Born in Blood
Page 51Hunter Sentinels.
Duncan resisted the urge to grab his gun as the angel-looking Sentinel gave a snort.
“I’d listen to him, cop,” he warned. “That size sixteen boot does some damage.”
Duncan shifted until he could glance toward Fane, who’d halted just behind him. “Friends of yours?”
Fane pointed toward the silk and chino man. “Niko.” His finger turned toward the angel. “Arel.” He continued on to the dark-haired bad-ass. “And Wolfe.” The finger shifted toward Duncan. “This is O’Conner.”
Niko narrowed his gaze, his expression one of suspicion. “I thought he was human.”
Wolfe smiled without humor. “He’s been fooling a lot of people.”
Duncan made a sound of disgust. How the hell had he ever thought his ability to see auras was a secret? Every Sentinel in the damned world could tell he wasn’t human.
“Is this meeting about Callie or just to bust my balls?” he snapped.
“This meeting is for Sentinels,” Wolfe answered, his words slow and deliberate. “You’ve been allowed to sit in because Fane is convinced of your loyalty to Callie.”
“If you’re asking if I’ll do anything to rescue her, the answer is yes.”
“Anything?” Wolfe prodded.
Duncan scowled. “What do you want from me?”
The man studied him for a long minute, his gaze seeming to strip Duncan to his soul. And maybe he could. Sentinels were proving to have a surprising range of talents.
“You can be a human cop or you can be a Sentinel,” Wolfe finally said. “You can’t be both.”
Ah.
Duncan had known the choice was coming.
From the minute he’d committed himself to a relationship with Callie it had been obvious that they couldn’t exist in two different worlds.
Hell, he didn’t want to exist in different worlds.
Now he didn’t hesitate.
“Then I’m a Sentinel,” he said, astonished at how right the words felt. As if a missing puzzle piece deep inside him had just fallen into place. Disturbed by the sensation, he gave a strained laugh. “I don’t have to get tattooed, do I?”
Fane rolled his eyes. “You aren’t special enough to get tattooed.”
“Don’t worry. There’ll be an initiation,” Arel promised. “Later.”
Duncan grimaced. The mind boggled at what these men might consider an initiation. “Great.”
Duncan abruptly recalled that Fane had spent the previous night searching for information on the coin.
“It’s not good,” the guardian admitted. “The monk warned me that we had to keep the necromancer from opening the pathway to the underworld.”
Duncan recalled Hektor’s warning. Hadn’t he said something about a pathway to the underworld?
“And if we’re too late?” Wolfe asked.
“Only an obscure ritual will close it again.”
“Did he happen to know the obscure ritual?”
“No.”
Wolfe swore beneath his breath. “Of course not.”
Fane didn’t look any happier than his leader, but with a shrug he nodded toward the wall of monitors. “What have you done here?”
“I have hunters trying to find Callie’s scent and the techs are working on tracing her phone,” Wolfe said. “I’ve also contacted the monasteries and halted all travel.”
Without warning Fane turned his attention to Duncan. “Cop?”
Three pairs of eyes were trained on him, and Duncan sensed it was his first test.
Unconsciously he squared his shoulders, speaking directly to Wolfe. “I spoke with the chief and she has an APB out on Frank,” he said, not surprised when the big, tough Sentinels shuddered. No one wanted to think about how many corpses might be wandering the streets of Kansas City. “They’re also tracing the GPS on his car.”
“Anything?” Wolfe asked.
Duncan shook his head. “Not yet. His car was parked at his house, but he wasn’t...” Duncan forgot what he was going to say as he sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh, shit.”
Fane stepped directly in front of him, the heat of his body a tangible force. “What?”
“Frank was driving a silver car.”
“So?”
“He doesn’t have a silver car,” Duncan muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as he shifted through the information he’d managed to gather over the past few days. “The dress lady said the woman arrived in a silver car. And there was a silver car spotted on Calso’s street just before his murder. It has to belong to the necro.”
Fane scowled. “Is that supposed to make sense?”
Duncan glanced toward Wolfe, a near painful urgency pounding through his veins.
“Can your techs tap into government databases?”
The Tagos was on instant guard, his dark eyes narrowing in warning. “Why?”
Wolfe hesitated before giving a nod. “Fine. What do you want?”
“I need to trace a license plate”.
Fane made a sound of surprise. “You got the number?”
Duncan unconsciously touched the bandage that covered his healing wound on his temple. “Just the last three as I flew by,” he said dryly. “But it might be enough to get a hit.”
Wolfe was already spinning to head toward a distant door. “This way.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
It was the sort of mansion that made Duncan shake his head in disgust.
Who needed a faux castle with twelve bedrooms, gold-plated toilets, and a helicopter pad? Hell, all that was missing was the drawbridge.
Either a man with a bloated ego, or one who had the need to hide in plain sight.
It was amazing how many top drug lords lived behind the high fences of gated communities, mixing with the neighbors as if he was just another tax-paying citizen.
Tonight, however, Duncan didn’t give a shit about the Olympic-sized pool or the outdoor bar that was bigger than his apartment. His only interest was standing poised at the narrow back gate as they waited for Niko to return from his scouting of the grounds.
“Cop—”
Duncan turned his head to glare at Wolfe, who stood with the silent Fane and Arel just a few feet away.
“Don’t even start,” he warned in low, fierce tones. “I’m going in.”
The Tagos arched a brow. “Your chief isn’t going to be happy if she finds out you did an illegal B and E.”
Duncan snorted. “I’ve done a lot of things that wouldn’t make my chief happy if she knew.”
“There might be hope for him yet,” Arel murmured with a cocky smile.
They all stiffened as there was a soft rush of air as Niko leaped over the high fence, landing with a silence that was terrifying.
Duncan had heard all the stories about Sentinels.
They were faster, stronger, with superior senses. And he’d even known he possessed a few of the qualities, even if he’d never wanted to admit it.
But to actually see them in action...
He grimaced. The humans would be far less complacent if they truly knew the sheer extent of the high-bloods’ powers. Which was no doubt why the Sentinels had gone to such trouble to remain hidden in a shroud of mystery.
Straightening, Niko slid through the shadows to stand directly before them.
Fane was already moving. “I’ll do a sweep.”
“I’m coming with you,” Duncan announced, the biting urgency thundering through him making him twitchy as hell.
“Hold on, Rambo.” Wolfe grabbed his arm. “Fane’s the only one who can trigger the spells without killing us all.”
Duncan was forced to watch as Fane smoothly vaulted over the fence and disappeared.
He wanted to argue. Hell, he wanted to pull his gun and start shooting things. Beginning with the man holding him in a ruthless grip.
But he wasn’t completely insane.
Not yet.
He didn’t possess Fane’s protective tattoos or his magical ability to sense and destroy spells. He’d only be a liability if he went charging in like a bull in a china cabinet.
“Shit,” he muttered in frustration.
Wolfe released his arm, but his lean face remained hard with an undefinable emotion. “Callie is special to all of us.”
Duncan scowled at the Tagos. “Do you have a point?”
“Just listen.”
Duncan’s scowl deepened. Arrogant bastard. Unfortunately, he was an arrogant bastard that Callie needed if they were going to rescue her.
“I’m listening,” he managed between gritted teeth.
“When Callie was brought to Valhalla she was just a tiny scrap of a thing with eyes like jewels and a smile that could melt the hardest heart,” Wolfe said, a hint of affection softening the cruel curve of his mouth. “There wasn’t one of us who didn’t fall under her spell.”
Duncan could easily picture Callie as a tiny baby, slaying the hearts of the most cynical warriors. Who wouldn’t look into those magnificent eyes and fall in love?
“I’m not surprised.”
“So you understand that we’ll lay down our lives to keep her from being hurt.”
A command, not a question.
Duncan narrowed his eyes. “We’re not discussing the necromancer, are we?”
“I’ll accept your help in rescuing Callie. Hell, I’d accept the help of Satan if I thought it was necessary,” Wolfe said. “But trust is earned when it comes to Callie’s fragile heart.”
Duncan took a step forward, his hands clenched at his side.
Since becoming a cop he’d learned not to pick a fight he couldn’t win. But this was too important to back down. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">