Rhyannon Byrd - Edge of Danger

From the corner of his eye, he watched as Royce’s hands fisted angrily at his sides for the second time that night, but knew the bastard didn’t have the guts to take a swing at him. Not when Gregory was vibing with the hard, thick power of his recent kills. “You bloody idiot,” Royce growled through his clenched teeth, his rage echoing through the room like a physical force, nearly shaking the shadows from the cobwebbed corners. “Why in the hell would you do that?”

“I wanted to know more about the Marker,” he calmly explained, splashing water onto his face and chest. After losing Saige, he’d wanted to hit her where it hurt. And he had.

“And?” Royce growled, taking a step closer.

“The boy claimed to know nothing about where she’s keeping the cross, but he did say that he thinks they’re keeping some kind of papers for her at the bar.” Turning, he caught Royce’s pale, interested gaze. “If Calder’s right about her having the maps, that could be them.”

They had been told there was a good chance that Saige Buchanan had found a set of maps that led to the location of the Dark Markers. The maps, according to Calder, were a closely guarded secret that not even the Watchmen knew about, and an invaluable resource to the ones who possessed them. Which meant that he wanted them—badly.

“You were thorough?” Royce asked, his voice deceptively soft.

Gregory lifted his brows. “Trust me,” he purred. “The boy told me everything he knows.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Royce sighed. “If the maps were there, she probably got them tonight.”

Grabbing a towel from the counter, Gregory wiped at his damp face, then hooked the cloth behind his neck. “She didn’t. He said she got scared away before she could get them.”

Royce slid him a thick look of frustration. “And did it ever occur to you that he could have been lying?”

Gregory rolled his eyes. “I had my claws dug into his groin, Royce. The kid would have told me where I could find his mother if that’s what I’d wanted.”

Pushing one hand back through his short hair, Royce stared through the open front door, obviously thinking over his options. It was a waste of time, but Gregory let him have his illusion of command. When the moment was right, he’d show the bastard exactly who was the dominant Casus.

“She’ll have to go back for them,” Royce finally rumbled. “When she does, we have no choice but to go ahead and take her—but it won’t be easy.”

Gregory shook his head, understanding why Calder put so much trust in Royce Friesen. Calder obviously knew a follower when he saw one. The first Casus since the start of their captivity to succeed in organizing his kinsmen into a cohesive force, bringing rule to the anarchy, Calder was the one who’d finally offered them hope…a chance of escape. Like an angel surrounded by devils, he’d promised to deliver them into salvation—and yet, Gregory didn’t trust him.

And he had good reason to be wary, seeing as how Calder had been less than honest with his brother. Not only had Malcolm been denied certain information, but he’d been led to believe that it would take some time before Calder and his followers would be strong enough to send more Casus across. And yet, no sooner had they learned that Malcolm had safely made the transition, than they sent through two more. Two Casus who would hunt down their own Merrick, and then go after the Marker that Malcolm had hoped to secure for himself. Not to please Calder, but because his brother had planned to use the cross to barter for Gregory’s release, in the event he wasn’t able to “pull” him across himself. Malcolm hadn’t expected to have competition for the crosses so soon, and Gregory knew he must have been furious when he discovered that Calder had sent through others right after him.

Still, it was a long, strenuous process—one that was already taking its toll on Calder and his followers, which was why it was so important for the released Casus to contribute to the effort and “pull” back as many as they could using their own power. To date, there had been three Merrick kills: one in Canada, one in Germany and the last made in Australia. In all three cases, the Casus had been able to bring another across after feeding off the Merrick, and now they, too, would join the search for the Markers, doing everything they could to get their hands on the ancient crosses that Calder was so desperate to possess. They would also continue to hunt, seeking out any Merrick who managed to send a Casus back to Meridian. Without the power of a Dark Marker, the Merrick were unable to destroy the Casus’s soul in the way that Ian Buchanan had done to Malcolm, but they could still kill the host body, in which case the Casus shade was instantly sucked back into the holding ground, where it would wait to be released again.

As their numbers grew, Gregory knew that Calder’s hope of keeping peace among the escaped Casus wouldn’t work. As much as his kinsmen wanted their species to return to power, they would simply tear each other apart in a bloodthirsty battle for the ancient crosses, seeing as how Calder had promised to significantly reward those who found a Marker and delivered it safely into Ross Westmore’s possession. Westmore was another mystery in Calder’s scheme—one they knew next to nothing about. All he and Royce had been told before coming across was that the mysterious Westmore—whose species was unknown—would be their contact man once they made it into this realm, and was to be entrusted with any Markers that they obtained. Though they’d had brief contact with a few of Westmore’s men, they’d yet to meet the man himself, and Gregory couldn’t deny that his curiosity had been piqued. After all, Westmore was not only helping to orchestrate their return to power, but had also managed to infiltrate one of the most secretive organizations in history, using their money to fund the Casus hunts.

As far as Gregory was concerned, the guy was either a genius…or completely insane.

Leaning against the counter, he crossed his arms over his chest, wondering if this mysterious Westmore would agree with Royce’s prediction that catching Saige wouldn’t be easy. “You know, I was always told that you held too much respect for the Merrick.”

Friesen snorted. “I don’t respect them, but I know better than to underestimate them.”

“You shouldn’t waste your time. It’s obvious that they’re no match for us.”

Lifting his right hand, Royce rubbed at the back of his neck. “It’s thinking like that, Gregory, that makes you a liability. Among other things,” he muttered. Turning away from the doorway, he paced toward the threadbare sofa slumped against one wall, then back again, past the single archway that led to the bedroom, where a stained mattress lay on the floor.

“You actually think we’ll have trouble taking her?” Gregory asked, snuffling a dry laugh under his breath. “A woman? You’ve got to be kidding.”

“She’s not exactly alone anymore, is she? Raptors are some of the most bloodthirsty breeds there’s ever been.”

Gregory curled his lip. “Don’t embarrass yourself by actually sounding afraid of him.”

“The problem with men like you,” Royce warned, slanting him a disgusted glare, “is that you always fail to realize the difference between fear and intelligence.”

“You’re starting to sound cranky, Royce.” Taking the towel from around his neck, Gregory tossed it into the sink and slicked his hair back from his face, then bound it into a ponytail with the elastic band he kept around his wrist.

Tired of wasting his time on the obstinate ass, Gregory turned to leave, only to be caught short when Royce grabbed hold of his shoulder. “Where do you think you’re going?”