Shadow's Pleasure: The Shadow Warder Series, Book Two (A Paranormal/Urban Fantasy Romance Series) (35 page)

Fifty-four, fifty-five, fifty-six.

The charm glowed red in the dark. A second later, they heard a crash from the back of the house.

The dry wood of the door didn’t stand a chance against Kiernan’s motorcycle boot. One firm kick and it flew open, the deadbolt ripping free of the wood frame. It swung back to crash into the wall, sending a shower of plaster onto the dingy carpet. Sorcha didn’t have time to take in more than the generally neglected state of the front room. Two streams of Vorati came at them, one from each side of the house. That answered their question about numbers.

Not a few Vorati of exceptional power. A crowd of young demons filled the front room of the small house. Since she couldn’t see Ben or Madoc, Sorcha assumed they had their hands full in the back with more of the things.

Fuck, these might be young, but there were a lot of them. At least twelve. As one came at her and she slit its throat with a quick swipe of her blade, Sorcha could tell already that these Vorati lacked the training or experience to fight back with any skill. Stabbing a calix into her first kill, she wished she’d brought more of the copper vessels. Without them, she could still kill the Vorati’s human host, but the demon itself would escape to find another victim. She hated to let even one of the fuckers go.

Dodging a grab from a tall, lean figure, she caught a glimpse of dull metal in its hand. Not a knife. Not a weapon she’d seen before. Putting it out of her mind, she kicked out at its feet to knock it down as she drove her knife behind her, stabbing one of them in the gut. Was there room to use her fire? No. The house was too small, and if the state of the door was any sign, a stray spark and this place would go up like a torch. She couldn’t afford to burn it down until they’d found Caerwyn and the girls.

She heard Kiernan to her left, busy with three of the demons at the same time. A quick glance told her he was holding his own. Even in numbers like this, the untested Vorati couldn’t hold up forever against skill and experience. She jumped one from behind, a doughy, older male who looked around at the battle with an expression of confusion.

Wrenching her arm around its neck, she spun them both around to face a new attacker. Greasy hair hanging in its narrowed eyes, the new threat swung a knife at her in a wild arc, catching the demon she held in front of her across the chest. Sorcha stabbed her captive with a calix and launched herself at their attacker. Her last remaining calix hit its chest with a solid thunk and a rush of suction. Before she could get off it, a firm grip yanked on her braided hair, dragging her backward.

Sorcha lost her footing and tipped to the side. For a moment, she was only held up by the hand in her hair. She’d tucked her braid in her shirt to keep it out of the way, but it had come loose in the fight. Stupid mistake. She should have known better. Should have tied the braid in a bun instead of leaving it loose.

Her knife out, ready for attack, she swiped at the demon holding her. As tall as Madoc and at least as wide, it easily lifted her by her hair until she balanced on her toes. She lunged again with the knife, oblivious to the pain in her scalp. A flare of triumph scored through her as her blade cut into its chest, severing muscle and cartilage. The hand on her braid loosened.

Bringing her arm back for another strike, she heard the demon say, “Now!”

The next few seconds stuttered in static bursts of sound and vision. The click of metal at her neck, the triumphant grin of the demon holding her, the thud of her body hitting the floor. An agony of pressure inside her; fire and power and energy building with every heartbeat, seeking an outlet and finding nothing. Then it all went dark.

Kiernan fought his way across the room to the spot where he’d seen Sorcha go down. Waves of blood spilled from the demon that’d held her. Whatever had happened, she’d done some damage. Kiernan severed its head from its neck in one fast strike, not bothering to watch the body fall.

A glance at Sorcha and he saw she wasn’t bleeding. Unconscious, but she didn’t look injured. He knew she wasn’t dead. Felt her inside him, her energy still part of their bond. Just dulled. Thin. As if her volume had been turned down.

A low kick behind him to distract, followed by an arcing swing of his sword and he took down another demon. Only three left. They hadn’t done too badly. A red, oily haze of disembodied Vorati demon hung in the air, oozing toward the open front door, disoriented, yet seeking escape.

He went after the biggest of the remaining three Vorati. Behind him, he saw Ben and Madoc enter the room, splattered with blood but otherwise in one piece. Another minute and he could get to Sorcha.

Hand slick with blood, he gripped the hilt of his long-bladed knife and drove it into the demon’s shoulder, severing most of the arm. Freeing the knife, Kiernan went for its thick neck, cutting all the way through it in one slice. Turning, he saw Ben holding a shining copper ball in the palm of his hand. No more than four inches in diameter, it glowed in the dim room.

As Kiernan watched, tiny holes opened across the smooth surface, followed by a whisper of sound. In a sucking draw, the noise grew in strength until it filled the small room, the vacuum catching the tail of the cloud of Vorati floating out the door. Slowly, then gaining speed, the copper ball inhaled the loose Vorati, drawing them from the air the same way a calix would from an infected body.

Kiernan didn’t wait to see the copper ball finish its work. Dropping to his knees beside Sorcha, he rolled her to her back, taking care to keep her head from hitting the floor. She felt wrong, all her energy tightly contained, only a thread of power easing through. He ran his hands over her, searching for what had caused her to fall in the middle of the fight.

There were no visible injuries, at least nothing that would explain her unconscious state. A bruise on her head, splatters of blood on her clothes and skin, none of it her own. Then he saw it. The twists of dull copper around her neck. A collar. It looked like the one Hannah had worn when she’d escaped from the lab. Designed to contain the powers of a Shadow, he understood how putting it on would have knocked her out. All that energy flowing between the two of them, between Sorcha and her surroundings, cut off in an instant by the collar.

Kiernan tested the clasp. He had to get this thing off of her. He wasn’t a Shadow, but Kiernan could imagine what it must feel like to be trapped in one of these things. To be blocked from the source of your power. It was hurting her. Conner had been able to rip open Hannah’s collar. Kiernan gripped the thing in both hands and pulled. It strained, but didn’t give. He tried again. Sorcha’s eyes flashed open, muddy and confused. Her green gaze cleared in seconds.

“What happened?” she asked, looking all over the room. “Did I get hit? Am I injured?”

“No,” Kiernan said. “Not injured. They put a collar on you.”

“A collar? What are you—” She reached to her neck, feeling for the device. “Can you get it off?”

“Working on it,” he said. He grasped the collar on each side of the clasp and pulled again. Sorcha tipped her neck back to give him more room. Muscles burning from the strain, he stretched the metal, millimeter by millimeter.

“Let go,” Madoc said, crouching beside them. Kiernan released the collar and slid back to make room, taking Sorcha’s hand in his. Ben knelt on Sorcha’s other side. They examined the collar around her neck.

Kiernan’s most base instincts told him to grab Sorcha and run. Not to allow these other males so close to her. To protect her on his own. He remembered laughing at Conner’s off-the-charts protectiveness of Hannah when she was injured. He wasn’t laughing anymore.

“What the fuck is this?” Ben asked, fingering the twisting copper strands.

Now that he was looking at it instead of just trying to tear it off, Kiernan realized the collar was thicker than the one Hannah had worn. And he hadn’t remembered sigils inscribed into the clasp of Hannah’s collar.

“Hannah had one,” Kiernan said. “They put the collars on them in the lab to keep them powerless. It cuts her off from energy. The longer it’s on, the weaker she’ll get. But this one is different from Hannah’s. Bigger.”

“This was made by one of us,” Madoc said, anger warring with disbelief in his voice. “There’s no purpose for something like this except to imprison Shadows.”

“He’s got one of us working for him?” Ben said. “Who?”

“That doesn’t matter,” Kiernan interrupted. “Not right now. We need to get this thing off her.”

“No,” Sorcha said, squeezing Kiernan’s hand. “We can worry about the collar later. Is the house clear of Vorati? I can’t tell with this thing cutting me off.”

“Yeah, it’s clear,” Madoc said, rubbing his thumb over the sigil on the clasp.

Kiernan had to fight not to pull Madoc’s hand away from Sorcha’s skin.

“Then forget about the collar and go get the girls out of here,” she said. “I felt Caerwyn before. I know she’s here. Alive. Somewhere below us, in the cellar like my dream. Find her and Lissa and Sara. We can deal with this thing later.”

“No fucking way,” Kiernan said, his hand clamping down on hers. “We’ll get you somewhere safe and then we’ll come back for them.”

“No.” Sorcha struggled to sit up, alarmed by the wash of dizzy nausea that hit her when she moved. Pulling her hand from Kiernan’s, she propped herself up and looked at the three males looming over her. “No. I’ll stay right here. I swear. We killed all the Vorati. This house isn’t that big, for fuck’s sake. Leave me here and go get them. Then we can all get out of here.”

“No,” Kiernan said again. “Not an option, Sorcha. I am not fucking leaving you here alone when you can’t defend yourself.”

“He’s right,” Ben added. “This isn’t secure.”

“Fine, then I’ll hide in the closet. You can shut the door and if anyone comes in, they won’t feel me. Between this collar dampening my energy and the sigils on my back, I should be disguised.”

“Sorcha,” Kiernan began, ready to tell her that they’d thought Hannah’s collar also served as a homing device. And that there was no way he was leaving her alone. “I’ll stay here with you,” he said instead.

“Kiernan, we’ve got three Shadows down there,” she said. “We don’t know what kind of shape they’re in. Please just get them. I swear I’ll stay in the closet. I’ve got my gun. I’ll sit there and point it at the door, I promise. Anything but you opens, and I’ll fire. But please go get my friends. Please.”

Tears shimmered in her vivid green eyes and Kiernan knew she was going to be pissed. Fuck. He loved her, but her plan was based in panic, not good tactics. She was too weak to defend herself and not thinking clearly.

“I’m not leaving you alone. Ben and Madoc can handle the girls. If necessary, they’ll make two trips.” Turning to face the Mysterium, he said, over Sorcha’s protests, “Go. See what’s down there. We’ll be ready to move when you get back.”

Ben nodded as he and Madoc turned for the door to the cellar. Sorcha remained on the floor, swallowing hard as if fighting back nausea.

“I’m sorry, Scorch. I’m not leaving you alone. That collar is making me think this is a trap. We have to check for Caerwyn and the girls, but I think the smartest move at this point is to get the hell out of here.”

To his surprise, Sorcha nodded. Then she lurched to the side and threw up, her back heaving. Kiernan dropped to his knees beside her, drawing her loose braid over her shoulder as he rubbed her back. After a long minutes, she sat back, rubbing the heel of her hand over her mouth, a grimace on her face.

“Gross,” she said. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for puking. No one pukes unless they can’t help it. The collar?”

“I think so. I feel seasick.”

Kiernan rubbed Sorcha’s back as she heaved again, his own gut tight with tension. They were too exposed and Sorcha was vulnerable as long as she remained weakened by the collar. Something was coming. Kiernan felt it in the air, in the stillness of the night, until every squeak of the ramshackle house made him twitch.