Chapter 46

Inside Soren Brenwyn’s library, Mac flung an entire shelf of books onto the floor, then gave the next shelf the same treatment. Nothing. Just bare wood, like you would expect to see. “Anything?” he called frantically over his shoulder at Bruin, who was pulling every placard and picture and trophy off the walls.

“Nothing.”

“Keep looking. She’s right below us. There has got to be some way to get to her.”

News from the surveillance crew watching the house was that Soren had not been home for several days, but he’d showed up only a few minutes before they had, come in the house like normal, but they couldn’t find him. A small search team was upstairs, checking for him there, and they were rallying the SWAT team to come in behind them, but Mac couldn’t wait for any of them. He could feel Rogue below them. The bastard was hurting her.

The library was huge, and he didn’t have the time or the patience for a proper search for whatever underground lair Soren had put behind the house. He had to find it, now. He stopped what he was doing, turned in a circle, and tried to look at the room as less of a library, and more of a cover. Something legitimate pasted over the top of something Brenwyn didn’t want anyone to even imagine was there. If it were his place, where would he put the secret door?

Shit. He strode to the pool table in the alcove and yanked at it. Pool tables were heavy, but not that heavy. This one was bolted to the floor. “It’s under here, Bru, gotta be.”

Bruin turned and stared, but he’d already ripped all the pool cues and triangle off the wall. Maybe something on the table itself triggered the thing to move? Mac started pressing buttons, flinging balls onto the floor, then realized Bruin had gone perfectly still.

“Hey,” Bruin said, staring hard at the full bar on the far wall. “This guy looks like a whiskey man, yes?”

Mac glanced over. Sure. Rows of whiskey. Corn whiskey, malt whiskey, grain whiskey, more. Whatever. “So what?”

“That one bottle of wine right in the middle just seems… out of place to me.”

Shit. Mac ran around the bar and tried to pick it up. It didn’t move. He yanked it forward like a lever. The entire pool table lifted in a smooth hydraulic motion and swung to the left. “Go, go,” Mac said, as he ran for the circular staircase that had been revealed. The two of them pounded down it, Mac in front.

“Tell me you’ve got Presley,” Mac said.

“Of course I do.” The bear produced the gun and even held it the way Mac would have held it. Mac pulled his own gun out of his holster. The bottom was still thirty feet below them, only a landing, and a door. Their footsteps pounded, echoing in the small space, but it couldn’t be helped.

“Pool table’s sliding back in place, Mac. Chicago PD won’t even know where we’ve gone.”

Mac didn’t bother to answer. If their phones worked and they got a chance to use them, they’d tell somebody where they were, otherwise, they were going to have to deal with whatever was below here themselves. He wasn’t stopping for anything. The way he felt, he could take on Khain by himself. Or die trying. Bruin would save Rogue, if it came to that. Not that he thought Khain was down here. No, hopefully the most they were dealing with was two soon-to-be-dead foxen.

But no, that was stupid. “Bruin, can you contact anyone in ruhi, tell them where we are?” He was almost at the bottom.

“Ah, I can try. But it might not work because of the distance. The only wolfen I’m emotionally close to is you, and that connection matters when you’re not in the same room.”

“Try then, but don’t waste time on it. We’re going in the moment we hit that landing. I’m going low, you wait for a minute, then follow. You’ve heard the saying, shoot first and ask questions later? That’s what we’re doing.”

They hit the bottom, Mac wrestled with the door for only a minute, then pushed it open, gun leading the way. Rex Brenwyn stood there in a large open room, well-furnished, with paintings where windows should be. His hands were at his sides, palms facing forward, his demeanor relaxed.

Mac could feel Rogue in the next room, alive, pissed as hell, thank Rhen. He kept Rex in his sights while shooting glances along the far wall until he found the door that would lead to her. He spoke to Rex. “Stay right where you are, you piece of shit. If you so much as sneeze, I’m blowing your head off.”

Bruin came in behind him and Mac told him to cover Rex, as he edged around the side wall, itching to get to Rogue. He wouldn’t be able to help her until he had Rex incapacitated, though. He couldn’t count on Bruin to actually shoot someone. The guy was all for fighting Khain, but Mac was almost certain his soft heart would never let him shoot anyone else.

Rex disappeared.

“Motherfuck!” Mac shouted, pointing his gun at the floor and spinning in a circle.

Rex reappeared at the far wall, laughing softly. “Might as well put your guns away, boys. I guarantee you that you won’t be able to put any holes in me. Put your guns away and fight me fair. Like proper shiften.”

The air in the room became charged, heavy, and Rex took a step toward them. Mac leveled his gun between the guy’s eyes. He didn’t have time for any of this shit. He squeezed off a shot with no warning, but Rex disappeared, then reappeared two feet closer. The slug plowed into a painting behind where he’d been.

“I told you,” Rex snarled. “But you didn’t listen, and now you’re going to pay.” His body jerked forward, spasming, and he began to change, his eyes on Mac the entire time. Bruin stepped close to Mac, his own gun up. Now, Mac tried to telegraph to Bruin, and shit, somehow it seemed to work. They both fired three shots at the shifting foxen.

Or where the foxen had been. He disappeared again, somehow knowing when they were going to shoot, or just having the reaction time of a mongoose. He reappeared, and he was three steps closer, fully shifted, and the size of a motherfucking bear, with slobbering fangs that belonged in no mammal’s mouth. No, they were the fangs of a monster-sized snake, or a demon.

Bruin took a step backwards as Rex stepped toward them. “What the fuck is he?” Bruin shouted.

Mac put his gun back in his holster, slowly, calculating. There were two of them, but Rex seemed to think he had the upper hand. That was bad news. That and the fact that Rex was playing with them. Having fun with them. Giving them time to get their bearings meant he was positive he’d win a fight against the two of them.

“He’s been marked by Khain, that’s why he doesn’t look like a fox. I’m not sure what he really is, and he’s the first one I’ve seen in my lifetime, but I’ve heard that foxen who’ve been marked are as big as a bear. That disappearing shit is a new one to me, though.”

Bruin put his gun away, then dropped his holster to the ground. “I’m as big as a bear, Mac. Go, find your female, I’ve got this.”

Bruin kicked off his boots, but didn’t bother taking the rest of his clothes off. Smart. Pulling shirts over your head put you at a definite disadvantage in a fight.

Rex snorted and snarled and Mac wondered if he was trying to laugh. He couldn’t leave the bear to fight by himself… but Bruin was already shifting. Rex waited, letting Bruin finish the transition, before the two animals began to turn in a tight circle, always facing each other.

Go!

Mac frowned. It had been Bruin’s voice. But Mac had never been able to catch ruhi before. Didn’t matter. Figure it out later. He had to find Rogue.

He sprinted to the next room, pulling his gun out again, passing down a short, empty hallway, then clearing the room quickly, before he saw his female, his Rogue, near a couch but not on the couch, just crumpled on the floor in a heap.

He ran to her, knelt down, touched her softly, his heart screaming at her injuries. “Oh shit, oh baby, say something.”

“Don’t call me baby,” she whispered, then her eyes fluttered and she looked at him. “Are you really here?”

“You’re ok, Roe, shit, I thought I’d lost you.” There was so much blood. One puddle under her wrist where she had a compound fracture, another under her head. Was it coming out her ear?

She tried to move, then winced. “I like Roe,” she said softly.

He tried to grin but it was weak. “I know you do. It’s pretty, like you.”

She pulled at his clothes. He could barely hear her. “Mac, I’m not ok. I think I’m dying. I’m cold, getting colder. There’s something I have to tell you.”

“No, Roe, you don’t have to tell me. You’re gonna be ok. I’ll get you out of here.” He started putting his hands under her hips, trying to figure out how to lift her without hurting her.

“Just listen,” she said, injecting some steel in her voice. “There’s a bomb at your police station. It’s going to go off at ten this morning. I overheard Rex and Soren talking about it days ago, but didn’t know what they meant.”

And he’d thought she was going to say she loved him. Motherfuck. “No, we got the bomb out.”

Her fingers clutched at him. A great roar sounded from the other room, then a thunk like a baseball bat hitting a wooden wall. Ah shit, the bear. But Roe…

“No, Mac, that was a decoy, so you would think the danger was past. There’s another bomb. It’s going to go off at ten. You have to…”

Her eyes slipped closed and Mac’s heart seized.

Bruin’s voice, in his head. Out of breath. The pendant. Tell her to use the pendant.

“Roe, Roe, baby, you gotta stay with me here.” He couldn’t even apply pressure at her wrist because of the open fracture. His fingers dug around at her neck until he found a wound there. He whipped his shirt over his head and pressed it against there, frantically whispering her name. She didn’t respond.

Shit. He balled up the shirt and shoved it between her neck and the floor, then began to search her body. Nothing in her pockets. Around her waist. Her pack. He unzipped it and felt around inside, then drew out two bundles of cloth. He found the ends of the cloth and pulled and out spilled a pendant, much like the ones he knew the other mates had. He held it up to her body, passing it over her, touching her with it, not knowing what it could do, if it could do anything. “Heal her, fix her.”

Nothing happened. Motherfuck. Tears spilled from his eyes, but he didn’t notice them. He curled the pendant in his hand, getting up close to Rogue, pressing his front against her back. “Take us out of here,” he whispered to it. “Please, take her to the hospital.” Nothing. “Do something!” he pleaded, but nothing happened.

Mac stared at it, thinking hard, as great thuds and ripping noises came from the other room. Another roar, then a louder one.

Mac snatched up Rogue’s hand, her good one, and placed the pendant in her palm, then curled her fingers around it. For good measure, he swiped a finger full of her blood from the floor and painted it across the angel’s face. He bent her arm and placed the pendant against her heart, then got his mouth right up next to it. “If you don’t do something, she’s going to die.”

The pendant began to glow. He could see the light through her fingers. “Yes, yes, that’s it. Bring us help, take us out of here, something. Heal her, I don’t care what you do, but do something now!”

The pendant glowed.

Nothing changed.

The glowing stopped.

Mac bent to his mate, more tears spilling from his eyes. He would have to risk moving her. Have to lift her and carry her up those stairs. He put an arm under her knees, then juggled her shoulders, trying to get his arm under her back, praying she was still breathing, but not willing to take the time to check.

A noise sounded in the room behind him, almost a popping. He jerked his head to the rear, knowing if it was Khain or another foxen, she was dead.

Graeme’s dragon stood there, a pendant wrapped around one claw. Mac had never been so happy to see anyone in his life.

“Graeme,” Mac cried out. “She’s hurt. You gotta help her. But first you have to tell Wade there’s a bomb at the station. Another one, set to go off soon. Everyone has to get out!”

The dragon stood stock-still for a few moments, then nodded once, then stepped forward, shrinking as he did so, until he was the size of a large dog. Or a wolf. He bit open his own front leg, then moved so he could hold the wound over Rogue’s mouth, dripping dark blood inside.

When the first drop hit Rogue’s tongue, her body jerked like she’d been hit with a shot of electricity.

Mac held her head, holding pressure on her neck. “Come back to me, Roe, hang in there. You’ve got to come back to me, baby.”

Another drop, and another. Rogue’s eyes shot open and she grabbed the leg so close to her mouth with her free hand, levering her body up to it, closing her mouth over the wound, sucking hard, even as her eyes stared at the dragon, clear fear settling in there.

“Oh shit,” Mac breathed.

Stop!

Graeme’s voice, booming. Too much will harm you. He pulled his front leg away from Rogue, but she came with it, unwilling to stop.

“Roe,” Mac called sharply, sticking his finger in the side of her mouth to break the suction. “He said too much isn’t good. Stop.”

Graeme looked at him strangely. You hear me?

Mac shot him a look, just as surprised as he was. “Yeah, shit, I guess so. That’s new.”

Twin bellows came from the other room, as something slammed into the wall between the two rooms hard enough to make the wall of emergency food buckets lurch forward, before settling back again.

Who is in there?

“Bruin. He’s fighting a marked foxen.”

We must move fast. Check her neck. It may have healed already, but you must set her arm, or it will nae close. The bone is out.

Mac pulled away his shirt and ran his fingers over Rogue’s neck. Unbroken. She licked blood from her lips and her eyes rolled in her skull.

“Dragon,” Rogue whispered.

“Yeah, he’s a friend. Relax, we’ve got you.”

Mac scrambled to the other side of Rogue and took her hand in his, expecting her to scream, but she didn’t even look. Her big eyes were focused on the dragon.

“Rogue, I’m going to pull. You hang in there.”

“Go for it.” Her voice was strong, but quiet.

It may not hurt her, Mac. Do it. She has much dragon blood in her.

Mac did it. He pulled and Rogue’s bone went back where it was supposed to be. Rogue didn’t even whimper, like she hadn’t felt a thing.

Graeme moved his front leg over the wound, while Rogue watched the two of them, something like awe on her face.

Squeeze out more blood onto her wound. Just a drop.

Mac gripped Graeme’s leg and did as he’d been told. As soon as the blood landed, Rogue’s wound knit before his eyes.

Something bellowed in pain in the other room, and sounds of crashing came to them.

“Bruin, he needs help,” Mac said.

Graeme shot upright and ran the short hallway between the two rooms, then came back.

Bruin is holding his own. Let’s get you both out of here and then I’ll come back and help Bruin finish off that foxen.

He inclined his wing. Take the pendant from me. I don’t need it now and we musn’t lose it.

Mac jumped to his feet to grab the chain and pull it off Graeme’s claw. Rogue pushed herself to a sitting position, still looking dazed, still staring at Graeme like she was a Belieber and he was the Beebs himself.

Is one of those hers? He motioned to the pendant on her lap and the one spilled out on the floor, still partially wrapped in cloth.

“Rogue, Graeme wants to know if that’s yours.”

She shook her head no, never taking her eyes off the dragon.

Tell her the ride will be bumpy, but the pendant will still take her where she wants to go. Tell her to hold it in her hand and imagine the place, then tell the pendant to take her there.

“Does she need to go to the hospital?”

Nay.

Mac repeated Graeme’s instructions, then picked up the pendant and held it out to her, tucking the other two into her pack. Rogue seemed dazed. Not herself. Maybe disbelieving.

“Rogue, did you hear me? You’ve got to get out of here. Where do you want to go?”

Rogue licked her lips and looked down at it, nervousness flooding into her expression. “This shit is whacked, all of it,” she whispered, then looked up at Mac, her face shining, her cheeks rosy with health that made him want to cry for the first time in decades. “I want to go to the happiest place on Earth, my version of Disneyland. Take me to Mac’s bed.”

And she was gone, winked out of existence like the foxen.