“Jesus H. Christ Almighty, girl,” Noah groans, and pulls his head away. “Riley, give me a break, darlin’.”
We’re moving so fast I can’t make my legs creep up his body any higher. I’m nearly out of my mind with lust, the scent of Noah an addicting drug. He keeps pushing me away, and it’s pissing me the fuck off. “Please,” I beg.
The next instant happens so fast my head spins. I’m flung onto a leather seat, my right wrist is tied to the leather door pull, and I’m crammed inside, door shut. My brain is fuzzy. I feel light-headed. Dizzy. The pain in my left shoulder begins to throb.
The driver’s-side door opens, closes. I shake my head and look up. Noah’s staring at me, his eyebrows lifted in amusement. One corner of his mouth is tilted upward. Yet a pained look lingers in his eyes.
He cocks his head. “You okay?”
I shake my head again. The fog is clearing, and I glance around. “What happened?” Peering through the Rover’s windshield, I notice I’m back at the cottage. I turn my stare on Noah. “I’ve got to go back—” I move to open the Rover’s door, but my hand is tied. “What the hell?”
“You can’t go back, darlin’,” he says. “You’re out of ammo. You’ll get yourself killed. There’s nothing more you can do.”
I try to lift my left hand to untie my right, and pain shoots through me. “Son of a bitch . . .” I look at my shoulder. It’s hanging lower than it should. “You gonna help me with this, Miles?”
Noah shakes his head, starts up the motor, and puts the Rover in reverse. “Hell no,” he replies. “Not until you calm down.”
Anger boils inside me, and my eyes dart to his neck. His antisexual attraction sachet is hanging there. I know exactly what happened. I lift a furious gaze at Noah. “You actually used that on me?” It’s getting light now, and I see more than just the shadow of Noah’s face.
He smirks. “Had no choice. You were being stubborn.” He stops, puts the Rover in drive, and we start down the lane. I glance across the field and notice a man walking toward us with long, purposeful strides. A black-and-white sheepdog jogs at his side. He lifts his hand, and Noah stops.
“Can I help you two this mornin’?” he asks. His eyes light on my shoulder.
He’s a handsome guy, great accent, late thirties, early forties. The slightest touch of silver tinges his temples. Hazel eyes. Broad shoulders.
“Ah, no, we were just out for a hike,” Noah explains. “Nice standing stones.”
“Och, yeah,” the man says. “Thousand years old or better, those.” He glances at me again briefly. I can tell he sees something’s not right. I smile at him.
“All right, then, I best get to my chores. Enjoy your day,” the man says, then turns and finds his dog chasing the sheep in the field. “Och, Shep, you wicked dog. Get back here!” He grins and waves, and Noah continues on.
“Tell me what happened,” Noah asks. “I know you went in after Eli and Arcos.” He shoots me a mercurial glare. “What you did to me at the guesthouse? Shitty.”
“You’re leaving me with a dislocated shoulder,” I answer.
“Just until we get back to the flat,” Noah says.
I tell him what happened back in . . . wherever in Hell that place was. “Weird, lanky shadow bodies with tiny cat heads and sharp fangs and claws. Gargoylish-things guarding Eli and Vic in that old church, and Eli and Vic were suspended by their wrists, and naked, from the rafters.” I look at Noah, and I’m not mad at him anymore. I know whatever he does, he does to protect me. That vow he promised to uphold to Eli? I have a feeling it’s going to interfere. A lot. “Noah, they were both alive. They groaned. I dragged them all the way out of that hellhole by their wrists.”
He gave me a sideways glance. “Then what?”
I shrug. “Once we hit the forest, I don’t know . . . the same kind of sonic boom swept over us. Knocked my ass at least twenty, thirty feet through the air. Broke the rope I had bound all three of us together with.” I try to lift my shoulder. No go. “I hit the tree, tried to get up, fell, tried again. And again.” I shook my head. “They just . . . disappeared.” I look at my partner. “But they were both alive. Swear to God they were.”
At the foot of the long steep hill leading away from Ivy Cottage and St. Bueno’s, Noah puts the Rover in park. He half turns in his seat and looks at me. “I believe you. We’ll figure something out.” Lightning fast, he reaches over my body, places his large hand on my left shoulder, and snaps it back into place. I suck in a quick breath of pain; then it’s over. With a much more tender touch, he grazes my chin. “Next time, trust me, okay? Don’t use your mind power on me again, Riley. I want Eli as alive as you do.” He then unties my right wrist, puts the Rover in drive; we head back through Dingwall, Strathpeffer, and before long we’re on the A-9.
We are both silent for several miles, and I try to take in, then shake off, everything that’s happened to me since arriving in Inverness. For the first time, I feel lost. Before, I had direction. I had loaded cartridges for the scatha. I had a plan.
To save Eli and Vic.
Now that’s all blown to hell.
Where did they go?
“We have work to do, Ri,” Noah says, staring forward. The bridge over the Beauly Firth looms ahead, and the heavy scent of sea life seeps through the vents of the Rover. “Get your head in the game.”
We are in the middle of the bridge when my cell phone rings from the center console. Immediately, my heart jerks in my chest.
It’s AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell.”
That’s Victorian Arcos’s ring tone.
Throwing open the console, I grab my iPhone and answer, “Victorian?”
There is nothing but silence for more seconds than I can almost stand.
“Riley? Is it you?” Vic says. His voice is hoarse, quieter than usual. But it’s him.
I can barely speak. “Where are you? Are you okay? What happened to you back—”
Victorian lets out a low, weak laugh. “I thought you said you could barely speak, love.”
I lean against the headrest of my seat and close my eyes. “Oh my God, you’re alive.” I sit straight up. I feel sweat pop out at my forehead, and my breath catches in my throat. “Is Eli with you?”
“Nu, dragostea mea,” Vic answers in his native Romanian. No, my love. “What happened to me? How did I get home?” he asks.
From the corner of my eye I see Noah mutter into his cell phone. He’s calling the States. Eli’s family.
“Home? As in Romania?” I continue, but my mind is screaming, Where the hell is Eli?
“Da, Romania. And I know you wish to hear more of your fiancé, Riley,” he says in a low voice. “I can still hear your thoughts, love, and I wish I had more to offer. I . . . just don’t remember much at all. Except . . . pain. Excruciating pain.”
“It’s okay, Vic,” I say, yet my skin prickles at the thought. I don’t want to sound cold, but hell yeah, I want to know more of Eli. “Do you remember being in the church with Eli? Me dragging you through the streets? The forest?”
“Yes, in the church with Eli. It happened almost as instantaneously as I appeared back home. In . . . a flash.” He sighs into the receiver. “We were strung up by our wrists. Beaten with . . . something not natural. We don’t bleed, Riley. But yet . . . it drained us. Then the beatings simply stopped. And we hung. We spoke until neither of us could speak any longer.”
“Beaten by who? And why?” I ask.
Vic sighs into the phone. “I never saw a face, only shadow. But I got the same sense I had when Jake Andorra hit me with his sword. I think it was one of the Fallen.”