Beyond the Darkness (Guardians of Eternity #6)(38)

He slowed as they neared the bank, grimacing at the thick tangle of mud and weeds that lined the river. Thank God his Armanis were safely tucked in his St. Louis lair.

“We’re not going to sink, cara.”

“Then why are you stopping?”

“The curs are back on our trail.”

She shrugged, obviously having sensed already that they were being hunted.

“They’re still miles behind us.”

“As they have been for the last two hours.”

“So…” The magnificent hazel eyes widened. “Oh.”

“Exactly.” Salvatore allowed the boat to idle as they drifted into the muddy shallows at the edge of the river. “They’ve found a means to track us.”

Harley considered a long moment. “It has to be the witch who made the amulets.” She at last concluded. “She’s the only one who could cast a spell to discover our location.”

Salvatore reached to grasp a low-hanging branch, bringing the boat to a halt. Actually, the witch was preferable to the thought that Briggs had recovered swiftly enough to send the curs after them. His own body had healed, but his strength was ebbing toward low.

He was hoping to put off round two until he could recharge his mojo.

“All the witch can sense is the amulets?” he asked, a plan already forming in his mind.

“Yes.”

“Does Caine have any hunters?”

“Only Duncan.”

Salvatore’s lips twisted. It was Duncan he’d been scheduled to meet in Hannibal. The same cur he’d found murdered on the floor of the cabin just minutes before Caine had attacked him.

“Then Caine was an idiot to kill him.”

She narrowed her eyes. “So you say.”

“Harley…” He swallowed his protest. Only time would ease the suspicions that had been drilled into her. “Someday you’ll trust me.”

“I don’t trust anyone.”

He held out his hand. “Give me your amulet.”

She readily untied the amulet and placed it in his outstretched palm. Salvatore hid a satisfied smile as he yanked his own amulet from his neck. Harley might not realize it, but on some level she did trust him.

“What are you doing?” she demanded as he threw both amulets on the floor of the boat and then vaulted over the side to land in the waist-deep water.

“If the witch wants to chase the amulets, the least we can do is keep her entertained.”

“Why don’t we just toss the amulets overboard and keep going?”

“They realize by now we’re following the river north,” he said, waiting for her to clamor out of the boat and stand at his side. Reaching forward, he thrust the throttle in gear, shoving the boat away from the bank and toward the middle of the river. “If they have any intelligence at all they’ll have sent a few curs ahead to ambush us.”

Harley watched the boat zip away, her color slowly returning. Obviously the muddy water and slimy moss that slithered around her body was preferable to continuing their boat ride.

“They’ll eventually stumble across our scent,” she pointed out.

Salvatore’s expression hardened. He would do whatever necessary to protect Harley, but this division between Weres and curs had to end.

Damn Caine.

Briggs was deliberately using him to weaken Salvatore’s power base.

“Let’s hope for their sake that they don’t.”

Chapter Ten

Harley climbed the bank, relieved to discover that the Illinois side of the Mississippi River was a flat expanse of recently plowed fields, rather than the rolling bluffs she was accustomed to. She wasn’t a wuss. She could run for hours without breaking a sweat. Hell, she could do it carrying a few hundred pounds on her back.

But at the moment her cheap canvas shoes were covered in slimy mud and her wet underwear was crawling into places it shouldn’t be. The last thing she wanted was to slog up and down endless hills.

Besides, she didn’t have to be a psychic to sense that Salvatore wasn’t running on a full tank.

Big surprise there.

He’d been caged, pelted with silver shrapnel, attacked by a zombie Were, and forced to discipline the curs chasing after them.

She doubted any other Were would still be on his feet, let alone be fully alert and on guard as he led them northward, choosing a path far enough from the riverbank to avoid the tangled overgrowth, and yet far enough from the farmhouses that dotted the patchwork of fields to avoid being easily spotted by a curious human.

They walked for nearly half an hour, the distant scurrying of animals and whisper of leaves rustling in the wind the only sounds to break the silence. Harley sucked in a deep breath, appreciating the firm ground beneath her. Despite her nasty shoes and unruly underwear, she’d rather hike for hours than spend another minute in the damned water. That’s why she had feet, not fins.

Of course, she’d always wanted to try flying. Now that looked like a fine way to travel.

Private jet, sipping champagne, and relaxing in plush seats, a yummy steward who specialized in introducing a woman into the mile high club.

Her heart skipped a beat as her fantasy of the blond Nordic steward morphed into a dark-haired, golden-eyed Were with a touch that could make a female howl in pleasure.

She sucked her thoughts away from the inevitable flashback. She didn’t need a slow motion replay of Salvatore lying beneath her, his eyes glowing with a searing pleasure and his bronzed skin covered in a sheen of sweat.