Shadow's Pleasure: The Shadow Warder Series, Book Two (A Paranormal/Urban Fantasy Romance Series) (39 page)

Sorcha turned sideways and eased past Kiernan to the top step. Studying the thick door, she ran her hands over the surface. Cold, hollow metal. A fire door, meant to keep a fire in the unfinished basement from spreading to the main level. The deadbolt went deep into the doorframe. A metal door made things more complicated. Kiernan interrupted her examination of the door.

“Can you use your Tk to unlock the door?” he asked.

“If it was a regular lock, I could probably move the lever on the other side,” she said, shaking her head. “But a double-keyed lock? I’d have to know how to pick a lock to move the pins the right way. I don’t.”

“And we don’t have time for me to try to talk you through it,” he said.

She turned to look at him, eyebrows raised. “I can’t believe you know how to pick a lock.”

“Scorch,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “We haven’t even begun to tap the things I know how to do. But that’s for later. You have any bright ideas to get us out of this place?”

“I have kind of a crazy plan,” she said, running her hands over the doorframe. “But it’s going to take both of us to make it work.”

“Fill me in.”

She did, thinking, as she explained her idea, that he had an awful lot of faith in her. And she just might be insane. But he was willing to give it a try. They were out of options and time was short. It was this or sit around and hope that Ben and Madoc got to them before Michael. Neither of them thought that was the way to go.

“Stand behind me and push here.” Sorcha arranged Kiernan’s hands shoulder height, about three-quarters of the way up the door, about twelve inches apart. She stood in front of him, her hands flat on the doorframe. Their position pressed the length of his body tight against her, his heat and strength spreading through her everywhere they touched. He smelled so good. Spicy and male. And hers.

Get your mind out of Kiernan’s pants and back on the door. You can have fun later. First you have to get the hell out of this basement.

Sorcha forced herself to focus. She could think about Kiernan pressing against her later. When they were alone. Or, she could use it. Smiling to herself, she stroked her hands over the doorframe, thinking of stroking Kiernan, of running her palms over the golden skin of his chest then sliding them down. Heat built under her skin and she sent it deep into the wood. Again, another stroke, and another, until her body was humming with need and the wood beneath her hands smoldered.

Okay
, she told herself,
that’s enough perving over Kiernan. Time to get serious.

Sorcha pulled heat from the air in the basement and funneled it into the doorframe, grinning in triumph when the wood burst into flame beneath her hands. Now they were cooking.

The basement door was hollow metal. Too big for her to try and melt. But the frame was wood. If she could concentrate her fire, could guide it to burn the frame and wall around the door, Kiernan would be able to simply push the door out of the wall. The plan was ridiculously risky. She’d never tried to control a fire with this much precision. Flames, she’d created, sure. But flames consuming wood and gypsum, hungry for more? That was a first. She was betting they’d be able to survive the heat. And the smoke. When they made love, they were fine surrounded by flames and smoke. They were going to find out what they could take in another minute or so.

Already, the space at the top of the stairs was filling with thick, dark smoke. Sorcha diverted some of her power into Tk to move the air around them. To bring them, and the fire, more oxygen from the basement below. She had to keep the flames isolated to the area around the door, had to drive them to burn the doorframe and not consume every source of fuel they could get at.

Behind her, Kiernan coughed. Dipping his head to hers, he said, “Babe, I don’t want to freak you out, but the stairs are on fire.”

Sorcha looked between her feet to see that he was right. The unfinished wooden stairs had begun to burn at the edges. The flames weren’t licking their feet yet, but they were out of time. Sorcha knew better than anyone how fast a fire could spread. She was trying to control too many things at once. The smoke, the fire around the door, the delicate balance of oxygen at the top of the stairwell. Too much and the fire would take over. Too little and they’d suffocate.

Heat raged around them. Without looking, Sorcha knew the ceiling above the door was burning. Flecks of ash and flame fell on them. Her feet were hot. In the space of a few moments, the fire had spun out of her control and was getting worse. Wilder. Hungrier.

Sweat dripped into her eyes, stinging. Her vision blurred. She sent another burst of intense heat to the top of the doorframe and yelled, “Now. Push it now.”

Kiernan tensed behind her, using what little leverage he had on the narrow stair to shove at the door with everything he had. It moved, tilting an inch away from them before it stuck.

Sorcha’s stomach clenched in fear when she realized the burning staircase had shifted when Kiernan pushed. This was it. Last chance. She gathered as much heat as she could and drove it around the door, envisioning the wood falling to ash. Then she said, coughing through the smoke, “On three. One. Two. Three!”

Together, they threw their power into the door. Kiernan’s Warder strength and everything Sorcha had in her muscles, combined with all the energy she could pull into her Tk, surged into the blistering hot metal door.

With a groan, it gave way, falling into the hallway in a shower of flame and sparks. They tumbled on top of it, thrown forward when the stairs crumpled beneath their feet. The staircase crashed into the basement floor and Sorcha sobbed in relief into the hot door, barely aware that it was burning her skin. Above them, the flames roared into the back hall, feeding on the fresh oxygen in the main level of the house.

Kiernan rolled to his feet. “We have to get clear before we get caught again.” He took her arm and helped her to her feet.

Sorcha looked around, but she didn’t see or feel anyone else in the house. Michael was gone. He’d gotten away. Again. Holding tight to Kiernan’s hand, she followed him out the back door and into the clean, fresh night air.

The buzz of an engine cut through the night. Looking past the backyard of the house, Sorcha saw no more than twenty feet of lawn before the ground dipped to the lake. A set of stairs cut into the slope led to a wide wooden dock. And speeding away from that dock was a boat, driven by a blond male with a medium build. Michael.

“That cowardly fucker,” Kiernan said beside her. “He ran away. Covering his ass, as usual.”

Sorcha turned to look at the house behind them. Flames licked along the ceiling of the first floor. In minutes, the fire would have the entire structure, from the basement to the roof. Dawn was just pearling on the horizon. It wouldn’t be long before someone saw the smoke and called in the fire. Time to go.

Still holding Kiernan’s hand, Sorcha followed him around the side of the house to the once-manicured front lawn. In the pale light, she watched Madoc and Ben tossing crematus discs on the bodies of five Vorati. One by one, the bodies flashed with light and heat before they fell to ash.

Ben looked up as they approached. “You two okay?” he asked.

“Fine,” Kiernan said. “Just a little singed.”

Ben took a closer look at the house. Madoc came to stand beside him and followed his gaze.

“Did you set the house on fire?” Madoc asked, his voice incredulous.

“A little bit,” Kiernan said with the grin Sorcha loved. He headed for the street. The others fell in beside them.

“Didn’t you just blow up Michael’s house in Charlotte last week?” Madoc asked, laughing.

“To be fair,” Kiernan said. “I didn’t do this, Scorch did. All I did was break a window.”

“And a door,” Sorcha cut in, squeezing his hand. “You did half of the work on the door. And the wall was all you.”

“What did you do to the wall?” Ben asked, laughing along with Madoc.

“Knocked a hole in it,” Kiernan said with a shrug.

He let go of Sorcha’s hand and she felt a moment of dismay before his arm came around her, pulling her tight to his side. “It wasn’t a big hole,” she offered.

“So,” Ben went on, now laughing so hard he was gasping for breath. “You blew up his first house. Then he got a new one and your girl sets it on fire about, what? A day after he moved in?
After
you broke a window and knocked down a wall and a door?”

“Pretty much,” Kiernan agreed.

“If Michael wasn’t such a complete and utter evil bastard, I’d feel sorry for him,” Madoc said, wiping moisture from beneath his eyes. “I take it he’s long gone.”

“Yep,” Sorcha answered. “Got away on his boat.”

“Fucker,” Ben said under his breath.

Sorcha stopped short in the middle of the street, almost tripping Kiernan. Whipping around, she stared back at the house, now fully engulfed in flames.

“What?” Kiernan asked. “What’s wrong?”

“My knives,” she said. “He took my knives and I forgot to look for them.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Kiernan said, tightening his arm around her shoulder and steering her back toward their cars. “We’ll get you new knives.”

“They cost more than your Maserati,” she said mournfully. “I saved for years to buy those knives.” Sorcha sighed. She had money. Not as much as Kiernan, but she could manage another set of knives in a year or two if her glass kept selling. But those knives had been her first. She’d fought with them for years. They’d been a part of her.

Ben interrupted her thoughts. “Don’t worry about it, Sorcha,” he said, his earlier laughter still in his voice. “I’ll make you a new set. Custom. Just for you.”

“I can’t afford them right now,” she said, running through her possessions in the back of her mind, searching for something she could sell or trade to meet Ben’s offer. Mysterium-forged fighting knives were one thing, but to have them custom made? Sorcha wasn’t sure she wanted to know what that would cost. Kiernan started to speak, but Ben cut him off.

“On the house. Consider it payment for burning Michael’s house to the ground. I haven’t laughed that hard in a while.”

“As soon as we finish our project,” Madoc said, still laughing himself, “we’ll make them. Shouldn’t take too long.”

“Thanks,” Sorcha said, tucking her head into Kiernan’s chest as they walked. The four of them covered the rest of the short distance to their vehicle in relative silence, only the scuff of their feet on pavement interrupting the growing light of dawn. As the church parking lot came into view with Kiernan’s SUV and a pick-up truck she didn’t recognize, Kiernan stopped walking and looked down at her.

“We got Caerwyn. She’s in my SUV with Aiden.”

“Aiden the Sicarius assassin?” she asked.

“Yeah. I’ll explain later. But I need to tell you, she’s in rough shape.”

“I know,” Sorcha said, dropping her head to look at the dark asphalt of the road. “I know she’s bad. If she’s anything like the dream—” She trailed off.

Kiernan stroked her cheek before he turned to face the vehicles again. “We didn’t get the girls,” he said, regret heavy in his voice. “They weren’t there.”

Sorcha sighed. “I had a feeling. I couldn’t sense them at the house. Not at all. We’ll have to keep looking.”

“We’ll find them,” Kiernan promised.

He opened the back door of his SUV to reveal Aiden half reclined, Caerwyn draped across his chest. Her eyes were closed, her thin arms wrapped around him. Her ribs rose and fell in deep, even breaths. She was asleep. Sorcha reached out to touch her friend’s forehead. Aiden scowled at her.

“Don’t wake her,” he said in a low, forbidding tone.

“I won’t,” she said. “I’m just helping her sleep better.” Knowing they needed to get moving, Sorcha did her best to draw some of the heavy, dark emotions from the surface of Caerwyn’s mind. There was no way she could take all of her friend’s pain and fear. Not in one sitting, much less in a minute or two. But every little bit would help.

“We’ve got her now,” Kiernan said. “Thanks for the help.” He stepped back, clearly expecting Aiden to slide from under Caerwyn and get out of the truck.

Instead, Aiden glared at them. “I’m not leaving,” Aiden said, one arm wrapped protectively around Caerwyn’s back.

“We need to take her home,” Sorcha said gently. “She needs to be with her people. Her parents will be waiting for her.”

“Fine,” Aiden said. “I’ll see her settled.” Without another word, he slid from the backseat of the SUV, shifting Caerwyn into his arms, and headed for his truck.

Sorcha stared at him, then at Kiernan. “Are we just going to let him take her?” she asked.

“I’m not sure there’s a good way to stop him,” Kiernan murmured. “I don’t think he’ll hurt her.”

“But—” Sorcha stopped, not sure what to say. Aiden had braced Caerwyn’s sleeping form against the side of his truck and was digging in his pocket for his keys.

“Aiden,” Kiernan called out. “Follow us back into Charlotte. We have to get these guys to their car. Then we’ll take off for the Sanctuary.”

Aiden unlocked his door and saluted behind him, hopefully indicating his agreement. Sorcha wasn’t entirely happy to see the big assassin carrying off her friend. If it hadn’t been for the way Caerwyn had been holding on to him in her sleep, and the quickly approaching sirens, she might have stood her ground and demanded that Caerwyn be left with her and Kiernan. Giving in seemed smarter all around. With another sigh, she climbed into the passenger seat of the SUV. Ben and Madoc piled into the back. Kiernan started the car and pulled out onto the road less than a minute before the fire trucks came barreling past them.

Sorcha leaned back into her seat, closed her eyes and said, “I’m hungry.”

She fell asleep to the sound of Kiernan’s laughter and the warm, solid clasp of his hand on hers.