Frozen Desires (Asylums for Magical Threats) (5 page)

drugged.

Drugged. The word triggered a memory, and the face of Kiarra Melini’s brother danced in front of her

eyes, showing him right before he’d emptied the syringe of rowanberry juice into her arm.

Despite incredible odds, the man had told her the truth and hadn’t killed her with an overdose after all.

She wondered where Kiarra’s posh younger brother had learned that little trick.

Millie rubbed her face again, and tried to clear her mind. She’d worry about the play of events later,

after she’d escaped and found a way to contact her brother Jaxton and let him know that she was okay. She

only hoped that he hadn’t done something daft, like storm into an AMT compound and demand answers.

From what she’d seen, Kiarra Melini might’ve been able to drill some sense into Jaxton’s thick head and

stop him.

Unsure of how much time she had remaining until someone came to check on her, Millie lowered her hands from her face and looked around the unfamiliar room that smelled faintly of dust and brine. There

was a bed, a small table, and a chair. The wall was bare except for a square window no more than a foot

across, covered by a dark blue curtain.

Gritting her teeth against the pain in her head, she threw the blankets off and walked to the window.

Just in case there was a guard posted outside, she moved the curtain just a fraction to peek out.

To her right, there were jagged mountains in the distance, framed by a bright blue sky, but as she looked

up, she saw that her room was only a few feet from a rock face that went up past her line of sight. To the left, she spotted low-lying vegetation and a few scattered trees. Everything on the ground was a bright shade of green.

She let go of the curtain and plopped back down onto the bed. Through the process of elimination,

Millie knew she was no longer in Scotland, or anywhere in the UK for that matter—the mountains and

vegetation were all wrong. The shape of the mountains, the vegetation, the faint smell of the sea, and the coolness in the air despite it being summer meant she was probably somewhere in Scandinavia, either near

the coast or on a small island.

But how? The last thing she remembered was being interrogated and strapped to a table. She raised a

hand to her face, but the tenderness and swelling from her earlier beating was nearly gone, which meant

she’d been unconscious for at least a few days.

Remembering Mr. Fist-Bastard, her first interrogator, brought back other memories, specifically of

Kiarra’s nameless brother.

He was the one who’d drugged her with diluted rowanberry juice, or so he’d claimed. He’d tried to tell

her via small bits of masking tape on the syringe to pretend the stuff was real since the amount, in full

strength, would’ve caused an overdose and her death. His words had hinted at her freedom, but while she

was no longer in the research facility, this was not quite her idea of freedom.

She’d broken out of impossible situations before, and she could do it again. All she needed to do was

find out who or what was guarding her, before formulating the next steps in her plan—namely finding a

weapon and some money. A fake or stolen EU driver’s license would also make crossing the UK border

easier.

Looking down at her clothes, she added less conspicuous clothing to her list of items to find. The

sweatpants and oversized thermal shirt she wore were more suited to a Sunday staying in than to a woman

rambling the countryside. The rambler cover story would allow her to dress practically and be able to hide weapons in the various pockets of her trousers, or under a loose top.

She heard a door open somewhere not far from her room, and Millie searched for something to use as a

weapon, but nothing was handy. If she smashed the chair, she could use a chair leg to knock someone

unconscious, but the noise would give her away.

Besides, she didn’t know how many people were on the other side of her door. Instead, she lay back on

the bed. She’d show that she was awake, but would play up her grogginess and hopefully make her guard

underestimate her strength.

Steps sounded against a hardwood floor, but stopped right before someone unlocked her door.

Snuggling deeper into the blankets, Millie tried her best to look helpless because if this didn’t work, she could be in serious trouble. Kiarra’s brother may have gotten her out of the research facility only to put her into the hands of another interrogator. The bollocks of it all was that she simply didn’t know, and she hated not having enough information. Hopefully, she’d rectify that soon enough.

The door opened and a tall man with dark red hair and a two-day old beard came into the room. She

couldn’t see any weapons, but she saw the muscles in his arms and legs as he moved and knew that he

might not need any.

He stopped about a foot from her bed, never taking his pale blue-eyed gaze from hers. Millie said

nothing as a truly sick person wouldn’t be all that chatty, and waited. When the man did speak, it was with

Scandinavian-accented English. “You’re awake. Good, that means I can feed you.” He pointed behind him, toward the door. “There’s a shower across the hall. Use it if you like, while I get you something to eat. Do you think you can do that?”

She resisted a frown. This man was playing the role of nursemaid, not that of a guard. Whatever the

reason for it, a shower couldn’t hurt. “Yes.”

The red-haired man nodded and walked away, but he stopped at the door and said, “Oh, and if you try

to escape, be aware that I shoot to kill.” He disappeared down the hall, leaving the door open behind him.

Well, hell, that made things interesting.

Keeping up her ruse of being an invalid, she sat up slowly before trudging across the hall to the shower.

After locking the bathroom door and making sure there wasn’t any surveillance equipment in the room, she

shucked her clothes, turned on the shower, and stepped under the hot spray of water.

Millie closed her eyes, the warmth helping to clear the cotton from her mind, and she tried to think of

how she could escape. It was unlikely that the red-haired man was working alone. She needed to find out

how many accomplices he had guarding the perimeter, as well as their watch patterns, so she could look for weaknesses and pounce on them later.

After her shower, she would focus on taking better inventory of her nursemaid. Small things, like if he

was right or left-handed, could be useful.

But most of all, she wanted to find out why she was here and if Kiarra’s brother had anything to do with

it.

Cam kept her head angled so the stupid floppy hat she was wearing shielded her face from view while

allowing her to keep an eye on her surroundings. The tour group she’d joined had been traipsing around

Chichen Itza for the last hour, but they were finally approaching the section of the Mayan ruins she wanted to see—the observatory.

The observatory building sat atop a high but not quite square stone platform with another large

rectangular stone platform underneath it. Stairs led up the two stone platforms to the tiered wedding cake-shaped structure that looked like someone had cut diagonally across the top layers with a jagged knife and taken away the left half. Inside the building there was supposed to be a spiral staircase that had given the observatory its name in Spanish of
El Caracol
, The Snail.

The collection of sprawling Mayan ruins—known collectively as Chichen Itza—was a UNESCO World

Heritage Site and impressive in its own right. But Cam wasn’t here for sightseeing.

According to the
Feiru
legends she’d obtained from her contact in Merida, the observatory building of Chichen Itza was the last known Talent message center, used in either 1917 or 1918. Cam needed to see if

any of the Talents had already awakened, and if they were using this place as a message center.

Unlike in the past, when there hadn’t been cell phones or computers, it should’ve been easy for the

Four Talents to reach out to one another in the 21st century. But with the
Feiru
High Council’s current stance on elemental magic, along with the mandatory AMT system, it would be safer to rely on older

methods of communication to avoid discovery by the authorities.

She only hoped that if the Talents were real, they were smart enough to reach the same conclusions as

her superiors.

After dark, when Cam and her team could sneak up to the top of the observatory alone, they would go

inside for a closer look. But in broad daylight, it was much easier to scope out the building and make

preparations as part of a tour group.

Luckily, there hadn’t been any sign of a shadow-shifter, or anyone suspicious for that matter, since

Marco had fled deep into the jungle last night. Even so, Cam had her usual precautions in place—Zalika

was further back in the same tour group as her, while Jacek was wandering the ruins and keeping an eye

out for any kind of tail.

Since the ruins were crowded with humans, using any sort of elemental magic or latent abilities would

result in imprisonment. Due to the growth of anti-Article I sentiment—where many
Feiru
wanted to repeal the laws preventing
Feiru
from holding powerful positions in human companies and governments—

offenders would probably receive harsher punishments, maybe even up to, and including, a death sentence.

Plus, the only
Feiru
she’d met crazy enough to risk their own lives for petty goals, regardless of punishment, had been some of the members of the anti-AMT fringe group she’d belonged to in her late

teens and early twenties. During the years she’d been a member, the group had avoided recruiting any first-borns or
Feiru
with latent abilities. The shadow-shifter, if he existed, was probably working with someone else.

In truth, she was more concerned about Marco Alvarez.

Despite dream-speaking with Neena—the DEFEND co-leader had the ability to communicate with

people via dreams—in the wee hours of the morning, she’d learned next to nothing new about the Four

Talents. She’d learned even less about Marco, except that Jaxton had indeed sent him to Mexico to help her.

The tour group finally stopped about ten feet in front of the observatory ruins. While the guide rambled

on about ancient Mayan history, Cam looked around for security cameras and floodlights on the perimeter.

By her count, as long as they disabled the few security cameras dotting the site, getting inside the

observatory wouldn’t be a problem—provided that there weren’t any sensors inside the structure. Given the

lack of funds by the organization who maintained the site, it was highly unlikely they could afford such

sophisticated technology.

The tour guide motioned to his watch and told them that they had fifteen minutes to explore the nearby

buildings before they moved to the next section of the ruins. Right as the group started to disperse, she had the feeling she was being watched. Her phone was silent in her pocket, so neither Zalika nor Jacek had

spotted anything of concern, but Cam’s gut had never failed her before. She did a sweep until her eyes

landed on Marco Alavarez, who was standing near the trees along the left side of the rectangular stone

platform.

He smiled when their eyes met, but she looked away and started for the stairs. In broad daylight

amongst the humans, he couldn’t use his elemental water tricks to stop her.

Chapter Six

Cam looked up at the top of the observatory building and decided that even if the inner staircase was

too dilapidated to use, they should be able to find a way to climb up to the small windows and slip inside.

The jungle behind the building would provide all the cover they’d need.

She walked around the outside of the building, searching for an alternate route to reach the top of the

platform without using the stairs. She soon ran into a dead end, where the outer wall fused with the

observatory building. The wall surrounding the observatory wasn’t falling apart like most of the other

sections of the ruins, and with the cover of the jungle behind it, should be easy enough to scale without

being seen. This was how they were going to get in later tonight.

Cam turned and started to head back toward the stairs to rejoin her tour group when she heard a

scuffling sound coming from behind the wall. She extended her claws on one hand and took a few steps

back in case she needed to attack and possibly tackle someone to the ground. There were no other tourists

in this corner, so she could use her latent ability if either the shadow-shifter or the people from her past had found her.

Two beats later, a deeply tanned hand reached up and grabbed the top of the wall, followed by another.

She reached with her claw-free hand for the knife hidden under her top just as a man’s head popped up

into view.

Cam let out a curse. “Why don’t you use the stairs like a normal person? We can’t afford to draw

unwanted attention.”

Marco grinned as he pulled himself up and over the wall with a grace that belied his strength. He

jumped and landed three feet away from her. “We?” He dusted off his hands. “I was hoping you’d recognize

my talents and invite me to join your team. I’d be delighted; although, you might want to ask directly next time, to avoid confusion.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You left me restrained on the ground in the middle of a jungle.” She took a

step closer and raised a claw. “You were supposedly sent to help me, but team members don’t leave each

other behind, especially when there’s a possible danger lurking in the shadows.”