Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 112001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
He knew in his gut she would find him here. Just as she had done before.
The cognitive dissonance she would be struggling with the now—why had he returned Gus? what had happened during the evacuation? did Blade know who was behind the abduction?—would drive her to him, and she would come here because it was the only lead on his whereabouts that she had. And he would take the audience eagerly, even if it was answers she sought, rather than he himself.
In this fashion, Xhex still could not argue that Blade was seeking the female out. Free will, after all, was the engine that drove everything that was subject to choice. What fault of it was his if the wolven came unto him—
A sudden rustling close upon him spun his attention around—and Blade palmed his gun and pointed it in the direction of the branches that had moved.
This time, it was not a deer.
Given the lack of scent, but the very clear presence, he instantly condemned his reverie. If it was one of those cyborgs—
All around him, as if some cue had gone off, wolves began howling. Not a volley any longer, now it was a chorus of many positions, the calls mixing and harmonizing, the rising and falling of each individual throat getting lost in the music of the clans.
Blocking out the beautiful calls, he trained his ears on a crackling of dry sticks. “Be of care,” he called forth. “I am armed.”
With narrowed eyes, he searched the pine trees, sifting through the fluffy boughs and stout trunks. It was only the sound of an approach, however. No form—which made no sense.
“Halt,” he ordered. “Lest… I…”
Blade’s voice drifted off, his words consumed by the howling that was amplified by the valley’s acoustics.
And then he was no longer alone.
The entity that emerged from the coniferous shadows was made of silver moonlight and mountain mist, though there was none of the former… or the latter, for that matter. The apparition seemed female in nature, though he wasn’t sure that applied; it was more an energy source, floating above the raw earth, yet causing sound as if there was weight upon the feet. Certainly its face was that of an old woman, and her long gray-and-white hair cascaded down her shoulders to dissolve into a translucent, glowing aura of light. For clothing, a buckskin skirt and beautiful beaded shawl hearkened back to the First Nations tradition, and he smelled a fragrance of meadow flowers and fresh water.
“What are you,” he blurted.
“Good evening to you,” the entity said, in a voice that reminded him of a birdcall melody.
Had the wolves stopped? He could not tell. She consumed his focus.
As he lowered the gun, he was not sure whether he was choosing to, or if she was willing his arm down. “And to you as well,” he mumbled.
His knee-jerk polite response struck him as ridiculous. Whatever the purpose of this appearance, he was not mistaking it as wholly benign. As a symphath, his first instinct was always to assess risk, and the way he did so was to read the grid of whoever was before him.
This “harmless old woman” had no grid.
There was nothing to read.
* * *
As Daniel parked the SUV back in its garage berth, he waited where he was behind the wheel as the panels descended. He supposed it was overkill, the whole driving off and talking down by the river. Especially given the threat that was out there. But with all the monitoring equipment around Phalen’s castle, there was no way the call wouldn’t have been recorded.
Nobody needed to know about Rubik.
When things were locked in place, he popped his door open and there was little difference in temperature between the roasty-toasty inside of the Suburban and what he stepped down into. Then again, Phalen had an expensive stable of vehicles.
Nobody wanted their Aventador to get a chill.
Walking by the other Suburbans, then the fleet of Mercedes—and finally that Lamborghini—he stopped when he got to his Harley. Reaching out, he ran his fingertips over the handlebars, and as he closed his eyes, he remembered Lydia leaning back on them and staring up at him… hungry. For him—
An odd pressure at the front of his hips made him look down. But it wasn’t any kind of phoenix-from-the-boxers shit. His hand had moved over his dick and was sitting on the thing like his palm was expecting some kind of high five in return—and God knew that wasn’t going to happen…
But didn’t they have medications for this kind of problem?
It was hard to say when the idle passing thought transformed into action, but the next thing he knew he was underground and walking down the connector to the main house—and when security cleared him to enter the mansion’s basement, he went to the elevator.