The Wicked (Elder Races #5.5)(30)

Sebastian swam harder, pushing his body to the limit. His lungs began to burn. He needed to breathe.

He reached the other side of the passageway and sensed Phaedra’s presence.

She sensed him too. She said, sounding sleepy and bored, It’s about time you all started to come out.

We’re not, he said as he kicked upward. Steve killed Dendera, stabbed Olivia and sabotaged our equipment.

He broke the water’s surface and sucked air.

Phaedra’s physical form snapped into existence in front of him. She looked strange, as she didn’t swim, but merely appeared as if she stood in front of him on dry land.

“He stabbed Olivia?”

“Yes.”

The Djinn scowled. “I’m very displeased. Grace will be unhappy. That will make my father furious.”

“She’s going be all right.” He cocked his head, treading water. “Are you bored enough to track Steve down? I think he’s headed for some tunnels underneath the city.”

“I will do much better than that.” She vanished, then reappeared again almost instantly with Steve wrapped in her arms, complete with wetsuit, flippers, mask, oxygen tank and the container of books hanging from him by a cord. “You were correct,” she said. “He was just beginning to crawl into a tunnel when I found him.”

Steve kicked and struggled, wriggling like a fish on the end of a line. Behind the mask, Sebastian caught a glimpse of the other man’s astonished expression.

It swiftly turned to fear as Sebastian lunged for his throat.

Sebastian didn’t kill the other man, but he did hurt him real bad. He had told Bailey he would, and he always kept his word.

Steve tried to fight, but he didn’t have a chance. Sebastian was, by far, the better and more seasoned fighter. In fact there was no comparison. Steve was hampered with the weight of the oxygen tank, the heavy container of books, and the mouthpiece and mask that obscured his face when he attempted to shapeshift to bite.

Sebastian drove his fist into that mask. Then he did it again, and again. The blows broke the lens and drove pieces of the frame into the other man’s face. They twisted together, bobbing with the waves, while Phaedra floated close by and watched curiously. Sebastian felt other bones break underneath his hands. They sank underneath the water, and he was all right with that. All he could see was the wide pool of blood where Olivia had lain.

Then other people splashed into the water alongside them. They shouted at Sebastian and worked to tear the two men apart. Sebastian recognized members of his crew from the yacht. Only then did he let go of Steve.

The symbologist lolled half-conscious as Sebastian’s crew dragged him onto the yacht. A couple of them hauled on the line to draw up the container. Ignoring the chilly air, Sebastian climbed up the ladder, issuing orders like a spray of bullets.

“He murdered Dendera and sabotaged our equipment. I need suits and tanks. Guard the hell out of that container. I think he was working with somebody who wants the contents badly. He had to have expected to disappear fast otherwise he never would have tried to pull this stunt. Call Carling, Julian and the tribunal, and update everybody. Get someone to comb the tunnels underneath San Francisco. Trace every step that f**ker made when he went into the city during shore leave. In fact, trace every step that f**ker has made in the last three months.” He took a deep breath and roared, “Where’s my equipment?”

They came running with two spare suits and tanks. Then Brendan, who was captain of the yacht in his absence, said, “Just so you know, all the research teams have reported back. Their reports are sitting on your desk.”

“What?” Sebastian stared at him, for a moment not connecting at all to what the other man was saying. “Forget about all that.”

He hooked his arms through straps on the tanks, grabbed the suits and dove into the water again. He had to get back to the island as fast as he could.

His mate needed him.

Chapter Ten

When Olivia opened her eyes, she lay in her bed in the manor house. Faded sunlight streamed into the window, touching the edges of things inside the room one last time before disappearing for another night. A bright fire crackled in the hearth.

Sebastian slumped in an armchair beside the bed. His head rested against the back of the chair, his eyes closed.

She was quite free from pain, clean and warm, and tucked under blankets. Then she tried to move, and her heart leaped into a rapid, skittish tempo. Her mouth dried out, and her head swam. A saline bag hung from one of the bedposts, the line running to an IV taped to the back of her left hand.

Sebastian’s eyes flared open. He straightened and leaned over her.

She had grown used to the strange black-and-amber pattern in his eyes. He looked so tired, worn and worried. “Don’t try to move around too much,” he said. “You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

“Dendera,” she said.

“I’m sorry.” He stroked her face.

Moisture flooded her eyes. She nodded and turned her face away.

The chair creaked as he shifted. Then the bed tilted as he sat on the edge. He planted his hands flat on the mattress on either side of her head and leaned closer. “Hey,” he said. “Look at me.”

As always, he pulled her to him. She could never turn away from him. She looked up. His hard face looked even more haggard at that angle, the fire throwing strong, flickering bands of light and shadow across the room.