“You’re gonna pay for this!” the voice warned.

Shit!

Time for Plan B.

42

The loud sound echoed against the old buildings. Luther shot a look to Forrester’s hiding place, but he couldn’t see anything, only a movement behind one of the windows. A shadow shifting. Nothing more. Had he shot at them? Shit!

Luther sprinted toward Isabelle, jumping over a low chain link fence that separated him from the young hybrid, when he heard a loud whooshing sound from above. He glanced up and saw a black helicopter swoop down onto the path, cutting him off from Roxanne and in effect creating a barrier between Isabelle and Forrester’s hiding place. The wind generated by the rotor blades made Luther sway for a moment, but he continued barreling toward Isabelle.

“Isabelle!” he called out to her, hoping she could hear him over the noise of the helicopter. “Don’t be afraid! I’m working for your father.”

He saw how she jerked her head in his direction, her body trembling. The sight reminded him of what he’d done to her mother twenty years earlier. With silver handcuffs he’d tied Delilah to a pole and gagged her, though he hadn’t blindfolded her. He’d rigged the podium where she and Nina were standing to blow up once a motion sensor was triggered.

Heart pounding, Luther stopped dead in his tracks. What if Forrester had had the same idea? What if he’d set motion sensors that would trigger the countdown to a bomb as soon as somebody got close enough to Isabelle? Forrester had used motion sensors to switch on the lights to guide him to this location, why not use them to blow up Isabelle the moment somebody approached her? Why else would he leave her out here, seemingly easy to reach, rather than keep her with him in the storehouse and only release her once he had what he wanted?

Shit!

“Stay calm, Isabelle!” he instructed her, shouting over the noise. “I’ll have to check your surroundings first.”

She appeared to nod though he couldn’t tell for sure. Maybe she was trembling and shivering too much, fear making her body shake. A twenty-year old girl, even a hybrid, had to be scared, standing in the middle of a commotion, which she couldn’t even see. The noise was deafening now. Luther glanced over his shoulder. Several dark figures had descended from the helicopter and were charging toward the storehouse. Others were coming from the rocks to the left of the building, from a path leading up from the water. He focused his eyes on them. Frogmen? As they came closer, Luther realized that they were wearing wetsuits and had swum to the island, most likely from a boat not too far from the shore. They were surrounding the building now.

Luther turned back to Isabelle. About twenty yards separated them. He scanned the ground with his eyes, carefully zooming in on every shadow and every rock or patch of unevenness he saw, making sure it wasn’t an electronic device. Slowly he crept closer.

“I’m almost there, honey,” he said, trying to reassure her. “Nod if you’re uninjured.”

She nodded instantly.

He sighed in relief and took another step closer, continuously scanning the ground. “Isabelle, did you hear him setting any charges around you?”

She hesitated, but then slowly shook her head.

Gunfire erupted behind him, making him swivel. Bullets seemed to be flying, and men shouted orders and instructions. But the helicopter blocked most of Luther’s view. Nevertheless he saw the Scanguards men storming the storehouse.

“Bomb!” somebody suddenly screamed above the noise.

“Fuck!” Luther cursed and charged toward Isabelle.

It was now or never. If there was a bomb, he didn’t have the luxury of scanning Isabelle’s surroundings for any motion detectors. He had to act.

From the corner of his eye, he saw flashes ignite the darkness, but he didn’t stop to look what it was.

“I’m here, Isabelle! I’ve got you!”

He reached her and pulled the gag from her mouth, then jumped behind her.

“Help me, please get me out of here!” she choked out.

Luther examined her ties. She was chained to the remnants of a fence, a metal post. The blisters on her wrists confirmed that the chain Forrester had used to tie her up was silver, the only metal that was toxic to a vampire, so toxic that no vampire could break a silver chain with his hands, no matter how thin.

“Stay still, I’m gonna break the chain, okay?” He searched the hovel of rubble behind her and found what he was looking for: a piece of metal rod slim enough to insert into one of the links of the heavy silver chain. As long as he didn’t have to touch the silver himself, the metal rod would do the work for him.