Evermore (Descendants of Ra: Book 3) Read online

Avery tackled him. They rolled to the edge of another pit. EJ’s bigger body landed on top. Avery shifted, flipped his brother onto his back, and pinned him with a knee to his gut and a forearm against his throat. Built like a tank, EJ wasn’t as quick as Avery. And Avery had eight years of training and attitude on his baby brother. His scar stirred and he could have sworn something crawled beneath his shirt. No, it was beneath his skin?

  “What the hell are you doing?” EJ forgot to be quiet.

  Avery jerked away. He had to fight the urge to rip his coat and sweater off to have a look at the scar. “Bullets won’t stop them, remember,” Avery hissed. “Just because they didn’t wake up when I landed on them doesn’t mean they won’t rise and shine when you start putting holes in them, Dumbnuts.”

  EJ sat up slowly. He winced and pulled a sharp piece of pottery from his flank. “Piece of crap stabbed me.”

  Quin scooped up some scattered broken pieces littering the room. “They have glyphs on the outside. Might be interesting to find out what they say.” He stuffed a few pieces into his pocket.

  “Shit,” EJ’s voice had dropped back to a whisper. “Whadda we do? Grenades?”

  Avery checked his count. “I didn’t bring enough.”

  “Fire?” EJ asked.

  “No,” Avery barked and had to suffer their understanding glances.

  Quin pulled his phone from his pocket. “Damn. No bars. I say we leave. Get Roman. Come back with a plan.”

  Avery shook his head. “I’m not leaving this place unguarded.”

  “Who knows how long they’ve been here? Another hour won't make a difference,” Quin said.

  “I’m not leaving here,” Avery growled, his gaze focused on the nearest pit. “You two shag ass and bring everyone. Call Ty, too. See if he can flash his butt back over here.” They both opened their mouths to argue, but Quin beat EJ to the punch.

  “Neither of you are as proficient with blades as I am. I’m the only one that may have a chance of killing them.” Quin rolled his wrists, making his katanas dance.

  “One maybe, not all,” EJ muttered.

  “Thanks for the confidence.” Quin flexed his muscles and walked away.

  “Just saying.” EJ pointed out.

  Avery didn’t like it. Quin was the lightweight of the group. Six foot three, two hundred and twenty pounds, he was the family tech geek. He’d been in the field a handful of times. Yeah, he could handle his katanas, still...

  “You two are getting out of here. “ Avery made a cutting motion to his neck, which silenced both of them. In the field, he gave the orders. Only Roman outranked him.

  EJ grumbled, clearly not happy with Avery’s orders. Avery didn’t give a damn. “Gimme one of your katanas and get the hell out of here. Go get the cavalry.”

  A tic jumped in EJ’s jaw and Avery waited for the useless argument to begin. Instead, he glanced at the sealed metal door. Leaving that way would give access to any bum on the street. A rusted spiral staircase in the corner led to an office on the second floor. “We go up.” EJ pointed his gun at the staircase. “‘Cause I ain’t going back down.” He flicked the weapon toward the pit.

  No argument there.

  They weren’t as quiet as Avery would’ve liked. EJ’s questions and Quin’s muffled curses reached him, but nothing stirred in the pits. He tracked their progress through the holes in the second floor, lost them for a bit until he spotted two moving shadows in the rafters. The light from a cell phone briefly illuminated EJ’s face, and they disappeared again, blending effortlessly into the darkness.

  A sliver of moonlight bathed them when they reached the skylight. The rusted window protested with a grinding whine when Quin cranked it open and muscled it back. They both looked down at Avery.

  Shit. Muscles tight, katana ready, Avery glanced into the nearest pit. No movement. By the time he looked up again, Quin and EJ were gone. He was alone with two guns, a katana, ten throwing stars and five knives against . . . a hundred quimaeras, maybe more.

  No problem.

  ***

  “Still no signal.” EJ held his phone aloft on the roof of the factory.

  Quin stared through the broken pane, keeping eye contact on Avery. “Go to the car. Try it there.”

  “The car’s across the street.”

  “So go.” Quin climbed back through the window. “Avery and I’ll stay ‘til you get back.” Then Quin was gone.

  It made sense. Quin was better with the blade, but it wasn’t Quin’s job to guard Avery’s back. That position belonged to EJ. Always would. And nothing would change it. The others claimed they understood, but they didn’t. Thane, Quin, Ty, Brayden, they all called each other brother, but Avery really was his brother. Same mother. There wasn’t anything they wouldn’t do for each other or hadn’t already done. Avery had raised him, saved him time and again. He owed him. Loved him.

  EJ tried his phone one more time—zero bars—and almost launched it off the roof. He scaled down the broken fire escape and jumped the remaining few feet. No signal. He kicked an opening through the rusted fence and ran across the street back to the Range Rover parked in front of the dark row houses. He tried his phone again and got a few bars.

  “Thank you, Verizon.” He dialed Roman. The call went straight to voicemail. He dialed Thane and got the same. Everyone else he would’ve called was in the factory babysitting the quimaera. He tried the house, counting on Hector to pick up. When no one answered, a knot lodged in his gut. He tried one last number: Hector’s cell. It rang four times before their butler answered.

  But EJ didn’t hear Hector’s voice.

  Crying. Someone was crying. No, screaming.

  A woman.

  The only woman at the house was Stella.

  And why would she be screaming?

  “Hello! Hello!” he yelled into the phone, holding it so tight the screen cracked and the phone died. He looked at the useless device in his palm, then at the factory. They had to get home. Now.

  He raced back into the empty row house, through the kitchen, the basement, and the tunnel. On the walkway over the pit, he risked a whistle. Avery and Quin’s head popped over the rim. “Something’s happened at RockGate.”

  Chapter Three

  Quiet. Blessed silent. No thoughts other than Ember’s patch-worked ramblings filled the space between her 8-year-old ears.

  Finally. Ember forced her eyelids open, and then snapped them shut. Though dim, the light pierced her eyes, blinding her. She lay still, gathering strength to crack her eyes open a bit and faced a blurry world. The pain receded, allowing her vision to clear. She peered at her surroundings. Debris littered the room and cold air streamed through a destroyed window. She pushed up onto her elbows and disconnected an EKG lead. The machine next to her began to whine. Years of revolving hospital stays had left her with a wealth of knowledge.

  She pulled the rest of the leads off, then reached up, and turned off the machine. Feet thudded down the hallway outside of the bedroom.

  Ember froze. So close to freedom to lose the opportunity now…

  Tears collected and trailed down her cheeks. She expected the feet to stop in front of her bedroom door and burst in. When they faded away, Ember yanked the IV out of her vein and swung her bare feet over the edge of the bed. Each step, her legs threatened to collapse as she picked her way through a minefield of glass, wood, and plaster.

  Stolen memories from Nu allowed her to navigate the house. She crept down the hallway to the rear staircase, pausing every few seconds, listening. Through the kitchen and family room, she exited from a side door near the pool. And stilled. The cold dirt beneath her feet and the wind pulling at her nightgown were real.

  I did it!

  Sounds of a fight came from the other side of the house, shredding her joy. She skirted the pool and basketball court and made it to the edge of the woods. Exhausted, she rested inside the tree line and glanced behind her. For a moment, she wondered about the people that lived here. Every time Nu tried to te
ll her about them, Ember crawled into the mental closet she’d fashioned for herself and slammed the door tight. The last thing she wanted was another foster family pretending to care or listening to the being that stole her body.

  She marshaled her strength and trekked through the woods, trusting in the memories she pilfered from Nu to guide her forward. Soon, she smelled water. Another few yards and the lake came into view. A crescent moon partially illuminated the still surface. She stumbled forward, skinned her hands and knees as she skidded down the bank, and tumbled in.

  So cold! Barely in the lake, the frigid water stabbed her. She forced herself to wade in instead of rushing back to dry land. With each step, the water crawled up her body. Calves to knees, thighs to hips, water swirled around her waist. Tremors wracked her. Now would be the time to turn back, if she still had the will to live.

  Five more steps and the icy water dabbed her chin. The tips of her toes gripped the rocky lake bed. She couldn’t swim. A single push. One more step and she would be free. In her last moments of life, she would own her soul. Ember turned and peered at the bank once more.

  A light panned over her head, then darted back. “Hey!” Someone shouted.

  They’d found her. She turned and spotted a skiff rowing in her direction. Frantic, Ember pushed off from the lake bed. For a second, she floated and she thought he would reach her, but the water grabbed her and dragged her under. She didn’t fight. Too long a prisoner in her own body, she welcomed the release only her death could grant.

  Finally.

  Chapter Four

  A Range Rover would never be compared to a Porsche, yet Avery put the theory to the test. Tires squealing, he maneuvered the car through the quiet pre-dawn streets. On the highway, he floored the gas, taking the car above 100 mph.

  In record time, the car skidded in front of the mansion. Last to leave the SUV, Avery followed closely behind Quin and EJ. Each palmed their weapons as they darted up the stairs and into the dark house. Heavy silence greeted them, broken by the echoes of their combined footsteps across the marble foyer. Avery headed to the great room while EJ and Quin went in opposite directions, one toward the game room, the other toward the solarium.

  No bodies. Avery scanned the enormous space and everything was as it should be, except for the mournful wails coming from the backyard. He remembered that raw sound emanating from his throat years ago and what it meant. Someone was dead. The only question, who? He braced himself for the gut check and stepped onto the patio.

  A dark storm swept over his mind, much like the fog that briefly clouded his thoughts at RedZone a few weeks ago. His brain churned, to buried memories and extinguished emotions, returning him to a place he refused to visit. To a night when he was ten and EJ, two.

  No. A growl seared the back of his throat. He wouldn’t go there. Couldn’t. Not now. Not ever. Avery locked down his emotions. His muscles twitched, his damaged skin spasmed in protest against the sudden paralysis until the storm cleared, leaving him wobbly and queasy. The night came back into focus. The crisp November air scented with rain. The trees at the edge of the property swaying from a sudden gust, the few stars dotting the cloudless sky, and the horrendous cries.

  At the back of the lawn, passed the nude bushes of the garden maze, he spotted Thane holding Stella with Hector standing beside them. The cries coming from her throat didn’t seem human. He’d sounded like that once.

  EJ and Quin raced from the sides of the house toward them. On rubbery legs, Avery forced himself forward.

  “What’s happened? Where is Roman?” Quin demanded.

  “Gone. Reign, Reign stabbed him and he-he vanished,” Thane choked.

  “He killed him!” Stella struggled to shake Thane off, but he held tight. “He stabbed Roman and in-incinerated him.”

  Roman? Dead? The two words couldn’t go together. He’d lived two thousand years to die by his twin’s blade?

  “Where’s Reign? Which way did he go?” Quin raised his katana’s.

  Avery never regretted his nonchalant attitude toward the swordsmanship Roman forced upon him, until now. He needed a blade. He looked at EJ. Correction, they needed blades ‘cause he’d seen Reign in action and shooting him would only piss the guy off.

  “Ember! Oh God, Ember!” Stella pointed to the mansion. Avery whipped around and followed her finger to the destroyed bedroom window of Stella’s comatose half-sister.

  Stella tore out of Thane’s arms, but he caught her again.

  “Go, I’ll take care of Stella,” Thane said to Avery.

  Avery raced into the dark house. He streaked up the stairs and down the hall to the bedroom. The door lay open. His gun was ready, steady.

  The distant hum of the generators echoed from the area by the basketball court. The house lights flickered on a second later.

  Shit! What the hell happened? The room was wrecked. Everything but the bed was scattered and broken. The wall separating the bathroom from the bedroom lay in splinters and water soaked the carpet and squished beneath his boots.

  No kid.

  Avery stepped over the debris and made his way to the empty bed. The machines were off and the IV bag had drained onto the carpet, leaving a wet patch on the heirloom rug. A dark spot had fallen near the puddle.

  He squatted and pressed his thumb into the spot. It came back red. Footsteps thundered down the hall and into the room.

  “Where is she? Where is my sister! Oh God, not her too,” Stella sobbed. “There were two women in here, fighting. I tried to enter, but the door slammed shut and wouldn’t open. I ran to Roman, b-b-but—” Her words ended on a strangled cry.

  Avery ignored the people gathered behind him and tracked another droplet to a piece of splintered wood closer to the door. He followed the trail out of the bedroom. EJ stayed close.

  “Where are you going?” Stella cried.

  Avery spared Thane a glance. “Keep her with you,” he ordered. Stella’s angry protest faded as he picked the darker shades of red from the burgundy Italian runner stretching down the center of the hallway. He raced down the stairs to the foyer and easily spotted a droplet on the white marble at the crossroads between the two wings of the house. The nearest exit was straight ahead and to the left in the great room. The bedridden, recently comatose child couldn’t know that.

  If it was her, leaving on her own, and not someone taking her.

  Was it a coincidence the child woke up from her coma when the house was under attack? Coincidences didn’t exist. Not in the world he resided in. But who would break into this house and snatch one of theirs? No one with an ounce of sense or someone who had nothing to fear. Could it be another God come to mess with them? Or Daniel. Their former brother had done it before. He’d stolen Stella right from under their noses. She’d saved herself. Then Daniel became Alamut.

  Avery rolled his shoulders, flexing the tense muscles under his scars. They were back to their normal state of feeling like a lump of meat grafted to his back. He stepped onto the porch. A small, bloody handprint stained the frosted glass of the patio table. His heart lurched. The child was hurt. How bad, he had no idea. He had to find her, fast.

  He blew out a slow breath, fought back a cold dread which threatened to spread. She’d paused here, probably to gather her strength before moving on to—where? Where could a child dressed in a thin nightgown in forty degree weather go?

  Avery moved away from the bright lights of the house and faced the woods. He peered into the darkness, searching for a clue to Ember’s direction. A breeze ruffled the branches on the nearly naked trees, causing a massive wave of motion.

  There! A broken branch dangled at waist level. He darted through the woods but slowed almost immediately. Though he had exceptional night vision, he couldn’t pick up the blood trail. Footsteps crunched behind him. He turned and a flashlight blinded him.

  EJ tossed him a Maglite while Quin brought up the rear. “We got ten minutes before Stella calls the cops,” EJ said

  A few feet in, h
e found bloody footprints and droplets scattered on pale fallen leaves which littered the ground, heading toward the water. They ran the rest of the distance and broke through the trees lining the sandy bank of the man-made lake.

  EJ cupped his mouth and bellowed. “Ember!”

  Avery ran to the stone bridge spanning the water. He panned the light back and forth searching for a sign of the child. Something splashed. EJ and Quin swam to the center and dove beneath the placid surface. Avery shrugged off his leather jacket to join them when his flashlight illuminated something white.

  A boat rested on the opposite bank, not in the boathouse but further down. There was a good chance Ember was at Judge Grayfield’s cabin.

  A wave of fury slammed into Avery, polluting the calm that kept his emotions balanced. That crawling sensation returned, only times ten. Darkness framed the fringes of his vision. The landscape turned blurry and went off kilter. Unexpected anger stormed through his gut. His thoughts skidded into dangerous territory and his knees weakened, but he refused to go down. He locked his muscles and fought for control.

  Not again with this shit.

  Then he saw IT, an amorphous shifting mass separate from the surrounding night. The thing watched him, stalked him, tugged on the bleak center of his soul. He jumped back, banged his hip against the low stone wall, and tipped over, head first rushing toward the base of the bridge. At the last second, he twisted, missed the stone pillar, and struck the water like a brick. And sunk like a brick. A quick prayer went to whomever allowed him to keep his head attached to his neck as the murky lake swallowed him. Saved from a braining, yet died from drowning.

  He knew how to swim—combat training demanded SEAL-level proficiency in all tactical fields—yet he couldn’t move his limbs. Darkness within him, darkness whirling around him, both dragged him to a place he wouldn’t survive.

  The rescuer needed rescuing.

  The lake wasn’t deep. By the time he touched the bottom, the numbness would leave his limbs, and he could push off and swim to the top. Good plan, though with lots of variables. Too many ways he could end up a floater. That was life. Every day a roll of the dice. Each day a different way to die.