Winter's Warrior: Mark of the Monarch (Winter's Saga 4) by Karen Luellen Read Free Book Online Page A

said aloud as she remembered the approximate height of the basement ceiling from her last excursion down there.
    “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking, too.”  Creed scowled.  “Okay, so I’m going to jump down.  Once I’m there, you’ll need to lower the ladder to me so I can set it up.  Got it?” 
    “What if you land on one of the shaft floor pistons below?"
    “ I'll jump near the corner of the shaft, away from the pistons.”
    “ Are you sure?  You're bleeding." Meg looked worried as she motioned to the fresh blood oozing down his right side causing the black T-shirt to stick against him. 
    Creed glanced down at his side as though just noticing his gunshot wound compliments of Williams’ spy, Slider/Miro.  “I don’t even feel it, but it must have opened up when I used the axe.”
    “You switched off your pain,” Meg said matter-of-factly.
    “What?”  Creed asked then shook his head dismissively.  “Never mind.  We have work to do.”
    With the grace of a panther, he leaped into the jagged-edged hole and disappeared.  A second later, they heard his feet land firmly onto the ground far below. 
    “Are you okay?” Meg was on her hands and knees, trying to see into the musty blackness below.
    “Yeah, lower the ladder.”
    Together, Evan and Meg slipped the folded ladder feet-first into the blackness as far as their arms could reach lying on their bellies.  They felt Creed grasp the weight of the metal frame and take it the rest of the way. 
    Squeaking sounds echoed softly up the shaft to the sensitive ears of the metahumans still waiting above. 
    “Okay, Meg,” Creed voice commanded.
    He didn’t have to finish his sentence.  Meg was already spinning and lowering her legs into the black hole, trusting the ladder to be there to catch her.  Her strong hands grasped the jagged metal edge of the elevator’s floor and felt her skin slice just before her feet touched the top of the ladder.  Grimacing, she adjusted her grip and used her feet to find the next tier of the ladder before letting go and slowly crouching atop the ladder.  Once she started down, she called up to Sloan and Evan.  “Be careful not to cut yourself on the jagged edges up there.”
    She felt Creed’s strong hands grab her hips and lead her safely to the ground. 
    Creed smelled Meg’s blood before she could hide her injury.  "Okay, whoever is coming next brings the axe," Creed called even as he was ripping off a swatch of his own shirt. 
    “I’m coming,” Sloan’s small voice echoed down the darkness.
    Creed helped her down before tending to Meg’s cut, remaining confident Evan would manage.
    “Give me your hand,” he said in the darkness.  Meg offered her gouged hand and felt his strong fingers touch her with such gentleness in the pitch dark until he found the torn flesh and felt it oozing blood.  He grimaced sympathetically.
    “It’s deep,” was all he said before he started wrapping the cotton strip around it tightly to stop the blood loss.
    “How did you know I cut myself?” Meg spoke only to distract herself from the pain in her hand. 
    “I can smell it—copper and strawberries,” he said simply.
    “Strawberries?” Meg repeated, sure she misunderstood him.
    “Are you badly hurt?” Evan asked, worry in his voice.
    “I’m fine, Ev.”  Meg shook off the pain even as she balled her fist around the makeshift bandage.
    “Pass me the axe,” Creed turned toward Sloan.  Her hands were trembling, but she forced herself to unzip the duffle bag and feel around for the wooden handle. 
    “Step back,” Creed warned before repeating the steps he used earlier to pry the elevator doors open, this time from the inside and blinded by darkness.
    Seconds later, they were stepping across the threshold and into the corridor.  Retracing her steps from earlier, Meg led the group down the basement corridor and into the supply closet.  Without hesitation, Meg slipped her hand behind the cabinet to hit