Keri Arthur - Fireborn

And with that, something pierced my neck. Before I could flame, before I could even scream, the ink descended and I knew no more.

Waking the second time was no easier than the first. I groaned loudly and rolled onto my back—and the mere fact I could do that had my eyes springing open. It was immediately obvious that I was no longer in the hands of the sindicati. The utter darkness had gone, replaced by thunderous skies and a drenching mist of rain—and I have to say, I’ve never been so happy about getting soaked in my life.

I was free and I was alive. It was definitely my lucky day.

The ground underneath me was slushy, meaning it had been raining for some time before I’d been dumped here—wherever the hell “here” was. There was no traffic noise and no industrial noise. In fact, there was nothing more than the occasional squawk of a bird and the mooing of cows. Meaning they’d dumped me in the country rather than the city. But why do that, given the twenty-four-hour time frame? It didn’t make any sense.

Unless, of course, the black room itself was somewhere in the country rather than the city.

I carefully propped myself up on my elbows, but even that small movement had the hobnailed idiots in my head starting up again. I winced and tried to ignore the pain as I looked around. I was, as I suspected, in the middle of a field. Several cows were giving me the evil eye from under the cover of nearby eucalypts and, beyond them, kangaroos grazed near the banks of a decent-sized dam. Farther down the hill, sitting in a small hollow, the tin roof of either an old farmhouse or barn was visible through the trees surrounding it.

I shifted position, waited for the idiots in my head to calm down, and studied the land above me. There were tire marks coming into the paddock from a road that disappeared around the left of the hill, and, if the size of those tracks was any indication, we’d come here in a four-wheel drive. Which really didn’t help all that much, because there were a million and one four-wheel drives on the road these days.

There was no sign of Amanda in either direction, but I guess that was no surprise. After all, my cool-voiced kidnapper had stated they had other plans for her.

I pushed fully upright. Almost instantly, a dozen different aches fired into action, and for several minutes I did nothing more than breathe deep in an effort to keep my stomach from leaping up my throat. When I could, I did a quick body check—bruised ribs, cuts on my left arm and right leg, and wrists that were rubbed raw by the thick wire that had bound me. Nothing truly incapacitating—a miracle in itself given the force with which we’d hit that tree. Air bags really did save lives.

But what about my neck? Had it been teeth or a needle that pierced my skin? I tentatively felt around and wasn’t entirely surprised to find two neat, round wounds. The bastard had bitten me, though I very much doubted he’d taken all that much. It was more a reminder of what he was and what he could do if he so desired. But what about the man in the shadows? I checked the other side of my neck, knowing from my time as a cop that vampires rarely used the same entry point even if they were sharing a victim. Luckily, it appeared as if I’d been spared the horror of my unsavory watcher taking a sip—though why I should be more scared of being bitten by him than the vampire who’d done all the talking, I couldn’t really say.

I took another deep breath that did little to ease the various aches and pains, then went through my pockets. All empty—not that I’d had much in them to begin with. Thankfully, there was a suspiciously familiar brown shape half-hidden in the grass ten feet or so away and, with any sort of luck, my phone and wallet would still be inside. I pushed upright. The paddock did a mad dash around me, and my knees briefly buckled. I swore loudly and fought to remain upright, knowing that if I went down I’d more than likely stay there. The cows, it seemed, were unimpressed by my language, because they now had their butts to me.

I glanced down at the valley, then up at the road, and decided to go up rather than down simply because it involved less distance and far fewer fences to climb over.

I walked across to my handbag. A quick look inside revealed both wallet and phone. But then, it would hardly make sense for them to take either of them—stranding me in the middle of nowhere with no way to communicate and no cash or cards to grab a taxi wasn’t going to get them the notebook any quicker.

I turned on my stolen phone and discovered that it was nearly four in the afternoon. I’d been in the hands of the sindicati for more than five hours, even if I couldn’t remember more than half an hour of it. I scrolled through the contacts list, looking for the number I was supposed to ring once I’d found the notebook, and discovered it under the name of Mr. Dark and Dangerous. Someone in the sindicati had a warped sense of humor.

The next thing I did was take a couple of photos of the tire tracks. Who knew? Jackson’s secret source might be able to uncover what type of four-wheel drive used these type of tires. How that would help us find the vehicle, I had no idea. With the way our luck was running, it’d turn out to be a tire used by most of the major four-wheel drives found here in Australia.

That was presuming, of course, Jackson got out of this alive and in one piece. God, I hoped he was okay.

Hoped the sindicati weren’t dining on him as they had on me.

I squished down the worry and contacted Rory.

“Thank god you’re okay,” he said without preamble. “I heard over the radio that there’d been a major crash on the freeway involving a red truck and a van, and I was worried it was you and Jackson.”

I hesitated, knowing he’d be madder than hell given my promise to keep safe, then quickly updated him on all that had happened.

“Damn it, Em!” he exploded. “They could have killed you!”

“Not until they get what they want,” I said. “Trouble is, I have no idea where that notebook is, and though there was a copy on my laptop, it also went missing.”

“Well, no, it didn’t. I have it.”

I blinked. “You what?”

“The damn battery on mine died, so I borrowed yours. It’s sitting in my locker at work as we speak.”

I closed my eyes and rubbed my forehead wearily. Even if I couldn’t find the notebook, I still had a chance of saving Jackson.

“Em, you okay?”

“Yeah. Listen, can you meet me at home? Before I can do anything, I need to recharge. It’s just become too damn dangerous to run around as I am.”

“Can do, but if you’re intending to confront the sindicati, you are not doing it alone.”

“Rory—”

“No,” he cut in. “Not this time. I don’t trust vampires at the best of times, let alone ones as steeped in crime as this lot. They won’t see or hear me, Em, but I will be there, just in case.”

I opened my mouth to protest, then closed it again. He was right. It was infinitely better to be safe than sorry.

“Okay. I’ll meet you at home.” I hesitated, then added, “Oh, and don’t bring the laptop. It’s safer where it is for the moment.”

“No problem. See you soon.”

I hung up, then slowly made my way up the hill. The clean air and exercise didn’t make the hobnailed folk any happier, but it wasn’t like I had much choice.

The road at the top was little more than a thin strip of gravel, and I hesitated, undecided whether to go left or right. Neither direction appeared particularly promising, given there was little more than trees and scrub to be seen either way. I tossed a mental coin, then headed right—at least it was downhill. Hopefully, it would lead somewhere. Even some sort of street sign would be handy right now; then I could call a cab.