Lucan Read online

  “The door’s locked.”

  She removed her communicator from her pocket and watched while Lucan slid a screwdriver from his boot and attempted to jimmy the station door. She tried contacting Shaw, then Quentin. When neither answered, she swore under her breath. “The military must be jamming signals.”

  “This way,” Lucan said. “Once we find Shaw, we’ll tell him that the scientists have been betrayed. Then we’ll find a way to protect Avalon.”

  Betrayed? Of course. General Brennon must have had a spy on the scientific team. Someone must have notified him the minute that they’d eliminated the shield and now… the flames were spreading like the wind.

  Why hadn’t the alarms sounded? Had the military jammed those, too? Did that mean the fire units wouldn’t respond? With the fire starting on the north end of the complex, the scientists inside still might not know what was happening.

  When the lock gave, she shoved past Lucan, entered the building, and took stock of their situation. The lights were out, so the backup generators hadn’t kicked in. She sniffed but didn’t take in so much as a whiff of smoke. Either the internal air scrubbers were independent of the backup generators and removing the fumes, or the fire hadn’t reached this far.

  “This way.” Taking Lucan’s hand, she led him down the hallway. How easy that small gesture of reaching out to him seemed. How natural. She could easily become used to touching. And being touched.

  “You can see in the dark?” He was squinting through his glasses.

  His question stopped her cold.

  He had no idea what she was.

  There was no other explanation.

  “I’ve always had great eyesight.” She spoke lightly, but a shiver ran down her spine. The Priestess of Avalon, a dragonshaper, could see in the dark and possessed keen hearing. Everyone knew. But not Lucan, apparently. No wonder he’d placed himself between her and the military airships. No wonder he held her hand and whispered in her ear. No wonder he didn’t fear her. He didn’t know. But how could he not know?

  Who in the Goddess’s seven universes was he?

  “You don’t believe in dragons, do you?” she asked.

  “You do?” he shot back.

  While he’d just confirmed her suspicions, now wasn’t the time for revelations and long explanations.

  Even with the emergency lights down, she had no difficulty steering through the long corridors. Her second set of lenses activated, lenses that expanded the pupils of her eyes. If Lucan could see her now, he would see no white around her irises—just dark purple. Very few people had seen her in this state, but those who had, even doctors who’d studied her vision, had been repulsed. But as she led him around water coolers, a file cabinet, and boxes of supplies, she was grateful for her superior vision.

  “I hear shouting.” She made a right, then a left.

  “It sounds as if they’re heading away from us.”

  She frowned, and her voice rose in fear. “They’re running toward the fire.”

  “We have to go faster. Stop them and turn them around. Hurry,” he urged.

  She broke into a run, then stopped at the main lab’s double set of doors. Lucan placed his palm on a door, feeling for heat. He must have been satisfied, because he opened the door. Smoke billowed out.

  Gagging, she stepped back. No one could breathe that smoke and live for long. “Shut the door.”

  “Someone may still be in there. Wait here.” Lucan lifted his tunic over his mouth and nose, darted into the lab, and shut the door behind him. If he got lost in the darkness, he’d die in there.

  Moments ticked by.

  She should have gone with him, but he hadn’t given her the chance, and if she went inside now, she’d never find him in that thick smoke. How long could he hold his breath? Should she go inside and shout to him? Should she flee?

  Damn it. Where was he?

  She took a deep breath and cracked open the door. Flames lit parts of the lab. Smoke burned her eyes, and tears trickled down her creeks. He had to be insane or the bravest man she knew to rush in there. “Lucan!”

  Blindly, he lumbered into her and she backed away. As soon as he passed through the door, she slammed it shut against the smoke and heat. Lucan crouched over, coughing, Sir Shaw draped over his shoulders.

  Shaw’s clothing reeked of smoke. The material was smudged with soot. He had several deep cuts. Blood soaked his back, and the handle of a knife protruded between his shoulder blades.

  In search of a pulse, she placed a finger at Shaw’s neck but found nothing.

  Lucan gently eased the man facedown onto the floor. Papers spilled from Shaw’s lab coat pocket.

  “Son of a bitch,” Lucan cursed when he spied the knife, and his rage almost knocked her flat.

  As an empath she could easily be swamped by sensory overload, and she’d had to become adept at blocking human emotions. But as Lucan’s anger pounded her, her temples throbbed. She couldn’t block out his fury and could absorb only so much pain. The urge to reach out to him was so strong, she lifted her hand to his face.

  “Who would do this?” she asked.

  “Don’t know.” Still coughing, Lucan grabbed the hilt of the knife as if to withdraw it.

  Cael placed her hand over his. “Leave it. He’s lost too much blood. He’s gone.”

  “In the smoke…” Lucan’s words came out a harsh croak. He’d clearly breathed more fumes than he should have. Sweat poured over his face, and smudges of soot blackened his forehead. “I didn’t see the knife. If I’d known… maybe I could have stopped the bleeding.”

  She shook her head. “You did what you could. Did you see any of the others?”

  Lucan shook his head and placed his palm on the door. “It’s getting hotter. We have to leave.”

  She closed Shaw’s eyes and stood, a lump burning her throat. She hadn’t known the scientist long, but he’d been a fine leader. A decent man.

  Lucan’s anguish enhanced her own sorrow, until she felt as if she were drowning in despair. She had to regain control. Now was no time to let her empathic senses override her thinking.

  Lucan bent to pick up the body. Blocking his emotions while cornering and corralling hers, she stopped him. “We need to leave. Now. Shaw wouldn’t want us to die with him.”

  Lucan slowly straightened, suppressing his own grief. “You’re right.”

  Praying there weren’t other scientists trapped in the lab, she turned back the way they’d come. Already the hallway had grown uncomfortably hot.

  Still, she spared a few seconds to gather the papers that had fallen from Shaw’s lab coat and stuff them in her pocket. Had the man died protecting those papers?

  So many questions spiraled through her, but the fire was spreading, and the floor outside the door had begun to burn. She grabbed Lucan’s hand. “Let’s go.”

  They made their way toward the exit as explosions thundered around them. Flammable chemicals had begun to heat and burst from their containers. If Cael and Lucan couldn’t escape, they would die.

  Although his breath sounded labored, Lucan kept pace as she sprinted to the door. When he stumbled, he regained his balance. She tried to head back in the direction they’d come, but smoke and flames blocked her path, and she diverted to a different route.

  “We have to get off the site. And hide until we figure out what to do.” Lucan’s voice was low and harsh from the smoke.

  Hiding wouldn’t be easy. Everyone on the moon recognized her face.

  One thing at a time.

  Behind her to the right, fire flared and shot hellish sparks into the charred ceiling. Automatically, she turned left down a hallway, but the burning wreckage of a collapsed ceiling blocked the way. At her sudden halt, Lucan ran into her, grabbed her waist to keep her from falling. “Sorry.”

  They couldn’t go right or left. The hallways were burning. The flames flaring. Fiery debris rained onto the floors. She raised her voice to be heard above the fire’s crackle. “We have to backt
rack.”

  From behind, fire roared down the hallway toward them. She tried to open the door beside her. It was locked. With nowhere to escape, no vast open space where she could dragonshape into a form that could save them, she braced for death. Prayed it would be quick.

  A tremendous crash sounded beside her. Lucan had kicked open the locked door. He yanked her into the room and slammed the door shut as the backdraft whizzed past.

  She gasped and inhaled the reek of old garbage and cleaning supplies. In the darkness, she made out shelving and brooms, mops, pails, and paint buckets.

  She searched for an exit. Didn’t see one. It was entirely possible they’d come through the room’s only access. Had they merely delayed the inevitable? Not even her unusual strength could break through the steel girders that framed the ceilings and floors of this building. “We’re trapped.”

  “Where exactly?”

  She wished she could shut down her heightened sense of smell. One of the disadvantages to superior senses was that when a smell was bad, it almost overpowered her ability to think. This stench was almost knocking her out. Then the fire would… Stop it. She took short, shallow breaths. “We’re in the janitorial unit.”

  He stepped forward, feeling his way along the walls. “Maybe there’s a back door?”

  “There isn’t. I can see the rear wall.”

  He remained calm, his tone thoughtful. Even more impressive, she didn’t sense even a hint of panic. He wasn’t faking calm. He was calm, undefeated. “Tell me what else you see.”

  “Cooling conduits.” His steadiness helped settle her claustrophobia. Usually, she was okay with the fact that she didn’t have room to dragonshape, yet with her life in danger, the walls felt as if they were closing in. “Maybe if we pry off the vent—”

  “What else?”

  Interesting that he didn’t jump at the first option. “There’s a vacuum system. And a service elevator.” She tugged him forward. “Over here.”

  Behind them the door smoked and blackened, and flames ate through the panels. Calm was a good thing, but urgency and haste were in order now.

  He pounded on the doors of the service elevator. “Where does this go?”

  “I have no idea. But the power’s off. We can’t take the elevator anywhere because it doesn’t have a manual override. At least not one I can see.” She turned around, searching the stacked trash bags. “But there’s a garbage chute over here somewhere that might take us to the basement.”

  Lucan joined her search and started flinging aside bags to clear a path toward the wall. The room grew hotter and began to glow. She worked alongside him and prayed the flames wouldn’t reach them.

  She wasn’t ready to die. Not yet. Not when she’d found a man who didn’t fear her. Who treated her… like a woman.

  Lucan worked with fast and powerful efficiency, grabbing heavy bags with each hand and tossing them aside. Sweat streaked his brow, but he didn’t slow his pace. She managed to move only two bags at a time. The stench made her stomach roil. Her back ached. The muscles in her arms burned. But she dared not rest, even for a moment.

  Perspiration soaked under her arms, down her back, and between her breasts. The trash bag straps cut into her palms. But the discomfort was nothing compared to what they’d suffer if the flames reached them. The crackling fire at the door behind them and the increasing heat spurred her efforts.

  “Found it.” Lucan shoved aside one last trash bag and pulled open the chute’s door. “Get in.”

  Again his gallantry of putting her first made her feel feminine—even if she stank like a dead fish. But perhaps she would be the first to die. Cael had no idea if the chute would drop them into the heart of the fire.

  The ceiling started to smolder. Any place was better than here. She stepped forward. Lucan held out his hand to help her climb into the chute. Without hesitation, she took his hand, wondering if this was the last time she’d ever touch him.

  “You’ll have to lie down. Feet first,” he instructed, all business. Then his veneer cracked, allowing her to sense his deep concern about sending her down the chute.

  “Cross your arms over your chest.” She did as he commanded, wishing she knew what he was thinking. But she knew what he was feeling. Eyes smoldering, he looked at her mouth, leaning closer until his perfect face was a mere inch from hers. It was crazy how much she wanted him to kiss her. And then for one too-brief moment, he pressed his lips to hers.

  Her first kiss. Filthy, stinky, scared, she nevertheless marveled at the sweet sensation. Her lips welcomed the pressure, and when he pulled back, she ached for more.

  He grinned. “Good luck, princess.”

  “Priestess,” she corrected automatically, but she doubted he heard.

  He’d closed the chute, tipping her body downward. She began to slide. It grew so dark not even her keen eyesight could discern any light. She picked up speed, and friction began to warm her calves, the backs of her thighs, her bottom. Just as the heat became uncomfortable, her feet crashed through a hinged door and she was airborne.

  Above all, have fear of traitors, for they creep in the dark, burn the cities, ravage the heart, and steal the souls of men.

  —ARTHUR PENDRAGON

  4

  Lucan wanted to wait until he could be sure Cael cleared the chute. Around him, the ceiling buckled.

  Fire shot across the floor. His heavier weight would make him fall faster, but he couldn’t delay any longer. He jumped into the trash chute with fire licking at his back.

  He yanked the chute door closed and let gravity do its job. Was he jumping from the fire into an inferno? Would he land in the middle of a burning slag heap? Would Cael be waiting for him at the bottom, or had she been injured in the descent?

  If these were his last moments, he wanted to go out with the memory of her lips against his. But even more, as he surged through the black chute, picking up speed, he wanted to live to kiss her again.

  His body dropped, the friction heating his flesh, and he spread his feet, using the soles of his boots against the sides of the chute to slow his progress. There was no point to surviving the fire only to smash his bones when he reached bottom.

  He went from filthy metal surrounding him to… midair and blackness. Falling, gut swooping, he flailed, trying to catch hold of something in the darkness. Anything to stop his fall. But his fingers grasped nothing but air.

  His free fall ended in a jarring crash onto his back that knocked the oxygen from his chest. Something hard poked his shoulder. Something gooey and rank oozed down his neck.

  “Lucan?” Cael’s voice pulled him back from a close encounter with unconsciousness.

  But he couldn’t respond right away. Not until his head stopped spinning, not until his lungs drew in air. Through the blackness, he reached for Cael, but he touched only plastic bags. More garbage.

  “Lucan?” she called again. “Tell me you aren’t hurt. Talk to me, damn it.”

  Finally his chest muscles relaxed, allowing him to draw in a much-needed breath. The stench almost overpowered him, but he managed a whisper. “I’m here.”

  She found him in the darkness. Her hands touched his shoulder. “Are you hurt?”

  “I’m fine.” He shook off his grogginess. She’d taken the same route, suffered the same jarring landing. How was it that she sounded so unaffected?

  “You don’t sound so good.”

  “I’m fine,” he repeated. Gritting his teeth, he shoved up from the mess onto his feet, not an easy task in the unstable garbage. “But you sound as fresh as if you just rolled out of bed.”

  She didn’t respond to his innuendo. As usual, she didn’t talk about herself and switched the conversation back to him. Concern deepened her voice. “Your neck’s bleeding.”

  “Just scratches.” Automatically, he attempted to push his glasses onto the bridge of his nose. But he’d lost them during the fall.

  “Here.” She shoved the glasses into his hand.

  “Than
ks.” He put them on, but he still couldn’t see beyond the blackness. “Where are we?”

  “I’m not sure. Since there aren’t any windows, I’m guessing we’re in the basement.”

  His eyes teared as they strained to see, then began to adjust to the darkness until he could make out shadowy areas against inky blackness. “Let’s do a perimeter check. Maybe we’ll get lucky and find a door.”

  She stood, but a bag popped under her foot and he heard the sound of her body hitting plastic. She didn’t gasp or complain—not even about the foulness. “Maybe we should crawl?”

  “Good idea.” He listened to her movements and reached for where he thought her leg to be. “I’m holding on to you so we stay together.”

  “This way.” She began to creep over the bags. Some had come down the chute whole. Many had spilled. He prayed they weren’t slithering through contaminated chemicals.

  Girding himself, he moved forward. After what seemed like endless crawling, she stopped. “I’ve hit the wall.”

  “You still on top of garbage?”

  “Yes. Apparently the entire level’s one gigantic incineration bin.” She sounded more weary than frightened. “There’s no way out.”

  He refused to believe that. “There’s always a way.”

  They circled the perimeter for what seemed like a long time before stopping. Hot, thirsty, and tired, he slumped against the wall for a rest. He would not give up. He hadn’t come this far to die in a garbage dump.

  “Is it getting warmer in here?” she asked, her voice rising in concern.

  He wiped sweat off his brow with the back of his wrist. “We just need a rest.”

  “It is heating up.”

  Lucan realized it wasn’t as dark as it had been before. A faint red glow was emanating from beneath the garbage. Uh-oh. “The incinerator’s burning the trash.”

  “And us along with it?”

  Sweat soaked him. Within the last few seconds, the temperature had shot up twenty degrees.

  He started tearing open the bags of trash. “We need to find something heavy or sharp enough to break through the wall.”

  Sweat poured from his body. His lips dried and cracked. As the fluids seeped out of him, so did his strength. He tossed aside trash, feeling for something, anything, to use to get them out of here.