Scorched Fury: A SkinWalker Novel #5 (DarkWorld: SkinWalker) (3 page)

Being alone had never been a problem for me. But right now alone was a place that I didn't prefer to be. It was probably because I'd glanced down into the glass counter, now bare when it would have once been filled with weapons and ammunition of every kind.

The grime had built up so much on the windows that the light had a difficult time finding a spot to penetrate. Only a handful of rays had braved the dirt, striping the empty room with golden lines, enhancing the abandoned, ghostly feel of the store.

I thought about the black ooze on the tree, and accepted what I'd known the moment I'd seen the rot. I needed the help of the Fae.

Only, Tara hadn't left me a contact number. At the time I'd assumed she was returning to the Faelands. Cellphones and other mobile devices wouldn't work across the reaches of the Veil.

But there were ways that I could get in touch with her. I knew enough jumpers who'd help me should I need them, but though I'd wanted to contact her in the past, I hadn't allowed my feelings to get in the way of my respect for her privacy. Tara had left for a good reason, of that I had no doubt. And I respected that.

But right now the Great Ash Tree was far more important than our personal relationship, or anyone's right to privacy.

I got to my feet and slung my satchel over my shoulder as I headed into the apartment at the rear of the shop. Tugging my cellphone out of my jeans pocket, I tapped out a quick text to Mel Morgan, neighborhood tracker, and good friend. Mel had come to my aid many times, and through the past few months we'd forged a solid friendship.

She'd recently said she wished she could help me out in a situation which didn't result in me losing something important. She'd helped me bring Logan to safety, but she'd also been there to bring Anjelo's body back home.

Asking for her help now, where the Great Ash was concerned, would give her just such an opportunity.

My cell pinged; Mel would meet me in three hours.

That gave me enough time to make one important stop.

I left the building through the back entrance, locked the gate and slung a leg over the seat of the Ducati.

Flipping the kickstand, I gassed the engine and headed slowly up the alleyway.
 

Running in shifter speed would have gotten me to Tukats faster, but I needed the drive. I needed the time to think.

CHAPTER 3

I
STOOD
ON
THE
THRESHOLD
OF
my old bedroom, watching Logan lying unmoving on the bed. The sight of him still scared me more than I will ever admit. Beneath his closed lids, his eyes shivered, shifting left and right, the movements sudden, sharp, as if he was caught within his dreams, desperately needing to escape.

My childhood bedroom had been transformed into a hospital room. The old double bed remained though, accommodating the patient and offering visitors like me a place to sit. Around the bed, my father had gathered more equipment than any patient could possibly require.

Dad being overzealous in his care, or proof that Storm had damaged Logan in worse ways than I could imagine? Storm had frozen Logan, placing him into a cryogenic chamber, keeping him on ice for Ailuros knew what reason.

I tiptoed further into the room, scanning his pale face, the tan long gone, his skin now a lifeless alabaster. I sat beside him and took his hand, holding it carefully between mine. Once-strong fingers which had hurled balls of fire, now appeared so weak and so fragile, that it seemed all I had to do was squeeze and they'd disintegrate into ashes and flutter to my feet.

Three weeks had passed and Logan's condition remained unchanged. Sure, my father had murmured positive things every few days, well-meaning assurances that were not as assuring as he'd meant them to be.

It wasn't that I didn't trust my father to take care of Logan. It wasn't even the fact that I'd had no idea that my father was a scientist before he'd taken over the reigns as Alpha, or that he was just as skilled and educated as his brother Niko. In spite of the fact that he'd refrained from telling us all these years, I still trusted him to do whatever he could to help Logan.

No, what brought me to my knees was that I didn't trust that Logan would recover.

I hoped, yes.

Prayed too.

It was just the sight of Logan, a man always doing whatever it took to keep supernaturals safe from harm and from doing harm, lying there so still and unmoving, and so lifeless. With not even a sign to indicate that he'd come back to me.

There were traitorous moments in which I was unsure that anybody could save him. And I was so afraid Storm would finally get what he'd wanted.

A sudden beeping snatched my attention from Logan to the machine beside me that measured heart rate; it had spiked. Was it me? Was my presence upsetting him?

But he hadn't opened his eyes. He wouldn't have seen me.

I watched his face, taking in the rapid movement of his eyes beneath his lids. He was still caught within his troubling dream, and even though I squeezed his hand in comfort, it didn't alleviate his distress.

He tossed his head from side to side, a low moan escaping his cracked lips. His fingers clutched mine harder, the desperation clear in the white knuckles, his other hand grabbing onto the sheets just as tight.

Logan moaned again, then cried out, the sound sharp, cutting through the air, filled with hysteria. His pain tore through me, wildfire scorching its way through my heart. But I could do little else other than hold his hand and pray that my touch would be enough to pull him free from whatever demons sought to control him.

Suddenly Logan's muscles tightened, his head and torso lifting off the bed, as if a shock of electricity had surged through his body. His lids flickered then opened wide, eyes staring blindly. He shouted unintelligible words that made my heart twist with fear.

I held on as tight as I could, part of me wondering if my presence was necessary, if I even helped him at all. I held onto him as his body bounced against the bed. Once, twice. And then, as if nothing had happened at all, the beeping machines ceased their cries, and Logan fell back against the pillows with a soft sigh.

The only evidence that he'd been through anything stressful, were the beads of perspiration that coated his face and neck. And the tight grasp of his fingers around mine.

He let out a soft sigh, his head moving frantically left to right.

"I'll find you," he whispered. "I promise I'll find you."

I stiffened. Who was he talking to? Was it the girl – maybe his sister - that had haunted his dreams these past months?

I scanned his face, relieved that he was still in deep sleep. He'd complained so many times of bad dreams, and when he'd slipped into the coma, I'd been terrified those dreams that took hold of him, would control him.

Now, it seemed that I was right to be worried. He was deep within his unconscious. His subconscious. He'd see the little girl, the one he didn't know. The one who'd faded from his memory as he'd grown older.

I'd asked him to speak to Darcy, to ask for help to unlock his memories. And he'd agreed. I'd been relieved to hear that he was willing to try. But that was before Storm had taken him. Before Storm had reduced him to this paralyzed creature that I had no idea how to help.

I got to my feet, my muscles tightening, and stood beside the bed, staring down at our still entwined fingers. I hadn't lost Logan, not really. He was still here. There was still hope that he'd wake up, still hope that my father would bring him back to us.

We hadn't lost Logan.

Not yet.

CHAPTER 4

A
SOUND
AT
THE
DOOR
DREW
my attention, and Justin Lake walked through the doorway.

I stiffened at the sight of him, the memory of his proposal still fresh in my mind. I let go of Logan's hand, and tried to ignore the loneliness that blanketed me the moment his fingers left mine. I focused my attention on Justin, where he stood in silence, his blue eyes gleaming brightly, a thin smile curving his lips.

Forcing my feet to move, I went to him, to do the hostess thing and greet him. He held out his arms, drew me into a hug and when his lips touched the skin of my cheek, a traitorous shiver ran through me.

I wasn't naive. I knew I probably would never be rid of my feelings for the Cougar Alpha. Justin Lake had been my first love, my first kiss, the boy I'd harbored dreams of marrying and having the requisite 2.5 children and the perfect life with. But the weight of Alpha responsibility had been enough to nix those dreams.

"How are you, Kai?" asked Justin, smiling down at me, his expression tender, edged with concern. I could never accuse him of not caring.

I gave him a tight smile and moved to the seat beside the window. Somehow it felt wrong to have any sort of discussion with Justin while in Logan's presence, even when Logan himself had no idea what was going on around him.

But I didn't have anything to hide. Nor did I want Justin to think I did.

I took a seat and knew I should offer him something to drink, but I didn't. Justin took the seat beside me and shifted to face me, his legs taking more space than necessary.

I ignored the ripple of awareness that ran through me, and said "If you're here to see Iain, he's in New York."

Justin shook his head. "Actually, I'm here to see your father."

"He's somewhere around the house. Probably pottering around in his new lab."

I used the word lab as if it was a drop of poison on my tongue. Anything to do with biological research reminded me of my uncle Niko, and it still bugged me that my father had kept his own past from me.

Not that I was about to look a gift horse in the mouth. If he was able to save Logan, who was I to question him on one omission?

"Fine, I'll find him. But first, I want to know how you're doing." He tilted his head studying my face, concern in his eyes.

I offered a short nod. "I'm fine. I'm doing okay."

"The Elders keeping you busy?" he asked, giving a wry smile.

Another nod. "In fact they're keeping me far too busy."

Justin frowned. "You know you don't need to do everything by yourself, right?"

My eyes narrowed as I stared at him, bristling. He wasn't in my life. He didn't have the right to question me. Just because he'd proposed marriage, didn't give him any rights. But I tamped down my annoyance. No need to lash out at him just because he was concerned.

"There's a lot to do. I just wish that the things I need to facilitate my job would happen faster."

He laughed softly, his voice low, conspiratorial. "I know exactly what you mean"

Clearing my throat and straightening I asked, "Any news on the Walker Council issues?"

Justin nodded, although his expression clouded. "Ivy and Celeste were able to identify the Alphas who were feeding the council information. Gerald Bartlett and Sofia Morgan. There's a surveillance team on them twenty-four-seven in the hope that we can catch them in the act."

I shrugged. "Just because they're talking to someone on the council doesn't make them guilty of anything."

"We're well aware of that. Which is why we're just watching them for now. Our other leads have confirmed that the two newest members of the council have grown astronomically in their influence over the rest."

"Who?"

"Neil Trapper and Delia Wade. They joined the council two years ago. Seem to be the ones in charge despite Joseph Marsden's seniority."

"At least I know that Mom and Grams have been busy."

"No kidding." Justin laughed, his admiration obvious. "Those two seem to be the best investigators around."

"Just be thankful that they're actually on your side." I smiled.

Justin burst out laughing, the sound reverberating around the room and enveloping me. Reminding me of time spent on the back porch as the sun set and the fireflies came out. Long conversations with intertwined fingers, Justin's arms around me, keeping me warm and safe.
 

 
"Too bad they were needed elsewhere." He sounded regretful.