Visions of Chains Page 3

  Joe sent the beam of his flashlight across the ceiling and smiled when he hit on the indentation that indicated an opening in the tunnel. He shifted his gaze to Finn. “I went through last night. Cleared the path outside the tunnel entrance.” He half turned to face the others and grinned. “The entrance is so well hidden, they’ll never find it once we get away. Hell, I knew it was there and only just managed to see it myself. We’ve got a little cover up there. Some bushes, and a half wall. The opening is situated behind the jail, so we’ll get through the back door, take out the guards and fight our way down to the cells.”

  Several nods to this statement.

  “We’ve got the key to the cell doors,” Finn told them. He didn’t tell them that he had used his own magic to flash into the jailhouse last night so he could steal the damn thing. He’d even thought about getting the women out at the same time, but he never would have been able to get all of them out and he couldn’t risk tipping the guards to their plan. “We retrieve the accused women and get back into the tunnels as fast as possible. Joe and I will cover the rest of you. You bunch concentrate on the witches.”

  “Got it,” Shauna said, her fingertips caressing the cold black gun she held so familiarly.

  “How do you get them away?” Deidre asked and Finn looked at her. “Are you taking them back the way we came?”

  “You don’t need to know,” Joe blurted.

  “Right.” She nodded. “Can’t trust the kidnap victim.”

  “We’ll send them through the tunnels to the closest Sanctuary,” Finn said, ignoring the heated look Joe sent him. He knew none of them was happy about Deidre’s presence but they’d just have to get over it. She was here now and he wouldn’t let her go.

  “Where’s the Sanctuary?” she asked.

  “Virginia.”

  “We’re walking to Virginia?”

  “We’re walking to the Key Bridge. Then we’ll drive.”

  “That’s like three miles from here.”

  “Don’t think they’ll mind the walk,” Shauna told her hotly. “Not when the alternative is being burned to death.”

  Someone muttered in the darkness but Finn paid no attention. He caught her eyes and spoke softly. “You don’t need to approve of what we’re doing.”

  “Right. I’m just ballast on this little op, aren’t I? Your insurance policy.”

  Even in the darkness, her blue eyes shone like beacons. At least to him. He could see her soul in them. The same soul he had known in many different incarnations over the last eight hundred years. She was scared, and her power was closer to the surface than ever. Her own fear was going to make her magic erupt.

  Finn knew the “rules.” He’d been playing by them for eight centuries. He couldn’t tell Deidre who she was until her powers had Awakened. But nowhere was it written he couldn’t help that Awakening along a little. That’s why she was here. He didn’t need “insurance” for his little band of marauders. He needed Deidre’s life to be endangered enough that her magic would rise as she protected herself.

  Tonight, she was going to wake up in more ways than one. Tonight they’d finally start the damned quest that had been awaiting their attention for all these long centuries.

  Yeah, she was pissed, but Deidre stayed close to him, as if something inside her already knew that was where she belonged. Well, he mused, either that or she was too scared to move away.

  “And what do I do while you’re all busy? Wait here?”

  Joe huffed out a short laugh and she shot him a murderous look.

  “Yeah,” Finn said, sarcasm dripping from the words. “Because you’d stay put and wait around for us to get back. Not a chance, blondie. You’ll be with us. Just do what I tell you when I tell you and everything will be fine.”

  “And I’m supposed to trust you? My kidnapper?”

  “Technically, Shauna’s your kidnapper,” he pointed out.

  “Thanks,” that woman muttered.

  “She did it on your orders,” Deidre argued.

  “Seems to me most women in your position would be a little more concerned about pissing me off.”

  “Screw you. Be pissed off. What do I care?” Her pupils were wide, the black almost swallowing the blue of her irises as she focused in the darkness. But Finn saw that her expression was mutinous. Good. She’d need fire in her belly if they were going to pull this off.

  She was part of the last great coven and he had waited eight hundred years to be Mated with her. The first two Eternals and their Witches had completed their tasks and were now back at the coven’s sanctuary in Wales. He knew those two couples had faced a lot of trials together and come out on top. He was determined that he and Deidre would do the same.

  Deidre ran her hands up and down her arms and Finn watched her expression carefully. She was still mad, but she was also, from what he could tell, sympathetic to the situation. He suspected her devotion to the cause would only strengthen, as soon as she knew that she was one of the most powerful witches in the world.

  Chapter 4

  Deidre felt wound tight enough to give off sparks.

  Between her fury at her friend’s betrayal and her fear of being captured—or killed—her mind was in turmoil. And to make everything worse, Finn never left her side. Stressed didn’t even come close to describing what she was feeling.

  They came up through the tunnel into a parking area, surrounded by ten-foot-high chain-link fencing. As promised there were a few scraggly bushes and a half wall, but the wide, empty lot stood between them and the jailhouse. The light poles were dark. Those in charge were no doubt trying to make it look like the building was still empty. The darkness was nearly absolute, but for the light of the waning moon overhead.

  From a distance, voices came to her, what sounded like a mob of people chanting, and it took Deidre a minute or two to understand what they were saying. When she did, her blood went cold.

  A crowd was repeating, “Burn, witch, burn,” over and over again in a hypnotizing rhythm.

  She looked at the others and saw their features twist into expressions of disgust and anger. Shauna held her gun even tighter to her chest, as if she could find security there.

  “The righteous,” Finn murmured close to her ear. His breath was warm on her skin and his proximity made her shiver. “A few dozen of ’em are camped out down the street, in front of the TV station, waiting for tomorrow. Five witches burning at once? Don’t want to miss that.”

  Deidre felt the bloodlust in the air and was sickened by it. How could she blame the WLF for terrorist tactics when this was what they were going up against? She had spent the last five years working for change within the RFW and had accomplished exactly squat. There were more internment camps than ever, executions were now televised and more and more women were being snatched off the streets every day on mere suspicion of magic.

  Maybe Finn and these others were right. Maybe the only way to fight terror was with force. And she couldn’t believe she was even thinking that.

  In the next moment though, there was no more time for pondering her life’s choices. She was on the move and struggling to keep up with Finn. His grip on her arm ensured she stayed right beside him. For a big man, he moved with surprising grace. He hardly made a sound as he ran through the darkness, headed for the steps of the building. The air was cold, but her blood pumped fast and furiously, keeping her warm.

  Behind them, the others were spread out, heads down, running. Deidre was still watching them when the lights came on in a brilliant burst that briefly blinded her. The entire parking area was suddenly bright as day, outlining her and the others in the group as if they were on a stage beneath a white-hot spotlight.

  Gunfire erupted.

  Someone screamed.

  “Down!” Finn threw her to one side and Deidre hit the icy asphalt
hard, scraping her knees and the palms of her hands. She whipped her head up in time to see Tomas cut practically in half by a stream of automatic-weapons fire.

  Horrified, Deidre shrieked and looked up and over her shoulder. Armed uniformed men were on the roof. An ambush? Or were they simply there in case someone tried to mount a rescue? Their weapons fired in staggered volleys, creating a stream of noise that sounded like World War III. They must have been lying flat in wait, until the WLF came into the open. Now, they were standing, with a perfect view of the parking lot, empty but for the handful of would-be witch rescuers.

  Someone screamed as another volley of gunfire erupted. Deidre hunched her shoulders and tried to make as small a target as possible as she looked around. Shauna fell to the ground nearby, writhing in pain as blood streamed from her shoulder and arm. Panic and rage jolted Deidre into action. She crawled to her friend’s side, wincing and ducking with every new outburst of gunfire.

  “Hurts. God, it hurts.” Shauna’s voice, mumbling, praying, chanting.

  “Hold still,” Deidre ordered, tearing off her jacket to bunch on top of Shauna’s wound. She held the fabric there, applying pressure, feeling a different sort of pressure building inside her.

  Finn was standing over her, throwing knives as fast as bullets could fly. His big hands were a blur of motion and still it wasn’t enough to stop the attack. More gunfire chattered and the noise was tremendous. Horrifying.

  Joe was lying flat on the ground, his weapon cradled in his arms as he coolly returned fire. A couple of the others were shooting too, but the men on the roof definitely had the advantage.

  Bullets slammed into Finn. She heard them hit, but he never wavered. Like a superhero or something, he stood his ground and continued to throw what seemed like an endless supply of knives and throwing stars.

  Deidre’s fear surged into fury as she watched another of the WLF team go down in a hail of bullets. Something elemental shifted inside her, fed by the injustice of it all. At the stark realization that these men and women were putting their lives on the line to rescue witches and being slaughtered for it. If something didn’t change soon, they’d all be wiped out.

  “Dee—look out!” Shauna’s voice was hardly more than a strangled whisper, but Deidre heard it and reacted.

  Before she could think about what she was doing, she stood up, spun around and lifted both hands in an instinctive attempt to stop the next round of bullets. A corner of her brain shrieked at her to run. To hide. That she was being an idiot and what good would holding up her hands possibly do?

  But something inside her urged her on. The movements felt familiar. Welcome. Like an old friend dropping in after a long absence. The swell of an amazing sensation within pushed her forward. Deidre felt a surge of something hot and fierce and . . . almost primordial rush through her.

  “What the hell?”

  Someone behind her asked the question but Deidre didn’t have an answer. She was as stunned as he clearly was.

  Bullets stopped midflight. She blinked and looked again, just to make sure of what she was seeing. They hung in the air in front of their targets like brass snowflakes. The men on the roof were helpless. Their guns had been pulled from their grasps and were dangling in the air fifteen feet in front of them.

  “Deidre!”

  Finn’s voice reached her even as she stared unbelievingly at what was happening. Was she doing this? Had she ripped the guns from the hands of the men trying to kill them? Was it her strength of will holding those guns in midair? How? How?

  “Use your magic, Deidre. Feel the power in it and give it free rein. Trust it.” It was Finn again. His voice was loud. Demanding. And something in her responded to it. As if she had been waiting all of her life to hear that voice. She turned both palms skyward then clenched her fists as her mind directed the weapons. And suddenly the barrels of those guns swung around to train on the men who only moments ago had been in complete control of the situation.

  “Holy shit.” One of the WLF came up behind her. “You’re a witch.”

  She choked out a harsh, nearly hysterical laugh that scraped at her throat. “Apparently.”

  Her gaze trained on the guns and the men on the roof. Shock rattled her and fear came rushing in behind it. Was she really a witch? She fought against that even as the evidence was right in front of her. How else was she doing what she was doing?

  The guns she controlled wavered and dipped as if in response to her own inner turmoil. She took a breath, held it and then released it when it didn’t help. Something inside her bubbled and frothed and she fought to control it and the emotions churning at the same wild pace.

  A hand suddenly came down on her shoulder and Finn’s voice whispered, “Focus your power.”

  His voice steadied her. Like oil poured on churning water. She didn’t know why and didn’t question it further. Nodding to herself, she reached for the wellspring inside her and let it flow from her hands. The guns she still held control over straightened, steadied, barrels aimed at their owners.

  Witch.

  The realization of who and what she was slammed into her, but she couldn’t really take the time to think about it now. There would be opportunity later—if they lived—to come to grips with what was happening to her. For now, all that was important was survival.

  “Can you hold them?” Finn was still at her side. She felt him. The heat of him. A familiarity. The sense of tumblers in a lock clicking into place. As if she had finally arrived at a destination she hadn’t been aware of until just that moment.

  “Deidre. Can you hold the guns and the men at bay?”

  “I can,” she said, with more determination than she felt. Power bubbled inside her again, rich and thick, and as if it was grateful to finally be acknowledged, it seemed only to grow with the passing minutes. She channeled it somehow, as if she had been born knowing how to do it. But how long would it last?

  She wanted to admit she didn’t know how long she could keep it up. Fear took root again and it was overpowering. Too much was at stake here. The lives of the witches, their would-be liberators—not to mention Deidre’s life. Refusing to fail, she risked a glance at the huge man still waiting at her side. “Go. I’ve got it. For now anyway. Get the witches.”

  He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t pepper her with more questions. He simply took her at her word, trusting her to do what was necessary. And for that, she was grateful. She felt his confidence in her and it fostered her own. Strength seemed to be pouring into her. She felt new. Reborn. Powerful. Her hands tingled as they had when she had touched the metal shelving what seemed like days ago now.

  As the remaining members of the WLF disappeared inside the building, she half heard Shauna behind her whispering, “I don’t believe this.”

  “I know. I can’t either,” Deidre said and flicked a weapon higher when the man in front of it tried to shift position. The gun barrel tracked him menacingly—with a simple twitch of a finger from her—and the man rethought his position and stood still again.

  The night was black, aside from the bright spotlights, now that what was left of the moon had slipped behind a bank of clouds. Icy winds plucked at her coat, tore at the braid hanging down her back and stung her eyes, making her vision water. But Deidre called on the new energy pulsing inside her and held her ground.

  Until a different kind of chill invaded her body. It swept through her soul, crawled through her bones and sent the hair at the back of her neck standing straight up. Evil. It was here. With her. In the dark.

  Her concentration dimmed and she fought to bring it back, in spite of the screaming voice in the back of her mind urging her to run. Hide. Deidre dragged in an unsteady breath and, rather than give in to the cowardly impulse to run, swiveled her head slowly, trying to find the source of her fear.

  It wasn’t the men on the roof. They were merel
y humans. Vicious, but human. This was something . . . more.

  There.

  In the shadows.

  It moved, black within the black and a flash of red that appeared and disappeared in a blink. But it was enough. She saw it. The dog.

  The black dog that had been following her for days was here. Watching her. She felt a wave of revulsion wash over her and as her instincts cried out at her in warning, the dog slinked closer. Giant paws, stealthily planted, it dipped its head, then lifted it, sniffing the air. It must not have liked what it sensed because it stiffened, then turned and bolted back into the shadows that had borne it.

  Deidre was shaking, swallowing hard past a tight knot in her throat and trying to quell the terror nearly choking her. What the hell kind of dog was that? The darkness inside it was absolute. And wanted nothing more than to envelop Deidre whole. Drag her into that darkness and keep her there for eternity.

  How she knew that, she couldn’t have said. But she felt the truth of it down to her bones.

  Whipping her head back, she focused on the enemy she could control. The men on the roof who had caused so much destruction. Who worked for those who would burn a woman alive just on the suspicion that she might be different.

  Her strength pulsed and wavered, but her determination was solid. She wouldn’t give any ground. Wouldn’t give them the chance to do more damage. She would hold them for as long as it took, no matter what.

  It felt like forever but was probably only a few minutes before Finn and the others rushed from the building. Deidre spared a quick look in their direction, not really daring to take her eyes off what she was doing for long. Finn, Joe and two of the others half carried, half dragged five women who looked terrified and relieved all at the same time.

  “Hold them there!” Finn’s command came short and sharp.

  Deidre nodded and saw him rush out to pick up Shauna, who groaned piteously at being moved. A fresh burst of fury erupted inside Deidre at the sound of her friend’s pain. But she didn’t react. What more was there to do, anyway? She’d stopped the carnage. Too late for Tomas and Shauna and another guy whose name she didn’t even know. But no one else was getting hurt tonight, she told herself firmly, gathering her strength, molding it to the task at hand. She concentrated on the guards’ weapons, kept the barrels pointed at them, following their slightest moves.