Storm and Fury(23)

Feeling sick to my stomach, I pivoted and started back to the house. Maybe Thierry and Matthew would be done in their office, and I could bother them.

Maybe I’d crawl into bed and force myself to go to sleep. That sounded like a ton of fun.

Halfway back from the Pit, I stopped and looked up at the sky. It was a pretty clear night. I could see four faint twinkles. Stars. I closed my right eye. Correction. I could see three faint twinkles. There were probably more. The whole sky was probably full of stars, and maybe if I stared long enough—

I heard the footsteps behind me, and instead of swinging like I had done several nights before, I started to turn.

Pain exploded along the back of my head, powering down my spine, short-circuiting my senses, stunning me.

And then I was falling.





10


My knees cracked on the pavement as my palms scraped across the rough surface.

Breathe.

That’s what I told myself as I forced my eyes to stay open and sharp, throbbing pain and nausea nearly overwhelming me. Breathe through it. Don’t pass out. Breathe. My vision tunneled more than it normally did, and I struggled not to cave to the encroaching darkness and the pulsing pain.

An arm circled my waist, a whoosh of air stirred around me and I was lifted clear off the ground. In the back of my mind, I knew... I knew what it was that grabbed me. I didn’t sense a demon, and no human could pick me up like that.

Warden.

Memories from a year ago surfaced. Mom’s wide brown eyes, full of horror, as she realized what was about to happen. We’d been caught off guard, betrayed.

No. No way.

This was not happening again.

A bolt of fear blasted through me like a gunshot, kicking years of training into gear, pushing me past the panic and pain. Dropping one foot to the ground, I swung the other one back, my foot connecting with my attacker’s calf.

I was rewarded with a grunt of pain and the arm loosened around me. I went limp in his grip, my sudden deadweight throwing him off. He dropped me, and I hit the ground, rattling my teeth. I pushed through it again—through the woozy pain in my head and the roaring confusion. I rolled and then sprang up, whirling around.

And saw a mask—one of those white, plastic doll masks with the painted red cheeks and wide, pink smile.

“That’s therapy-inducing.” I stumbled back a step, shuddering.

The Warden was in his human form. I could tell, because he began to shift as he charged me. His dark shirt ripped along the shoulders as wings unfurled, revealing dark gray skin.

This was bad—so bad. Even if I had my blades, which I didn’t, I would be in for a whole different kind of fight once his skin hardened.

I feinted to the left as he grabbed for me. Spinning, I bent at the waist and kicked out. My foot connected with the side of his face, snapping his head back and cracking the plastic mask. It started to slip, but I couldn’t see anything other than shadows under the mask.

He stumbled back a step and then swung out. It was too much and too fast, coming from the periphery in my blind spot. I jumped back as his hand shifted, forming razor-sharp claws. The Warden caught the sleeve of my shirt. Clothing ripped and then fiery pain lit up my shoulder.

Wet warmth poured down my arm as I spun out of his grasp, sending a bolt of pure, raw terror through me. The fear did not come from the wound or the fact that a Warden was after me—it sprang forth because of the blood.

My blood.

Its aroma filled the air and rose with the wind, a metallic, sweet scent that could not be hidden.

It would draw them, and that knowledge triggered the thing that rested deep inside me, a power that I’d been taught since birth to keep under control, to keep hidden until the time my father unleashed it—unleashed me.

“No,” I whispered, even though it was pointless. It was triggered, and there was no stopping it.

Heat flared in my chest, the power and the warmth of a thousand suns. It rushed through my veins like a storm and heated lightning.

My grace rose to the surface, took over even as I fought it, even as I tried to think of winter, of cold mornings and icy rain. It was no use.

I felt it.

Heat rippled down my arm and white light filled the corners of my eyes. “You should run.”

The Warden didn’t listen.

White fire erupted from my arm and exploded from my hand, shooting out in a spitting flame as my fingers curled around the heated handle already forming against my palm. The weight of the sword was heavy, inherently familiar even though I’d called upon it only once before. Fire flared from the razor-sharp edges as the very air crackled and hissed.

His wings unfurled as I lifted the sword high. Flames arced as I swung it down, catching the Warden in the shoulder. A Warden’s skin was almost impenetrable. Almost. The sword cleaved into him like a hot knife sliding through butter, burning away skin and blood before it could even spill into the air, carving him in half as the righteous fire rippled through him, consuming every inch of the Warden before he could even scream.

Within seconds, nothing was left of the Warden but a pile of ashes, lit by the spitting, burning sword. Only the half-melted mask remained.

The grace recoiled and the sword collapsed into itself, becoming wisps of smoke and a fine dusting of golden light that evaporated in the wind.

A thin stream of blood trickled from my nose.

Slowly, I crouched and picked up the ruined mask. The moment my fingers touched it, the plastic fell apart, joining the dust on the ground.

“Whoops,” I whispered, and straightened.

Breathing heavily, I shuddered and stepped back. Blood... It was running down my left arm, dripping from the tips of my fingers, smacking onto the sidewalk.

This was bad, so bad.

I needed to get to Thierry, stat. This mess needed to be cleaned up before it was too late. That was the priority, more important than trying to figure out why a Warden had tried to kill me again.

Spinning around, I took off, and I ran—ran faster than I had ever run before, and I didn’t slow down, even though every step caused the pounding in my head to feel like a drummer had taken up residency inside my skull. I didn’t slow down and give in to the darkness chasing me. If I passed out and didn’t get to Thierry, and I kept bleeding, they’d come.

Especially if what killed Wayne was still nearby. They’d come in droves.

I reached the edge of the wall surrounding my house, hung a right—

I slammed into something warm and hard—something that smelled like...winter mint.

Zayne.

I pinwheeled backward, losing my balance.

“What the Hell?” Zayne exclaimed, catching my arm—the wounded arm. I sucked in a sharp cry, swallowing it as the pain flared hotly. “Trinity?”

He pulled me forward so fast there was no stopping me. I bounced off his chest and then I didn’t make it very far. He caught my other arm, steadying me. Winter mint crowded out the metallic scent of my own blood. My wild gaze landed on his face, but it was too dark back here to see him.

“Holy crap,” I whispered, feeling nauseous. “You’re like a wall—a warm, hard wall.”

“A warm, hard wall? Wait.” Concern filled his voice as his hands shifted on me. “You’re bleeding. Hell. You’re bleeding bad.”

I was vaguely aware of his touch gentling as my heartbeat thrummed. “Kind of.”

“Kind of? What happened to you?” Zayne kept ahold of one of my arms, anger joining the concern, sharpening his tone as he spoke. “Who did this to you?”

I started to answer, but stopped myself. “I...I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“No.” I swallowed down the rise of bile. God, I was going to puke. Or pass out. Maybe both. “I need to... I need to see Thierry.”

“I think you need a doctor.” A hand touched my cheek, and there was the weird jolt again—the sense of acute awareness. I jerked back at the contact. “Sorry,” came the gruff reply. “It’s okay. Everything is okay.”

I wasn’t sure about that.

“Nicolai,” he called out, and my stomach sank. He wasn’t alone. Great. How were we going to explain any of this to them? “We have a problem.”

“Not a problem,” I murmured, aware of the DC clan leader joining us.

“What the Hell happened?” Nicolai demanded.

“I had an accident,” I said.

“With a chain saw?” Zayne asked. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“I’m fine.” I leaned away from his touch. My legs...felt weird. “I just need to get to the house. Matthew is... He can help me.”

“Trinity—”

“I need to see...” The world wobbled a little. “Whoa.”

“Whoa what?” The hand was back on my cheek, fingers spreading and sliding down the side of my neck, through my hair. Despite the fact I felt like I might vomit, I shivered in response of the slow glide of his skin over mine. “Your head is bleeding, too.”

It was? I shouldn’t be surprised. The Warden did try to smash my skull in. “I just need to...”

“I don’t think she’s doing well,” Nicolai said, voice urgent.

Zayne stepped into me, and the warmth of his body was luring. The weird feeling in my legs increased, and whatever light I could see blinked out. I thought he shouted my name.

The next thing I knew I wasn’t on my feet anymore. I was... I was being carried. My cheek was resting against a chest—against Zayne’s chest.