Highland Son (Highland Sorcery: A New Dawn) (8 page)

Priority: Get Ethan’s hidden toy of a knife.

Easy as pie.

Lying on his side, Dez scooted along the dirty floor. No easy task with his arms and legs bound, but at least he wasn’t secured to a pipe the same way Ethan was. He moved quiet and cautious, not sure if there was anyone outside the door who might hear any noise and come in to investigate.

He got his forehead mashed up against Ethan’s thigh, right above the bloody encrusted bandage where Sheppard had stabbed him. He squelched the new flash of anger boiling up in him—he’d deal with Sheppard later—and set his teeth against the bandage. The thin blade should be hidden just below it, that is if Sheppard’s men hadn’t found it when they tended to Ethan’s wound. However, by the look of it, they hadn’t done more than slap a swath of somebody’s old sleeve around it to stop the bleeding. Dez clenched his jaw in anger around the material.

The cloth was stiff and tasted of dirt and blood as he used his teeth to tug it down. It tore away from Ethan’s skin, reopening the wound. Ethan moaned, sagging farther forward, pulling his arms tight behind him. Dez paused, the material still in his teeth, waiting for Ethan to wake up, but he quieted into unconsciousness once again.

How long had he been out? He should have woken up before now.

He spit out the cloth. “Ethan? Come on, come around, buddy. I need you awake, man.”

Nothing. “Lazy arse, make me do everything.”

Grimacing against his own pounding skull, Dez tried to work the little blade free of the seam. It shouldn’t be this difficult. Ethan usually drew it out with one finger pressing the knife against his thigh for leveraging pressure.

Dez drew back and puffed out a breath. Trying to get at the knife with only his teeth wasn’t working.

Footfalls echoed outside the bathroom door. Dez lay his cheek on the tile, feigning unconsciousness. Shadowed steps moved beneath the edge of the door.

Dez braced for whoever might come in. Ethan’s breaths seemed to grow louder in the stillness.

Finally the shadow moved on and the footfalls retreated. Dez counted off a good ten minutes before moving again.

This wasn’t working.

He rolled onto his other side, his back to Ethan now.

If one thing failed, try another. That sentiment had gotten him and Ethan, and then later Alexander, out of more gone-to-hell situations than he cared to remember.

Scooting back against Ethan’s thigh, he got back to it. Working blind with his arms in an uncomfortable position, he twisted his bound wrists one way and then another, trying to find the best angle to retrieve the blasted thing.

He dug his shoulder hard into the floor to get his forefinger on top of the blade.

Ah. There. Just a little more–the ball of his shoulder protested. The throbbing in his skull intensified. Sweat sluiced down his face into the curve of his agonized collarbone.

He got it.

The almost non-existent hilt of the knife slid along the callous of his finger. He hooked it with the edge of his fingernail and oh-so-carefully dragged it along the rough seam.

The footfalls from outside the door returned. Dez clenched his jaw, sliding the blade out. He had enough of it out that he felt the smooth metal on his warm skin down to the first knuckle.

Shadows moved beneath the door. More than one man this time. He worked the blade up another inch. He had it between his thumb and forefinger now. Hushed voices carried through the wood. The door swung inward.

Dez pulled the rest of the blade out, ripping through the last inch of Ethan’s seam, curled his fingers around the knife and rolled onto his stomach.

Hopefully with his hands exposed and still obviously bound, they wouldn’t give much notice to them. Steps reverberated through the tile as the men entered and walked around them.

“Huh. This one’s been squirming around on the floor like a silverfish.” Hank grabbed Dez by the arms and shoved him over onto his back.

The shock of landing on his bound arms radiated through his shoulders.

“Are you a silverfish, then?” Hank’s light eyes glittered. Sadistic brute was enjoying this.

Dez ignored him and snarled at Sheppard. “What’d you do with Alexander?”

The big guy frowned, uncrossing his arms. “You saw. I did nothing. Leave the vermin to their own.” He sighed and crouched down to hover over Dez’s vulnerable position. Hank and Richards stood just behind him. “I’m sorry for your loss. I understand you cared for…the boy…but you and your friend must realize we’ll never truly be rid of monsters as long as there are any abominations of magic about.

“They brought this upon us. We’ll never be free until we’re rid of them all.”

Dez stared into the man’s features, a cold dread sinking into his gut. Sheppard believed that. He believed every sick filthy word he was spouting. What’s more, he believed Alexander was dead. It hadn’t been some sort of trick.

Not a trick of Sheppard’s doing at any rate.

Dez wasn’t sure what to believe himself, but until he saw evidence otherwise, he wasn’t giving up on the kid.

Alexander was a sorcerer, descended of sorcerers of the highest order—whatever the hell that meant—so had a few tricks of his own. No way would he simply let filthy murderous scum like Sheppard get the better of him. No way.

Except Sheppard had threatened him and Ethan
, the voice of doubt whispered his fear. Alexander would sacrifice himself to give them a chance. Stupid little idiot.

Dez tried to push up but his own arms trapped beneath him halted any motion. He lifted his head off the floor. “So what now? Going to feed Ethan and I to your pet monsters? Going to make a show of it for your sick little community?”

A muscle in Sheppard’s jaw jumped. His eyes narrowed into hard slits. “It’s not like that. We don’t serve humans up to monsters.”

“So what then? A respectful bullet to the skull? He knew he was pushing it, but he was angry. Who did this self-important SOB think he was?

Sheppard sighed, placing his large palms over his knees. “I would have recruited you to our cause, men such as yourselves. I can tell you are good men, have good hearts, protectors of innocents… That’s all I’m trying to achieve here. Protect innocent humans.

Hank’s grin turned primal behind Sheppard.

Sheppard shook his head sadly. “But I can see by your devotion to…” he dipped his head. “…Alexander.” He must have pulled something to say his name. “You’ll never come to terms with the vision I have for humanity. Such a downright waste.”

Fire boiled in Dez’s belly, hot enough to burn them all. If only he did have magic, Sheppard would be soot where he crouched. “So why bring us back here at all?”

“To give you an opportunity.”

“To live?”

Hank snorted.

Dez’s gaze jerked to him. “Find this amusing?” he snarled.

Hank’s eyes flared. “What I find amusing is you acting all tough from flat on your backside. You don’t get to live.”

“That’s enough, Hank.” Sheppard warned, frowning. “I’m sorry. Truly I am. You don’t deserve this.”

“To die, you mean? That’s your plan, right? So what are you talking about an opportunity?”

“A chance to go out easy. Honorably. Or hard.” Sheppard didn’t flinch.

Dez looked from him to Hank and then to the other guy—Richards. There was no give in any of them. No mercy, hesitation, or sorrow. Only his and Ethan’s death reflected back to him in their expressions. So what did they want? And Dez suddenly knew the answer before he had to play their game and ask. “No.”

Sheppard’s brows shot up. “I don’t need your cooperation, although any information you can provide will be of a great help.”

“No.” Dez flexed his arms. His hands curled around the little blade, most likely drawing blood he was too furious to feel.

Sheppard shrugged, unconcerned. “We’ll find it anyway. We already know they’re somewhere on the Californian coast.”

“California’s a big place.” Gods, the lighthouse home base would welcome a band of women and children such as Sheppard’s with open arms, unsuspecting they’d be bringing a shark within their ranks. A shark who would very craftily get rid of any of the few magic wielders on the ships.

Hopefully Doc Thomas and the others would see through Sheppard’s dark veneer. Yet Dez hadn’t. Damn it. They were going to let them walk right in.

Sheppard rose to his feet. “I suspected you’d need some encouragement. Get him up.”

Fully expecting Hank and Richards to grab him, fear of a different kind stroked through his gut when Hank pulled out a wicked looking knife and went to Ethan.

Dez rolled to his side to push up to his knees.

They cut Ethan’s ropes and dragged him up. He sagged unresponsive between Hank and Richards, the ropes around each wrist cut and dangling. Richards scowled. “Told you you gave him too much.”

“Well this ought to wake him.” Hank slammed an uppercut into Ethan’s stomach, curling him over with a groan.

Dez lunged forward only to be hauled back by Sheppard.

“See.” Hank pulled Ethan’s head back to look into his red-rimmed eyes. “He’s coming around. Wakey, wakey.”

Ethan, indeed, was coming to, way too groggily.

“What the hell did you give him?”

Sheppard released him, shoving Dez back to the floor. “Relax. Just a sedative. He was a little overwrought when we brought you back here. Couldn’t have his commotion waking up the others.”

It dawned on Dez that maybe the entire group didn’t know what Sheppard had been up to in the name of their
survival
.

Ethan’s head rocked back with another punch.

“Hey!” Dez shouted.

Richards shrugged. “He’s too far out of it to feel it. Come on, hero, wake up and take your hits like a good little punching bag.”

“You’re wasting your efforts,” Sheppard said.

Hank looked at Dez. “Want us to start on him?”

Sheppard shrugged. “Nah, a man like him, I could beat on all day with no results. But going after one of his own—“

Dez’s heart squeezed hard. He had to get Ethan out of here.

Sheppard walked to the door. “Truss that one back up. Give them the night to think things through and we’ll begin again at first light when they’re both fully alert.” He exited without a backward glance, king of his domain, expecting everything to go his way.

“You heard Sheppard.” Richards let go of Ethan, leaving him supported by Hank alone who seemed reluctant to let him go.

Dez held his breath as he glared up at Hank.

Feeling his gaze, Hank turned from staring down at Ethan and met Dez’s eyes. A slow smile twisted his features. It’d be so easy for him to
accidentally
twist Ethan’s head a little too forcefully. Dez had never felt so helpless in his life. He’d prefer facing off with the Sifts or that damn wolf again.

The wolf was hungry, but it wasn’t sadistically cruel.

Eyes on Dez, Hank ran a finger across Ethan’s exposed throat and then simply let go.

Ethan dropped to the floor in a spineless heap.

Never looking away from Dez, Hank stood over them as Richards did the grunt work, dragging Ethan on his stomach over to the sink and retied his wrists to the pipes before they exited without another jab at them.

Chapter Six

Fury pushed Dez to keep sawing through the ropes, even as his fingers cramped around the small blade.

Ethan could not wake up like that, not on his stomach, arms bound and stretched like that. He’d think…

Dez swallowed around the bile rising up his throat and sawed at his bonds more fervently, watching the subtle difference in his friend’s breathing. He knew too well what Ethan’s nightmares consisted of.

Whatever drug he’d been dosed with was wearing off. Ethan was rousing, the lashes of his unswollen eye were moving against his flushed skin.

Ethan shifted suddenly, trying to lift his head. The muscles in his arms tightened and Dez sawed harder, anticipating Ethan’s reaction.

Ethan tugged more forcefully on his arms, finding them immobile. He drew in a painful breath.

Dez knew the moment Ethan came awake and panicked. His face lifted. He sucked in a painful breath and all hell broke loose.

“No!” Ethan screeched, yanking and yanking against the pipes forcefully enough to make his wrists bleed.

“Ethan, stop! It’s okay, man. You’re not there. You’re not there.” None of this was okay.

Ethan was beyond hearing. He twisted violently onto his back, his features pale with terror, chest heaving so rapidly he was on the verge of hyperventilating, body arching and legs kicking out.

Gloriesdammit! Dez slashed the tiny blade into his ropes, finally feeling the loosening in the fraying bonds. He couldn’t wait, pulled his arms apart with everything he had…groaning as the veins in his neck bulged. Sweat trickled across his neck. Ethan’s leg knocked into his.

With a burst of adrenaline, one of the ropes gave, fraying apart, and Dez twisted his arms, freeing one hand and was on his knees next to Ethan before he had the rest of the rope off of his other hand.

He latched onto Ethan’s arms, holding him steady to quit flaying his wrists apart. His arms were twisted oddly against the ropes, one on top of the other from flopping onto his back.

“Hey, hey, snap out of it.” He curled his hands around Ethan’s biceps, hating to restrain him in any manner while he was like this.

Ethan was still plagued by the occasional nightmare, but Dez hadn’t seen him locked so tight in a terror this bad for years.

Damn drugs, damn Sheppard to the worst parts of hell for this.

“Come on, Ethe. It’s me. You’re okay. You’re not there anymore. You got away. You’re not there. You’re with me. It’s Dez. Right? Come on.”

Tension coiled beneath Dez’s palms. The muscles of Ethan’s arms were rock hard, tight as stone, veins bulged to bursting.

Damn it, he wasn’t getting through. “That’s it.” Dez leaned down into Ethan’s space, getting up close and personal and palmed his cheeks roughly. “Now you listen to me,” he snarled. “Snap out of this right the hell now.”

Ethan tried to shake his head out of Dez’s grip but Dez wouldn’t let him. His eyes tracked to the side and up, anywhere but at Dez. He knew that look, hadn’t seen it since the first months after he’d found the kid in that sewer when he curled into a fetal position, afraid to go to sleep every night. It was like he didn’t even see him and whatever Ethan was seeing scared him out of his gourd.