Читать книгу Edge of Danger - Rhyannon Byrd, Rhyannon Byrd - Страница 10

SENSING THE ARRIVAL of a dominant predator, startled wildlife scurried back into the underbrush as Gregory DeKreznick stepped from the thick, humid veil of jungle. Wearing a feral smile, he stalked toward the center of the clearing nestled beside a meandering offshoot of the river, the darkening summer sky shot with fading, violent streaks of purple and pink. A lone wooden hut sat at the north end of the small, cleared patch of dense tropical foliage, a fisherman’s weathered boat propped against its side, testament to the trade of the man who’d lived there, until Gregory had killed him earlier that week. Mere miles from the site where Saige Buchanan had been searching for another of the lost Dark Markers, the meager dwelling had been an ideal location for him and his fellow Casus and so they’d claimed it as their own.

Tonight, the small cabin huddled silent and dark in the moonlight, telling him that at least for the moment, he had the clearing to himself.

Throwing back his wolf-shaped head, the monstrous creature stared up at the infinite, cloud-scarred stretch of night, and allowed his true shape to melt away, pulling back into the body of his human host. Rolling his broad shoulders, Gregory cracked his head to the side with a popping burst of sound, then slicked his chin-length, sun-streaked hair back from his chiseled face, the spattering of blood from the evening’s kills still warm against his skin. Scratching lazily at his chest, he savored the thick, meaty taste of his most recent victims against his tongue, running the tip across the smooth surface of his straight white teeth.

He could have taken Javier Ruiz and used him as bait to draw out his prey, but there’d been no need to go through the hassle when killing him had proven so much more effective. Gregory had gotten what he needed, and as a whole, the Ruiz brothers had been fairly satisfying—though not nearly as sweet as when he feasted on warm, womanly flesh. Men were filling, but females gave him so much more…pleasure, like savoring a fine wine after years of nothing but tepid water.

That was the difference between him and Royce. A team player to the very end, Royce Friesen had been told not to feed from the humans, and so he’d obeyed, drinking the water while Gregory savored the succulent feast. And what a feast it was. He’d hungered for too long while trapped in the holding ground they’d named Meridian. While locked away from the things that made him whole…that made him complete, and no matter what Calder and his followers had told him before his release, Gregory had no intention of obeying their asinine rules.

Friesen, however, lived the servile existence of a good little soldier, only dining on the local livestock. He’d even been warned not to feed from the Merrick bitch until she’d fully awakened—and though it went against everything that the Casus were, the idiot obeyed, following his orders to a T. Even knowing that Gregory grew stronger every day, Royce remained committed to his decision to comply with Calder’s ridiculous dictates, and today it had nearly cost him. They’d trailed Saige Buchanan for hours, expecting her to leave the country once she’d found the second Marker and that milksop of an archaeologist had skipped out, but she’d spent the afternoon scurrying all over town instead. By the time she’d headed toward O Diablo Dos Ángels late in the day, Royce had already gone too long without one of his meager feedings and was growing weak. He’d been forced to travel into the jungle in search of animal prey, leaving Gregory to watch over their target while she visited with her friends at the rustic barra.

Enjoying having her all to himself, without Royce’s irritating presence, Gregory had watched her from afar, biding his time like a shark slowly circling in for the kill, and it had almost paid off. When she’d run into the jungle, he’d thought she’d finally be his…only to have her snatched from his grasp. But he didn’t intend to let it stand.

With a sharp smile of anticipation for the moment he knew would eventually be his, Gregory stretched his arms over his head, aware of the muscles flexing beneath his skin, along with the hard ridges of bone and ropey sinew. For a human, the body he’d taken wasn’t half-bad. Over six foot, with a muscular build, it was better than he’d expected from something that was no better than mere prey, even if the man did have a speck of Casus blood flowing through his veins. When the shades of Gregory’s kind were freed from Meridian, they were required to seek out a human who carried the ancient blood of their ancestors in order to retake a corporeal form. Once taken, the human’s soul was forced from its body. The Casus, however, retained the host’s memories, which enabled them to function in these unusual modern times—and they were thankfully capable of shifting into their true form when needed.

Gregory wondered if Malcolm, his only blood brother and the first to be sent back from Meridian, had enjoyed his freedom this much, then quickly beat down the destructive thought, locking it away with his hatred, where it belonged. It hurt too much to think of Malcolm—of what that eldest Buchanan bastard had taken from him. That was why Gregory wanted his hands on Saige so badly—to show that prick what it felt like to have something taken away, ripped from your life, knowing that you could never get it back.

She might have been “meant” for Royce, but Gregory had no intention of letting the other Casus have her. She’d gotten away from him tonight—but it wouldn’t happen again. No matter what Friesen decided to do next, Gregory had a plan, one that he intended to execute with or without his fellow Casus.

While Royce and the others concerned themselves with securing the crosses and building up their strength in order to bring more of their kind back from Meridian, Gregory cared only for Buchanan blood. After all, it was the Merrick who had trapped the Casus so many years ago, cursing them to a fate worse than death. Because of their immortality, they could not die, and so they’d simply wasted away to mere shades of the powerful beings they’d once been, forced to dwell within human bodies once they’d regained this realm. But it was the eldest Buchanan sibling who had used the first Dark Marker to destroy his brother’s soul, condemning Malcolm to the pits of hell for all eternity. For that, as well as the incarceration of his species, Gregory had vowed to make them pay. The ability to love might not be a common trait for the Casus, but they understood loyalty to family like no other. In a world as vicious as theirs, sometimes it was the only way to survive.

“And Watchman or not,” he rasped with a hard smile, remembering the moment when he’d licked the blood from her leg off his claws, “I’m going to enjoy taking little Saige Buchanan to pieces.”

Rumbling a dark burst of laughter under his breath, he started to step toward the cabin, when a sound to his left snagged his attention, and he tensed, listening…completely alert to his surroundings as readiness spread through his muscles like a sharp, piercing pain. Pulling back his shoulders, he’d just taken a deep pull on the humid air when a solid bulk of muscle and bone rammed into him, slamming him to the damp, moss-covered floor of the clearing. “You wanna explain what happened tonight?” the Casus roared in his face, pinning his forearms to the ground. “I can smell her on you!”

Knowing it would only infuriate Royce further if he remained calm, Gregory casually related the evening’s events, and his comrade took the news as badly as he’d hoped. Concealing the enjoyment he got from seeing Royce so furious, he finally concluded with a solicitous drawl, “You did tell me to keep an eye on her.”

“You incompetent idiot,” Royce seethed, his rage glittering like so many shards of ice in his pale blue gaze. “I told you not to lose her—not to reveal yourself. What did you think you were doing?”

“Exactly what I was bred to do,” he replied with a sharp smile.

Royce’s eyes narrowed with fury. “Don’t push me, Gregory. In future, you stay away from her. If you don’t, I’ll make sure you pay.”

“As fun as this is, get the hell off me, Royce. We both know you can’t kill me.”

The beast lowered its snout, going nose-to-nose with him. “Is that what you think?” it asked silkily, the sinister words warbled within the muzzled shape of its wolflike head. “The only reason Calder allowed you to come through with me was because he considered you too much of a liability back in Meridian and he wanted you gone. And the only reason I agreed to bring you along was because I wanted out of there, and no one else would take responsibility for you. But you lay a finger on Saige Buchanan again, and I’ll kill you myself.”

“And face Calder’s wrath?” Gregory mocked, clucking his tongue.

Royce’s words shook with his anger. “After the screwup Malcolm made of his assignment, don’t think for one second that Calder gives a shit about what happens to you.”

Gregory laughed. “And you think Calder cares any more about you, Royce? The truth is that he doesn’t give a shit about either one of us.”

Shifting back on his haunches, Royce released his hold on Gregory’s arms, eyeing him with a cold, hard stare. “He’s a good leader,” he ground out.

“Just not a very trusting one.” Gregory snorted, hoisting himself up onto his elbows. “Has he told you how he learned to send us across? Hell, he hasn’t even told you how many Markers we’re after, or exactly why we need them.”

Royce moved to his feet in a fluid ripple of powerful muscle, allowing his true form to gracefully slip away, easing back into the shape of his human host. “He has his reasons,” he muttered.

“Sure he does,” Gregory drawled, rolling his eyes. “And at any rate, tonight wasn’t my fault. This was the best chance we’ve had to grab her since she found the Marker. Would you have rather I just let her slip on by?”

“We were only going to grab her if we ran the risk of losing her. Otherwise, we were told to wait until she’s fully awakened.”

“And the Marker?”

“The Marker we could have stolen from her,” Royce growled, his lip curled with disgust. “But now, because of your little stunt, she knows we’re after her, which means she’s going to be guarding it as well as she can.”

“She already knew,” Gregory countered, his brows arched as he stared up from his place on the warm, damp ground. “Why else do you think she’s always looking over her goddamn shoulder? She knows we’re watching her.”

Royce’s mouth tightened, the muscles across his chest flexing with each of his hard, heavy breaths. “Knowing and suspecting are two different things. That Watchman bastard isn’t going to let her out of his sight now. And if he flew, chances are that he’s a bloody Raptor.” Royce glared down at him, his lip curled in an arrogant expression that made Gregory want to tear into him, as slowly and painfully as possible. “So now, thanks to you, we’ve lost her and the Marker.”

“Not exactly,” he offered in a soft rumble of words as he moved to his feet.

Royce paused in the act of turning away, his brow drawn in a deep frown. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means that I don’t think she has it. At least not on her.”

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.”