They were approaching a large city that the signs indicated was St. Louis when the Hummer finally slowed and veered onto a narrow road that headed into an elegant suburb.
Winding through tree-lined streets, Brigette glanced toward the houses, which went from big to bigger to enormous. The space between them also became wider and wider. As if they wanted to be close enough to be seen and envied by their neighbor, but far enough to avoid having to acknowledge one another’s presence.
At last, they reached the end of a cul-de-sac, and Brigette parked the car, while the Hummer continued down the driveway that headed toward the massive mansion. She hurriedly abandoned the stolen vehicle and jogged down a slope to hide in the shadows of a tall hedge.
Crouching low, she allowed her gaze to take in the house, which was built to curve along the ridge of the hill. It was large enough to fit an entire horde of orcs in comfort, with floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a view of the nearby lake. There was also the thick scent of curs threaded through the evening breeze.
Curs?
What the hell was this place?
She was sorting through the various possibilities when she was distracted by the sound of footsteps. Pressing deeper into the hedge, she watched as Roban and his brother hurried toward the lake. Her brows arched in confusion. She assumed they were going inside.
Her confusion only deepened as they halted next to a large dumpster that was partially disguised behind a wooden grotto.
What were they doing? Planting a bomb? Or was the bomb already there and he was intending to trigger it?
The possibility had her inching her way forward. She wasn’t sure how she was going to stop Roban, and not for the first time, she regretted the fact that she’d avoided most human technology. If she had a phone, she could call Styx. Despite the scent of curs, the vampire might know why Roban would choose this particular spot and could warn whoever lived in the mansion.
Careful to stay downwind, she circled the grotto to watch the two men shoving aside the dumpster. They were exchanging a low conversation, then without warning, the brother stiffened. As if Roban had just said something that shocked him.
The air heated as the two males exchanged a muttered argument, and then without warning, Stewart was turning to stomp his way back up the hill, and Roban was suddenly disappearing from view.
Brigette hesitated. She wasn’t sure what to do. There was no point in returning to the motel. Night was creeping in, which meant that Maryam would soon be leaving with Xi on her trail. Or more likely, Xi would lose patience and kill her before she could cause any more chaos.
And there was no use trying to warn whoever was in the house. They would either assume she was completely nuts or, worse, believe she was the danger. She did, after all, have a reputation of being utterly evil.
Her only hope was to kill Roban before he could trigger the bomb.
Squaring her shoulders, she darted toward the grotto. A damned shame she didn’t have Xi’s ability to disguise her presence. Then again, the sudden stench of trash was potent enough to mute her scent. Her lips twisted. She never thought she would be happy to be near a pile of rotting garbage.
She dropped to her stomach as she reached the edge of the cement pad beneath the grotto. Peering through the wooden slats, she could see that the dumpster had been shoved aside to reveal a hidden tunnel.
That’s where Roban had disappeared.
And where she had to go to stop him.
Refusing to give herself the opportunity to second-guess her impulsive decision, she crawled on her belly across the cement pad. Once she reached the square opening, she sucked in a deep breath. Rich soil, musty air, and Weres.
Outside the house, there might be curs, but inside were a number of very powerful pureblooded Weres.
Brigette’s jaws clenched. A part of her had known that Roban would seek to hurt his own people. He had the same restless dissatisfaction etched on his face that used to plague her. The sort of restlessness that led to outrageously awful decisions.
Pulling her dagger from its holster, she clenched it tight as she inched her way through the tunnel carved into the earth. It was not only pitch-black, but the heavy scent of Were also meant that she would be almost on top of Roban before she sensed his presence. Of course, she couldn’t risk allowing him to reach his destination before she could carve out his heart, she sternly reminded herself.
She picked up her pace, brushing her shoulder against the side of the wall to detect any openings. She was too close now to lose track of Roban in a side tunnel.
Thankfully, he continued straight to the end of the tunnel, where an iron door had been carved into the foundation of the house above them.
Brigette halted, watching as the door was pushed open from the inside. Stewart? Probably. The male must have access to the house and a familiarity with the security system. Which was why Roban needed him.
She waited until Roban had disappeared from view before cautiously following behind. Trying to take on two male Weres was going to be…suicidal, but she didn’t have a choice.
Not now.
Entering the house, she took a second to glance around the vast, open space of an unfinished basement. There was nothing to see but bare concrete, with steel posts to hold up the massive weight of the mansion. Well, nothing unless you counted the dead Were that was sprawled on the floor with a small silver arrow shot directly through his heart.
Stewart.
Brigette grimaced. Not at the sight of the dead demon. The male had obviously betrayed the Weres in this house by helping Roban to sneak through the hidden passage, and in turn, he’d been betrayed by his brother. Karma was a bitch. As she knew all too well. But she hadn’t suspected that Roban had a weapon hidden beneath his jacket.
A silver arrow, no matter how small, was a death warrant for a Were if it penetrated the heart.
Sliding along the edge of cement wall, she searched the darkness for any hint of Roban’s location. It was disorienting to go from the cramped space of the tunnel to the open emptiness of the basement. At last, she caught sight of a bulky form headed toward a set of stairs in a far corner.
Once again, Brigette gave herself no time to think of the consequences. Heading straight toward Roban with a short burst of speed, she lifted her hand that held the dagger. As if sensing her approach, Roban halted, but before he could turn and fire his crossbow, she tossed her dagger, hitting him in the center of his back.
It was a risky move.
The blade missed his heart. And now she was without a weapon.
On the plus side, the dagger was imbedded deep in his flesh in a spot that he couldn’t reach to pull it out. The silver in the blade would not only swiftly drain his strength; it would also prevent him from shifting into his wolf.
Roban grunted, stumbling to his knees as if thrown off balance by the pain of the wound. He was also kind enough to drop the small crossbow from his nerveless fingers. With a powerful jump, she was flying through the air to snatch the weapon off the cement.