Shadow's End
Page 72

There were six people in Bel’s group, not counting Soren. The more Powerful of the Djinn could transport up to ten or even fifteen people at a time. The one thing they required was that they touch the people they transported.
At his words, everyone gathered close, putting a hand on Soren’s arm or shoulder. Bel also put an arm around Melly to give her a quick hug. Giving her a grateful look, the younger woman leaned against her slightly.
The tornado of Soren’s Power rose, and swept them away from the hotel.
She closed her eyes, enduring the chaos. Intellectually, she knew what was happening. A friendly Djinn had explained it to her once.
Soren would experience the transport very differently than anyone else. While the others would lose their orientation in time and space, Soren could even slow down as he searched for the right spot before materializing.
He would look for Ferion, wherever Ferion might be. Only when he had found the Elf would he bring the group to the physical location, and even though it was the middle of the night, she realized Ferion could actually be anywhere.
If Ferion had sent the guard tailing Bel and Linwe, the guard might have reported back to him. Even now, he might be hunting for her, because she had been gone for an unusual amount of time.
The world began to reform around her. At first she became aware of the others in her group – Linwe, Sidhiel, Luis, Claudia and Melly. Then the details of their surroundings came into focus. They had landed in the large, richly appointed study in the New York Elven residence.
Bel got a split second – not even enough to draw in a complete breath – to take in the scene.
Ferion slumped in an armchair in front of a fire, a long, lean leg kicked over one arm. His eyes were closed, and he leaned his forehead against a brandy snifter that he held in one hand. He looked so tired and desolate, her heart twisted.
In the next instant, his expression flared and he leaped to his feet. Shouting, he flung his snifter into the flames as he lunged toward the sword that hung on the wall behind his desk.
He was one of the strongest fighters in the Elven demesne, lethally fast, but he was no match for the speed of a first-generation Djinn. Materializing beside Ferion, Soren grabbed him in a headlock.
Two Elven guards were always stationed in the main hall of the residence. They burst into the room, weapons drawn.
As Claudia and Luis strode to the double doors, Claudia punched the first guard. Power glimmered around her. The blow lifted him off the ground and slammed him into the second guard. Both men tumbled several yards, back into the hall.
Luis and Claudia threw themselves at the double doors and slammed them shut. While Claudia flipped the locks, Luis dragged heavy furniture over to block the doors. Shouting sounded in the hall. Heavy pounding boomed on the doors, echoing through the room like a thunderclap.
“What about the windows?” Luis asked.
“They’re barred, and the curtains are drawn,” Bel called out. “All the windows on the first floor are bullet and magic resistant.”
While Claudia and Luis had acted so fast and decisively, Linwe, Sidhiel, Melly and Bel still stood frozen in the center of the room.
Sidhiel strode to the door. “Let me out of here,” she ordered. “I’ll talk to them.”
“Not on your life,” said Luis. “As wound up as they are, they’ll kill you soon as look at you.”
“Do you know who I am?” the Councillor demanded.
“Doesn’t matter who you are,” Claudia said breathlessly. “To them, right now anybody in this room is a traitor.”
“They’re right, Sidhiel.” The authority in Bel’s voice made the other Elven woman pause.
“A little help would be nice,” Soren informed them.
Bel spun to look at the Djinn and her son. Ferion fought the hold Soren had on him with a mindless ferocity. It was clear Soren tried to hold onto the male without hurting him, but Ferion acted like a rabid animal.
His torso arched. He went into convulsions, foam flecking his lips.
Soren gritted, “The soul lien was booby-trapped.”
Oh, shit, shit.
Bel leaped at them, as did the others. She shouted, “Get him down on the ground! Turn him on his side!”
Soren flipped Ferion in midair and laid him on the ground. Bel gripped Ferion’s head. Linwe laid the weight of her torso over Ferion’s legs, while Melly wrestled to get his flailing arms pinned. Luis ran at the heaving group, fell to his knees and slid across the floor to help Melly.
Strangled sounds came out of Ferion’s twisted lips. Bel shouted, “He’s choking on his tongue. Somebody get me a pen or something flat like a stick!”
Sidhiel dove at her, offering a dagger in a leather sheath. Bel ran a frantic gaze down the length of it. She recognized the workmanship. Ferion couldn’t bite through the leather to the blade underneath. It would do.
She forced it between his lips. Extreme terror gripped her by the throat. When Ferion stopped breathing, so did she. She whispered on a strangled gasp, “Soren.”
“Almost there,” the Djinn said. He knelt beside her, both hands flat on Ferion’s chest.
A blow hit the double doors so hard, the wood cracked from top to bottom. Claudia had been bracing against the furniture. She skipped back, calling out, “Another blow, maybe two, and they’re going to be in.”
Soren’s Power flared hot and bright.
Bel could sense deep inside Ferion’s body that hateful, darkened smear. With a snap, it disappeared.
The convulsions stopped. Ferion sucked in a huge, audible breath. His watering gaze flew to hers. She saw sanity in his gaze. The terror eased its grip on her throat. She wiped his face and pulled the dagger from between his teeth.
Another blow at the doors knocked a large hole in the splintered wood. “I don’t want to shoot at these people,” Claudia called out in warning.