Forged Redemption, page 6
part #5 of Tribal Spirits Series
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They’d headed out to World’s End first thing and parked in the same section as before. Where yesterday they’d prowled through on all fours, today they needed more vocal communication to try to suss out where Mackey’s lair might be. The foreign shifter scents tracked all over the area, which didn’t hone into any trackable trail. Not like it would in the Landsliders’ terrain. The job was to find the lair, then get the fuck out—recon only.
Revenge would come later.
Drew’s nose wrinkled. They hiked through another section that would’ve been easier in their shifted forms. Yet even in this form he could catch the stench of the Landsliders who stomped through here.
“You’d think Mackey would leave signs to make things easier for us,” Ally grumbled behind him. She’d slipped into a slim pair of jeans he wanted to peel off her lithe legs with his teeth. Her lilac tee displayed the soft curves of her breasts and the defined slope of her waist.
“Yeah, Secret Lair Right Here is what we should be looking for,” Drew murmured as he dragged his focus front and forward. Everything about her scrambled his senses. She always had. “We should be on the lookout for caves or random buildings. Any manmade structures might leave hints of where to go.”
The heights of this park were staggering. They loped along trails showcasing deep valleys of endless emerald covered by blooming trees. The Nettle Ridge area they strode through featured a beautiful river, the sun sparkling off the winding surface. Oaks stood erect on either side. He breathed in the life exploding through this place, from the first tender sprouts trying to poke through the ground to the bright green and pale pink blossoms overtaking branches that had been spiny and brittle from winter mere months ago.
Ally’s breaths beside him grew rhythmic, a gentle cycle melding with the steady thrum of the river below. They tromped through the area with care, not wanting to alert any other sentries who might’ve been sent to patrol. He had the feeling the mutant wasn’t the last one in Mackey’s arsenal.
Along the path, several brightly colored markers attached to the trees, directing the normal hikers to whatever loop they followed. Drew scanned over the tree, his focus snagging at the base. A symbol had been carved into it.
“Hold on,” Drew said, crouching by the base of the tree. His knees brushed against the matted leaves getting overtaken by green. He traced the carving with his fingertip, knowing it at once. Not like he needed a reminder when the same marking had been carved into his skin. Some nights, when the memories got bad, he struggled with the temptation to take a lighter to the Landsliders mark. To burn it from his skin, as if that might absolve him too.
Ally swung down beside him. “Is that…” She trailed off. He didn’t miss how her gaze swept to his hip. Even covered up, he was always aware of his mark.
Drew nodded. “Yeah, we’re in the right direction.” He glanced to her, forcing a grin. “Looks like Mackey did leave a sign.” Not like it’d be direct in the slightest. The man was far too clever for that. However, if anyone could figure out the pattern, one of his Landsliders, even an ex-Landslider, should. Chances were, these markings indicated to newer members the claim on the land rather than giving an actual direction. However, they’d be a clue.
“Follow me,” he said, pushing himself from the ground. Drew jogged ahead, tracking the markers this time. Some of the signs on the trees were normal, while others held the Landslider mark at the base. He continued to weave through at a quick clip, glancing to the bases of the oaks and pines he passed. The trail brought them farther from the big vista overlooking the valley and deeper into the forest.
Even though he had his claws and fangs, Drew felt underprepared as they trekked through the woods. He bypassed the twigs that would crunch and sections of withered leaves sure to cause noise while they walked. Mackey might be lurking anywhere around here. Drew could have a flamethrower and an M61 grenade and he’d still feel underprepared to face the monster again. After all, Mackey needed only one command to seize control.
Ava had done her shamanic mojo and supposedly broke him from the influence of Mackey’s compulsion, but he had a hard time believing. The ex-Tribe member had abused those abilities on so many shifters, for so long.
A shudder coursed down his spine, and he shook his hands out as he continued to trek deeper into these woods. Ally cast him a questioning look, but Drew just offered a half-assed grin.
“We’ll stop him,” Ally murmured, the words so quiet he almost didn’t hear them.
Drew nodded. He couldn’t voice how much it meant that she knew when he flashed fake smiles, and that she could figure out why he was fucked in the head. Yet he was too damaged to deal with, and even if she chipped away at the surface, she didn’t deserve the burden of the twisted, charred grove his mind had become.
Ahead, stacks of granite and shale dominated the area, cutting through the thick grove of trees.
A massive oak in the center stretched to the sky, branches like grasping fingers while tender buds exposed green along the stark surface. Even from here, Drew caught the glimpse of the mark carved into the base, looking different from the others. He jogged ahead for a better view. When he got closer, he slowed to a careful walk. This wasn’t one of the ordinary marks, a bit off-color from the taupe shade of the tree bark. He knelt to the ground in front of it and sniffed.
Drew knew the scent of dried blood anywhere.
“His lair has to be around here,” Drew said, his words coming out thick and clumsy. Fear coated him like sap, and his fingers numbed. Blood, blood and more blood. That was the legacy of the Landsliders from the moment he’d entered the fold to the crimson they’d spilled out on the field.
He didn’t question this was the site. Somewhere amidst these stone stacks they would find Mackey Kendricks’ lair. His mouth dried even while he forced himself upright. Ally buzzed with nerves of her own. She paced back and forth through the clearing. Her gaze darted at the slightest sounds, like she was a violin string begging for the bow.
“Check the stones,” Drew said while he toed the ground before him in case the earth might reveal the planks of a secret hatch beneath the leaves.
“I’ll check what I want,” Ally mouthed off even as she sauntered toward the rock faces and columns of stones. She tried to stay calm and collected, same as him.
His heart thundered louder than the falls of Ricketts Glen. He wandered to the stacks himself, checking the ground every couple of seconds to see if he bypassed hidden doors.
He passed one of the stacks that towered high enough for a climb, olive moss crawling over the surface and thick striations and cracks from the top to bottom. Drew slipped his fingers into the cracks, hoping to find a button, a trigger to some secret entrance. Kendricks was the king of hidden entrances and turning the simple into something more complex. Only stood to reason his private hideout would be as tricky to find.
“Drew,” Ally called, her voice quieter than normal. This close, who knew where the Landsliders might be lurking.
He jogged over to her side. She stood in front of one of the crags, tracing her fingertips across the surface. Even feet away, he could see the shape she traced, a large rectangle a shade lighter than the rest of the weathered stone, as if it hadn’t been hit by the same storms of time. This must be the spot.
Even though his mission was to find the entrance to Mackey’s lair, part of him hoped they’d never find it. Part of him wanted the man to fade out of existence or just vanish to another part of the globe. Not like that would ever happen. Mackey Kendricks had a blood vendetta involving this area, a plan he’d been unfolding for years. That sort of revenge didn’t just dissipate—the same way the urge to murder the leader of the Landsliders had been Drew’s driving force ever since he left.
“This has got to be it,” he said, keeping his voice quiet. “Look for any type of lever or dip in the stone.” His fingers trailed along the ledges, and he slipped them into the striations, looking for anything. He stepped past Ally who traced the outline of the rock, and he began checking the base. If Mackey left all his other hints there, stood to reason this one would be too.
He paused on the bit of metal his fingertip snagged on, the surface smoother than the grain of the stone. Drew pushed the metal, and the piece flipped, like a lever.
A sharp gasp came from Ally, feet away.
Drew whipped around in time to see the stone veneer slide back, a mechanized door opening into a pit of darkness. She took the first step, peering in before she cast a glance to him. Drew nodded, slipping behind her. The scent inside was stale, musty, like a cave, but no lights decorated this entrance. Ally disappeared through the opening and he took the couple of steps in to follow.
His eyes adjusted to the darkness, black blobs solidifying and growing grayer. Nothing jumped out at him and no scratches or shuffles followed. He took another tentative step forward, even as Ally stilled.
A scrape sounded behind them, and the door slid shut.
Chapter Seven
They were trapped.
Ally whipped around in time to watch the door slide shut, leaving them in pitch darkness. They’d entered this place sans flashlight and sans weapon apart from their own claws and fangs, which meant no tools to work the thing open. Unless they found a lever on the interior cave wall, they weren’t getting out. She sank to a crouch and began to feel around the door for a latch, a knob, anything to get it back open. As she trailed her fingertips along the bumpy edges, her stomach dropped.
This entrance traveled one-way. The door was sealed tight. Why post guards at the door when the biggest monsters lurked inside?
“Stick with me,” Drew whispered, reaching out for her hand. She threaded her fingers through his. Even in the dark, in the lair of their worst enemy, his touch grounded her. Even here, she caught the whiff of vanilla and smoke.
Ally’s heart pounded louder than a tolling church bell. They both dropped into silence before taking tentative steps ahead. No sentries lurked in this entrance and she switched to the eyes of her mountain lion to get a better view of the room before her. The bare circular area emptied into three narrow corridors sloping down and pale wooden beams laid out against the carved stone. Shelving jutted from the walls and crates were stacked on either side. This looked more like a storage spot than any grand entrance. For that, she was grateful.
Ally tugged at their joined hands. “Which one?” she asked, her voice scant above a whisper.
Drew tilted his head in the direction of the tunnel to the far left. “His scent is all over this place, but strongest that way.”
“Joy,” she responded, sarcasm her sole defense against the subzero cold imprinting her bones. She and Drew were stuck in the monster’s lair and a veritable swarm of Landsliders could roam these halls. They needed to get out of here and fast—any confrontation would be suicide.
Every step deeper into this place made her throat tighten. A million things could go wrong, yet if they were discovered, no one from their packs would even find out what happened to them. They’d die alone in this mausoleum of a lair. Drew moved with a steadfast purpose she didn’t envy. She recognized the glint of hopelessness in his eyes, the abandon of someone who’d lost everything they lived for. Ally hated that look on him.
Except, she didn’t have any room to judge. She hadn’t reached out with open arms when he’d returned.
The air grew more stifling when they approached the tunnels, and Drew took the first step. Her palm grew sweaty against his, but she didn’t let go. The steep angle of the floor stretched out into oblivion, like taking steps into the forest on a new moon. She had never been afraid of the dark in the past, but there was a first time for everything. The stench of all the shifters that passed through this place pricked her nostrils, making her mountain lion pace inside her chest.
They headed down the narrow tunnel, stone scraping against her elbows on either side. The ground beneath her had worn down from tread, different from Ganzorig’s caves in Ricketts Glen. Her entire focus zeroed in on one foot in front of the other and the warmth of Drew’s palm against hers. His grip hadn’t faltered once, a steadying force she needed right now.
The slope of the ground had her feeling like she tripped forward and a few times she almost stumbled into Drew. He remained steady, even though they headed deeper into the home of his mortal enemy. For as much as she ribbed at him and they bickered, Ally couldn’t imagine how he remained standing after everything he’d suffered at the hands of that monster.
Spending this much time around him was dangerous. Proximity caused past clashes and hurts to melt away. Even though her heart had been beaten and battered, it pumped with intoxicating hope every time she was around him, making her feel young and stupid again.
The cool stone pressed in on all sides and for a moment, her vision swirled. She sucked in a shaky breath. Focus. Drew slowed as he stepped to the base of the tunnel where it spilled out into a different room. Ally didn’t bother to stop herself and collided with his back. She craved the heat of his body right now, the one thing keeping her from spinning out. Give her a threat to sink her fangs into, not all this sneaking around.
A hallway opened beneath here, the walls painted the bleach white of sunbaked bones. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, a stark difference from the dim room they’d arrived into. Not like any of the lights offered comfort when the biggest menace of the East Coast lurked through these halls. She strained to hear anything beyond the static quiet stretching through this place. Footsteps, voices, shuffling—any of that would be normal.
But no. Silence dominated this tomb.
Ally leaned in, so close to Drew her lips brushed against his ear. “We should look around while we’re here.” Really, the plan had been to find the lair and report to the Tribe, but if they were stuck here, they might as well make the most of it. As much as every fiber of her being screamed run, they’d never get this opportunity again.
He nodded and squeezed her hand in reassurance. The quiet through these halls disturbed her. This place was too calm.
They crept past the first of the rooms which had been set up with Ikea desks and more storage space that was dominated by packed boxes and sealed shipping crates. Given the Landsliders’ meth trade, they were probably filled with something illegal. Even as she peered in, her skin prickled. Based on the scents of all the different shifters alone, these halls got a lot of traffic, but the offices were well-lived-in, from the array of pencils scattered across the desk to the stacks of papers, some peeking out of folders.
Drew tugged at her hand, directing her farther in. They continued, one slow pace at a time. Ally measured each breath, each step, not daring to make extra sound. Who knew what roamed these halls, mutant or shifter.
Each door they approached could spell discovery and her breath caught in her throat before she peered into another room. This one featured a long obsidian table stretched out across the center with plenty of chairs. Corduroy couches lined the walls, along with a big flat-screen TV, giving the room a lounge feel, far different from Ganzorig’s cave hideouts. Drew’s shoulders stiffened.
This time, Ally tugged his hand. He passed her a grateful look, those gorgeous blue eyes flashing electric. Her traitorous heart sped up. No matter how mad she’d been at Drew or how much she tried to hate him, he held the master key to the padlock and chains surrounding her core, and they clicked with an ease she’d never found in another soul. Ally stepped out of the room and continued through the corridor, which began to curve. Her mountain lion perked to attention at the distant scrape of what might be footsteps farther down.
Massive double doors to her left snared her gaze, and she slowed. Most of the other doorways had been wide open, but this lay closed. Glass windows displayed the room inside.
Ally stopped still.
Two skeletons were speared by their skulls into the far wall of the room, a button-down and khakis hanging loosely on one and a blue-and-pink floral print dress on the other. Ally pushed at the black-framed double doors to enter the room. The scent of old books mixed with the coppery stench of dried blood, but one glimpse of the spattered altar on the other side of the room and she figured out the cause.
Drew approached beside her, their hands still intertwined as they walked through this twisted shrine of a room. Hundreds of yellowed news articles were pinned and pasted to corkboards, featuring all different shades of recrimination against the Tribe, shifter attacks gone wrong and situations where shifters were punished for injuring humans. Mackey Kendricks had an issue with the governing system among their kind, that had always been clear. But this mess of papers and photos comprised what must’ve been years of searching into a Martha-Stewart-meets-conspiracy-theory collage.
The polished obsidian floor had been cleaned often, based on the pristine glow. With the sheer number of dried bloodstains spattering the concrete altar on the other side of the room, she didn’t question why. As she soaked in more details from the articles along the walls, the dressed skeletons and the leather steamer trunks lining the way, the purpose of this room was clear—Mackey’s inner workings splashed onto a canvas.
Her heart raced at the sight of all of this, like they’d uncovered a secret. In a way, they had. Throughout the bombings, the infected meth and the Coalition attacks, their packs had been searching for why this region had become the target. For a while, the Red Rock and Silver Springs packs had sworn they were cursed. However, as they got closer to the altar, a picture of a house snared her attention—the old Landsliders’ hideout where they’d taken down the Coalition. Except in this picture, the building wasn’t dilapidated.
