DAEMONEUM

by Laney McMann

  Tilting his body to the left, slate-blue wings spread wide, he watched the countryside beneath him give way to miles and miles of deep green forest. He glided downward, coasting on the light wind, toward a small stone home, smoke barreling from the chimney, nestled within the tall shade trees. The falcon’s keen eyes focused on a man standing on the home’s small front porch. Dressed in brown, knee-high work boots, dark faded jeans, and a wool coat that hung to mid-thigh, the man stared up into the sky.

  Heru shifted twenty feet from the ground, transitioning with a slight spin in midair, from falcon to human, and landed on his feet, striding toward the house through the trees. The man on the porch gave him a warm, yellowed-teeth smile, dimpling the green-tinted skin of his narrow cheeks.

  “Ya fly like ya forgot yar age,” the man said, holding on to an old two by four supporting the rickety roof over the front porch.

  “I’m young enough. And age is only a number. Ya taught me that.” Heru smiled as he climbed three makeshift cinder block steps and came to stand in front of the man. “Father.”

  “Son.” He patted Heru on the arm. “Come in, I suppose.” He turned, heading toward the ramshackle front door. “Yar acquaintance stopped by to see me. Don’t know why he couldn’t tell ya instead of me. All these secrets,” he mumbled. “Tired of secrets. Suppose I don’t mind it so much that he knows where I live.”

  Heru closed the front door behind him, walking inside a small living room with worn wooden floors and a brick fireplace, complete with a roaring fire. “Ya’ve known Jimmy since he was seven years old,” he said, taking a seat on the couch covered in faded tapestries and wool blankets. “He was in the Brotherhood with me when I was a kid.”

  “Eh.” His father waved a wrinkled hand, easing into a dilapidated recliner. “I know a lot of people. Doesn’t mean I remember ‘em all.”

  “Ya used to yell at him for eating all the grapes, remember?” Heru glanced around the small home. It was freezing even with the fire in the grate. Stone walls did nothing to keep out the chill. In fact, they held in the cold. The little kitchen had stacks of dishes in the sink, and the faucet had a slow, steady drip. There was no television, no radio—only stacks and stacks of books everywhere—on the floor, on the small round dining table and its solitary chair, and shoved at random onto one large bookcase. The few windows were covered in grime, and he could barely see out. Heru sighed.

  “Father, why do ya stay here? I’ve told ya I want to move ya to the city. Into a nice home.”

  “What?” His father eyed the room. “I like it here. No one bothers me here.” He adjusted the lever on the old recliner so it propped his feet up. “Untraceable, ya know.”

  “Ya, I know.” Heru folded his dark, callused hands together. “But we can do better than this. It’s cold. Not to mention ya’re out here alone.”

  “Ya think I can’t handle myself? Is that what ya’re sayin’? I can handle myself just fine.” He reached for one of his books off a side table next to him. “And I like it alone. No one knows me here. Everyone wants favors when they know who ya are.” His eyes narrowed at Heru. “Which is why ya’re here, while I’m at it.”

  “I also wanted to see ya. Check in.”

  “Sure ya did.” His gaze stayed locked on his son. “Off on yar retirement is what ya want. When’s the last time ya been here?”

  “A week ago,” Heru answered calmly. “And as I told ya before, I took myself out of retirement for a little while.”

  “A week? No, no, no. It’s been more than that since ya been here. A week.” He made a scathing noise, flipping through his book. “And when did ya tell me about yar retirement?”

  Heru sighed. “Father, what did Jimmy say?”

  “Jimmy? Oh, him. The raven kid who used to eat all my food. I remember him now. Brotherhood kid, always gettin’ in ta trouble.”

  “Ya, that’s him.”

  “Always hated ravens,” he mumbled. “Too bold. I told ya what he said, didn’t I? Jimmy? Blond kid, scraggly hair? That’s his name? The raven kid?”

  “Ya,” Heru gave him a patient smile, “that’s him. And no, you didn’t tell me what he said.”

  “Hmph. That church, ya know, the great big one, the Gesuati.”

  Heru’s crow crunched. “Right. In Venice. What about it?”

  “That’s where yar man is.”

  “Ya’re sure?”

  “I just said I was sure. Or your raven kid friend is sure, anyway. And if it’s who I think it is, hiding out in that old church like some coward, ya punch him in the face for me, ya?” He flipped through his book again and settled on a page. “I never liked him.”

  Heru pushed to his feet with a slight grin. “You want me to hit someone for ya?”

  “That’s what I said, didn’t I?” he answered, not looking up from his book. “Real hard, too.”

  “All right.”

  “Right in the face. You tell him it's from me, too.”

  “Okay. I think I’ve got it.” Heru walked over and kissed his father on the head. “I’ll be back soon, and we’re moving ya to the city. This isn’t suitable for a king.”

  “King,” the man mumbled under his breath, “not anymore. Used to be king. And I already told ya, no. I like it here. No one bothers me here except that Jimmy kid.”

  Heru bent so they were eye level. “Ya’ll like it there, too. Real close to here in Verona. Pretty villa. I never use the thing. It’s just sittin’ there.”

  His father made a noncommittal shrug. “Verona?”

  “Ya.”

  “Fireplace?”

  “A big one. And the home is untraceable. I’ll see ya soon.”

  “Wood floors?” his father asked as Heru made his way across the small home to the front door.

  “They shine like a diamond.” He winked, blue eyes sparkling, and closed the door behind him.

  Sometimes you meet someone and the second your gazes meet, you just know. There are no words to describe it. There is only a distinct feeling of falling. And no matter how afraid of heights you might be, you have no desire to hold on to anything—to steady or brace yourself. You don’t try to stop the fall—you welcome it with complete abandon. All the while knowing it has the power to crush you.

  Kade sat on the couch watching Cole across the room. It was obvious, regardless of how lovely Heru’s palatial villa in Verona was, it hadn’t had guests for a long time. The wooden furniture and carved adornments shone in warm hues, reflecting the flood of light from the large windows and French doors overlooking the River Adige, but the drapes, cushions, and fabrics had been bleached over time, the rich rose colors faded to pink.

  Cole was in the process of shaking out a pile of sheets that had been tossed on the floor in the corner. One by one, he took them out onto the balcony and shook them in the open air. Dust motes hung like tiny fireflies in the morning light, suspended like miniature angels around his body. In silence, Kade watched him—every move, every small gesture with his hands and twitch of his perfect mouth—as he paced to the corner, grabbed another sheet and shook it out over the balcony railing. She could not imagine anyone more beautiful than he was in that second.

  He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “You’re staring at me.”

  She nodded slowly without looking away. “Mm hm.”

  The corner of his slightly upturned lips lifted. “You’re still doing it.”

  “You’re beautiful to me.”

  Cole’s breath caught, his mouth falling slightly open. A surprised, gentle smile quirked the corners of his lips higher.

  It wasn’t often Kade caught him off guard, but she loved it when she did. The times when she saw glimpses of realness. She knew her words had stripped him bare. “Will you sit with me?”

  He walked over, abandoning the sheets, eyes darkening as his gaze held hers.

  “I feel like we’re playing house.”

  He sat on the couch. “Is that bad?”

  “Not at all, but like you said …
what are we going to do, just sit here?”

  “There are a lot of things I can think of doing with our time.” He leaned in, his hand cupping her jaw, and kissed her sweetly. “But I was thinking the smartest use of our time should be training you.”

  “Ugh. That’s not at all what I was thinking.”

  He grinned against her mouth. “No?”

  She tugged him closer, balling the fabric of his T-shirt in her fist. “We’re in Italy. Verona—home of Romeo and Juliet. This is the most romantic country in the world.”

  “I think that’s France.” He kissed her again. “Want me to show you around the city?”

  “Can we? Is that allowed?”

  “Heru left us cash. I don’t think he expected us to run out of food and not go to the store to replace it, and besides that, as long we don’t say the word Verona beyond these walls, I think the Daemoneum will have a hard time knowing where we are.”

  “Yeah?”

  He guided her mouth to his. “Yeah. I think we should walk around, check out the city, and then head out to the countryside and train for a little while.”

  “Okay.” She kissed him, a quick one, and jumped off the couch. “What should I wear?”

  Cole sighed with a grin. “Whatever you want. Lucky for you, it’s not as cold here during the day as it is in Colorado. No coats.” He stood up and grabbed her around the waist. “Jacket maybe, though. It’ll get cooler in the evening.” Kissing her forehead, he headed toward the stairs. “You coming?”

  “Up there?”

  “That’s where your clothes are, and I thought I was the virtuous one?” He tilted his head.

  She remembered the time she had said those words to Cole when she’d told him to follow her to her bedroom to look at her baby albums. “I know how virtuous you are.” She followed him up the stairs, and stopped at the top when he blocked her way into the guest room.

  He leaned against the doorframe with one arm. “Virtuous with you or not,” he smirked, “I could still use another kiss.”

  Kade pushed up onto her toes to get closer to him. “That last one wasn’t enough?”

  “No. You told me I was beautiful and then jumped off the couch when I tried to kiss you.” He leaned down, close to her mouth, but didn’t move further to touch her. “Not playing fair.”

  “Sorry, just excited.” She leaned closer, her lips almost brushing his. “It’s Italy,” she whispered.

  “I know where we are.” He still didn’t move, gaze steady on hers, but Kade noticed his eyes darkening.

  “I won’t bite. You could come closer, if you wanted.” She barely touched his mouth with hers, warmth enveloping her.

  His eyes darkened further, black eclipsing the blue-gray, his pulse pounding at the side of his neck. “You could come closer, too, if you wanted.”

  “My will power is stronger than yours.” Kade grinned.

  “You sure?” Gently, he bit the edge of her lip, but still didn’t kiss her.

  Kade’s eyes closed, and she leaned into him with a breath, her body molding against his.

  He backed up. “I bite.”

  Her thoughts scrambled, focus slightly off, and she closed the space between them, hands in his hair, and they crashed into each other, mouths pressed together. Cole picked her up and turned around laying her on the bed, laughing. “See? My willpower is stronger than yours. You can’t resist me.”

  Kade’s hands wrapped around his hips, holding his weight against her. “Yes, I can,” she breathed hard, heart racing.

  He leaned down and kissed her again, his weight pressed against her body, hands in her hair, down her neck, under her shirt, over her ribcage, and Kade lost all her ability to think. Cole was right, when it came to him, she had no willpower. She wanted him in a way she’d never known could exist between two people.

  Cole moaned against her mouth, fingers brushing the smallest bit of soft skin just underneath the elastic of her bra, and Kade’s heart fell to her stomach. With a grin, Cole removed his hand and braced his weight above her, staring down.

  “No, you can’t.” Pushing off her, he strolled out of the bedroom and across the hall, shutting his own bedroom door behind him.

  Kade rolled onto her stomach, pushed up onto her elbows, and eyed his closed door with a stupid smile. Jackass.

  Chapter 14

  “This place gives me the creeps.” Danny stood near the front door in the dark living room of Kade’s dad’s house.

  “It’s just empty, that’s all.” Giselle closed the front door behind her.

  “Empty and creepy.” He placed a hand flat on the wall.

  Shaking her head, she walked past him toward the kitchen. “We investigate deserted mines and sewers. This is not creepy. Where do we start?” She picked up an empty water bottle off the bar top. “Kind of hard to find anything in a house this big.”

  “Cole said underground. Whatever that means.” Dan dragged his hand across the wall as he walked along the side of the living room.

  “Well, I’m not digging.” Giselle threw her hip sideways.

  “Why do you do this if you hate it?”

  “Like I have a choice?” She raised a dark brow. “Anyway, I’m good at it, if you hadn’t noticed.”

  Danny strode past her and into the laundry room. “I noticed.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Feeling for vibrations.” He stomped on the ground in front of the washing machine. Hollow.

  “You are so weird.”

  With a grin, he said, “You should work with Cole more often. He knows things they don’t teach us when we’re in training.”

  “Like how to fly better?” She followed him into the laundry room.

  Danny crouched onto all fours and put his ear to the tiled ground.

  “Ew, Dan, that’s the floor.”

  He stood up and pulled the washing machine away from the wall. Underneath, in the floor, was small cut out with stairs leading downward into darkness.

  “Shit,” Giselle whispered, “A trapdoor. Maybe I do need to hang out with Cole more.”

  “I’d say ladies first, but one you’re my sister—so, no—and two,” he groaned, “watch my back.”

  The stairway leading into blackness had no hand rails on either side, just steps along a cold concrete wall. Danny reached out several times, hoping to hit a light switch, but there was nothing. Removing his crystal telum from his pocket, he tried to reflect even a hint of light so he could see, but there was none to be found.

  “How far down is it?” Giselle whispered.

  Danny didn’t answer. He couldn’t see a thing. The whole place felt wrong. The same way the tunnels between Bangerang and Crystalline had felt—like something—someone was watching. His feet hit flat ground, momentarily startling him, and he reached out in front of him blindly and finally hit something—a wall with a switch. He flipped it up, illuminating their surroundings in bright ugly fluorescent light.

  The underground space was as large as the first floor of the house, massive. One open room. A row of dirty stainless steel tables lined one wall, maybe ten of them, and the farthest wall housed floor to ceiling shelves crammed and stacked with used petri dishes, glass and steel bowls with dried dark liquid running down the sides, half-dead plants, and haphazardly piled up Bunsen burners. Boxes of matches, used and unused, were in a large bucket on the floor, along with syringes and white paper masks that someone might use if they were sanding something. The place had the distinct sharp odor of disinfectant, rotten food, and blood. It was familiar—and unnerving.

  “What the hell is this?” Danny lifted the collar of his shirt over his mouth and nose and took a slow step forward, Giselle close at his heels.

  “Experiments.” She glanced around the room, placing a hand over her mouth and nose. “It’s a laboratory.” Bits of hair that looked human lay across one of the steel tables along with droplets of deep crimson liquid. Giselle gagged. “This is creepy.”

  Danny inspected one of t
he shelves lined with used, dirty stainless bowls. “This is disgusting. Don’t touch anything.”

  “Don’t worry.” Giselle’s complexion had a faint tint of green. “Was he … Kade’s dad, he was … experimenting on people?”

  “Babies,” Danny said, examining a few open boxes on the floor. “A lot of them, apparently. Also on himself.” He glanced at his sister with a resigned expression. “Kade was the only child that transformed properly. At least that’s what Dracon said during the attack.” He turned to the boxes and slowly walked the perimeter of the room. “This, all of this, makes me think otherwise. Kade’s seventeen. This stuff is fairly fresh.”

  Giselle tracked toward a clutter-filled table and gagged again, covering her mouth with her hand. “Probably trying to make more Anamolia like her.”

  “I guess.” Danny noticed some of the shelves nearest him were lined with used coffee mugs. Who could drink or eat anything down here?

  “Dan …?” Giselle’s voice shook.

  He was already halfway across the room, feeling the waves of trepidation rolling off of her. “What?”

  She pointed at the table without touching any of the contents. Stacks of papers were all over, some had spilled onto the concrete floor, and underneath were several photos. One was of Giselle.

  Danny reached for it, shifting it from underneath a few others. It was a baby picture, they all were, and he didn’t recognize the other faces, but the one of his sister punched the air from his lungs. She was sitting on a tricycle, probably two years old. He knew the photograph. She and Danny had had matching tricycles. Hers was pink, of course, and Dan’s was red. An overwhelming urge to beat the living hell out of Dracon swept through him. Luckily for Dracon, he was already dead. Maybe.

  “Why is there a picture of me down here?” Giselle looked at her brother with terror in her eyes. “Who are all of these other kids?”

  “I don’t know.” The edge in his voice was sharper than a knife. “But I will be finding out. Come on.” He slipped the photo in his pocket. “Let’s get out of here.”