Hotbloods by Bella Forrest
Navan did another loop in the sky, which left my head spinning. Even after all the experience I’d had so far with being carried by him hundreds of feet in the air, it was incredibly unnerving to have my feet dangling like this, but I trusted his strong grip around my waist, and I continued playing the part of distressed damsel.
When we’d first come up with this final plan of action, I’d been half afraid that the humans beneath us would start trying to shoot at Navan—but thankfully, nobody was that stupid. Leaving aside the fact that Navan was flying too fast for any human to take accurate aim, they were also more likely to shoot me than Navan.
“Okay,” Navan said, after another few moments had passed. “That’s enough. Now we need to get out of here and find somewhere to wait—”
Before Navan could finish his sentence, a heavy weight slammed into us—so sudden and unexpected, Navan’s grip loosened on me and I almost fell from the sky. I screamed, and this time, it was for real.
He staggered in the air, gripping me harder and clutching me to his chest, and then zoomed forward, away from the park, away from whatever invisible thing had almost knocked us from the sky.
We had escaped the park and were flying low, weaving a path in and out of tall buildings, when sharp objects cut through the air, giving me a déjà vu moment of the previous night. I was expecting Navan to pour on the speed to place more distance between us and our invisible attacker, but in a move that almost gave me a heart attack, he soared toward the end of a dark alleyway and stopped at the end of it. He pushed me behind him as two knives hurtled directly at us, and in a moment when I could’ve sworn I saw my whole life flash before my eyes, Navan hauled me downward, the knives slamming into the brick wall behind us and clattering to the ground. I barely had time to look at them before Navan had snatched them up, and faster than I realized what was happening, he had shot the two blades forward with such breathtaking velocity I feared they would travel the entire length of the alley and reach the crowded street on the other side.
But instead they stopped abruptly in midair, less than six feet away. Two bloodcurdling cries rang out, and blood blossomed on the tips of both steel blades, one the color of molten lava, the other dark red. The next second, two figures thudded to the ground.
One was Ianthan, a knife plunged deep into his chest, and the second was a creature who must have been riding on top of Ianthan; the second blade had caught it in the neck. It looked nothing like a lycan or a werewolf—it was thin, hairless like a baby bird, and wiry, wearing an ice blue suit. Its skin was pinkish and so pale it looked almost translucent, and its long hair was almost white. Its hands and feet were far bigger than a human’s, with long and bony fingers, and its bulging eyes were a deep orange color.
“Ianthan,” Navan breathed, dropping to his knees before his friend. “What are you…” His eyes took in the other creature with alarm. “A shapeshifter?”
“Is it dead?” I stammered.
Navan ignored me as he grabbed the creature on top of Ianthan by the hair and threw him aside. He clutched Ianthan’s shoulders and rolled him over, revealing the full extent of his wound. I doubted even one of Navan’s formulas could fix him, but that didn’t stop Navan from reaching into his bag and pulling out two vials. He poured them over the wound, and I assumed they were meant to stall the bleeding, but it wasn’t enough. The blade had wedged too deeply into his chest. Ianthan sucked in a sharp breath. “I’m sorry, Navan. It forced me to…” His voice trailed off, his body going still.
Navan’s breath hitched, and then he shook his friend, as if that could bring him back to life. “No, Ianthan,” he rasped, and I realized from the tears glistening in his eyes that, despite Ianthan’s involvement with Jethro’s betrayal, Navan still loved his friend, and would have, in time, forgiven him.
Navan seemed to channel his grief into fury as he turned on the creature next to Ianthan. The “shapeshifter” was still managing to hold out, though from the looks of it, it wouldn’t be for much longer. Blood dribbled from its mouth, its chest contracting erratically. Navan grabbed it by the back of the neck, and the second he did so, the shapeshifter’s body morphed, and to my shock, turned into the spitting image of the homeless man we’d seen the night before, who had taken refuge in Navan’s bunker. The vision flickered, and then changed again, to another human I didn’t recognize. It continued to flicker and blur, from another human form and then to that of a brown Alaskan bear, and then its ability to shift seemed to sputter out, and it resumed its original pale shape. A now dead shapeshifter.
“What just happened?” I breathed, my heart hammering against my ribcage.
Navan stepped backward, unsteady on his feet as he stared down at the two corpses before us. His answer came out disjointed, as though his brain was still trying to process it all. “It was him… this shifter. Somehow, for some reason, it had been waiting for us, back in my bunker, to see if anybody was going to come back. And then… followed us, once it found out our intent? It was sent by someone, perhaps, and has been trailing us on and off. They must have kept losing us and finding us again. Using Ianthan as its carrier.”
I stared at him. “What? How could it have followed us? Why?”
“Shapeshifters can adopt any form they like. They can camouflage themselves with the environment, which in effect makes them invisible. They can also impart that camouflage to others, via their touch. Somehow, it got Ianthan, which was why we couldn’t find him. I just… I didn’t know shapeshifters were prevalent on Earth. It makes no sense to me that they would work for the Fed, either, since as far as I’ve always understood, the two have a notoriously bad relationship, almost as bad as they have with coldbloods.” He shook his head. “None of this makes any sense.”
“Well, maybe the Fed made an exception in this case?” I had never witnessed anyone die right in front of me and, even if they weren’t exactly human, it was unsettling.
We didn’t have time to stand there, though, because a crowd had started to gather at the end of the alley.
I grabbed Navan’s arm, expecting him to spread his wings and lift us out of there, but his eyes had fixed on two tall, heavy-set dark figures in skin-tight black suits heading swiftly toward us through the crowd. Steel masks covered their faces, and they moved with a confidence that scared me. Thick belts with sheathed weapons fit securely around their waists.
“Here they come,” Navan breathed, and I felt his hand rest lightly on the small of my back in a protective gesture. “Lycans.”
I sucked in a breath. Our plan had gone horribly wrong. We were the ones who were supposed to have spotted the Fed so I could make the first approach.
I instinctively stepped in front of Navan and moved toward both men. The crowd on the other end, I realized, was staying in place, watching the two men approach us, perhaps mistaking them for off-duty policemen. I could make out the lycans’ eyes as they neared, vibrant shades of green and amber, and my heart was in my throat as they stopped three feet in front of us.
I held out my hands in what I hoped was a universal sign of peace, even as they eyed the two supernatural corpses behind me. Although the first question I wanted to ask was whether the shifter had been working for them, I had to be economical with my words, especially as they both reached for their belts and unhooked some kind of silver handgun.
“You’ve made more than a bit of a mess here, haven’t you?” one of them snarled, glaring at Navan. He pointed his weapon at Navan’s chest. “What’s a bloodsucker like you doing on Earth? Spit it out before I put a bullet in your brain.”
“Please,” I said, my gaze beseeching them to listen. I could see the question whirring behind their eyes as they looked at me: What’s this human doing with a coldblood? “I know what it looks like, but we’re not here to cause trouble. We pulled off a stunt back there only to get your attention—we have an urgent message for your chief, and you need to take us to see him. Human blood is currently in transit to Vysanthe.”
They stop
Then one of them reached out and grabbed me by the arm. Navan immediately stepped forward, but the second lycan pointed the gun at him.
“Don’t move,” the officer growled.
My ears picked up on the sound of rotors, and I looked up to see a black chopper hovering thirty feet above us. Four more masked figures, clad in black suits, dropped from the aircraft, rappelling down on wires. They landed heavily, three of them instantly moving to Navan and grabbing him, roughly locking his arms behind his back.
The lycan who was holding me shoved me toward the fourth lycan attached to a wire. He gave Navan one last glare. “Oh, we’re taking you with us all right.”
Chapter Nineteen
The wires shot us into the night sky and pulled us into the belly of the waiting helicopter. The open hatch clamped shut after us, and Navan and I found ourselves standing within a small chamber lined with metal panels and long benches against the walls. Two lycans waited, in addition to the four who had escorted us up, and they grabbed us roughly by the wrists, fastening cold metal handcuffs around them. I wasn’t sure if Navan would be able to break out of them, but it was a moot point—we’d have to cooperate if we wanted a chance of meeting with the chief.
I shot a worried glance at Navan, who was standing a few feet away from me, and although I could sense nervousness behind his eyes, he was keeping his calm. He gave me a firm, reassuring look, and I tried to latch onto it, instill some of his calm into my racing heart.
One of the lycans led me to a bench and sat me down, and the others did the same with Navan, seating him next to me. A second later, black fabric was pulled over my head and I couldn’t see a thing.
“Is this necessary?” I asked nervously, but the lycans ignored me. It sounded like they were walking out, but I managed to make out one of them saying, “Sergis and Masta said they’ll deal with the cleanup job.”
I felt Navan’s warm hand touch my knee, as if to reassure me. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “They just don’t want us to see how to get to their headquarters.”
I swallowed as the sounds of the lycans’ voices faded behind the closed door. “What do they mean by ‘cleanup job’?”
“I imagine they have their own memory-wiping formula,” he replied. “I doubt they’ll bother with the people at the concert, given that I never revealed myself fully—you’ll probably see the story on the cover of tomorrow’s National Enquirer. But that scene in the alleyway was too graphic. They’ll have to go after the humans who’d gathered at the end of the street.”
The hairs on my arms stood on end as the chopper propelled forward to God knew where. I felt terribly vulnerable. We had no idea what these lycans were going to do with us, or if they would even arrange the meeting we needed. They could be on their way to a remote location where they could execute us. If anything was keeping us alive, it had to be what I’d said regarding blood being on its way to Vysanthe. We had to hope that would last.
I slid closer to Navan on the bench, craving his warmth. It was chilly at this altitude, and although I knew Navan’s heat would fade soon, he still held some warmth from the mild city night. He must’ve sensed my insecurity, as his hand touched my knee again, squeezing. “You’re doing great,” he said. “I mean that. You really are brave.”
If those words had meant something to me before, they meant a whole lot more now. “Thank you,” I whispered, squeezing him back.
It was hard to say how long the journey lasted—maybe a few hours, though with the black hood over my head, it felt like eternity.
We knew we were nearing our destination when the cockpit door opened, and footsteps spilled into the room. They stopped a few feet in front of us, where they remained, until the aircraft slowed, and then descended at a rapid speed, making my stomach flip.
When we shuddered to a stop, the footsteps moved forward and a viselike grip hauled me up. I was lofted over somebody’s shoulder in a fireman’s lift, and I spluttered, winded from the unexpected movement. I had no choice but to get used to the position as the lycan carrying me descended a set of stairs, and then stepped onto what sounded like rocky terrain, judging by the crunch beneath his boots. I heard more footsteps climbing down the stairs— Navan and the others following us—and my lycan continued to move forward, in what quickly became a very bumpy ride.
The air felt distinctly different from New York. It was also chilly, with a sharp wind that carried the scent of saltwater. We were by the ocean, but which ocean? Were we even still in the United States?
Finally, the lycan put me down. We walked forward, and after a few feet, the gravel turned into a sharp ridge that I would’ve tripped on had it not been for the strong man gripping my arm and pulling me over it. We then stepped onto a flat surface, perhaps polished stone or marble. I heard the sound of doors sliding apart in front of us, and then closing once we were through. We had stepped into some kind of hall, perhaps a lobby or a reception area, judging by the soft echoing of voices.
We stopped in front of something hard and wooden that felt like a desk, and my escort spoke up. “Is Interrogation Room 3 available?” he asked gruffly.
“It is. You can go through,” a higher-pitched voice replied, which I suspected belonged to a female lycan.
We started walking again, the lycan guiding me across the room, and I heard another door slide open in front of us. He yanked me through and then after another minute of walking, we came to a stop. There was a beep, the swish of another door opening, and then I could sense a blinding white light. The fabric over my head was tightly woven, but this light was so bright, some still managed to get through.
I was lowered into a seat, and I heard Navan settling next to me. Then the bags were pulled off our heads, forcing us to face the full brunt of the fluorescent lighting. I had to cover my eyes with my hands, the light stinging my pupils, and was only able to look around after a minute, by which time our escorts had left the room—except for one. I glanced at Navan, who seemed to have adjusted to the light faster than me, his eyes fixed on the remaining lycan.
His mask was still on, his vibrant coral eyes glaring through. But as he lowered himself into a seat opposite us, he removed the mask, revealing a face that was… quite extraordinary. Its bone structure was narrow and angular, with eyes set deep beneath an overhanging forehead. He had ashy brown hair that was more like a mane about his face, with the longest sideburns I’d ever seen on a man, and fine brown hairs covered every inch of his face and neck. His thin lips parted, revealing two sets of jagged teeth, and as he clasped his hands together in front of him, I realized just how inhuman they were—gnarly and elongated with unretractable claws.
He looked between Navan and me, raising a thick eyebrow. “So,” he said, his voice gravelly, “who would like to start?”
I looked uncertainly at Navan, but he was staring straight ahead, a cool expression on his face. “Before we begin, surely you don’t mind telling us what your rank is?” he said. “I carry sensitive information that needs to be relayed directly to your chief, or whoever makes the decisions around here.”
“Well, I am not the chief,” he replied tersely. “I’m the head of interrogation—it is my job to decide what matters are worthy of the chief’s attention. Did you honestly think he meets with just anyone we pull off the street? I suggest you start talking, coldblood, or the guards will go with their first instinct to execute you, and wipe the memory of the human girl and pack her back to her city.”
A muscle in Navan’s jaw twitched, but he kept his composure. I knew the potential consequences of Navan’s betrayal, if any of his people back home found out that he had given information about Vysanthe’s activities to the Fed.
Navan cleared his throat. “I take your point. I will explain everything, but, as I’m sur
The head interrogator had a good poker face, but not so good that he could pretend his interest wasn’t piqued at the mention of “secrets.” Navan looked at one corner of the ceiling, where a camera was positioned. “I will also ask you to switch off that camera, and obliterate the footage of us stepping in here,” he said.
The lycan’s eyes widened at the request, as though he couldn’t quite believe that Navan had dared to ask it. He opened his mouth and I was sure that he was going to refuse, but then he seemed to have second thoughts, and instead detached a device from his belt, and issued the order, “Rus, switch off the camera in IR 3—and wipe all footage from the last five minutes.”
“Are you sure about that, sir?” a gruff voice spoke back through the loudspeaker.
“Just do it.”
“Camera’s off, sir, and working on the footage deletion.”
The lycan shut off the device.
I understood that the camera was there for safety reasons, and was a little confused as to why the lycan had bent on this request. His curiosity must be overshadowing his caution.
He looked back at Navan and nodded. “Proceed.”
Navan shifted in his chair, positioning himself in a more upright posture, before launching into his explanation. From the fact that Vysanthe had become obsessed with seeking an elixir for immortality, to Navan discovering Earth, to his desire to keep it safe from his compatriots, to how he came across me, and everything that had happened since we left Texas. The main thing Navan omitted was the fact that he had killed the lycan agent who discovered his bunker—and fortunately, this lycan didn’t seem to know about an agent going missing up north… which might confirm Navan’s earlier suspicion that the Fed agent who came after him had been working alone.