Soul Avenged (Sons of Wrath, #1) (47 page)

Those eyes,
once golden, returned to their natural brown and the kid’s pupils
dilated. One tight snap and his neck would be broken.

“Please,” the
kid rasped. “I’ll leave.”

Calla sniffled
from behind.

Crying? For
this raping son of a bitch?

Logan glanced
over his shoulder.
Good. She can have him.
Not like he gave
a shit what the kid did to her. There were more important matters
at hand. Like finding that book.

Logan dropped
his arm and the boy’s feet hit the floor.

The kid rubbed
his neck and coughed.

Quick as
lightning, a glint hit Logan’s eyes, and a pain pierced his chest,
so powerful like a meteor had hit his heart and the cracks spread
out from the point of impact.

In his
blood.

Across his
skin.

The burn
seeped deep inside his body to his bones.

Pain he hadn’t
experienced in years.

It threw Logan
off balance and he stumbled backwards, hitting the wall. He glanced
down to find the hilt of the dagger sticking out of his chest, over
his heart. “What the f—” The breath whooshed out of him, riddled
with disbelief.

He fell to the
floor with a heavy thud.

“No!” Calla
screamed and scrambled over to where Logan lay. She hovered above
him, her voice fading in and out.

He focused on
her eyes, trying to stay attached to the world when the threat of
another seemed to be pulling him away. Those blue eyes filled with
tears, and sheer curiosity kept him grounded.

Did she touch
my face?

Her face
distorted like a kaleidoscope as dizziness swept over him. He
struggled to keep his eyes from rolling back.

“Logan,” she
said. Her voice drew his eyes back to her face. “Stay with me,
Logan.” That voice called to him, breaking through the darkness
that began to filter into his vision. “Don’t die. Please, don’t
die.”

The boy who’d
stabbed him yanked her away, and lifted her body, taking off while
she kicked and punched at him.

The distant
sounds of the girl’s muffled screams were the last Logan heard
before blackness finally swallowed him.

***

The moment
Draven raced out of the mansion, Bennett was on his heels. Damn
nuisance must’ve sensed the back door had been breached. His
deformed body moved fast, like a monster straight out of creepy
kids cartoon. As fast as he hobbled along, though, his efforts
became stilted when Draven recanted the same curse as earlier. He’d
memorized it before the troll confiscated the paper—one of many
advantages to having all memories erased: instant recall.

A car sat in
the drive, just itching to be stolen. Draven grunted as he grappled
with Calla, who fought him claws and teeth. He opened the driver’s
side door and shoved Calla hard across the seats to the passenger
side.

She winced and
grabbed her arm, but he ignored her as he clambered behind the
wheel.

No keys hung
from the ignition.

Damn.
He’d have to hotwire it. Not something he’d practiced much, though
Wade insisted they know every measure of staying alive. Once or
twice, he’d taught them how to hotwire cars in order to split the
scene quickly. First, though, Draven strapped Calla to the seat,
binding her arms against her body with the seatbelt, and tugged
hard to tighten it.

“Looking for
these, asshole?” The voice came out of nowhere.

Draven’s head
snapped back and forth as he searched for the source.

The keys
dangled in front of him, mid-air.

What the
hell?
He reached to grab them.

A crushing
blow to his face knocked his head back.

Draven touched
his nose. Broken.
What?

Another punch
to his cheek spattered blood against the driver’s window.

Still, his
attacker remained invisible.

A slam to his
gut left him doubled over the steering wheel. Draven opened the
door and crawled out of the car.

“That’s right,
bitch. Get out,” the voice said again.

Kicking with
his feet, Draven scrambled to get away, his boots slipping against
the snow-laden concrete. He had no fucking idea what was after
him.

Another pop to
the jaw and a hook against his temple.

Have to get
away.

Growls erupted
in the distance.

Shit. The
hellhounds.

He jumped to
his feet and booked it to the gate, leaving Calla behind.

“Ha-ha! That’s
right. Run!” The voice laughed behind him.

Draven’s heart
pounded in his chest. The approach of the dogs and the snap of
their jaws forced speed from his legs. He leaped onto the gate and
climbed.

One of the
hellhounds snagged his pantleg and thrashed his leg like a turkey
bone.

His grip slid
against the iron bars. He shook the dog loose and scampered upward,
desperately grasping for the bars of the gate.

A larger dog
grabbed hold of his leg again, sinking its teeth into Draven’s
calf.

“
Ah,
fuck!
” Draven slipped further down the gate. .

Needles shot
through his skin as the hound’s teeth sliced flesh.

“Get the fuck
off!” Draven kicked the mutt’s face with his free leg, dodging the
nipping teeth of the other two dogs.

As fast as
they’d attacked, the dog let go, and they all backed away.

Why?

Draven lifted
his head to find dark figures, a jerked, disjointed air to their
slow walk toward him. The dogs trotted back toward the
mutilated-looking figures limping forward.

Undead.

Draven pulled
himself over the bars and dropped on the other side. Backing away
from the iron gate, he just missed the swipe of a half-ravaged
hand. He scrambled to his feet and ran down the dark street away
from the manor.

Calla.

Too late. He’d
have to leave her behind.

***

Calla sat
inside the car, wriggling her arms to get loose against the
unrelenting seatbelt.

A sudden chill
crept over her, making her skin prickle.

“You ain’t
trying to steal Mr. Logan’s car, are you?” A boy’s voice, so close,
it tickled her ear.

Her breath
hitched and she froze in the seat.

The mysterious
figure finally came into view and Calla jerked back. Half his face
was missing. The bits of flesh a dark purple, as if in a state of
active decay. “Are you gonna try to steal this ride, lady?”

She shook her
head frantically. “Please. Let me loose. Logan’s in trouble.”

“Mr. Logan’s
in trouble?”

“Yes.” She
gulped. “He was stabbed. He’s going to die.”

“I sure hope
you ain’t lyin’ cos you just too damn pretty to have to kill.”

Her grip
tightened on the belt. “I’m not lying. I swear it. Please loosen
the buckle.”

The boy
released the seatbelt. Calla shot out of the car like a bullet,
heading straight for the front door. She pushed past Bennett, who
grabbed her arm.

“Get someone!”
she screamed. “Logan’s been stabbed!”

“Master Logan
will heal from his stab. You’re coming with me.”

“He won’t
heal!” Calla twisted her arm from Bennett’s grasp. “Not from this.
The dagger was laced with Demortis.”

Bennett’s
black beady eyes turned darker and grave. “I’ll get Master
Zayne.”

“Go.
Hurry.”

Calla raced to
the back of the house, where she’d left Logan in the dark hallway.
Her heart galloped in her chest with every step closer.

Please don’t
let me be too late!

Her sudden
compassion for him didn’t make sense, even to her. Why save him?
He’d called her weak. She didn’t need to be a genius to recognize
the man couldn’t stand her.

He could’ve
walked away, though. He could’ve let Draven have his way with her,
without a second thought. Draven was nothing—an insignificant human
that, had he not been armed with the one element that could kill a
demon, would have been annihilated for play.

So why had he
saved her?

All sense of
reason escaped her, tumbling and swirling into a black void.
Jacob’s face surfaced. It had no place in her current thoughts, but
brought tears to her eyes.
Poor Jacob.
Her little brother,
whom she’d vowed to protect, ravaged by wolves. Because of
Draven.

She finally
reached the dark passage and padded quickly down the hall. When she
found Logan, she fell to his side, and her hand shot to his
neck.

No pulse.

She grasped
both sides of his face. “Logan!”

Nothing.

Placing her
head on his chest, careful not to touch the dagger still embedded
in it, she listened for his heart.

Silence.

A tightness
filled Calla’s chest and spread to her muscles, as a sob burst
free.

The man who’d
saved her lay dead.

~

Ayden tipped
her head back and stepped inside what appeared to have been the
morgue at one time. The one room in the hospital she’d never been.
The ceiling was a glass enclosure that looked down on a stainless
steel countertop in the center of the room; steel chains draped
over the side, as though anxiously waiting an unwary captive.
Bloodstains had smeared across the floor, with small, brownish
chunks of what could only be human flesh caught at the drain below
the table.

In another
time, the room would have served to educate.

She didn’t
want to think what lessons it’d been used to teach since Wade’s
arrival.

Her gaze
trailed to a glass-enclosed room at the far end.

What lay
within it furrowed her brow and goaded her instincts.

What the
hell?

Three-dozen
wolves, or so, lined the back of an exceptionally large
sequestration—a spread of black, brown and gray fur standing tight
against one another. A rolling thunder of growls became louder as a
push from behind forced her inside.

What keeps
them so still? Why don’t they try to attack?

Their silver
eyes tracked her steps.

Wade drew back
her hair from her shoulder. “I’d hoped to take you to my chambers
right away, but it seems I’ll need to break that wild spirit in you
first,” he whispered with a chuckle.

His breath in
her ear traveled straight to her nerves. Anger and fear tangoed
inside of her, but calm acceptance of whatever fate lay ahead
quelled her emotions. “Why the wolves?”

“In good time.
Now, let’s get you strapped in. You’re in for a ride, darlin’.”

Wade whistled
to the men standing behind her, and another push from behind guided
her toward the table.

Instinct
battled inside her body. The killer pulsing through her blood
prodded her to fight them off. She could’ve taken both men, and
perhaps escaped, if lucky. Her mind had already plotted it: upper
cut, hammer fist across the throat and kick to the chest on the
first. Upper cut and fist to the clavicle of the second, punch to
the ribs and snap to the arms.

All fluid
movements in a matter of seconds that would give her seconds to
reach the door.

Wade was the
only real threat she’d have to consider. His strength, speed and
agility nearly matched hers.

The wolves
would be on her tail fast, but she could probably outrun them.

Ayden saw no
point in fighting, though. Not when it’d gotten her nowhere.

Seeing Kane
had smothered any sense of ambition. She could’ve been swayed to
keep running from the Alexi. With him. Since meeting his wolf, the
idea just seemed exhausting and meaningless.

The Alexi
would torment her immortal body for as long as it amused them. They
would steal whatever short span of memories she’d managed to
acquire.

She allowed
herself to be lifted onto the cold slab of steel.

What’s left of
a person after that?

Fresh, random
thoughts, motives for something that wasn’t hers. They’d take Kane.
God knew what they’d do to him. She’d sealed his fate the moment
she’d begged Wade not to hurt him.

Her heart
ached at the thought that he may have been taken to some room, much
like the one she had—beaten, stabbed, broken.

Tears
threatened.

Kane.

She pushed
those thoughts away for risk of being crushed by the weight of
them.

No. He got
away,
she told herself.
He’s safe. He escaped and fought
them off.

Images of
anything else and she’d weep. Wade would feed off her tears like a
drug, lapping at them and hankering for more.

The edges of
the bright lamp overhead blurred. Heat radiated onto her face and
she closed her eyes as her captors strapped her down. Like
sunlight, warm and soothing, as she slipped away from her
surroundings. She clutched the only good memories she’d had left.
Ones of Kane. His smile and gentle eyes looking back at her.
Hold them as long as you can.

Not even the
commotion of scuffling boots could reach her in her peaceful
place.

“Over there.
And strap her head so she can watch.” Wade’s voice sounded
distant.

Hands grasped
her temples and forced her head to the side. Eyes closed, Ayden
kept herself locked inside her memory, refusing them the
satisfaction of her conscious mind while they did whatever damage
to her body.

It was Kane’s
voice though that finally broke her.

Ayden’s eyes
flew open.

Pain throbbed
in her heart, stealing her breath.

Across the
room, in her eyes’ view stood Kane’s naked backside in human form,
his limbs stretched so tight they looked as if they’d snap away
from his body.

The
antibody.

His back bore
the evidence of the beating he’d endured before: long gashes,
opened with bone peeking through. His head drooped and jerked
upright as he seemed to fall in and out of consciousness. The
wolves he faced snarled and growled, becoming restless as they
fidgeted.