The air shimmered around Conn. Blackness coated his brain like spilled oil. He stopped, put his back against the rough bark of a pine and sucked in air. The bite centered him. “The demons know we’re here.”
Images slammed through his mind—fire, death, pain. Shards of imaginary glass ripped across his skull and behind his eyes.
Cold air filled his lungs, and he forced the images into a box. Then he flicked the box to hell. Ramming shields around his mind, he allowed the soldier fate had created to rise to the surface. All intent, all strategy, he jogged forward, no longer feeling the press of energy into his brain. Single-mindedness protected him in his quest to destroy.
He reached the building. Spacing the charges in metal grooves, he hustled behind a stand of trees and yanked out the detonator. “Charges set on the east side.”
“At your mark,” Jase said.
“We’re in place,” Talen said, his voice low with purpose.
Conn pressed the red button. A loud boom echoed. Oxygen swooshed through the forest, drawn to the blaze of fire lighting up the remote area. Metal ripped into pieces, spiraling up into the air to land against trees and the slight snow with the hiss of heat on ice. Grabbing his other gun, he ran full bore into the melee.
Scalding heat blistered his face. He fired from a low crouch, sending three demons down. He needed to take their heads to kill them, but for now, down would do. Jase crashed through the front, bullets spraying in a sweeping motion. Fire blazed bright and hot, smoke filled the room. Bodies dropped until only the vampire teams remained.
Conn cut his eyes to Talen. “Too easy.”
An alarm blared with a high shriek, swirling red lights springing to life. Jase nodded to one of his men, who knelt and aimed a modified rocket launcher toward the rear of the holding. “Get down.”
The missile exploded from the end of the weapon, tearing into the quartz and sending pieces flying. Conn ducked his head, shards cutting into his vest before dropping to the floor. His ears rang. “Talen, any heat signatures?” He lifted up. A massive hole penetrated the rock, revealing an elevator shaft and a set of emergency stairs leading down. Excellent shot.
Talen yanked the heat reader out of his pocket. “Yes. Underground ... three meters. Several signatures, but they flow together shielded by rock. I can’t tell how many.”
Jase shot forward. “Talen and Conn, scale down. Use the cables.” He paused at the stairs. “Dage, Jordan, you’re with me.”
Conn ripped his flashlight out of a pocket, secured it to his gun, and pointed it down into the tunnel. Rough cable scraped against his leather gloves when he grabbed on. He looked at Talen. “Count to five, then follow.”
When Talen nodded, Conn scaled down the tunnel. His boots soon clomped against a closed door. “Team two, take the first level.”
Hand over hand he scaled down until reaching a second landing. “Talen, take level two.”
A longer distance kept the darkness pressing around him until his boots landed on the top of the elevator. Last floor. Reporting his position, he yanked a knife loose to cut into the escape hatch on top.
Static crackled over the line. “We’re in a myriad of tunnels, lots of dark images slamming through our brains. The demons must be close,” Jase muttered. “The tunnels head away from your locations. Everyone check in—three-minute intervals.”
Conn ripped open the hatch and dropped into the elevator, wincing as the carriage rocked. Sliding his knife through the door, he wrenched the sides open. Gun in hand, he leaned out and swept the area, aiming bullets into the necks of two guards. One got off a shot that ripped into Conn’s vest. His ribs bellowed in pain.
Demons. The two lay on the ground, silver haired, dressed all in black, sparkling medallions on their lapels signaling their low rank. Crouching, Conn decapitated both, his mind quickly shutting out the smell of blood and death. He rose to his feet, his gaze on the heavy metal door they’d guarded from this small vestibule. “Two demons down. I’m heading into another area.”
Firefights exploded across the communication lines. “We’ve been engaged,” Jase yelled, the sound of his rushing breath causing Conn to still. The line went dead.
“Talen, report,” Conn ordered.
Nothing. Only silence. The demons had found a way to jam the communications. Well, he had faith in his brothers and a job to do. Setting a charge at the door, he dodged into the elevator. The bomb exploded. Debris flew by and the earth rumbled a protest. His gun swung right and left as he sprang into the hall and through the doorway, shoulders relaxing at the series of cells on each side.
Most were empty, but five panther shifters huddled bruised and bloody in the last one. Their hair was streaked a unique blond, black, and brown and was matted with blood. They’d fought hard. Two males and three females hurried forward.
There was a time females were protected during war, regardless of the species. The thought of Moira being taken filled Conn with rage. He had to shove the fury down to clear his mind and help these people. The tallest male clasped his broken arm against his ribs, his catlike eyes narrowed in pain. “They want Pride. Is he here?”
Conn jerked. “The demons want Jordan? Why?” That didn’t make any sense. Unless the demons had joined forces with the Kurjans and wanted to collect shifters to turn into werewolves. Weres became the ultimate, disposable soldiers who mindlessly obeyed a master. He didn’t see a demon-Kurjan alliance working, considering demons believed Kurjans to be lower than dogs on the evolutionary scale. Nice pets but not really necessary. “How many of you survived the raid?” He set two charges against the lock.
“This is it.” The male growled, nodding to the others to step back and cover their heads. “The rest are dead.”
Anger rolled through Conn. The demons should’ve stayed out of the war. “Fire in the hole.” He stood out of the way, until the small charge blew and the door flew open.
The shifters hustled out, gazes sweeping the hallway. Conn gestured toward the doorway. “We’ll have to scale up the walls where reinforcements await.” Along with a medical team.
The leader stopped, turning to face him. A weapon sat comfortably in his hand, which he levered at Conn’s neck. “I guess you’ll have to do this time, Prince.” Three darts shot out, piercing Conn’s jugular. A haze descended over his eyes. With a growl of pure rage, he leaped forward, his fingers digging into the panther’s neck.
They went down hard onto stone. Nausea swirled in Conn’s gut. His ears rang. Blindness consumed him. With his last breath, he’d kill this fucker. Images of Moira, of Janie, and his family flashed through his mind as he ripped the panther’s head off.
A woman cried out. “Robert!”
Two more sharp needles pierced Conn’s flesh. He dropped to the side, his shoulder denting the rock. Strong arms grabbed him under the armpits, dragging him into the cell. “You’d be smarter to cut off my head,” he slurred, his head rolling to the side. His arms weighed more than he’d thought possible. He chuckled like he was drunk.
“He’s heavy,” the remaining male hissed. “I told Robert we shouldn’t break his arm just for show. Open the door in the back of the cell. We’re running out of time.”
One of the shifters tore the earpiece out of Conn’s ear. The small device pinged against a metal bar in the far distance.
“Good throw. Too bad I’m going to kill you,” he garbled out.
“Why isn’t he out cold? We shot him full of enough tranq to take down a buffalo,” a female said, her nails digging into his ankles. “Throw him in the cart. We can roll the bastard to the helicopter.”
“Don’t wanna fly.” Conn kicked out, but his leg moved like he sat under sand. A crack filled the silence, and he let a smile loose. Guess he hurt the bitch. Thoughts filtered across his brain, most tinged with a sparkly green. What the hell had they given him?