And if he thought he was going to live for too much longer, he was more insane than I figured. "That's a warped way of justifying murder, you know."
He took another shot, then said, "It's not murder. It's ridding the world of dangerous pests. Besides, there's nothing more magical than seeing the realization of death spark in your prey's eyes."
Definitely, certifiably crazy.
He continued, "Give this game up, guardian, and you'll get your chance in the forest. If you don't give up, I'll simply shoot you dead in whichever hole you've crawled into."
Great options. Dead now, or dead later. How generous of him. I took off my sodden tank top and wrapped it around my bleeding leg. As tourniquets went, it wasn't great, but at least it would provide a little support when I had to stand.
I reached up onto the desk and felt around. My fingers brushed against papers and pens, then finally hit something more solid. A stapler. I gripped it lightly, then carefully rose to my feet.
Pain bloomed, roaring up my leg. I gritted my teeth against the urge to scream, and forced myself to breathe deeply and softly. Sweat rolled down my cheeks and my back, and my stomach rolled threateningly.
I tried to ignore it all, and threw the stapler across the room. It hit the wall and fell to the floor with a clatter. Almost instantly, Yohan fired, the flash of the gun a flame in my infrared vision.
I ran at him, as hard and as fast as I could. He heard my steps, but he barely had time to react before I was on him, grabbing the weapon with one hand and breaking his arm with my other, making it impossible for him to hold a weapon let alone fire one.
He went down, screaming for help.
Whiny, little coward…
The door opened. I flipped up the rifle and fired without sighting. One man went down, his gut exploding. Two of his colleagues leapt over him, coming at me. I fired again, hitting one and missing the other.
That one ducked to one side and raised his gun. But despite the light seeping in from the hallway, the shadows still covered me, and he hesitated, confusion on his face.
"Shoot her, shoot her," Yohan screamed. "She's here somewhere. Just bloody shoot."
Other men were coming into the room now, preventing the first man from simply firing at random. I pivoted on my wounded leg, hissing in pain as I hit the nearest guard in the chest, pushing him backward into another. They both went sprawling.
I shifted position, this time moving as silently as I could, and came up behind the door. With the benefit of infrared, I could see two more men entering. They were the last of the reinforcements—at least for the moment.
I gripped the door handle, waiting until they were closer, then slammed the door closed hard, sending them reeling backward. Then I was diving away as the sound of several gunshots roared, echoing in my ears.
I hit the ground and rolled to my feet, only to go down on one knee as my leg gave way yet again. I gritted my teeth against the scream rolling up my throat, my fists clenched, my nails digging into the heel of my hand in an effort to deflect the pain. It was tempting to shift shape and begin the healing process, but shifting wasn't instantaneous, nor was it discreet. And I wasn't entirely sure the shadows would cover the change.
I scrambled away and heard the footsteps behind me. I'd taken two men out, but there were still two guards left in the room and two men out of it. Time to get serious.
I pushed to my feet, spun, and lashed out with a still-clenched fist at the nearest man. He went down like a ton of bricks. I dove forward, grabbed his gun, and twisted, firing at the other man. He, too, went down.
"If you want to live," I shouted to the two remaining men in the hall, "I suggest you get the fuck away from this place."
There was a moment's silence, then the sound of footsteps retreating. Wise men.
I rose, hobbled over to the nearest window, and hit the nearby button. The curtains swept open, tearing the shadows from my side and revealing the contents of the room in all its grisly glory. Not just the bloody remains of the men I'd downed or killed, but the remains on the walls.
Jorn and Yohan's trophies.
I'd been expecting to see the three missing Australians, as well as the seventeen from the UK, but there were more here than that. Dozens more. All mounted on wood like animal trophies of old. All posed smiling and happy. All so lifelike, as if at any moment they would tear themselves free and step from the wall, whole in body and soul.
And all with a hint of terror and fear lingering in their glassy eyes, as if their souls still abided nearby, waiting for help that never came.
My stomach roiled, and it was all I could do not to throw up. I'd seen some pretty damn gruesome things in my time, but somehow, this seemed far worse than anything else. These two had been taking their revenge for their father's death for years and years. And in the process, had killed well over fifty women.
I turned and looked at Yohan, I don't know what he saw in my eyes, but his face twisted in fear and he pushed backward with his legs, as if trying to get away from me. He slid on the flooring, but not very far.
"I'm human. I demand my time in court," he screamed, spittle spraying from his lips. "You can't shoot me."
"That would work if I actually cared. But I don't."
I raised the gun and shot him, splattering his brains out the back of his head and across the floor.
It was easy. So easy.
Seemed I was more of a guardian—more like my brother—than I'd ever wanted to believe.
And right now, looking at their trophies on the wall, I didn't damn well care.
I shifted shape to start healing my wounds, then threw the gun on Yohan's remains and walked out of the room to find Rhoan before Jorn could.
Chapter Fourteen
Rhoan took care of Jorn while I rang Jack from one of the phones in the house. He'd actually had a team out looking for us, having realized something was wrong when both of us failed to report in. It might be normal for me not to, but Rhoan always did. He was the good twin when it came to that sort of stuff.
It took a good six hours for Jack's cleanup team to get to the island, because, as I'd suspected, we'd been shipped up to the twin's privately owned island off the Brisbane coast. The blackmailing business was obviously a well-paying one.
While Rhoan waited down near the dock for the boat, I went searching for our IDs and wallets. I not only found them, but Adrienne's soul as well. She was waiting in the back of the house, close to a huge walk-in freezer where her body undoubtedly was. I didn't go check. I had no need to see her flesh when her spirit was standing right in front of me.
You seem familiar, she said, her words running through my mind, as ethereal her body, which merely hinted at red hair and gray eyes, and little else.
And yet there was a strength in her, a surety in her words, that I'd not found with other spirits. Especially other spirits who'd been dead for a while. Generally when I saw the older spirits, they were little more than wisps who had no shape and who could form no words. I wondered if it had anything to do with the psychic gifts she had in life, or perhaps even the fact that she'd known her death was coming, and had been prepared for it.
We share the same pack. I'm Riley.
My reply was somewhat reluctant. There was nothing to be gained by talking to her now, because there was nothing that I could do to help her. We'd stopped her killers and found her remains, so that she'd be scattered on home soil and her soul could rest in peace.
So why was she still here? What was keeping her bound to this earth?
Ah. I remember. My grandfather disliked you.
To put it mildly. Yes.
He sent you to rescue me?
He did. I didn't make it in time, though. I'm sorry.
She smiled, though it was a warmth that washed across the air more than any real facial movement in the mist that was her body. Sometimes fate will not be derailed.