Dreams of a Dark Warrior (Page 58)

Dreams of a Dark Warrior (Immortals After Dark #11)(58)
Author: Kresley Cole

Declan cal ed in the code, then said to Webb, "Get out of my sight. Take the helicopter and leave here.

Now. Before I finish what I started."

Just as an alarm began to wail, the lights wavered again, then failed altogether. No backup electricity fired, no emergency lights. The alarm faded to silence.

Darkness. The only sounds came from the gale intensifying outside.

Impossible. Some force had taken out all his many redundant systems.

Stil rubbing his throat, Webb hastened to the emergency exit. "I’ll go. But remember-you have a target on your back. Every creature in here wants you dead."

That’s why I’ll keep them in their f**kin’ cages. Declan met his gaze. From the man’s expression, he figured his eyes were flickering. "If I see your face again, I’ll end you."

"After I saved your life? I was a father to you for twenty years."

"Which is why you’re still alive-"

Three crashing booms sounded in succession; the corridor bulkheads had descended, sealing the wards. Both he and Webb knew what that meant. There’d been a breach in at least one of the cells.

The deployment of those bulkheads triggered an hour-long self-destruct sequence, one that could only be overridden by an officer- after the facility had been secured.

Without the override, incendiary bombs would detonate all over the island, wiping this place off the map.

Webb asked, "Can you secure the facility?"

He had to try. With any cel breach, the instal ation was considered hot, a quarantine situation. There was no evacuation of personnel. If he failed, everyone would die in the bomb blasts.

Declan set his watch as he rushed to his armory. He donned a plated tactical vest, then shrugged into his dual holster with its pair of Glocks. After strapping on his sword belt, he grabbed two MK 17 assault rifles, packing armor-piercing rounds.

He turned toward the door, ready for battle.

Just before Declan left, Webb said, "If you radio me before the sequence ends, I’ll override remotely. Good luck, son."

Declan’s shoulders stiffened, and he didn’t look back. "I’m no’ your son."

Chapter THIRTY-ONE

"RIIIIINNNNNNGGGGG!"

With a grimace, Regin limped to the glass- ignore the metal, ignore the staples- to peer out into the darkened corridor. "What the hel ‘s going on, Nat?"

Just moments before the power had abruptly failed, she’d heard a male’s outraged bel ow, thought it

was Chase’s. Yeah, that’s right, boyo, I survived your little science experiment this morning. Hour by hour, she’d been healing. At least physically.

After that bel ow, she and Natalya had felt a weighty malevolence descending over them, some shrieking creature.

Natalya joined her at the glass. "I don’t know what’s out there, but maybe we’l get a chance to break out."

Regin glanced down at her chest. How far could she get like this? Outwardly, the wound was in the reddened, itchy stage of regeneration. Inwardly, who knew? As she’d begun to move around, she’d determined that she still had her ful range of motion-but it hurt like hell.

She’d be damned before she slowed Natalya or anyone else down.

As the storm outside grew even more violent, the grapevine went abuzz. Yet the inmates repeated only one phrase: "La Dorada."

Regin rol ed her eyes. "Who or what is La Dorada? Sounds like a snack chip-"

"RIIIIINNNNNNGGGGG!"

"A real y pissed-off snack chip."

The shifter next door whispered, "She’s the Sorceri Queen of Golds and of Evil. They say she’s come for Lothaire, the Enemy of Old."

"RIIIIINNNNNNGGGGG!"

"You want your ring?" Lothaire yel ed from down the corridor. "Then come and get it, you bitch!"

"Lothaire, the S.O.L., sounds like." Serves him right.

Then the shifter said something that real y got Regin’s attention. "Farther up the ward, Dorada’s removed torques from other Sorceri and some members of the Pravus."

Natalya said, "Then there will be an escape. As soon as one of them is strong enough to break the glass."

Regin exhaled a deep breath, wincing from the movement. "Like Portia and Ember." Two of the Sorceri in Carrow’s cel , rumored to be lovers for centuries.

Portia, the Queen of Stone, could move Mount Everest into her backyard if she felt like a climb.

Emberine, the Queen of Flames, could shoot fire from her hands or turn herself into flame. A single blast from her could grievously wound an immortal. A human-or a young immortal-would stand no chance.

Carrow and her little cousin Ruby were trapped with those Sorceri. Gods help them.

"Volos could shatter it," Natalya said distantly. "With one kick." The creature was huge, eight feet tall and packed with muscle. "I could face him here. Final y."

The floor began vibrating beneath them. smallfissures cracked in the cement, sending up clouds of grit.

"Is that what I think it is?" Natalya asked.

"Feels like Portia’s getting frisky. Hold on to your ass," Regin said. "Thad must be wigging. If we get free, we snag him then go straight for my witch friend."

"Agreed."

The shifter relayed, "Portia’s bringing up a mountain of stone."

When the rumbling strengthened, Natalya said, "If a mountain keeps rising, doesn’t that mean the surrounding land will start falling away?"

Regin nodded. "Yep. And we’re on the surrounding land." Smoke began oozing down the corridor. "Looks like Emberine got loose." Could Carrow escape those two with a little girl in tow?

Again and again, glass shattered as more creatures were freed.

"La Dorada’s coming," the shifter whispered. "Ah, gods, she’s coming."

Seconds passed, then … La Dorada skulked into view. She was half-mummified, but sodden. Gooey. Regin let out a low whistle. "The Mummy Returns meets Dingoes Ate My Face."

Strips of rotting gauze clung to the sorceress’s body. Her face was slimy with pus and appeared to be missing a couple of chunks, as well as an eye.

Surrounding her like a pack of guard dogs was a dozen Wendigos. They were as contagious as ghouls, but much faster and smarter. Of course, the average loogie was smarter than a ghoul.

"Look at the gold," Natalya breathed in awe.

Dorada wore cool gold pieces-a golden crown on her lumpy head and an elaborate breastplate over a surprisingly intact rack. With each of the sorceress’s steps, gold flakes drifted down.

"She’s altogether ooky. But I’m not picky." Regin banged the bottom of her fist against the glass, ignoring the pain radiating out from her chest. "Yo, beautiful. Come pop this collar off me."