She grabbed the queen under the armpits, faltering and assisting her to the stone floor. Pressing Emma against the cupboards to prevent her from pitching forward, Moira balanced her friend with hands against her shoulders. “What’s wrong?”
Tears filled Emma’s eyes. Her face pinched in pain. “It’s Conn. He’s gone.”
The clouds opened up, beating them with rain turning to ice as it dropped. Dage Kayrs used his boot to roll the man over, a frown on his face. He left a size sixteen muddy print in the guy’s side. “Panther.” He sniffed the air, his gut beginning to clench. “I smell Conn. This guy grappled with Conn.” It looked like the shifter had been tossed down a mountain. Or out a helicopter. Dage had heard the bird lift, but had been wrestling with two demons at the time.
The downed panther didn’t move, his breath shallow, his nose smashed nearly flat.
Jordan Pride sprinted over, his lip twisted into a snarl. A gash bled across his left cheekbone. “That’s Robert Wright, a soldier for the clan.”
The clan leader knelt, running his gaze over the injured man. “Wright, hold on. We have a medical team coming.” Jordan frowned. “I smell Conn all over him.” Glancing around, he studied the smoldering building, the bodies of a few demons littering the ground, as well as their wounded. A low growl escaped. “We didn’t meet enough resistance to warrant a fight, Dage.”
“This was a trap.” Dage fought to rein his temper. They’d fought about ten demons, all woefully undertrained. Newbies. But they’d managed to mess with his mind to the point a cloud still slowed his thought processes. “Yeah, and I’m thinking your shifter friends were in on the plan.” Otherwise none of this made sense. Where were the captured shifters? Why had Conn fought with this guy?
Jase jogged up, wiping blood off his forehead. “I found a dead shifter three stories down, with Conn’s scent all over him.” He tossed a dart with black feathers for Dage to catch. “Several of these littered the floor—and I found a tunnel leading outside. The pine needles and grass were crushed, probably by the helicopter we heard.”
“They drugged him?” They would have needed a boatload of tranquilizers ... and a changing mixture to keep him down. Dage gave a short nod to a medic rushing forward with a kit and pointed to Wright. “Wake him up.”
The medic’s eyebrow rose in his dark face, but he knelt and conducted a brief examination. The wind whipped hair into his mouth, and he spit out the strands. “If I inject him with adrenaline, he may die.”
Jordan growled, fury digging into the lines of his face. “Will he have a chance to talk first?”
The medic cut his gaze to Dage and back. “He might have a few minutes, but I can’t guarantee it.” Flipping open his pack, he grabbed a syringe, shielding it from the elements with his body. “Shifters are tough to kill, but they can die by internal bleeding if the injuries are great enough.” He ran his fingers over what appeared to be broken ribs. “I’d say the injuries are life-threatening here. We need to get him to the hospital in Canada.”
“We’re going to need more hospitals,” Jordan murmured.
“Already in the works.” Dage had ordered the creation of new medical facilities the second the Kurjans had declared war. “I purchased the real estate decades ago and have been earmarking funds for construction as well as scholarships for medical training.” He’d doubled the order for hospitals when the demons had joined in the war. Now it appeared some of the shifter allies he thought he’d had were coming after him. If the witches withdrew from the Realm, he was screwed. For one second he flashed back to the last war centuries ago, when his parents had been killed and he’d needed to step up. He’d thought the pain and difficulty had been because of his youth.
He was wrong.
Men hustled around, collecting the wounded. “What should I do?” the medic asked, wiping rain off his forehead.
Jordan dropped into a crouch. The rain mingled with the spattered blood, turning his blond hair a matted red. “Inject him.”
At Dage’s nod, the medic plunged a syringe into the cat’s chest. Wright gasped, his entire body clenching, and then relaxing. “What—” He opened blood-filled eyes, blinking to focus. Vibrations from his pain shimmered in the air.
Jordan lowered his face. “Where did they take Connlan Kayrs?” He placed one hand against Wright’s ribs.
The medic opened his mouth to object, and Dage jerked his head toward the burning building. “We have injured over by the tree line. Go help.” The vampire took one last hard look at Wright, grabbed his kit, and hurried off. Dage settled his stance, letting Jordan handle his man, who was obviously too weak to shift.
Wright’s eyes widened. He coughed, the rattle spitting clotted blood out his mouth. He blinked against the rain.
Jordan pressed down. “Tell me or I swear to God, I’m going to yank each rib out of you one at a time.” His voice lowered to a guttural rumble sounding more animal than man.
Wright bellowed in pain, his shoulders spasming and scattering pine needles. “I ... fuck you,” he gasped, his legs kicking out.
Jordan dug his fingers in, and Wright shrieked, the sound like death a day late. Grabbing the panther’s hair and yanking back, Jordan lowered his face to an inch away. “That was nothing. My knife comes out next. Where is Kayrs?”
Wright’s eyes fluttered, his shoulders relaxed. “Dunno,” he slurred, smiling blood covered canines. “Wouldn’t tell us. Just get you, get on helicopter.”
Smart. Dage crossed his arms. “Whoever planned this figured you wouldn’t make it, Robert. Not a lot of faith in you.”
Jordan leaned back. “You planned this to trap me? Why?”
Wright coughed, sending blood flying. “We know”—he gasped out—“you’re mating a werewolf. And ... Caleb.”
“Caleb?” Dage dropped to his haunches to better hear. “Your clan isn’t one that has fought with Caleb over the years for supporting his brother.”
Jordan snarled. “Katie’s not a werewolf, you prick. She has a virus.”
Wright closed his eyes. “Realm’s weak. Time to take over.” His head trembling, his eyes slowly opened to focus on Jordan. “You’re weak. Marcus is strong.” His lids fluttered shut. One rattling exhale whooshed out of his lungs, and his body relaxed in death.
Jordan stood, turning his back on the panther. “Marcus Paltrow, the head of the clan.” He waved an arm at his enforcers. “I’ll get the word out ... we’ll find Conn.” Pivoting, he jogged over to confer with his men.
Dage tapped his ear communicator.
“Did you save the shifters?” Kane said by way of answer, the typing of computer keys ticking across the line.
“It was a trap. They wanted Jordan and took Conn.”
The typing stopped. Kane exhaled slowly, giving Dage his full attention.
“Marcus Paltrow engineered the trap. Find him.”
“On it.” Kane clicked off.
Neither of them said what couldn’t be said. If the shifters had wanted Jordan, Conn would be more of a liability than asset. Dage surveyed the medics patching up his men.
Jase cleared his throat. “They could’ve killed him in the tunnels.”
An explosion of energy ripped through Dage’s system, so he kept his face bland. “The group was supposed to get Jordan, failed, so they took who they could. I’m assuming their leader will create a plan.”
Jase cocked an eyebrow in direct contrast to the hand clenching and unclenching at his side. “A plan? Dage, we’re talking about Conn, the greatest soldier ever born. He won’t break.”
Dread slid down Dage’s trachea to settle in his gut. “No. Breaking Conn won’t be the point.” Dage waited until Jase’s eyes widened with realization, then raw fury. “Exactly.”