Deception (18 page)

No reply. She was reaching him, but he wasn’t strong enough to reach her. He imagined her waiting for the response he couldn’t provide, and his heart took another painful hit.

Her voice had still come from the north, but had drifted slightly west, toward the Olympic National Park, so he adjusted his flight path and put his head down.

Layla’s hope had sprung a leak. She still hadn't heard Quin, and she was having a hard time believing he'd heard her. She thought about their last words to each other, and her heart squeezed as a tear rolled from the corner of her eye. She'd called him her thorough hero, and he'd called her his perfect angel.

“Are you calling to your precious Quin?” Finley sneered.

Layla sucked in her aura; she'd completely forgotten it existed. He must have used his concealment spells on her when taking her from of the community, then released the one on her aura so he could spy on her. Bastard.

“I doubt he can hear you,” Finley continued, “but even if you are getting through to him, your pleas are useless. You see, I'm even more thorough than that precious suck up of yours; I have a contingency plan. And you better be glad I do, because he’ll die if he follows you. I’ll make sure of it.”

Control over her muscles was returning, so she looked up, exerting a great deal of effort to gather a mouthful of saliva. As soon as she managed it, she braced herself and shot the hot spit at his face. What she thought was his face anyway.

A mystical force sealed her lips as her tongue and gums caught fire, and an agonizing scream muffled in her scorching larynx.

“I'm sorry I'm having to do things like this,” he offered. “But you'll figure it out eventually. Then we'll get along fine.”

Her lips broke apart, and she choked back a whimper, her throat bone dry and scratchy. “Never,” she rasped. He’d never be able to come back from this.

“Despite what you think,” he countered, “and what that mama's boy told you, I do care about you, and I’ll treat you well. It won't always be this way, but you're the one who controls how long it stays like this, so think twice before you fight or disrespect me again.”

“You'll have to kill me.”

“We'll see.”

Damn. This was going to be the end of her, because she’d rather die than let this bastard keep her. And maybe that was best. The grim reaper had a bead on her, and others were catching the ricocheting bullets. Her death would end a lot of pain and suffering.

Quin would be so mad at her for thinking that way. He’d never allow her to think so negatively.

She would call to him again, and this time, instead of aiming it at him, she’d aim it at the world, because everyone needed a person like him. Maybe if she threw his name out there, his positive energy would make a difference in someone’s day – the way it was making a difference in hers until Finley came along.

She took every thought she had running through her mind and wiped it clean, replacing it with Quin and his name. Then she expelled it from her head in every direction.

Apparently the magic somewhat worked, because Finley's arms and chest flexed around her as a surge of electricity sizzled her blood.

Quin heard her call his name again, and it was clearer than ever, but when he called back, there was no reply. He adjusted his path by turning slightly west. Then Caitrin's voice entered his head.

'Quinlan, slow down. We can barely see you.'

Quin reluctantly decreased his speed, hoping it was enough.

'We just heard her,’
Caitrin continued.

'She called to you?'
Quin asked.

‘No,’
Caitrin replied.
'I don't know what's going on. It was your name, but we heard her, all of us at the same time.'

Quin furrowed his eyebrows, clueless as to why someone else picked up a call to him. More than one someone at that. Mentally talking to a crowd was extremely difficult; only the eldest and wisest of magicians accomplished the feat, and Layla had no idea who was following her.
'Do you understand this, Caitrin?'

'Not one bit. It's unheard of.'

‘Not anymore,’
Quin corrected, soothing his windblown eyes. She was giving him miracles to work with, and he’d use them to follow her to the ends of the earth.

Layla's body was useless again. Finley’s last shock had drained her physical ability, and the comatose feeling was horrible – the most terrifying feeling she'd ever had, and she'd had a lot of frightening experiences. Finley could do anything to her right now, and her only hope would be her magic, which was pitiful in comparison to his.

“Time for the contingency plan,” he said, and her terror strengthened.

She didn't know what the plan was, but feared this would be her last chance to call to Quin, so she quickly burst his name from her head, pushing it toward him and only him as hard as she could.
‘Quin!’

Finley's cold hand stretched across her forehead, and a few tears leaked from her invisible eyes. She wondered if they would fall to earth like raindrops. Probably not. They were sure to evaporate before getting very far. She wished she could evaporate.

“Okay,” he announced, “call to your slave all you want. He won't hear you now. Nothing's getting in and nothing's getting out. Your thoughts are sealed. Go ahead, try it. You'll notice the difference.”

She gave a feeble effort, but Quin’s name just bounced around in her brain, as if her skull had been replaced by metal. Damn. Her hope dwindled further.

“There is a silver lining,” Finley added. “I don't particularly like it, but it doesn't change anything, so I can live with it. You'll like it, though.” His face moved closer, his hot breath sweeping across her lips and cheeks. “I can't get at your thoughts either, so think whatever you'd like. No punishment for that. Maybe being able to think them will keep you from expressing them, which is what gets you into trouble.”

Her muscles were still achy and useless, and her mouth still burned, but she attempted to speak anyway. If he didn't hear her, oh well. “That's not a silver lining.” The words were scratchy and quiet, but at least they slipped from her smarting tongue. “I want you to know exactly what I think. You're a piece of shit, and Quin's a God . . . ” She screamed as ice gripped her bones, like she’d been turned inside out and dipped into the Arctic Ocean.

“Damn it, Layla. You have to stop saying things like that. They're unnecessary and a slap in the face. Being a bitch will get you nowhere.”

The cold eased. “Hypocrite.” Then the cold returned, lasting longer than before.

“I was nothing but nice to you,” he countered, “yet you deny me the same respect. You’ve left me no choice but to demand it.”

The icy magic vanished, giving way to a stream of tears. “Torture me all you want, Finley. I'll never respect you.”

“That's too bad, because there’s no sense in fighting it. You and I are meant to be, and you're just making it harder on yourself by taking the scenic route instead of the shortcut I laid out for you.” He moved closer and whispered. “I worked hard to clear that path for you, Layla. Just take it. You'll be glad you did.”

“Not in a million years,” she slurred.

After a moment of silence, he gave her one more chance. “Rethink your answer.”

“Nuh-uh,” she refused, bracing for the punishment.

He sighed and leaned away. “It's your pain, not mine.”

And he wasn’t kidding. For the first time ever, multiple elements penetrated her body at once, and a blood-curdling scream ripped from her throat like a bullet from a gun. Its shrill echo faded into the freezing air whipping around them, and her insides cringed as scorching flames licked frosty bones, her veins vibrating over waves of electricity.

A smarter woman probably would have surrendered, and Layla grew dangerously close to throwing up the flag. Anything to stop the brutal torture. But before she could make the mistake of trading in her freedom, her pain tolerance reached its limit and her world went black.

Quin halted and hovered, lifting his concealment spell as he spun around. His direction didn't feel right. Nearly an hour had passed since he heard her, and he'd flown by the spot she last called from more than thirty minutes ago. Shit. He'd lost her trail.

He looked for the others, who were quickly approaching now that he'd stopped.

What was he going to do? What on earth could he do? Any direction he flew could be the opposite direction he should be flying.

Kemble reached him first, quickly followed by Serafin and Cordelia, then Daleen, Caitrin and Morrigan. All of their bodies appeared at once.

“What is it, Son?” Kemble asked.

“The direction feels wrong,” Quin answered. “We're not going the right way.”

“What makes you think so?” Serafin pressed. “Have you heard her?”

“Not for about an hour. We passed the last place she called from around forty-five minutes ago.”

“Have you called to her?” Caitrin asked.

“Yes,” Quin answered. “I can’t reach her. What about you guys?”

They sadly shook their heads no as Caitrin replied. “We’ve tried, but we’re not getting through.”

Quin roughly ran a hand down his face, fighting the terror clutching his throat. “Any ideas?”

“I would say spread out,” Serafin suggested, “but it’s too dangerous. None of us can stop Finley on our own.”

“I'm willing to take the risk,” Quin countered. “If that's the only way we'll get to her, that's what we'll do.”

Cordelia’s eyes widened as she floated closer. “But she's only calling to you. You're the one with the best chance of pinpointing her position. If we spread out and you get a read on her, there won’t be a way for you to tell us.”

“Then I'll go by myself.”

“That would be a suicide mission, Quinlan. That won't save her.”

“It might give her a chance to escape.”

“To what end?”

“One of her own choosing,” Quin snapped. Then he took a deep breath and looked away. “What else am I supposed to do, Mom? Go home and wait on news that will never come? Just let him take her freedom and ruin her life? That's not an option for me.”

Cordelia squeezed his bicep. “It's not an option for us either. We'll figure out another way.” She looked at her husband, then the others. “Won't we?”

Serafin bowed his head. “There is no quick answer for this. Either we keep flying aimlessly and hope we get lucky, or we go home and use soothsayers and contacts to hunt her down.”

“No,” Quin refused. “I won’t sit at home while she’s at the mercy of that psychopath. Not happening.”

“I’m with Quin,” Daleen asserted. “If we go home, she’ll grow farther away.”

“We can’t cover the whole world on our own,” Caitrin pointed out. “We could waste valuable time chasing a lost trail.”

“Finley will have to stop eventually,” Quin argued. “Even if we’ve lost his trail, we’re not more than two hours behind him. We’ll cover the gap when he lands.”

“There aren’t enough of us,” Kemble replied.

“Then get the others,” Quin insisted. “Go get the rest of the family. How widespread are they?”

“They're not,” Caitrin answered. “Shouldn't be anyway. We told Brietta and Cat to gather them at the community to await further news.”

A sliver of hope quivered Quin's heart. “Good. Go get everyone capable, Dad, and tell the others to clear the community. No one will be there to protect them if Agro shows up. Once you’ve gathered them, fly straight north for at least forty-five minutes, then start searching for our minds. That's about where she called from last. I'm going back there, and I'm going to branch out in every direction until I pick up another trail. When I do, someone will stay there to tell you which way to go.” He paused, trying to figure out if he needed to say anything else. He didn’t. “Go, and please hurry.”

Kemble gave Quin's shoulder a squeeze then turned to Cordelia, taking her cheeks in both palms. “See you soon, love.”

“Hurry,” she whispered, laying her hands over his.

He obeyed, his body disappearing as he sped away, and Quin looked at the others. “We need to work our way back to the last spot she called from. We can all mind-search up to ten miles, right?”

“Yes,” they answered.

“Then spread out,” Quin instructed, “with the fastest flyers on the outer edge. We can achieve a span of fifty miles while maintaining a line of communication. Constantly call to her, and if you get the feeling she's close, let the rest of us know.” He looked at his itchy palms and flexed his fingers, wishing he could do more, faster. “Let’s go.”

He didn't wait for their replies before concealing his body and soaring south, back to the last place his angel had been when she was still able to find his mind.

The next time Layla came to, she was immediately alert and extremely sore. She could feel every inch of her body, every burning bone and cramped muscle, and every vital motion her system made in an attempt to keep her alive. The painful tic of her heart fluttered smarting skin and thundered in her head; and her blood scraped through tender veins like gravel. Yes, she felt every agonizing inch, but she doubted she’d be able to move any of it. She didn't try. She stayed motionless, hoping her aura wasn't giving her away.