No matter how painful.
“The toxin has been enhanced by a spell. It’s in your system, waiting for the caster to either release it into your bloodstream or to cleanse it from your body,” he said. “It can’t be removed by anyone but the bastard who cast the original spell.”
Her lips parted, sheer horror darkening her eyes. “Oh my God. Who would use magic like that?”
Fane was one of the few who could answer the question. “Long ago the monks not only trained Sentinels, but they created a small, elite unit that had one purpose.”
Bas smiled. “Death.”
Chapter Five
Serra launched herself forward, slapping Bas’s smug face.
A part of her knew that the blow landed only because he allowed her to hit him. He was bigger, faster, and stronger than she was. But it was still satisfying to feel her palm connecting against his cheek.
“You son of a bitch,” she snarled. “Why?”
He met her accusing gaze. “You know why.”
She did. His daughter had been kidnapped. And to get Molly back he’d been willing to compel her to St. Louis with a spell. And then to ensure her cooperation, he had filled her blood with a deadly toxin.
Fane stepped forward, his face as hard as granite. “Then tell me.”
Bas took a discreet step back. Not out of fear, but simple self-preservation. Fane caused that reaction in most people.
“My daughter has been kidnapped,” the assassin grudgingly confessed. “I want her back.”
Serra tilted her chin. “Remove the toxin and I’ll try.”
“I’ve been alive a very long time, dear Serra,” Bas drawled. “The toxin remains until Molly is back in the bed she was stolen from.”
It’s what Serra expected, but that didn’t prevent the sharp chill of fear that pierced her heart.
She’d thought about death in a vague, far-in-the-distant-future sort of way.
Now she could measure her potential lifespan in every tick of the clock.
It was . . . horrifying.
“Who has her?” Fane rasped.
“First things first.” Bas calmly adjusted his cuff, pretending he was indifferent to the furious Sentinel waiting for the opportunity to rip off his head. Literally. “Call Valhalla and assure them that you’re with Serra and all is well.”
Fane stood perfectly still, his lack of emotion a threat in itself. When Fane struck it would be without warning and with ruthless intent.
A killer with no mercy.
“They’ll suspect I’m being coerced unless we return.”
Bas gave a short laugh. “Oh, I have every faith you’ll manage to convince them. You are, after all, the infamous Fane.”
Fane shrugged. “I can’t perform miracles.”
Bas turned to send Serra a warning glare, clearly realizing Fane wasn’t in the mood to be reasonable.
“Convince him,” he commanded, heading back into his office. “I have a phone call to make.”
A silence filled the small lobby as the door closed behind Bas and Serra fought back the panic that threatened to overwhelm her.