Golden's Rule (19 page)

“I think my friend might have that covered.”

Settling down, Jaxon shook his head. “Shit. Fuck. We need some help here, Torque. I can’t kill him, but I know a man who will gladly.”

“Wait, you can’t?”

Jaxon grimaced. “I can’t, if I do, Sydney, as a turned vampire, will look to me. I have enough shit on my plate.”

Ah. Interesting he’d not known that.

“Damn it, Torque, now is the not the time for a lesson. Get your shit together. I have to go. See that you get the information we need. I’ll be back in a few.”

“Wait. What about the other girl?” he asked. Hell, he had to.

Jaxon gave him an irritated growl, then said, “She’s fine. Trying something with her to help.”

“Something?”

“Yeah, transfusions. I’ll let you know, okay?” Jaxon snapped, then when Torque merely quirked an eyebrow, Jaxon shifted out of the room.

Torque suddenly felt like things had just got a shitload worse, but at least knew Jaxon hadn’t turned the human. Transfusions? Who would have known the vampire would try something like that. Torque wondered if that would even work.

“You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d think that vampire thinks he’s running this damn show.”

Glancing down at the young mage, he watched the kid’s expression turn from fear to a hesitant half smile, as if unsure what to do with himself.

“I’ll fetch a scribe. You tell them every bit of shit you can remember. Everything. Just maybe we’ll get this done.”

He barked out orders to the guards while he stalked from the room, heading to where he’d left Beauty. Now the attack. And he’d have to take Beauty into it.

Torque shoved his unease aside and went to Beauty. He’d have to give her this, or he’d ruin his chances at ever showing her he could handle her strength.

If it didn’t kill him.

* * * *

“He’s not evil. Not a Death Stalker.” Beauty nodded to where two guards were dragging the young mage down the hall to clean him up and get him another room. “He was troubled, his soul touched, faintly with deeds he cringed from exploring too deeply, but he wasn’t a Death Stalker.”

She felt no deep bond to the dark, the link she felt between Death Stalkers to their Dark Lord. He was in trouble though, his soul had been tainted, left to himself he would turn evil, unless he fought it.

“Damn.” Whooshing out a breath, Torque ran a hand through his dark hair, messing the already tousled look he had going on. “Well, then. Damn, that complicates things, doesn’t it?”

She shoved her hands in her jeans pockets and watched him. “I’m sorry, shouldn’t I have said anything?”

“Shit, no. That’s not an easy talent, Beauty. Are you sure?”

“I am positive.”

“Why didn’t I know?”

Beauty grinned and shrugged at his frustrated growl. “Uh, babe, you are many things, but empathy is just not your deal.”

He gave her a scowl for that and started pacing the small room like a caged cat.

“Well, you could let me in there, I can heal him. I think.”

That brought him up short. “Oh, fuck no.”

“Don’t be unreasonable. Logically you know he can’t touch me. Tie him up if you need to, but I can help him. If someone doesn’t? He will turn dark, Torque.”

With a low grunt, Torque paced to the window. His reflection shone back at her, strained, and worried. He was upset for the mage.

“What is it?”

He turned his head to meet her eyes. His were stormy grey. “I wanted to help the kid, but do you realise what this might mean? I thought he was a Death Stalker, sensed the bond, and immediately put him in the category of evil.” He stopped abruptly and turned back to stare at her.

“And?”

He didn’t respond right away. She sensed him guarding his emotions until with a muttered curse he lowered his hand from where he’d been fingering his goatee.

“And, I’ve killed for less. I’ve killed immortals with the same feel. If I sensed the bond, they were the enemy. You changed all that, Beauty. All of it.”

Because now he thought he could have saved them, instead of killed them. The unspoken words hung in the air between them. If she’d ever doubted Torque, if she’d ever felt him to be dark, or uncaring—and she hadn’t, but if she had—those unspoken words had tears clogging her throat.

“You did what you had to do. My gift is unusual. I doubt anyone else could sense he wasn’t completely turned.”

She wasn’t bragging, but Torque turned a raised eyebrow at her. She felt colour rush her cheeks. She’d read her gift was unusual, she wasn’t bragging.

“You did what you had to do. In the end, if you’d known a few of the immortals you fought as Death Stalkers could be saved, so what? I mean, how do you know they’d want to be? Saved? Maybe they took the vow for the power they felt it provided. You don’t know. So, now? Regretting lives you took to save more? Just not okay, babe.”

He stood watching her, before he slowly shook his head, the tension easing from his big frame.

“Damn, Beauty, you’re too much. You know that right?”

“Huh, I think I’m just right. Just right for you. Now, are we going to this club?”

He paused, reaching up to no doubt rub his goatee, and sized her up with those sexy sharp eyes. “We go. You can heal this bastard later on. I want you at full steam when we hit the club.”

“I’m always at full steam.”

He snorted. “Damn smartass.”

She ignored him. She was back on her feet, sure of herself and ready to hit this club.

Chapter Twelve

Beauty was scaring the shit out of him. And the trouble was she was doing exactly what he’d told her to do. She’d got the image of the girl from the mage, and she’d even nodded politely at the big vampire, Bryson, whose big linebacker looks sent a little ripple of shock over Beauty’s pretty face. For some reason he thought she believed all vampires were lean, pale, and looked like some drug addict. She’d not been impressed with Jaxon, and had even thrown the egotistical bastard a bit when he’d tried to go all old-school and had kissed her hand. She’d snatched her hand back like he might bite it and frowned at him as if he’d been caught trying to. Torque had tried not to grin at that. But all in all, she’d been on her toes, not distracted, not going too close to Bryson, and not leaving his side since they’d hit the club.

She did shoot him a ‘you’re-in-trouble-when-we-get-home-for-coming-here–without-me’ look, but that merely made him grin. He still felt an unreasonable amount of pleasure at her brief feminine outrage at him coming here without her. Like he’d bring her here. He was now though. And she’d used her gift to come to him. To him. Amazing. Scary as hell because he now knew she’d come after him if he ever tried to sneak away, but cool too.

“Torque?”

Her whisper jerked him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, I’m good. How about you? Good?”

She nodded, her face shadowed in the dim, freaky fake hallway. He’d not bothered to shred the spell, since what lay beneath was by far nicer, but he didn’t care about nice. He wanted in and out.

“Disgusted, but good.”

“Yeah, what the hell is up with the décor?”

Beauty covered her grin by biting her bottom lip and met his eyes. “Décor?” she whispered.

“Head in the game, sweet.”

“It’s in, it’s in. But come on, what guy knows décor?”

He snorted at her hushed voice. “Obviously our beefy vampire.”

She smacked his chest.

Bryson cut into their little spat, asking, “How much farther?”

“Just down this hallway, the kid said there’d be a hallway. No one will be on guard, change in shifts, so there’s some lag time.”

“Wouldn’t there be twice the guards?” Beauty asked.

“Naw, these meatheads all go for a snack, the new ones chatter it up, and
voila
, a clear path. Your man’s not bad.”

He ignored the vampire’s jibe, but not the assessing stare directed at his mate. He shot a dark look at the vamp, but the guy merely lifted a brow. Linebacker his ass, the guy reminded him of a Marine Sergeant he’d once met. Bryson even possessed the same brown, buzz-cut hair. The differences of course were Bryson was a vampire, while his old Marine buddy had been a human. With a casual shrug, he met Torque’s ‘don’t fuck with my woman’ glare with a smirk.

“Thank you, I think so.”

The grin grew at Beauty’s soft words, but he did turn the fuck around with an envious look. Yeah, he got that. He’d be envious too, if he saw a guy with a woman like Beauty. Then what the hell was he doing bringing her into this shit? Panic threatened when they reached the door leading to the lower levels.

He nodded at Bryson’s questioning look.

“Let’s do it. If the shit hits, Beauty and I are gone.”

“Damn right. Don’t linger. I sure the hell won’t, best you don’t risk it. Either of you.”

He felt only slightly better, but nodded and the vampire opened the door, silently slipping down the dimly lit stairway a step ahead of them. This time he murmured a truth spell, revealing the same dull paint and lack of artifice found upstairs. Nothing unusual. No spells set to trip them up or trap them. Nothing.

Damn. It made him as edgy as a cat near a snapping hound on a leash. There should be something here. Something. He found nothing. He sensed immortals below, but one glance at Beauty and she gave him the so-so wave.

“There’s a lot of pain. I sense some links to the Death Stalkers, but not full links. I sense pain though, and something very wrong. Something like…madness?”

“Be prepared, it won’t be pretty.”

She nodded, taking his cue to increase their pace down the stairs after Bryson. They walked until she reached out and touched Bryson briefly, halting them.

“Something up ahead, feels like the girl, might not be alone though.”

“Define not alone.”

He gave Bryson a glare for his tone, but it was lost when Beauty tipped her head to the side and frowned. “A male. He’s with her. Angry. Very angry. She’s afraid. I think he’s bound her down, or at least I sense something like helplessness from her.”

“One male?”

“Yes, one. Fully Death Stalker. Evil. Possibly a Lord.”

Bryson whistled low. “Damn, that’s one gift, witch. I thought Jax had a nose, but you’ve got him beat.”

“Bryson,” Torque grumbled.

“Yeah, I’m on it. She’s first, right?”

“Yeah, get her, take her to the compound, or…wherever you have to take her. She’s not full, right?”

“No, not even close. She’s holding out, refusing. That’s what’s making her feel so helpless. That and something else I can’t quite figure out, but she’s weakening.”

“Right. On it. I’ll shift her out, subdue her and be back here.”

“Subdue?” Beauty snared the guy with a glare.

“I mean see to her, no worries, little one. I assume all hell will have broken loose by then?”

“Yeah.” Torque nodded.

“Yeah,” Beauty breathed a second after him.

Bryson nodded, saluted, and headed down the stairs to find the female.

“All right, Beauty. Lead the way but first sign of danger, we hoof it.”

“He won’t hurt her, will he?”

It took a second for him to process who she was talking about. Bryson. The female. “No way. I mean, I think if he saves her, breaks the bond with the vow she took or didn’t take, whatever, he has to drink from her, and her from him. I think if I got the story straight that makes them sorta bonded.”

She stopped, refused to move when he nudged her. “Sorta?”

“Well, in some ways it makes her his. Not sure it’s like that, bond, more like, well, master to underling.” He pushed her into motion while he spoke, keeping his guard up and ready.

She halted so fast he nearly tripped over her. “Slave? Because that’s not cool, Torque.”

“Shit, no. I don’t think so. We can ask him if you like, but right now, she’s in hell, and he’s getting her out. He’s a good man or Jaxon wouldn’t have asked him to come.”

She met his eyes for several long seconds before she nodded, turning back to head down. He knew Beauty’s temper, though, and if the vampire did bond the girl against her wishes—

A cry, like a wounded animal shuddered through the place, halting his thoughts like he’d hit a brick wall. Ahead, he heard footsteps, a yell, and more running.

“Down, down now.”

Before he could stop her, she shifted them to the bottom of the stairs. He’d barely got his footing when she pulled him down a hallway and then into a room. Facing them lay an enraged witch. Young. Definitely not a Death Stalker. Blonde white hair, cut ragged with bright blue chunks of colour running through the shaggy cut bangs, the kid looked twenty years old, tops. Tan-coloured baggie cargo pants, a light blue tank, black combat boots, and piercings, she didn’t look old enough to be out of her coven. Her eyes turned bright blue and lighter blue sparks whizzed over her and down the wires taped to her forehead, throat, and collarbones.

Beauty sucked in a breath. “Not Death Stalker. Not even close.”

The witch arched her body off the metal table and struggled with her arms and legs. Resting back down, she glared over at them. “Do I look like a ghoul? Cut me some damn slack and get me the hell off this table!”

The lights flickered. One busted out and rained bits of glass down on them.

Torque grabbed a handful of Beauty’s jacket and hauled her out of spark range. The lights flickered like crazy, two more blew out, and the witch’s body glowed with blue sparks.

Was she powering the place? Damn, that was…insane?

“Torque!” Beauty tugged his hand.

“We’re not here to hurt you. Hold the fireworks so we can get you out, witchling.”

The witch’s eyes slowly lost the glow and she settled down a bit. The lights turned steady, at least the ones that weren’t blown, and she exhaled saying, “Okay, okay, give me a second.”

A second? He needed more than that. Somehow, she powered this place, or at least blew the power. Tossup on that. “How the hell did you blow the lights?”

“Torque!” Hitting him in the stomach, Beauty made a move to go closer to the pissed-off witch and he halted that with a fist in the back of her jacket. No way was she getting too close until he knew what the witch was doing to the power supply.