Keystone (Crossbreed #1)(91)

“I doubt it goes to one of them. There might be a private group set up with Breed, but it probably came with the building. Either way, it’s a noisemaker, so snip snip.”

While he took care of that, I tested the air in search of Mage energy. Most let their shields down in private places, so their energy pulsed and quivered. I didn’t sense anything in the immediate area.

After Shepherd finished messing with the security box, he found the circuit breakers. “Get ready,” he said. “When the lights go out, someone’s coming down. Hide behind that beam.”

When Shepherd switched off the breakers, I turned off my flashlight and waited in darkness. Gem was the lookout girl on the street, and Niko had climbed onto the roof with Viktor. I wasn’t sure where everyone else had gone, but our job was to get in and kill the lights. That was Keystone’s signal to enter.

The basement door opened, and Shepherd slipped out of sight. My Vampire eyes allowed me to see somewhat, although not as well as I would have liked.

My heart raced as someone approached with clumsy steps, his shoes scraping against the floor and the smell of his cologne wafting over.

“Dammit,” he murmured. “Where’s a flashlight when you need one?”

He moved into sight, his hand running along the wall. Shepherd crept toward him, cocking his head as if he were using sonar to detect where the Mage was in proximity to him.

Even though I could see, I gave this one to Shepherd. Did a guy like that really need backup? Part of me wanted to watch him in action and see if a Sensor—who didn’t have any gifts of strength or speed—could take on a Mage.

“Hurry up!” a voice shouted from the top of the stairs.

Shepherd’s eyes turned in that direction, and they were wide. We’d expected one to come down while the other guards scrambled in the darkness to secure the doors.

That was what smart guards would have done.

But this added an additional layer of fuckery to the situation. If the guy at the top of the stairs sensed something was amiss, he’d alert the house and lock us in. Hopefully Viktor and the others had found a way inside.

I moved stealthily toward the staircase.

“Jim?” the man called out.

“Christ on a cracker, give me a second, will ya?” the man by the breakers yelled back.

I neared the stairs, assessing the man who stood in the doorway. He didn’t look especially strong, and I didn’t see a weapon in his hands.

When a metal tool hit the floor behind me, he took a step back. “Jim?”

Before he could slam the door, I rushed up the stairs and drove a stunner into his chest—the only stunner I had brought with me. He fell like a sack of potatoes, and I closed the door and slid him down the steps before someone heard the ruckus.

Shepherd hustled toward me, his hands reaching out blindly in the darkness.

“Watch your step!” I hissed.

He halted in his tracks, just inches from the body slumped at the bottom of the stairs. Shepherd took a few baby steps until his foot nudged the Mage’s thigh. I tensed when I considered he might finish off the Mage, but Shepherd stepped over the paralyzed man, climbing the stairs until he bumped into me.

“That leaves only two more,” he said quietly. “Right?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. Viktor would have never agreed to this if I’d told him I was uncertain how many guards there were in the house. Darius mentioned four in conversation, but he could have been lying.

Shepherd reached for the doorknob and opened the door. “Did you finish him off?” he whispered.

Finish, as in beheaded.

“Hell no,” I whispered back. “I’m going to leave my dagger in his chest and pick it up on the way out. You might be able to use him for questioning.”

Shepherd’s jaw set.

I flounced into the adjoining room. Sure, I could have popped his core light and killed him the easy way, but time was ticking, and killing a guy for blocking a doorway didn’t seem like a necessity.

The kitchen was bereft of color or other decorative items one might find, like fruit bowls or sugar canisters. Light trickled in from a window by the side door, illuminating the white tile and matching cabinets. Shepherd moved quietly to the left and turned the lock.

Christian filled the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb on his left arm, one foot crossed in front of the other, his other fist anchored against his hip as if he’d been collecting dust for hours.

Just outside the kitchen was the entrance of the house—front door to the left and a hall and enclosed stairwell to the right. I knew there was a hall on the other side of the living room, so I nudged Shepherd and pointed in that direction. “Check out the rooms on the other side.”

Christian put his arms around us, poking his head in the middle. “Lest you forget, I can hear a sight better than you. Everyone’s upstairs. Bottom floor’s empty.”

I shrugged him off and headed up the steps, gripping my only remaining weapon: a push dagger. Most of my good stunners were in my bag, which was either somewhere in this house or in an incinerator. We ascended the steps, and Shepherd brandished a knife and jogged past us.

“He likes to be the hero,” Christian said quietly.

“And what about you?”

“I approach battle like sex.”

I snorted. “Infrequently?”