopped in front of my cell. His expression was an odd mix of arrogance and excitement. Not sexual excitement, but the sort of excitement that went with a chase.

I looked him up and down, noting the sheathed bowie knife strapped to his left leg, and a pistol holster attached to his hip.

“Shall I call you Jorn? Or do you prefer Jared?”

Amusement played about his lips. “You worked it out.”

“Took me a while. I never realized there was a branch of humanity who could alter their features.”

“It’s a family gift.”

“Just like the family trait of madness?” I said sweetly. “Tell me, was it you or Yohan in the truck and the car?”

“That was my brother. He never was a very good driver.”

If he had been, I might have been squished meat under the truck’s tires. “And the shooter?”

He grimaced. “A misjudgment on our part, because we were foolish enough to believe his assurance that he was good enough to take you out.”

He almost had been, but I wasn’t about to mention that.

“Why choose an exclusive island like Monitor to set your trap? Why not choose something more accessible to the masses?”

“Because there is something decidedly delicious in hunting the spoiled wealthy. It’s the eyes,” he added, expression almost dreamy. “The realization in those final moments that, despite all their wealth and power, there is nothing they can do to stop death. Plus, of course, it was bitches like them who killed our father. None of them deserved to live.”

“So did you sleep with said bitches?”

He snorted. “I’ve seen what you lot can do to human flesh. No thanks. Besides, flirting got me all the information I needed.” He hesitated, and grinned. “You women are so careless with your purses.”

My missing driver’s license, I thought suddenly.
That’s
how the shooter had my address, and probably how he knew the addresses of the others. “How did you handle all the other staff at the island?”

“We adjusted the memories of a few. With the rest, it was just a matter of timing. We simply ensured our appearances coincided with the downtime of those we were copying.”

These boys might be insane, but they were damn clever as well.

“Why did you attack us at Mirror Image? If you had let us go, you could have made an easy escape.”

He raised an eyebrow. “But we already have. It’ll take your people a very long time to trace us to this island, and by then, we’ll be gone.”

“But by kidnapping us, you’ve only crystallized the Directorate’s suspicion and ensured they’ll come after you. And trust me, that’s never a good thing.”

He smiled. “Perhaps. But we’ve never hunted a guardian before. We thought it worth the risk.”

“One you will not live long enough to savor.”

He shrugged. “The threat of death is all part of the glory of the hunt. There’s no thrill where there is no danger.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Only the insane would consider hunting two guardians fun. Most people tend to run from us, given any sort of choice.”

“We are not most people. And our last hunt was a disappointment. We need a good challenge before we move on.”

I studied him for a moment, wondering why he was so damn confident that he felt no qualms about telling me everything, then said, “So why have you been hunting them? Why not just shoot them, then slice off their heads, like you did your first victim?”

“Because we were young then, and blind to the prospects of the hunt.” He paused. “Was Adrienne the reason you appeared on the island and the Directorate began investigating the club?”

“Yes.” Better to let him think the Directorate had been wise to their ways, when in fact I’d only been investigating thanks to Blake’s blackmailing insistence. God knows how many other women they would have taken before the Directorate had become aware of their activities. The number might even have been as high as the seventeen that went missing in England. “Is that why you left the UK and came here? Because the authorities got wind something was up?”

“The regular authorities we could have handled. It was only when the Directorate took a serious interest that we had to move on.” Annoyance flickered—a brief, black cloud in his otherwise cheerful expression. “We had hoped to source quite a few more hunts here before we were forced to go elsewhere.”

“So why Adrienne? She looked nothing like the woman who killed your father.”

Something flicked through his eyes. Anger. Or madness. It was hard to tell which. “We had no option when she appeared on the island asking questions. Plus, she had that sketch.”

“Which was you, I take it.”

He nodded. “Unfortunately, it turned out your pack-mate had an interesting psychic skill that allowed her to read a person’s past. She ran into me at the club, and apparently caught glimpses of our murderous little habit.”

“She told you this?”

He smiled benignly. “Of course she did. She thought it would help her live.”

“So she and the others
are
dead?”

“Yes. Though they do live on in our memories. And through our trophies.”

I stared at him for a minute, my stomach turning as I remembered the fact that the head of their first victim had never been found. “You take trophies?”

He chuckled, and it was a cold, inhuman sound. “Of course. All hunters do. The heads of all our prey line the walls of our lodge, so we and others can admire the beauty of their death. Although Adrienne has not yet joined them. Our taxidermist went on holidays.”

Oh God, that was just…
beyond
sick. These weren’t just animals we were talking about, these were people. Living, breathing human beings. Or rather, nonhuman beings.

And how in hell did they find a taxidermist who’d even
do
such a thing?

“You will pay for those trophies,” I said, my voice flat, devoid of the anger that was running through me. Just like Rhoan, when he stepped into his guardian shoes and became the efficient killing machine he’d been trained to be.

A shiver went through me, and deep down something screamed
no
. But I had to wonder how much longer that voice would last if I kept getting thrown up against the psychos of this world.

“That’s the whole idea,” he said cheerfully. “We hunt. You try to make us pay. Of course, there are rules.”

I snorted. “Like I’m actually going to obey any of your rules once I’m out of here?”

Perhaps not the wisest thing to say, but hey, if he knew
anything
about guardians, then he knew rules didn’t often figure in our actions.

“You will obey, or your partner pays.”

Yeah, like
that
was a surprise. And of course, I would obey their rules because there was no way on this earth I’d risk my brother’s life. “The problem you’re faced with is the fact that if you
do
manage to kill me, there is nothing left to make my partner obey your rules.”

“There is no
if
in the equation.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out what looked like one of those keychain garage-door openers. “And we have this as our security on your partner. He has a miniature bomb planted in his armpit. If he disobeys the rules, the top half of his torso will be blown apart. Hard to get revenge when you only have half a body and no brain.”

I stared at him, wondering what was worse—his matter-of-fact tone or his obvious delight at his handiwork.

“The first thing any sensible person would do is rip the device out of their body.”

“The device’s power is sourced from the body’s heat. Disconnect that source and it will instantly detonate.”

“That’s not very friendly.”

“We may enjoy our hunt, but we are not fools.” He glanced at his watch, then pushed away from the bars. “We will release you at five. Walk down the path and out the red gate. Go anywhere else but out that gate and your partner will lose his life. We will give you a ten-minute head start.”

“Gee, thanks,” I said dryly.

“Use the time wisely.”

He turned around and walked out of the barn. I flicked to infrared vision, watching his body heat push through the thick shrubbery to the left of the path before disappearing from my line of sight.