He checked his watch. There was still an hour before backup arrived. He worried that by then the trail would grow cold, or lead him to another location. He needed to gather intelligence so that when the Theronai did arrive, he could put them to good use.
Assuming the man he hunted was still alive.
The basement wasn’t open like the floors above. It was sectioned off into what had once been storage rooms or offices. A long hallway led down the center of the level with a dozen doors on either side.
He followed the hall to where the scent of blood was strongest. There were a few more drops of blood on the floor here. From beneath the door, he scented much, much more.
A muffled cry of pain sounded on the far side of the wood. The man was still alive.
Logan twisted the knob, strengthening his shield to prevent anything from seeing his presence. A rush of power slid from him, and he mourned the loss of it. That was power he could have shared with his brothers.
But only if he made it out of this alive.
He stepped inside, forcing his eyes to adjust to the inky blackness of the room. The first thing he saw was the faint glow of the man’s body heat. As he fueled his vision further, he saw half a dozen demons surrounding the man’s body. They licked the blood seeping from his wounds.
The man remained still, as if immobilized. “Is someone there?” he asked, his voice faint and weak, almost garbled.
Logan stayed silent.
One of the Synestryn lifted its head, which swiveled back over its narrow body. It was the size of a large cat with a long snout. It had no ears, only gaping holes at the sides of its head. The front legs were shorter than the back ones, and all of them were tipped with gleaming, sharp claws. Bright green eyes peered out at Logan, but they did not flare with recognition of his presence.
Logan’s mask had held.
A wide, flat tongue swept over its bloody muzzle before it returned to its meal.
The man moaned, the sound one of hopeless despair. He knew he was dying. So did Logan.
He couldn’t let it happen. This man was blooded. He was too valuable to waste his blood on such creatures.
Warrior or not, Logan had to save this man’s life. For all he knew, he might be Hope’s perfect mate.
Logan slid his dagger from his coat. He approached silently, keeping his shields up until the last possible second. He slashed across the neck of one demon. Black blood spurted out of the wound. It hissed and flailed, raking blindly at him.
He fell back out of its reach. His shielding faltered and he didn’t have time to get it back up.
He grabbed the demon’s thin body and hurled it across the room. A few flecks of its blood landed across the back of his hand, burning his skin. He bit off a cry of pain and shoved a burst of power toward the wound to heal it.
The other demons sensed an easy meal and bounded after their wounded pack mate, leaving the man’s side.
Logan had little time before the distraction no longer held their attention. He bent down, tossed the man over his shoulder, and headed for the door.
He hadn’t quite reached the hallway when sharp, stabbing pain radiated across his back. It took him a moment to realize that at least one of the things had attacked him, slashing at him with claws.
He shifted the man’s weight, pulling him forward to protect him from attack. Cradling the man in his arms made his weight more awkward, and Logan stumbled.
A wobbling weakness slid up his legs, and his body reacted before his mind could. Instantly, his blood went to work manufacturing an antidote for the paralytic. He felt a wave of power flow over him, weakening as it passed.
Hope’s power.
He was using up the strength she’d given him much faster than he’d hoped. And now it seemed that he was going to have to use even more of it to get out of this alive.
The idea of never seeing her again tore at him, making an anger he’d rarely felt before rise up and bellow in outrage.
Logan stumbled out the door, turning his body to ward off any more attacks from behind. One of the beasts still clung to his back, so he slammed his weight into the wall, crushing it.
A hiss of pain rang in his ears as the demon fell and lay twitching on its side. He kicked it away and lifted his eyes in time to see another two charging.
Logan used a flash of power to slam the door shut. An instant later, the creatures thudded into it and began to claw at the wood.
He didn’t wait to see if they made it out. Already his body was weakening, dragging down the hall as his blood struggled to cure the growing paralysis.
He’d made it to the stairway and looked up at what seemed like an insurmountable task. Each jagged step looked like a mountain he had to scale. With every beat of his heart, his strength faded. The weight of the man in his arms bore down on him, crushing the air from his lungs.
Logan shoved more of his dwindling power reserves into creating the antidote, hoping to speed the process. He could feel the cells within his body jumping to obey, squeezing out tiny droplets.
It wasn’t enough.
The scratching at the end of the hall grew in intensity. Logan leaned against a wall to hold himself up.
It didn’t work. His legs went rubbery beneath him and he slid to the floor, panting and sweating.
A moment later, one of the doors midway down the hall slid open. Out from it stepped a creature like those trying to claw their way through the door. Only this one was much larger, filling the hallway as it rose up on hind legs.
Apparently, the demons he’d fought had been offspring. And this one was a fully grown adult.
Its elongated muzzle opened, letting out a feral hiss. Then it charged.
Chapter 10
Something was wrong. Hope could feel it in her blood.
Her insides itched. She couldn’t sit still. All of that she could have brushed off as her nerves—her worry for Logan—but there was one thing she couldn’t ignore. That glowing-sunshine type of warmth she’d felt since meeting Logan was starting to fade. Without it, she felt cold and strangely lonely.
He was in trouble. She was certain of it.
She dialed his cell phone. He didn’t answer. His cultured voice came over the line, asking her to leave a message.
“Call me if you get this. I’m worried.”
Hope hung up, feeling no better. That pervasive itching deepened until she was curled around herself, panting and sweating.
Screw this. She wasn’t going to sit here, waiting for a call, when he might be out there, dying. She didn’t understand this connection they had, and she sure as heck didn’t like it. But that didn’t change the fact that she had to do something.
The only thing she could think to do was to go back and check on him.
Sister Olive didn’t allow guns in the shelter where Hope had grown up. She had never even considered getting a gun, but was cursing that decision now. She didn’t know who or what she was going to face once she found Logan, but she doubted they would respond to reason and a nice, civil discussion.
She did, however, have a baseball bat tucked under her bed, just in case. She was definitely taking that with her.
Hope went out the back exit and cut through alleys, running as fast as she dared over the slippery pavement. Cold wind whipped her hair around her face, sucking the air from her lungs.
Even with the shortcut, it seemed to take forever for her to get to the defunct furniture factory. Every step she took seemed to ease some of that restless itching.
Without even pausing to get through the creeps this place gave her, she hurried through the busted door, following her instincts and the last bit of fading warmth she knew came from Logan. They led her to the basement entrance.
Hope had never been down there before. The door loomed over her, daring her to open it.
She clenched the bat in one hand and reached out for the handle with the other. Her hand shook, and oddly, she just now realized she’d forgotten her gloves.
A rough sound of pain echoed behind the door. There was a harsh breath of air and a low, snakelike hiss.
The pained sound came again, giving Hope the courage to do the right thing.
She turned the knob and pulled the door toward her. She braced it open with her foot and took a solid grip on the bat.
It was pitch-black inside. Not even the lights she’d flipped on as she came in reached this far into the corner. She leaned in and felt blindly for a light switch.
She heard a scuffling sound and a shocked breath. It came from below her—several feet below.
Her heart pounded fast, vibrating in her chest with fear. Her breathing was so rapid, a steady stream of silvery mist bloomed in front of her, blocking her vision even more.
She took a step inside, reaching, feeling for a switch with her hand and the top step with her foot.
The door shut behind her, shoving her forward as it latched. It banged against the bat, and the hollow racket echoed in the darkness stretching before her.
She thought she heard her name, but couldn’t tell over the frantic pounding of her heart.
Finally, she found a switch and shoved it up with clumsy, cold fingers.
Light flared to life in the hallway below. An enraged bellow of pain blasted up the stairwell. Crumpled at the bottom of the cement stairs was Logan. Halfway up the flight was another man. Logan turned his head slowly, and looked up at her, fear shining in his eyes. His mouth moved, but no sound came out. His aura was dim, tinted red with pain.
A shadow fell over him. A heartbeat later, a paw came into view. It was black, tipped with shiny black claws. Its aura was the black nothingness that haunted her nightmares.
Hope didn’t need to see the rest of it to know it was bad. Really bad.
“Run!” Logan shouted, but the word came out as more of a breath than a yell.
The other man with him—the one lying unmoving and bleeding—stared up at her with pleading eyes. The faint aura hovering around him was threaded with tentacles of that black nothingness, as if it had somehow infected him. He looked broken, paralyzed. She couldn’t leave him lying there. She had to at least try to help them.
A vibrant humming exploded inside her skull. Pressure pulsed inside her as something tried to break its way free.
Memories. She was teetering on the edge of seeing something from her past, but didn’t dare take the time to examine it. If she did, none of them would live long enough to celebrate.
She shoved the memory back, screaming inside to let out some of the frustrating disappointment she suffered. For all she knew, that memory would never again bubble to the surface, leaving it lost forever.
As soon as the pressure passed, her body disconnected from her mind, acting on its own. She moved down the stairs as if dreaming, gliding in a smooth, fluid way she’d never felt before.
An odd buzzing tingled through her limbs. Her muscles rippled, tightening as the shuddering feeling passed through her body. She had no idea what had caused it or what it had done to her, but right now, she simply didn’t care. Her focus was on getting all three of them out of here alive.
She saw the creature hunched below, cringing from the light she’d turned on. She felt an inky fear hover around her, not quite penetrating. The demon was huge. Frightening. It could kill her with one well-placed swipe of its paw and still she wasn’t afraid.
At least not yet.
She grabbed the back of the man’s shirt and hauled him up the flight of stairs before she’d even thought about how it should have been impossible for her to move that much weight.
