Shadow's Pleasure: The Shadow Warder Series, Book Two (A Paranormal/Urban Fantasy Romance Series) (28 page)

“Can’t they fight back?” Sorcha asked, thinking of the male who had just left them. He didn’t look like anyone’s victim.

“Cameron has trained his people to defend themselves. The truth is, the ones who are left are the fighters. Those too soft to take care of themselves are already gone. If Charlotte flips, and even one Voratus figures out what they are, they’ll be fucked.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Sorcha said. “There are Vorati everywhere. How do the Delectavi stay hidden?”

“Spell craft. A lot of it. Cameron’s got connections with the Mysterium. And they can work some spell craft themselves. There’s a reason the club is set up the way it is. It’s not just to set a mood. The bouncers, the long hallway, even the color scheme and the wallpaper pattern. It all works together to cloud the mind. A Voratus could be sitting in the front row and not really know what it was seeing on stage.”

“Dangerous game,” Sorcha said.

“True. But I think hiding gets old after a millennium. Cameron and his people are going to have a decision to make.”

“You’re so sure Charlotte will fall? What if Michael is out of the picture?” She shouldn’t have been surprised at Kiernan’s bark of a laugh.

“What makes everyone assume it’s that easy? He’s a Director. It’s not exactly an elected position. He was dangerous before he got jacked up with a demon inside him. I’m not saying we can’t kill him, but it’s not an easy thing. If he’s working with a powerful Voratus? Just makes him harder to take out. And who knows how many Warders they might have infected? Maybe none. Maybe they have an army. Assassinating Michael might only make everything worse.”

“Okay,” Sorcha said. She hadn’t thought about any of that. Tactics weren’t her strong suit. Not on this scale. She’d been trained to deal with a single threat. Kiernan had been right before. They weren’t here to determine the fate of the Warders in Charlotte. They were here to find Caerwyn, Lissa, and Sara. That was it. The rest would have to work itself out later. She set her silverware neatly on her plate and tucked her napkin beneath. Pushing back her chair, she said, “Time to get back to work.”

Kiernan rose with her, lost in thought. He didn’t say anything as he dropped a few bills on top of the money Cameron had left and guided Sorcha back through the kitchen. Betsy, a phone jammed between her shoulder and her ear, gave them an absent wave as they let themselves out.

“I want to try tracking from the truck again,” she said into Kiernan’s silence.

“You sure?”

“I’ve got a better handle on it now. And going on foot is too slow. We need to move faster.”

Kiernan didn’t respond, except to put the truck in gear. Sorcha could feel the pressure building. Everything they understood about the world they lived in was shifting. Caerwyn and the girls were still missing. And every minute that passed increased the chances they were one small part of a much bigger clusterfuck that was about to explode. No matter what she told herself, Sorcha couldn’t shake the feeling that they needed to find the girls and get the hell out of town before she and Kiernan were trapped as surely as Caerwyn.

Chapter Fifteen

Sorcha slid the hot pizza box on the counter in Kiernan’s kitchen. She was ready for a cold beer and about half of that pizza. Five long hours of tracking and still no Caerwyn. The spell craft hiding the Shadows was thick and layered. She and Kiernan had doubled back too many times. Not to pick up a lost trail, but still on the track of the same one. Either Caerwyn had traveled to her new location in the most circuitous route possible or the spell craft was leading them in circles. The problem was, Sorcha couldn’t tell which.

Her chest tight, she debated what to do. Or really, when to do it. She knew what had to be done. Wimping out, she took a paper plate from Kiernan and filled it with pizza. It was a sign of the way the day had gone that Kiernan didn’t tease her over the stack of slices she planned to eat. Even using the truck, tracking burned a lot of energy. Kiernan brought his pizza to the leather couch and flicked on the television.

“Do you care?” he asked as he shuttled through options on the screen.

Sorcha shook her head. Settling for an offbeat comedy, he hit play and sat back. Sorcha watched, eyes blank, not absorbing anything on the screen. She was exhausted, her entire body drained. Searching for Caerwyn, fighting the spell craft blocking her, constantly reinforcing her shield under the onslaught of all the people in the city. It was too much. She needed sleep. Days of sleep. She needed to get out from under the constant pressure to find Caerwyn. It was like watching the sand run from an hourglass, knowing that when it was gone, so was the last chance to save her friends. In the back of her mind, she kept hearing her friend’s thin, lost voice saying, “
Scares me, Sorcha. If he stopped hurting me, why does he want me?
”

Any change in Michael’s behavior couldn’t be good. Caerwyn was right to be scared. If Michael had been infected, his priorities might have changed. It was impossible to know. But if he was no longer hurting her, it could mean he didn’t need the Shadows anymore. Sorcha had to find them before he threw them out like the leftovers they might be.

Unable to keep her thoughts from Kiernan any longer, she blurted out, “We won’t find them fast enough if we stick with tracking them. I have another plan.”

Kiernan looked up at her, mid-chew. It only took a second before his mind clicked into gear and his eyes narrowed. Sorcha watched the muscles in his jaw shift as he chewed. A swallow, then he said, “What kind of plan?” His voice was dangerously gentle, his hazel eyes suddenly reminding her of a tiger’s. Deliberate. Predatory.

She set her half-full plate on the counter and faced him. “You know about my other ability?”

“Pretend I don’t,” Kiernan said.

“It’s what I used to do when I was a tracker. To find other infected humans. Similar to psychometry. I can—”

“You touch things and see visions,” he said, his voice flat, eyes growing hard.

“Kind of. Most people with psychometry see flashes of the past or the future. I don’t see, I feel. Places. When I was in the field, I could touch the infected human and I’d be able to feel where they had been. And I knew where it was. We used the locations to catch anyone the Voratus might have infected along the way.”

“Explain how you plan to use this to find the Shadows,” Kiernan ordered.

Sorcha shivered at the cold tone in his voice. His emotions were usually well contained, but she was getting frostbite right now. Sorcha felt her own temper spark in response. “If I touch Michael—”

“No fucking way,” he shouted, surging off the couch. His beer tumbled to the floor, foam spilling across the hardwood unheeded. “We just found out he might be infected and you want to go near him? Are you insane? Do you think those tattoos make you invincible?”

“No. But it’s the only way,” Sorcha protested, disbelief warring with aggravation. He wasn’t in charge—Kiernan didn’t get to tell her what she could do. “If I can touch him, I can see where he’s been. I can track the location directly. It’s not like following traces. It’s almost as good as a map.”

“And if he’s using spell craft to block your talent? You don’t even know if it works on an infected Warder.”

“I know it works on an infected human. The odds are good I can use it on Michael. And even if he’s blocking me with spell craft, which he probably is, I could get enough of a lock to use a location spell to get the rest.”

“You’re a Shadow, you can’t do a location spell,” he said, determined to poke holes in her plan.

“Madoc or Ben could,” Sorcha shot back. “Ben knows Caerwyn. I know he’d help.”

“No. It’s not worth the risk.” Kiernan crossed his arms over his chest, the image of an obstinate male.

Had Sorcha thought she could talk him around if she had him alone? Mirroring him intentionally, she crossed her own arms and scowled back at him. “You don’t get to make that call.”

“I told your people I’d keep you safe.”

“You are keeping me safe. But tracking Caerwyn is too slow. We need to try something else. I can’t hold back because I’m scared of Michael.”

“At least you have the good sense to be afraid,” Kiernan said. “After the dream thing I wondered. I’m not letting you go anywhere near him.”

“I’m not asking you to let me, Kiernan. I’m telling you what I’m going to do. It would be easier if we could work together. But if you won’t work with me on this, I’ll track Michael down myself. I don’t need to follow him, just touch him for a few seconds.”

“You don’t get the meaning of ‘partners,’ do you?” Kiernan asked, striding toward her.

Sorcha backed away. He was pissed. She wasn’t afraid that he’d hurt her. Not physically. But instinct told her to get some space between herself and the tall, strong, furious male. Not even twenty-four hours had passed and they were fighting again. This time she wasn’t the one at fault. And she wasn’t giving in.

She’d spent ten years trapped at the Sanctuary, locked away under the guise of protection. Sorcha had had enough of people telling her what was best for her. What she was permitted to do. No more. Not even for Kiernan.

“Stop,” she said, backing up farther.

Kiernan crowded her against the bar, looking down into her face, the high arch of his cheekbones flushed with anger. “I’ll stop,” he said. “Just tell me you’ll drop this crazy idea.”

“It’s not crazy. It’s our best chance.”

“No. I’ll lock you up before I let you go out there and put yourself in danger like that. You’re insane.” He reached for her.

Sorcha knew he had no intention of hurting her. She knew it in her heart. But he could lock her away without causing her physical pain. And that would be worse. If he locked her up, it would crush her. Crush them. She wasn’t going to let him do it.

Knowing he wouldn’t expect it, she gave him a sharp shove with her Tk. Just enough to rock him back a foot. Sorcha ducked under his arm and slipped to the side, positioning herself a few feet in front of the elevator. Kiernan pivoted on his heel and moved for her again. Raising her palms to face him, she said, “Don’t make me.” Her palms began to glow, gathering the beginnings of fire.

“You wouldn’t,” Kiernan said, watching her face. Probably trying to figure out how serious she was.

“Don’t make me,” she said again. “Don’t be like them. Telling me what I can and can’t do. Locking me away for my own good. I won’t let her die, Kiernan.”

“It’s too dangerous.”

“Don’t you think I know it’s dangerous? Do you think I’m not scared?” She was. Terrified.

“I don’t know,” Kiernan said. “You should be.” He took a step closer.

Sorcha sent a flare of heat at him in response. Not enough to burn. Not even to singe. But he had to know she was serious. “I was scared when I stayed in the Sanctuary,” she said, willing him to understand. “Scared of being sequestered. Scared of Steven. Scared of more pain. And all that time, Caerwyn was in so much more trouble than I’d imagined. If she dies, it’ll be my fault. Because I was afraid. And I’m terrified of going near Michael. I don’t want to get within fifty feet of him. But I won’t lose her because I’m too weak to save her.” Sorcha’s voice broke, but she forced herself to go on. “I won’t be able to live with it, Kiernan.”

“So you’re just going to do this? You don’t care what I think?” Kiernan advanced on her, clearly not worried about the fire in her hands.

Desperate to keep him back, Sorcha flicked her fingers at him, sending ten small fireballs winging at his chest and shoulders. Not enough to hurt him. A warning shot. Kiernan took them without a flinch. He didn’t seem to notice the burns at all. Not a good sign.

Stalking closer still, his gaze a flat, unyielding glare, he said, “You’re mine.
Mine
. We’re bonded. You don’t get to run out there and get yourself killed. You’re staying here, where you’re safe. We’ll find another way.”

Sorcha thought her head would explode at his words. She was his? They were bonded? What. The. Fuck. Was he nuts? “What are you talking about?” Sorcha asked, edging back toward the elevator. “I am not yours. I belong to myself. To me. I am so sick of you fucking people telling me who I am and what I can do. Fuck you. I’m not bonded to you. I’d know if I was.”

She took another step to the side and pressed her hip into the call button for the elevator. She was getting the hell out of there before Kiernan really did lock her up. Who knew what kind of James Bond interrogation room he might have in this place.

“How can you be so fucking blind, Sorcha?” Kiernan asked.

He was almost too close, his eyes dark with frustrated anger. Sorcha got ready to move the second the elevator door slid open.

Kiernan kept talking. “We caught fire when we made love. I feel the heat when we touch. You think that’s normal? Open your eyes. You’re not taking this away from me because you’re too stupid to keep yourself safe.”

“I have to find Caerwyn—”

“I don’t give a fuck about Caerwyn,” he roared. “I give a fuck about you. And you’re so hell-bent on atoning for your guilt—guilt you shouldn’t even feel—that you can’t see what’s going on right in front of you.”