Read Online Undeniable (The Druids Book 1) by S. A. Archer, S. Ravynheart - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: S. A. Archer, S. Ravynheart
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fallen building. Moving with the same unhurried pace, the same easy stride, the same overworked slump to his shoulders as everyone else, and he started into the wreckage.
Slipping away from the others, Peyton turned in behind a backhoe and then ducked into the cavernous entrance created by the fallen hunks of concrete and spines of metal. No doubt this was off-limits after the rescue crew and forensics made their sweep. Although the crumbled structure seemed to have settled, the rubble could shift at any time, crushing anyone unfortunate enough to be in the way. Demolition would be a top-down process, once this wasn’t still classified as a crime scene. Peyton could only imagine the things that Interpol and MI-6 were uncovering in the wizards’ decimated stronghold. Fey body parts for certain. They’d slaughtered dozens of them in the past month alone, preparing potions and enchantments for Manannan’s major power play.
Only, he and London screwed that plan all to hell for them. She’d been gung-ho to save the fey and he’d just been looking for his way out from under the wizards’ twisted thumb. That’s what Peyton told himself, and that’s what he needed to keep believing. He’d bounced from the frying pan into the fire, falling into Credne’s clutches, but Peyton wasn’t going to give up and fry. He’d play the game, just like he’d played it with the wizards, and he’d keep his eyes open and his reflexes sharp for his chance to dodge this crap-tastic fate.
Avoiding the twisted rebar and loose chunks of concrete, he moved into the shadowed depths of the building’s remains. Even knowing the layout of the place inside and out didn’t help with the crushed walls turning the guts of the building into pathways like the random twists of bowels. Once he found the remnants of the stairwell, now on its side and rising at a broken sixty degree angle, he used the pick axe to climb the narrow passage.
Reginald’s office had been close to the heart of the structure, on the fourth floor near the elevator shafts. Through his office had been the access to the vault, which was where the cauldron had been stored, according to the files.
Peyton picked his way up through the twisted debris to a point where the section of stair above had broken free and dropped onto the ones below. He crawled up as far as he could, and then gazed up at the landing four or five meters above him, that dangled upon bent metal bars that didn’t look like they could support a man’s weight. The only thing connecting the lower part of the stairwell to the landing above was the handrail that snaked along the wall.
Using his pick axe to gouge into a crack in the concrete, Peyton climbed onto the handrail. Agile and experienced in climbing, he figured that he could manage this. It wasn’t like he could go back to Credne empty handed. The magic within him still vibrated, reminding him endlessly of the price of failure. What vibrated pleasantly now, would transform into an aching torment before shredding him completely. He’d done his research. He knew what awaited him, should he disappoint.
Peyton shimmied up along the handrail as far as he could with his makeshift handholds. Then he rocked back, pulled the axe free, and flung himself towards the landing.
The axe embedded itself into the concrete and when his weight jerked on it, the landing shifted. It angled more sharply, but did not break free. A hissed curse whispered past his gritting teeth, as his grip locked harder around the handle. He swung, dangling in midair over the deadly protrusion of metal below. Peyton knew this well enough, and didn’t bother to look down. Instead, he focused on locating his next handhold. Swinging himself, he managed to reach a twisted steel bar sticking out of the concrete. Then he dug his toes into the surface of the wall to give himself a shove upward. Hoisting himself upward until he lay on his stomach, legs still hanging off, Peyton took a moment to
Slipping away from the others, Peyton turned in behind a backhoe and then ducked into the cavernous entrance created by the fallen hunks of concrete and spines of metal. No doubt this was off-limits after the rescue crew and forensics made their sweep. Although the crumbled structure seemed to have settled, the rubble could shift at any time, crushing anyone unfortunate enough to be in the way. Demolition would be a top-down process, once this wasn’t still classified as a crime scene. Peyton could only imagine the things that Interpol and MI-6 were uncovering in the wizards’ decimated stronghold. Fey body parts for certain. They’d slaughtered dozens of them in the past month alone, preparing potions and enchantments for Manannan’s major power play.
Only, he and London screwed that plan all to hell for them. She’d been gung-ho to save the fey and he’d just been looking for his way out from under the wizards’ twisted thumb. That’s what Peyton told himself, and that’s what he needed to keep believing. He’d bounced from the frying pan into the fire, falling into Credne’s clutches, but Peyton wasn’t going to give up and fry. He’d play the game, just like he’d played it with the wizards, and he’d keep his eyes open and his reflexes sharp for his chance to dodge this crap-tastic fate.
Avoiding the twisted rebar and loose chunks of concrete, he moved into the shadowed depths of the building’s remains. Even knowing the layout of the place inside and out didn’t help with the crushed walls turning the guts of the building into pathways like the random twists of bowels. Once he found the remnants of the stairwell, now on its side and rising at a broken sixty degree angle, he used the pick axe to climb the narrow passage.
Reginald’s office had been close to the heart of the structure, on the fourth floor near the elevator shafts. Through his office had been the access to the vault, which was where the cauldron had been stored, according to the files.
Peyton picked his way up through the twisted debris to a point where the section of stair above had broken free and dropped onto the ones below. He crawled up as far as he could, and then gazed up at the landing four or five meters above him, that dangled upon bent metal bars that didn’t look like they could support a man’s weight. The only thing connecting the lower part of the stairwell to the landing above was the handrail that snaked along the wall.
Using his pick axe to gouge into a crack in the concrete, Peyton climbed onto the handrail. Agile and experienced in climbing, he figured that he could manage this. It wasn’t like he could go back to Credne empty handed. The magic within him still vibrated, reminding him endlessly of the price of failure. What vibrated pleasantly now, would transform into an aching torment before shredding him completely. He’d done his research. He knew what awaited him, should he disappoint.
Peyton shimmied up along the handrail as far as he could with his makeshift handholds. Then he rocked back, pulled the axe free, and flung himself towards the landing.
The axe embedded itself into the concrete and when his weight jerked on it, the landing shifted. It angled more sharply, but did not break free. A hissed curse whispered past his gritting teeth, as his grip locked harder around the handle. He swung, dangling in midair over the deadly protrusion of metal below. Peyton knew this well enough, and didn’t bother to look down. Instead, he focused on locating his next handhold. Swinging himself, he managed to reach a twisted steel bar sticking out of the concrete. Then he dug his toes into the surface of the wall to give himself a shove upward. Hoisting himself upward until he lay on his stomach, legs still hanging off, Peyton took a moment to
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