CHAPTER 35
The long walls of Piraeus had served Athens well, and then served the Persians who followed. First built by Themistocles, the fortifications were defensive in nature, designed to prevent attacks on the corridor connecting Athens to its valuable harbor. At the House of the Butterflies, the vineyards served a similar purpose. The electrical devices hidden in the leafy green and gold targeted the approaching enemy with such accuracy, the mercenaries believed they were being individually attacked. Thermal cameras searched the kill zones; computers recognized the enemy. There was no need for snipers when game technology operated the hidden weapons.
Christan found the new warfare puzzling, but he adapted to its usefulness, maintaining an operational discipline despite a preference for physical confrontation. He didn’t react to the first advancing attack and allowed the computers to fight the battle.
“There are more mercenaries than expected.” It was Arsen’s voice, speaking through the tiny transmitter Christan wore in his ear. He would have preferred telepathy. Telepathy, however, was limited in scope and couldn’t communicate with the dozens of warriors spread out around the villa.
“We’ve been in this position before,” Christan reminded his second-in-command.
“They’re well-armed this time.”
“But not well-trained.” Christan watched another mercenary stop his forward advance and crouch down in the shadows. A moment later, the man ran in the opposite direction. “Any word from Phillipe?” The immortal was enlisting additional help; his contacts within the underworld of immortal intrigue were well-known and legendary.
“He’s talking with One now.”
“Tell him he’s wasting his breath.”
“Three’s working on her own to bring in reinforcements.”
Christan watched as several figures approached along the edge of the road. The moon disappeared behind the clouds, but Christan was a nocturnal predator, feared in the dark. The loss of the moon was not a problem.
“Who’s outside the villa?” he asked.
“Luca’s warriors.”
An explosion echoed from his left, closer to the villa, and Christan swore softly when he realized it wasn’t one of their devices hidden in the leaves.
“Are warriors stationed in the trees?” he asked Arsen. “I told her to go to the trees if she had to run.”
“Luca assigned two experienced men.”
“Contact them.”
A silence for five seconds. “Not getting an answer.”
Christan didn’t answer. He’d already disappeared into the dark. Arsen followed two strides behind his Enforcer.
Lexi focused on the front of the villa. The fighting outside was intense. Sounds of battle approached with the rush, then receded. Time slowed. An explosion erupted, blinding and white, seeping around the edges of the heavy shutters. Erie flickers of light crawled like skittering insects across the floor. As the sounds grew louder, Lexi thought she was back in the alley. The screaming was horrendous and the dark once again impenetrable.
A soft shuffle attracted her attention, followed by the crunch of a foot on loose stones. The stealthy click of a lock being breached and a door opening.
Someone was inside.
Lexi stared into the darkness, knowing vision would not be her strongest sense. Gaia’s father had once taught his daughter how to sense the shadows. It was not enough to look for moving shapes, he'd said. The hunter needed to feel the displacement of the air, listen for the tiny tell-tale sounds. Difficult, with all the sporadic screaming from outside. The intruder would be armed, too. Lexi reached out, found one of the decorative figurines Hannah Strome liked to leave beside the stair railing like little shrines. She threw it toward the opposite corner of the large room.
Two white flashes a second later, the pops muffled with a silencer. Additional footfalls joined the first and they were different, smoother; sending two mercenaries after her instead of one almost made Lexi smile. Christan was enough of a threat they’d required the extra precautions. Or the bounty they’d placed on her was that high.
But Lexi knew two enemies were converging on the corner where she’d thrown the figurine. It would take seconds before they realized she wasn’t there. She vaulted off the staircase. Her feet were silent on the tiled floor, and as she stepped over another of Hanna Strome’s little shrines, Lexi remembered the scream earlier. A woman’s scream. Her hands grew damp and she scrubbed them against her jeans, calculating the distance to the front of the villa. The double doors were ten feet away, maybe less. An easy sprint, but in the dark, sprinting had its risks.
The two men were huddled in the corner and conversing now, their voices muffled. A small penlight was switched on and one of the men began to search the room.
“Come out and we won’t hurt you,” he said, his English heavy and thick with an Italian accent.
Lexi didn’t answer.
“This isn’t about you. Come out.” The light moved through the shadows, hesitating on a chair near the windows, reflecting off the table by the door. “We’ll help you.”
Lexi took a careful step to her left.
“One sent us.” A new voice, softer, the Italian less pronounced. “She doesn’t want bloodshed.”
Lexi kept moving. She wondered if they would sense her heart racing in her chest. The narrow beam of light continued to swing like a scythe through tall grass. A few seconds, she told herself, all she had were a few seconds before they found her.
She turned and ran. A man charged after her as she slammed into a table, knocking over a vase. The crash exploded into a thousand shards of glass. Lexi picked up a broken table leg and threw it behind her, tripping the mercenary who was closer than she’d expected.
He said something in rough Italian. From the tone, she knew they weren’t there to protect her, and then a hand twisted into her hair. Her head was jerked backward and a fist sliced from the right so swiftly she couldn’t scream. She fell to her knees, gasping. Her lungs seized. Her stomach was on fire and she bent over, gagging on the bile that rose in her throat.
“Breathe. Push up to your feet and run, cara.”
It was Christan’s voice. Lexi heard him clearly, and it was enough to break her immobility. She pushed to her feet, slammed both palms against the double doors so hard one swung open and then back, crashing into her shoulder. Pain was instantaneous. Lexi forced herself down the concrete steps to the grass slick with dark patches that weren’t caused by rain.
The larger man followed and tried to circle her shoulders from behind. He was the one who spoke with rough Italian-accented English. He smelled of stale garlic and tobacco. Lexi twisted to the side, turning into him instead of struggling away. She blocked his arm, hit him hard beneath the nose, shoving up with her open palm. Cartilage crunched and the part of her that was Gaia smiled at the piercing scream.
Around her, the noises and bodies and memories of the alley raged. The vineyards had been trampled into blood and mud. The defensive perimeter had slowed the assault, but not long enough to contain the enemy. Now the fighting had reached the open terrace in front of the villa. It was hand-to-hand, warrior against warrior. Lexi stared at the destruction and a sob caught in her throat. She wondered if she could ever live in this place again, if Christan would ever ask her to live here. Despite the bitterness, they had loved each other here. Now there was violence and death.
“Go to the trees, cara.” Urgency in that mental voice. Christan was there; she could feel his energy, pulsing and wild, but he was lost somewhere in the churning bodies. “Now. Darius will meet you there.” It was an order, followed by a grunt of pain.
“I’m not leaving.” Lexi wasn’t sure if she was doing the telepathy right. It could be a one-way transmission, where Christan could talk to her but she couldn’t talk to him. Besides, she was more Gaia, now, fighting the lions. She saw a discarded staff on the ground, thought it should fit her hand. Picked it up without thinking beyond how naturally the wood fit against her palm. “I won’t give up on you.”
A scream broke above the sound of bodies and the air vibrated. Someone had shifted. Then another. Both blacker than the night, larger than any natural predator, reaching back into prehistoric nightmares of violence and blood. Moonlight silvered massive shoulders. The eyes of one predator glinted with the killing-edge of obsidian, while the other animal vibrated with the sin-dark eyes of a fallen angel, broken and profane.
Two enemies began a death dance, matched for size and strength. Blood was running freely. Pelts were ripped and bones exposed. Night sounds surged and then receded. Another warrior approached, shifted and was immediately sent to the ground. An area widened in the blood-soaked grass as men fell back. The two remaining combatants circled. The meaning was obvious. There would be no other interference. A cry rose in Lexi’s throat, but she choked it back. It was enough, though, even with the sounds around. Both massive creatures turned in her direction.
The shape of the battle changed, sharpened with lethal urgency. One primal creature struck out with vicious claws while the other stood in its way. The severity of the attacks increased as if everything depended upon winning.
Lexi was wrenching at the throat of her sweatshirt, tears blinding her eyes. Arsen was screaming at her. She didn’t seem to hear him. Her vision had narrowed down to a single focus. One creature leapt into the air. The other intercepted with a devastating demonstration of power and the air ripped in two. White-hot energy slammed Lexi toward the ground. But the assault was not against her; the motionless body at her feet shimmered once before shifting into a man. Three feet away, Kace flashed into human form, holding out his hand.
“Come,” he ordered.
He forced a wave of energy toward her. Lexi slammed the power back in his face. She thought she was screaming as she did it, calling him Wallace and Nico and all other names he’d ever used when he’d lied to her.
He stepped back. Lexi ignored him, concentrating on the man lying by her knees. She dragged the sweatshirt over her head. Balled it up and pressed the fabric against the gaping wound in Christan’s side. Felt the blood hot against her palms, the flow between her fingers that wouldn’t stop.
“Christan,” she said sharply, “stay with me.”
His eyes remained closed. She gripped the sweatshirt pressed into his side, her other hand against his ribs, holding on to him through sheer will alone. Her hands were slick with the essence of his life, and it hurt so damn much she couldn’t breathe. But she held on, held her hands tight against the wound in his side as she poured every bit of energy she had into him, her mind screaming while blood still ran on the ground.
Men were running toward her. Others were running away. The night was tumultuous and hot with immortal fire. Out of the corner of her eye, Lexi watched as Kace took another step backward. The air vibrated violently around him, scattering bits of grass. In an instant, he disappeared.
Beneath Lexi’s hands, Christan arched. Hot heat vibrated. Something was tugging him from her grasp. And then he was he was gone.