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At his sides, Royce’s big fists clenched tighter, the veins sticking out in sharp relief beneath the golden sheen of his skin. “What are you talking about?”
“I was able to cut her tonight,” he explained, rolling his shoulder, “which means she wasn’t wearing it.”
“Then she must have hidden it,” Royce murmured, raking one hand back through the thick, chocolate strands of his hair. Despite the fact that their human hosts—American brothers who had owned a tourist fishing boat in Rio—were almost identical in appearance, Friesen’s hair was not only shorter, but several shades darker.
“If she did,” Gregory drawled, “then she’s an idiot for not keeping hold of the only thing that can protect her.” Calder had told them that they would be unable to kill her so long as she wore one of the ancient Markers, the power of the crosses protecting her from their fangs and claws.
“Either that, or she’s very clever. Somehow she must have figured out that we’re after the Markers, as well. I told you before, you’re underestimating her.”
“Am I?” Gregory asked with a laugh as he scraped a palm over his rough jaw. “She ran tonight, just like a pathetic woman.”
Royce sent him an impatient look. “And since you said yourself she was running away from the Watchman, I think we can safely assume that had nothing to do with you at that point.”
“You’re giving her too much credit,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I keep telling you that she’s nothing more than food.”
“It doesn’t matter what you think of her, Gregory, because she’s my food. As soon as you know where your Merrick is, do as you like—but until then, stay away from mine.”
Gregory held up his hands in a sign of surrender. “Come on, man. There’s no need to be so suspicious. I was going to bring her to you,” he murmured, enjoying the potent force of Friesen’s frustration as it blasted against him like a hot wind.
Royce jerked his chin and snorted. “Do you honestly expect me to believe that?”
“Still don’t trust me?” he asked lightly, wearing a ghost of a smile.
A bitter laugh fell from Royce’s lips. “Try ‘will never trust you.’”
“And yet,” Gregory said softly, his gaze hard and steady, “you need me.”
“I need that Marker…and then I need the woman. You, I have no use for.”
“Hmm, well, I suppose I would be lying if I didn’t say that the feeling is mutual,” he offered with a low, throaty chuckle. “And, like you said, I have my own waiting for me, so you can have her flesh.” It was a lie, but as much as he enjoyed taunting his comrade, he knew better than to push too far. Not yet, when they now had a Watchman to contend with.
And Gregory knew how touchy Royce was about the little Merrick bitch’s life.
According to legend, each time a Casus shade escaped from Meridian, one Merrick would awaken, in keeping with nature’s need for balance. In an effort to promote order among the newly escaped Casus, it’d been decided that since only a fully awakened Merrick could provide their kind with the “ultimate” feeding, each escaped Casus would be allowed exclusive rights to the Merrick their return to this realm had caused to awaken. It was an important rule, as only a Merrick could provide the power charge needed for the Casus to “pull” another one of his kind back from Meridian, bringing them across the divide. Seeing as how the desire to build their numbers so that they might rule as they once did was the driving force that motivated so many of his kinsmen, the awakened Merrick were going to become a hot commodity.
Gregory, however, couldn’t have cared less about his species’ power base.
The only power that concerned him was his own, and for that reason alone, he planned to eventually find his Merrick and kill it. But first, he’d deal with the Buchanans.
“Until you can focus,” Royce drawled, “you know damn well that you’re never going to find your own Merrick.”
“Oh, I’ll find mine,” he murmured, scratching lazily at his blood-spattered chest. He knew the full extent of Royce’s anger from the simple fact that the uptight bastard had failed to notice he was covered in blood. “But for now, our problem is Saige Buchanan. You can’t blame me for tonight. If you had been there, you wouldn’t have been able to resist any more than I did.”
“I’ve resisted so far, haven’t I?” Royce said over his shoulder as he headed toward the cabin. Though the moonlight somewhat softened its defects, it still seemed a marvel that the structure remained standing, its sad-looking roof sloping on the right side, as if it would eventually just slide its way into the dark, murky waters of the river.
“At least I didn’t come home empty-handed,” Gregory commented with casual indifference, following after him.
“Do I even want to know?” Royce asked with a hard sigh as he opened the front door.
Stepping inside the ramshackle structure, Gregory headed toward the lone sink and began running water in its stained basin. His reflection stared back at him in the dingy panes of the window before him, providing a hazy view of the moon and the wine-dark water that snaked its way through the jungle like a serpent. “I paid a visit to her little helper on my way back here.”
From the corner of his eye, he watched as Royce’s hands fisted angrily at his sides for the second time that night, but knew the bastard didn’t have the guts to take a swing at him. Not when Gregory was vibing with the hard, thick power of his recent kills. “You bloody idiot,” Royce growled through his clenched teeth, his rage echoing through the room like a physical force, nearly shaking the shadows from the cobwebbed corners. “Why in the hell would you do that?”
“I wanted to know more about the Marker,” he calmly explained, splashing water onto his face and chest. After losing Saige, he’d wanted to hit her where it hurt. And he had.
“And?” Royce growled, taking a step closer.
“The boy claimed to know nothing about where she’s keeping the cross, but he did say that he thinks they’re keeping some kind of papers for her at the bar.” Turning, he caught Royce’s pale, interested gaze. “If Calder’s right about her having the maps, that could be them.”
They had been told there was a good chance that Saige Buchanan had found a set of maps that led to the location of the Dark Markers. The maps, according to Calder, were a closely guarded secret that not even the Watchmen knew about, and an invaluable resource to the ones who possessed them. Which meant that he wanted them—badly.
“You were thorough?” Royce asked, his voice deceptively soft.
Gregory lifted his brows. “Trust me,” he purred. “The boy told me everything he knows.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Royce sighed. “If the maps were there, she probably got them tonight.”
Grabbing a towel from the counter, Gregory wiped at his damp face, then hooked the cloth behind his neck. “She didn’t. He said she got scared away before she could get them.”
Royce slid him a thick look of frustration. “And did it ever occur to you that he could have been lying?”
Gregory rolled his eyes. “I had my claws dug into his groin, Royce. The kid would have told me where I could find his mother if that’s what I’d wanted.”
Pushing one hand back through his short hair, Royce stared through the open front door, obviously thinking over his options. It was a waste of time, but Gregory let him have his illusion of command. When the moment was right, he’d show the bastard exactly who was the dominant Casus.
“She’ll have to go back for them,” Royce finally rumbled. “When she does, we have no choice but to go ahead and take her—but it won’t be easy.”
Gregory shook his head, understanding why Calder put so much trust in Royce Friesen. Calder obviously knew a follower when he saw one. The first Casus since the start of their captivity to succeed in organizing his kinsmen into a cohesive force, bringing rule to the anarchy, Calder was the one who’d finally offered them hope…a chance of escape. Like an angel surrounded by devils, he’d promised to deliver them into salvation—and yet, Gregory didn’t trust him.
And he had good reason to be wary, seeing as how Calder had been less than honest with his brother. Not only had Malcolm been denied certain information, but he’d been led to believe that it would take some time before Calder and his followers would be strong enough to send more Casus across. And yet, no sooner had they learned that Malcolm had safely made the transition, than they sent through two more. Two Casus who would hunt down their own Merrick, and then go after the Marker that Malcolm had hoped to secure for himself. Not to please Calder, but because his brother had planned to use the cross to barter for Gregory’s release, in the event he wasn’t able to “pull” him across himself. Malcolm hadn’t expected to have competition for the crosses so soon, and Gregory knew he must have been furious when he discovered that Calder had sent through others right after him.
Still, it was a long, strenuous process—one that was already taking its toll on Calder and his followers, which was why it was so important for the released Casus to contribute to the effort and “pull” back as many as they could using their own power. To date, there had been three Merrick kills: one in Canada, one in Germany and the last made in Australia. In all three cases, the Casus had been able to bring another across after feeding off the Merrick, and now they, too, would join the search for the Markers, doing everything they could to get their hands on the ancient crosses that Calder was so desperate to possess. They would also continue to hunt, seeking out any Merrick who managed to send a Casus back to Meridian. Without the power of a Dark Marker, the Merrick were unable to destroy the Casus’s soul in the way that Ian Buchanan had done to Malcolm, but they could still kill the host body, in which case the Casus shade was instantly sucked back into the holding ground, where it would wait to be released again.
As their numbers grew, Gregory knew that Calder’s hope of keeping peace among the escaped Casus wouldn’t work. As much as his kinsmen wanted their species to return to power, they would simply tear each other apart in a bloodthirsty battle for the ancient crosses, seeing as how Calder had promised to significantly reward those who found a Marker and delivered it safely into Ross Westmore’s possession. Westmore was another mystery in Calder’s scheme—one they knew next to nothing about. All he and Royce had been told before coming across was that the mysterious Westmore—whose species was unknown—would be their contact man once they made it into this realm, and was to be entrusted with any Markers that they obtained. Though they’d had brief contact with a few of Westmore’s men, they’d yet to meet the man himself, and Gregory couldn’t deny that his curiosity had been piqued. After all, Westmore was not only helping to orchestrate their return to power, but had also managed to infiltrate one of the most secretive organizations in history, using their money to fund the Casus hunts.
As far as Gregory was concerned, the guy was either a genius…or completely insane.
Leaning against the counter, he crossed his arms over his chest, wondering if this mysterious Westmore would agree with Royce’s prediction that catching Saige wouldn’t be easy. “You know, I was always told that you held too much respect for the Merrick.”
Friesen snorted. “I don’t respect them, but I know better than to underestimate them.”
“You shouldn’t waste your time. It’s obvious that they’re no match for us.”
Lifting his right hand, Royce rubbed at the back of his neck. “It’s thinking like that, Gregory, that makes you a liability. Among other things,” he muttered. Turning away from the doorway, he paced toward the threadbare sofa slumped against one wall, then back again, past the single archway that led to the bedroom, where a stained mattress lay on the floor.
“You actually think we’ll have trouble taking her?” Gregory asked, snuffling a dry laugh under his breath. “A woman? You’ve got to be kidding.”
“She’s not exactly alone anymore, is she? Raptors are some of the most bloodthirsty breeds there’s ever been.”
Gregory curled his lip. “Don’t embarrass yourself by actually sounding afraid of him.”
“The problem with men like you,” Royce warned, slanting him a disgusted glare, “is that you always fail to realize the difference between fear and intelligence.”
“You’re starting to sound cranky, Royce.” Taking the towel from around his neck, Gregory tossed it into the sink and slicked his hair back from his face, then bound it into a ponytail with the elastic band he kept around his wrist.
Tired of wasting his time on the obstinate ass, Gregory turned to leave, only to be caught short when Royce grabbed hold of his shoulder. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Shrugging off Royce’s hold, he flashed him a sharp smile. “All this chatting has worked up my appetite.” The words were meant to incite, but there was an undeniable truth to them. His cock was already hardening at the thought of satisfying his hunger, anticipation thickening like a feral syrup in his veins.
“Don’t you think you’ve had enough for tonight?”
“They were just a snack,” he drawled, his mouth kicking up at the corner with a cocky grin as he headed toward the door. “Now I’m ready for the main course.”
“We need to get back to the bar and keep an eye out for her. And if you don’t stop picking off the locals,” Royce called out, “we’re going to have an angry mob on our hands.”
With one last glance over his shoulder, Gregory could see just how badly Royce wanted a go at him, and his grin spilled into a slow, satisfied smile. “Then I guess it’ll be just like old times.”
CHAPTER FIVE
North Coroza
IT TOOK ALMOST an hour for Saige and Quinn to reach the crowded neighborhood where Javier Ruiz lived with his brothers. Night had spilled over the jungle in a warm, heavy pour of darkness, the last streaming shades of color finally fading from the bruise-colored heavens. Despite her continued assurances that the Casus couldn’t possibly attack them in such a populated area, Quinn kept a vigilant eye on the narrow, winding streets, as if expecting the obscene creature to suddenly emerge from the thickening shadows.
Watching him from the corner of her eye as they made their way down the weathered, cobbled road, Saige could sense that he had questions about what she was doing in Brazil. But Quinn was biding his time, his focus for the moment centered more on their surroundings than anything else. Not nearly as patient herself, Saige plagued him with questions about her brother’s awakening, and learned that Ian had used the cross she’d found in Italy to kill the Casus who’d been hunting him. Her mother, who had kept her maiden name of Buchanan for herself and her children, had heard the term “Arm of Fire” from her grandmother, but it wasn’t until Quinn explained how the cross had literally transformed Ian’s arm into a fiery weapon that Saige had understood what the term meant. She also learned that her brother had somehow soaked in the creature’s thoughts at the time of its death. He’d not only “seen” that more of the Casus had already escaped from their holding ground, but that they were also after the Markers themselves.
Saige absorbed the information with a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach, thinking of the warning the second Marker had given her just that morning.
Enemies are coming who will take me from you.
Throughout the day, her conscience had plagued her for involving Jamison Haley in her problems, and knowing that it was the Casus who were seeking the Markers only increased her sense of guilt. If the monsters discovered she no longer had the ancient talisman, they could very well conclude that she’d given it to the young archaeologist—which meant that she’d put his life in extreme danger.
Damn you, Haley. You should have just told me no.
Any other person would no doubt have done just that, if asked for a favor as bizarre as the one she’d begged from Jamison. But the endearing Brit was one of those rare few who actually believed that sometimes things really did go bump in the night—things that humanity was better off not knowing about. As such, he’d believed her when she’d gone to him for help.
He also had a problem saying no to females who asked him for favors, which she’d ruthlessly used to her advantage.
And yet, as horrible as Saige felt for exploiting Jamison’s soft side, there was still a tiny voice in her head arguing that she’d done the right thing by sending him to Colorado with the cross. If Ian was right, and the Casus were after the Markers, then protecting the cross was the only thing that really mattered, regardless of the risk to herself and the people she cared about—and she knew that if Quinn were aware of what she’d discovered, he’d feel the same way.
The intense Watchman definitely seemed like the type of man who put his job above all else. Even though she obviously frustrated the hell out of him, he remained intent on keeping her alive…keeping her safe. As they headed through the ramshackle town, his dark gaze constantly scanned the narrow alleyways and high buildings, alert to any danger, the tension in his tall body evident in the rigid set of his broad shoulders and the subtle flexing of his strong, powerful hands. It was clear that he didn’t care for the tight, closed-in walkways of the crowded neighborhood.
“How much farther do we have to go?” he rumbled in that sexy drawl that made her pulse quicken each and every time he spoke. Saige shivered in reaction, somehow feeling that evocative sound in the center of her body, penetrating and warm, as if she’d swallowed a hot, smoldering ball of fire.
“Just a few more blocks,” she said, wishing the skies would unleash a frigid rain to cool the simmering heat beneath her skin. She was uncomfortably aware of the Merrick’s agitation growing worse with each moment that she spent with him. It prowled within her body like a panther pacing its cage, taking a primal, feral interest in the man walking at her side. Struggling to remain calm, she crossed her arms over her chest and drew in a deep breath that filled her senses with the pulse of the ethnic neighborhood, and more important, with that hot, mouthwatering scent she’d already come to recognize as pure, intoxicating Quinn.
“Have you ever been to South America before, Mr. Quinn?” she asked, surprised by the huskiness of her voice.
“Just Quinn.” The brackets etched around his mouth deepened as he added, “This is my first time down here.”
“I thought so,” she murmured, a small grin playing softly at the corner of her lips. The roughened surface of the road crunched beneath their booted feet, but Saige hardly noticed the grating sound, too fascinated by the hard play of muscle beneath his burnished skin as he lifted one hand, pushing it through the dark scrub of his hair. The cut would have looked severe on any other man, but it simply emphasized Quinn’s outrageously good looks. Despite his “in your face” male ruggedness, his features were impossibly perfect, like something that’d been sculpted from marble, his sharp cheekbones only accentuating the strong, masculine angles.
Clearing her throat, she went on to say, “You look as if you don’t quite know what to make of this place.”
Seemingly oblivious to the fact that she was practically drooling over him, the tension around his mouth eased a little as he slanted her a lopsided smile. “Is it that obvious?” he asked, his smile widening as he rubbed his left hand over the tanned length of his right forearm. “I was hoping the tan might help me blend in.”
A shaky laugh vibrated in her throat, and she inwardly rolled her eyes at herself, unable to believe that she, Saige Buchanan, the most independent woman she knew, had gone gaga over a breathtakingly gorgeous stranger like some teeny-bopping airhead. “You just seem preoccupied with the neighborhood,” she replied, forcing her attention back to the shadowed street. On either side of the narrow road, windows flickered with the soft glow of light, reminding her of blinking, watchful eyes, and she tightened the flannel shirt around her waist, then hefted her backpack higher onto her right shoulder, seeking comfort in the mundane tasks. “I guess all this probably takes some getting used to,” she added, stepping around a frenzied group of chickens that were pecking at some scraps outside an open doorway. “Especially if you’re accustomed to the wide-open spaces of the mountains.”
“I guess so,” he drawled with a deep, decadent rumble of laughter that sounded so purely male, her temperature spiked higher. It was an almost dizzying sensation, that wild, steady rise of her Merrick within her body, the primal creature shifting sinuously beneath her skin as it raised its head and sniffed delicately at the air. She choked back a low, sensual purr, the carnal sound vibrating softly on her tongue, and could have sworn that she could taste the rich, sumptuous flavor of her need. The Merrick was hungry with bloodlust, its craving for nourishment more intense than it’d ever been before, and Saige suspected she knew why.
It was Quinn. Her growing fascination with the dark, mysterious Watchman had easily bled past the woman and into the powerful creature living within her. Even though her awakening of that ancient blood had only just begun, she could feel the building heat in her gums, the fiery burn in her veins…and knew it was coming closer. Mounting. Growing stronger. She was driven by a primal instinct to touch…and taste…and possess—the visceral, sexual urges so potent, she felt almost drunk on their power.
Desperately in need of a distraction, she searched her mind for a topic that was guaranteed to get her mind off sex and back on track. “So we, um…obviously know that the Casus are after me, but what about the Collective?”
Saige watched his expression harden, and could tell from his tone that he held no more love for the ruthless organization than she did. “What about them?”
“Are they already hunting us? Me and my brothers?”
“We’ve had some scouts show up in Henning, where your brothers live…or lived,” he explained. “Ian is at the compound now, and we’re still trying to convince Riley to move up, as well. We’re worried about him being down in town on his own, but so far the scouts haven’t done anything more than sniff around.”
“That seems odd,” she murmured. “Do you think they know Ian is at Ravenswing?”
He lifted one rugged, beautiful hand, and rubbed at the back of his neck, his powerful bicep straining the sleeve of his T-shirt. “If they do, I’m sure we’ll know soon enough, seeing as how Collective soldiers aren’t ones to employ patience. But for the time being, our biggest problems are the Casus and the Consortium.”
Saige sent him a startled look of surprise. “But I thought you were a part of the Consortium.”
“You know about the council?” he asked, his own surprise evident in the softly spoken words. Turning right at the next corner, they continued deeper into the aged neighborhood, the winding road taking a slight incline up the mountainside, back toward the jungle, while the succulent scents of home-cooked meals thickened on the air.
“From what I understand,” she told him, “the Consortium governs all the ancient clans, like some kind of preternatural United Nations.”
And as far as Saige knew, it was the Consortium who had helped the Merrick imprison the Casus over a thousand years ago, after the Casus’s relentless killing of humans threatened to expose the existence of the nonhuman races. The council had fashioned the Dark Markers to destroy the immortal killers, only to be murdered by the newly created Collective Army before they could complete the task. Years later, the Consortium had finally been formed again, but by then its original archives had been lost…all traces of the Markers supposedly destroyed during the Collective’s bloodthirsty raids, which nearly led to the destruction of the clans. By the time the Consortium was back in power, no one knew where the Markers were, or how to find them…or even if they had ever truly existed. The new Consortium had supposedly been searching for the original archives for centuries, as had the Collective, hoping the lost records would lead to some answers, but as far as Saige knew, neither group had ever found them.
“You actually report to the Consortium, don’t you?” she asked, wondering if Quinn was even aware of the maps’ existence.
“Yeah,” he rasped, slanting her an odd look.
“What?”
Quinn rolled his broad shoulders with only a fraction of movement, finally shoving his restless hands into his pockets. “I guess I’m just surprised that with as much as you know about everything—which seems to be a hell of a lot—you never tried to warn your brothers about what you’d learned. It would have been nice if they’d known what was coming.”
Instead of getting defensive, Saige responded with a small, bitter smile. “Who says I didn’t?”
She could read the questions in his dark eyes as he cut her a slow, interested look.
Wrapping her hands around the frayed strap of her backpack, she explained. “The last time I saw Riley, I tried to warn him…to tell him that I feared I’d found the cross in Italy for a reason. That I was afraid it could be a sign, one that meant the legendary awakenings the gypsies had foretold were actually coming. And do you know what he told me?” she asked, barging ahead without waiting for a response. “He said we’d be monsters if the things I believed ever turned out to be true, same as the Casus, and that we’d be better off dead. Then he said that if I ever mentioned the Merrick to him again, I could forget he was my brother.”
Quinn frowned, turning his attention back to the encroaching shadows. “I don’t know what Riley’s problem was,” he said, “but I might as well go ahead and warn you now, Saige. Both of your brothers are going to be furious when they learn that your awakening has already started and you didn’t come to them for help. They really are worried about you.”
“I doubt that,” she offered with a soft laugh. She had no idea how to deal with such a bizarre thought…and couldn’t help but doubt its truth, no matter how much Quinn believed it.
