One. Two. Three.
I jumped into the void, lifting the daggers high as I brought my knees up to my stomach. I felt the first whisper-soft brush of leaves, kicked my legs out and then I slammed the daggers down. The wickedly sharp ends dug into the bark, clawing deep as I slid down the tree, stopping when my feet touched a thick branch.
Exhaling heavily, I pulled the daggers free and then knelt, using my hands to guide my way. I closed my eyes and let instinct take over. Slipping from the branch, I landed in a crouch, silent as I remained there for a heartbeat before rising. I took off toward my left, heading deeper into the forest, letting the increasing pressure along the back of my neck guide my way. About a hundred feet later, I stopped in a clearing cut by a narrow creek and dimly lit by silvery moonlight. The scent of rich soil filled me as I looked around. My heart rate kicked up as the feeling of heavy oppressiveness settled on my shoulders.
Fingers relaxing and tightening around the handle of the daggers, I scanned the shadows crowding the trees. They seemed to pulse as I squinted, and impulse demanded that I charge forward, but I knew not to trust what my eyes were telling me. I stood perfectly still, waiting—
Crack.
A twig snapped behind me. Spinning around, I swung the dagger in a high, sweeping arc.
“Jesus,” a voice grunted, and then a hard, warm hand circled my wrist. “You nearly took my head off, Trin.”
Misha.
I squinted, unable to make out his face in the darkness. “What are you doing out here?”
“Did you seriously just ask that question?” He held on to my arm as the air stirred around us. Misha leaned down, and all I could make out was the vibrant, bright blue eyes of a Warden. “What are you doing outside the walls in the middle of the night with your daggers?”
No point in lying now. “There are demons here.”
“What? I don’t sense any demons.”
“That doesn’t mean they’re not here. I can feel them,” I told him, tugging on my arm. He let go. “They’re close even if you can’t feel them yet.”
Misha was quiet for a moment. “That’s even more reason why you should be anywhere but out here.” Anger threaded his voice. “You know better than this, Trinity.”
Irritation prickled over my skin as I turned away from Misha to stare rather pointlessly into the shadows as if I could magically get my eyes to work better for me. “I’m tired of knowing better, Misha. Knowing better gets people killed.”
“Knowing better keeps you alive, and that is all that matters.”
“That’s so wrong. That can’t be the only thing that matters.” I almost stomped my foot, but somehow managed to stand still. “And you know that I can fight. I can fight better than any of you.”
“Try not to be too overconfident, Trin,” he replied, tone as dry as the desert.
I ignored that. “Something is going on, Misha. This is the second time in a month that demons have gotten close to the wall. In the last six months, how many communities have been attacked? I stopped counting when it hit double digits, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that each community that’s been attacked has been closer and closer to this one, and each time they’d managed to breach the walls in the other communities, it’s clear they’re looking for something. They’re doing sweeps.”
“How do you know that? Have you’ve been eavesdropping on Thierry again?”
I flashed a quick grin. “It doesn’t matter how I know. Something is going down, Misha. You know that. Demons may go after the smaller compounds in the cities, but they aren’t stupid enough to try to raid a place like this—like they did to some of the other communities.”
He was quiet for a moment. “You think...they know about you? That they’re looking for you?” he asked, and a fine shiver curled its way down my spine. “That’s impossible. There’s no way they know you exist.”
Unease festered in the pit of my stomach. “Nothing is impossible,” I reminded him. “I’m living proof of that.”
“And yet again, if what you suspect is true, the last place you should be is out here.”
I rolled my eyes.
“I saw that,” he snapped.
“That’s impossible.” I looked over my shoulder, in the general vicinity of where he was standing. “You’re standing behind me.”
“Thought you just said nothing is impossible?”
“Whatever,” I muttered.
Misha’s sigh could’ve rattled the trees around us. “If your father knew you were out here...”
I snorted, like a little piglet. “As if he’s remotely paying attention to me.”
“You don’t know that he isn’t,” Misha replied. “He could be watching us right now. Hell, he could’ve been watching you with Clay last night—”
“Ew, come on. Don’t say that.”
“I’m just...” He trailed off.
Misha felt it then.
I knew this because he cursed under his breath and the pressure on the nape of my neck gave way to a series of sharp tingles that spread to the space between my shoulder blades.
The demons were here.
“If I tell you to get back to the wall, will you listen?” Misha asked as he stepped into the moonlight. The silvery glow glanced off slate-gray skin and large wings. Two horns curled back from his skull, parting auburn curls.
I snickered. “What do you think?”
Misha sighed. “Don’t get yourself killed, because I’d like to keep living.”
“More like don’t get yourself killed,” I snapped back, scanning the ever-increasing shadows. “Because I really don’t want to end up bonded to some stranger.”
“Yeah, that would totally suck for you,” he muttered, his shoulders straightening as his stance widened. “Meanwhile, I’ll just be dead.”
“Well, if you’re dead, it’s not like you’d care about anything anymore,” I reasoned. “Because, you know, you’d be dead—”
Misha held up one large, clawed hand, silencing me. “Do you hear that?”
At first, I didn’t hear anything other than the distant call of a bird or possibly a chupacabra. We were in the mountains of West Virginia; anything was possible. But then I heard it—a rustling of bushes and broken branches, a series of clicking and chattering. Goose bumps rose all over my arms.
I didn’t think a chupacabra was making that sound.
Floodlights positioned high on the wall flicked on, filling the forest with intense blue-white light, signaling that the Wardens on the walls now sensed the demons.
And I was most likely going to be caught out here and be in big, big trouble.
Too late now.
The rustling grew louder and the shadows between the trees seemed to warp and spread. Every muscle in my body tensed, and then they came, bursting from the shrubs and scurrying across the clearing. Dozens of them.
Raver demons.
2
I’d never seen a Raver demon before; I’d only read about them in class and heard some of the other Wardens talk about them. Nothing they’d ever described did these creatures justice.
They were like rats—giant hairless rats that ran on two legs, had teeth that a great white shark would envy and claws that could cut through even the Warden’s stone-like skin.
“Well, that’s a bucket full of nightmares,” I murmured.
Misha huffed out a laugh.
Ravers were bottom feeders, scavenger demons that prayed on weak humans and corpses of animals and, well, anything dead. They didn’t attack Warden compounds.
“Something’s not right here,” whispered Misha, obviously following the same train of thought as me. “But that doesn’t matter right now.”
No.
It didn’t.
At least six of them went straight for Misha, seeing and sensing that he was a Warden. Me? They pretty much ignored, probably because I smelled like a good ol’ human.
That was their first and last mistake.
Hand-to-hand combat wasn’t exactly easy for me, not when my vision was constricted to a narrow tunnel, so I had to be careful. I had to be smart and keep my distance.
Misha shot forward, spinning in a wide circle. One of his wings caught the closest Raver, knocking the creature back several feet as he jabbed his clawed hand into the center of another Raver’s chest.
The crunchy wet sound turned my stomach.
Another Raver launched into the air, using its powerful legs. It was heading straight for Misha’s back.
I let honed instinct take over. I cocked back my arm, then let the dagger fly.
It struck true, embedding deep in the Raver’s chest. The thing shrieked as it plummeted from the air and landed on its side, already dead.
Misha spun toward me, his mouth slightly agape. “How do you do that?”
“I’m special.” I switched the other dagger to my right hand. “And you have another one right behind you.”
He turned, catching that one and pile-driving the sucker into the hard ground.
My knife throwing had caught the attention of several more Ravers. One broke off, charging me as its chattering sound grew louder. It swiped at me, and I dipped down, feeling the wind of its swing stir my hair. I popped up behind the creature and kicked out, catching it in its back. The Raver hit the ground and rolled, but I didn’t give it time to recover. I brought the iron dagger down, cutting off its squeal of rage.