Warrior's Hope (Dark Protectors #16)(36)
“Did she now?” Zane asked. “She’s an adult, and she’s a strategic genius.”
Paxton sighed. “I’m aware of that. However, she’s always had a blind spot for Drake, and she believes she’s got to follow her fate and find peace. She’ll sacrifice herself to do it, and while that may be okay with you, I’m not going to let it happen.”
He pivoted slightly, putting himself toe to toe, chest to chest, against one of the most powerful immortals ever to walk the planet. Zane was born and bred to lead the demons, and he was as deadly as they came.
Instead of lashing out, Zane just regarded him. “As much as I would like to encourage you on that, you have a bigger problem to worry about, Paxton.”
“What is that?” Pax asked.
“The concentration of that drug in your blood has increased. It’s not disappearing in you as it is in Hope. She should be clear of it by tomorrow. So obviously it was made just for you.”
“Great,” Pax muttered, even as he relaxed at the news that Hope would be safe from the drug. It wasn’t a surprise. There was no doubt in his mind that Drake had been planning to get rid of him for years. “Why am I not dead, then?”
“We don’t know,” Zane said. “Emma’s researching around the clock, trying to figure out what it is and why it’s interacting with your system differently. There’s something in your genetic makeup that has reacted oddly with the drug, and obviously the Kurjans had a sample to work with to create a weapon specifically designed to injure you. There’s one avenue we might have to pursue.”
Paxton remained still and stoic, but inside, for just a second, he flashed back to that terrified little kid living alone with his father. When he thought he had himself under control, he forced himself to go cold. “I guess it’s time to see good old Dad.”
Paxton stood outside the jail bars and surveyed Henric and Fralep as well as his uncle. His uncle looked relatively unscathed, but the other two men were bleeding, wounded, and damaged. The interrogators had not gone easy on either of them.
His phone buzzed, and he lifted it to his ear. “Phoenix.”
“Hey, it’s Oscar. I’m still in San Diego—no luck with your father. He was here a month ago.”
“Thanks.” Pax ended the call and sent off a series of texts to other sources around the world. It was time to call in a few of the favors he’d earned in the last few years. Then he concentrated again on the occupants of the cell.
As he watched, Henric turned to the side and spat out a couple of teeth.
“Paxton,” Santino said, hurrying for the bars, his faded blue eyes wide and worried. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, Uncle,” he said. “You’re getting out of here. Come on.” He tapped in the code on a keypad, and the door slid open. He reached for his uncle’s arm and pulled him out before securing the locks again.
“Why am I being let out?” Santino asked, his eyes wrinkling in confusion. “I told them everything I know, but still, I am one of the Defenders.”
Pax had always thought it was an incredibly stupid name. The Defenders, his ass. “You told both Zane and Dage everything you knew, and you didn’t do anything to Hope, Uncle.”
It had taken him a while to figure out that his uncle had been duped. His soul was pure, and when he’d found out what had been done to both Paxton and Hope, he’d been horrified. Since then, he’d seemed to shrink in size as if he couldn’t bear the weight and responsibility. Soon there’d be nothing left of the guy.
Paxton patted his shoulder. “We’re okay. None of this is your fault.”
“I’m to blame,” Santino exploded, his arms sweeping wide. “I got you into the Defenders. None of this would’ve happened if I hadn’t agreed to go along with them. We should have just gone and studied insects around the globe as I’d been doing before.” His eyes filled. “It was a good life, and I miss it. I could have given that to you.”
There was no question Paxton would never have that life now, so he didn’t tell his uncle the lie. His path had been set long ago, and even if it hadn’t, the training in the last few years had ensured he could only be a killer. Hopefully the Realm would put him to work in the unlikely event that he survived the next battle.
“I don’t regret a thing,” he lied to his uncle. “You gave me a home, and you gave me a dog, and I have skills that will help me to do what I need to do.” He cleared his throat. “The Defenders are working with the Kurjans. Did you know?”
“No. I’m not on the inside.” Santino sighed and looked down at his bare feet. They must have taken his shoes. “What do you have to do?”
Pax couldn’t find the right words to explain because he didn’t fully understand it himself. “If I knew, I’d tell you, but it’s no longer your concern.” It was the one thing he could do for the man who had saved him, who had given him a home when he truly didn’t have anybody who was just his. “You’re going back to your life of science. They need you to study the migration patterns of butterflies because they think the Kurjans might use them as a distribution system.”
Santino perked up. “Distribution system. For what?”
“I don’t know,” Paxton said. “I just had a meeting with Zane, and according to him, several Kurjans have been conducting trial runs in the Sahel desert, using painted lady butterflies to do their dirty work.”