Son of Saints: A Dark YA Fantasy Adventure: Renegade Guardians: Book Two

by Kyra Quinn

  Acid rose up the back of Viktor’s throat. “Sulfur? Are you positive?”

  All three prisoners nodded. The man on the right, the smallest and youngest, babbled until his cheeks flushed with color from the lack of oxygen. “None of us noticed it at first. We drank enough to drown a horse. But when I bent down to help Merric up, the sulfur punched me in the face.”

  “What are they saying?” the Avian demanded. “What does it matter if they noticed sulfur?”

  Viktor raised a brow. He sometimes forgot not everyone had spent years obsessed with monsters the way he had. “Demons and Shadowfey carry the scent of sulfur. The Shadowfey hide it better sometimes, but they both reek of corruption and pollution.”

  Her face paled. Her eyes shifted between Viktor and the crowd. She pursed her lips, sighed, and turned to the guards positioned behind her. “Your act of kindness with Iris aside, why should we trust you? What reason does Clan Sova have to believe their explanation of events or pardon them? My people value justice.”

  “As does Clan Kinzhal,” he assured her with a patient smile. “Wolves pride ourselves on honor and loyalty. I give you my word I shall tolerate no other behavior from my pack.”

  The Avian chewed her lip, deliberating. Her beady silver eyes studied him with suspicion. After a long, tense silence, she sighed and gave a dismissive wave. “Release them. If Clan Kinzhal is back, we’d violate the accords if we executed them regardless of their guilt.”

  When the guards set about freeing the wolves, the Avian turned her attention back to Viktor. “Why would a demon attack one of my people? What are they doing in Starbright?”

  Viktor shook his head. “Not here. The last thing we need is mass panic. Give me a few days and I’ll send one of my men to come explain everything. Are you familiar with Jett Tatlok?”

  She nodded. “I am glad to learn of your return. We had more power with the clans intact. I pray your presence can reunite Clan Kinzhal and return us to our former glory.”

  “As do I. I appreciate your help, Lady…”

  “Qari. Lady Qari, leader of Clan Sova.” She gave a small curtsy, her lips now pulled into a smile. “May our peace be long and prosperous.”

  * * *

  The hum of conversation filled the tower. Two dozen wolves had turned up in less than three weeks, with dozens more rumored to be headed their direction. A handful of the younger men had busied themselves with repairs as their wives tidied and tended to the children. The tower still bore evidence of the fire’s devastation, but the haunted aura of the building had disappeared, replaced by warmth and laughter.

  It struck Viktor as strange sometimes to find himself in a place full of wolves. He had spent so many years of his life fighting to suppress the beast inside of him, to blend in as much as possible with the largely mortal population of Mulgrave. None of the surrounding faces harbored any fear or shame of their dual nature. When they spoke of the wolf inside of them, they spoke with pride in their voices and a lust in their eyes that spoke to Viktor on a level he couldn’t put into words. For the first time in his life, he felt at peace with the monster who took over his body sometimes.

  “There you are,” Jett’s voice appeared behind him in his bedchamber. “Another small pack of six arrived a few moments ago. Zorya is getting them sorted out.”

  Jett stood by his side a moment later, his mouth stretched into a wide grin. He clapped a hand over Viktor’s shoulder. “How does it feel?”

  “Hmm?” Viktor lifted a brow.

  “You did it, Vik. You granted a new breath of life to Clan Kinzhal, given the wolves a sense of purpose and a place to call home again. Those people downstairs are here to follow and serve you, wherever you may lead them. And, you are one of the five most powerful people in Starbright.”

  Viktor shook his head. A hard lump formed in his throat like a pebble, his speech blocked. Unlike Jett, he had no interest in power or the responsibility that came with it. The coming war had placed a heavy enough burden on his shoulders without the added stress of leadership.

  “I need to get back to Carramar soon,” he said after a while, his voice low and raspy. “Remiel and the others...they need me.”

  He expected Jett to protest, to remind him his own people needed him. He started to string together counterarguments, but Jett nodded.

  “War is on the horizon. I can sense it. If it would help, I can stay here and train the wolves while you handle your business in Carramar.”

  Viktor exhaled a small sigh of relief. The wolves remembered Jett. They trusted him. “That would be most helpful, thank you. When the fight comes to Starbright, we need every man and woman physically well enough to fight trained and ready to defend their home.”

  Jett gave his shoulder a squeeze. “You can count on me. I’ll train everyone here in fighting shape by the time you return to lead them into battle.”

  Something about Jett’s sudden change in attitude made the hairs on his arms prickle, but Viktor dismissed it as nerves. Jett had his secrets in the beginning, but he had helped Viktor more than anyone but Remiel. There was no one better to leave in charge of the pack.

  “Thank you. For everything.”

  Jett only shook his head. “I enjoyed every moment spent fighting by your side. You are not Norrix Kinzhal, but you are someone equal parts brilliant and valiant. Clan Kinzhal is lucky to call you their Alpha.”

  He didn’t know if he believed Jett, but he thanked him. His eyes flickered towards the open door to the bedchamber, curious where Zorya had disappeared to. Would she follow him to Carramar? How much could he trust a warrior loyal to the Crown?

  Jett leaned forward and gave his shoulder a squeeze. “No matter what we face, we will do so with the full force of our pack behind us. The bitten and the born, united once more thanks to you. We will survive this, friend.”

  Viktor gave a weak smile. “I appreciate your optimism. Let’s find Zorya and see what remains to be done before I can depart. We need to prepare all our forces for battle.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Need to Feed

  Cimera tried for centuries to create a species of Fey capable of surviving without external nourishment, but she abandoned the quest when Zanox created the Shadowfey.

  -The Sacred Texts, 53:26

  “Up, princess. Time to train.”

  A melodic voice cut into the blissful silence of my slumber. My eyes snapped open. Seth stood in the doorway of my bedchamber with an easy grin. He had changed into a pair of loose dark slacks and a grey sweater, damp raven hair clinging to his face. He leaned against the door frame with such casual grace I wanted to snatch the pillow and hurl it at his head.

  I groaned and rubbed a hand over my face. “How are you supposed to train me to fight? Aster said you’re no better in combat than I am.”

  “Which is why Remiel has agreed to teach us both a few moves.” Seth’s smile widened, his excitement overshadowing any blows to his pride. “He’s asked me to fetch you and bring you downstairs to choose your weapon.”

  I rolled my eyes. Aster must have said something to Remiel about my clumsiness with the scythe or my inability to throw a knife. He never pressed me to practice with weapons or combat before his time in the Shadowrealm.

  Seth read the disappointment on my face. He straightened up and took a step closer. “Trust me, I understand. Physical combat doesn’t excite me much, either. But the better we can handle ourselves, the less weight we’re asking the team to carry.”

  Sunlight poured into the bedroom. At least Remiel had enough mercy to allow me to sleep in later than dawn. We hadn’t retired to bed until well into the middle of the night. Aster had opened a bottle of ambrosia after dinner, and they lost the rest of the night to swapping stories and formulating strategies for when the war came. Seth and I had said little. Seth sat in his corner and puffed on his pipe with a pensive face while I listened to Aster and Remiel discuss me and my potential liability as if I weren’t three feet away.

  Seth had a
point, but my pride refused to acknowledge it. “Can you imagine what it’s like for everyone to say you possess the power of an Archangel and a goddess in your blood, but no one trusts you to use it? Swords and shields are so mundane with the things I can do.”

  “Power has a price, love. The more you give into the temptation and use it, the higher the price becomes. Magic has many uses, but we need to know how to survive without it.”

  “That’s rich, coming from a vampire.”

  Seth’s smile returned. “If you don’t believe me, ask Aster. From what she’s told me, her dependency on power and magic has almost led her into death’s jaws more than once.”

  “I am not Aster,” I said, pulling myself to my feet. “She pays for her power in blood. Murder.”

  “And what do yours cost?” Seth asked, the edge in his voice suggesting he’d tell me soon enough. “How many Fey did you take from to pay that toll?”

  He had me there. No matter how impressive my abilities were, I had to feed on Feyfolk to maintain them.

  Seth reached out and pressed his cold fingers against the side of my face. “It’s true; you are not Aster. You have far more in common with my kind than hers, don’t you? How long until you need to feed again?”

  I jerked away. “I can figure it out on my own. Come, let’s not keep Remiel waiting for us.”

  My thoughts spun as I followed Seth downstairs. His words played over in my mind, haunting me. I wasn’t a child of night. But Aster could sacrifice her own essence to pay the toll for her powers. I had no choice but to take from others to sustain myself. What would Father say if he had lived long enough to learn the truth about who and what I was?

  Remiel stood outside in front of Aster’s door with his arms crossed. He frowned when we entered the room, his eyebrows furrowed. “What took so long?”

  “My apologies,” I said before Seth could sell me out, “I had some trouble getting out of bed this morning.”

  “Still sore from yesterday?” Remiel asked, his frustration melting into concern.

  I forced a weak smile. “I think I’m tired. Could I sit this one out?”

  Remiel’s frown deepened. “Lili, you need this practice more than anyone. You cannot expect to survive the end of days on your underdeveloped powers or beauty.”

  He meant well. He intended his words to help. But the heat spread up my neck and into my face before I realized what was happening. I grit my teeth as crimson rage clouded my vision and took over my tongue, sharpening it into a weapon.

  “If the rest of you could get over yourselves long enough to stop envying my powers and help me learn to use them, we could all sleep easier knowing we were safe. But your pride encompasses most of your personality, doesn’t it? You are all pathetic.”

  I regretted the words the moment they crossed my lips, but it was too late. A tense silence fell over the room as both men gaped at me. I opened my mouth to apologize, then froze. What right did I have to assume I could take back such cutting words with a simple ‘sorry?’

  After a tense silence, Seth cleared his throat. “Shifts in her emotional state are often a sign her hunger is growing. I’d wager a guess she needs to feed.”

  “So soon?” Remiel asked. “How often will she need to do this?”

  Seth shrugged, his cold eyes wandering between me and Remiel. “No one has any experience with a camphelem, do they? Her appetite should slow once her powers mature, but the rigorous training schedule must drain her.”

  Remiel glowered. “Fine. But we cannot afford to skip training today. You have a small window of time to fuel up and return. It isn’t the most fun way to spend an afternoon, but we answer to a higher calling than personal pleasure.”

  I fought back the urge to roll my eyes. Despite centuries of banishment, Remiel still sounded like a self-righteous angel when he lectured us. His appearance didn’t betray a single wrinkle or grey hair. Still, he often reminded me more of my father than a peer.

  Seth, however, flashed Remiel an easy smile. “Not to worry, it shouldn’t take anywhere near as long as it did last time now that Lili can focus her feeds. We can pick this up after we return.” He turned and placed a hand on the small of my back. His fangs glistened beneath the sunlight. “Come, dear. Let’s find someone to snack on.”

  * * *

  Seth didn’t say much on our trot through the streets of Carramar. He shoved his hands deep in his pockets and whistled as he strolled past the smaller residential buildings towards the crowded marketplace. A dark hat shielded his eyes from the sun, but they flickered throughout the crowd of bodies in search of our next target.

  Warmth tickled the back of my neck, but winter hadn’t loosened its grip on Carramar any. Frigid wind stung my cheeks and nose. I found myself grateful to have escaped Faomere. I missed Father and my childhood home every second of the day, but the rigid laws of the land were a different story. At least Carramar allowed women to wear trousers and shield their limbs from the cold.

  Not that the clothing Aster had loaned me did much to help me blend in with the rest of Carramar. The people we passed allowed their gazes to linger for a little too long to convince me they didn’t notice how out-of-place Seth and I were. The locals moved with a fluid confidence we couldn’t fake no matter how long we studied their steps. They smiled with ease and held their heads high as they strode through town. The women didn’t trail behind men or need a male escort to leave their home. In freedom they had found confidence I only dreamed of.

  “It’s too early in the day to pop into a tavern without attracting attention,” Seth said as we neared the busiest part of town. “We must try our luck with something less subtle.”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “Do you remember what I taught you last time?”

  My mind drifted back to the night spent in the tavern with Seth practicing focusing my energy in between rounds of drinks. The ambrosia left the memories fuzzy, but mostly intact. I told Seth as much, and he exhaled a sigh of relief.

  “It’d be wise to split up this time,” he said, wrapping an arm around himself as he avoided my gaze. “The way I feed is, uh, a little different from yours. Things can become messy. I think it’s for the best if we meet up when we finish our respective business in town.”

  Though he offered a sound explanation behind his request, his rejection still stung. My posture stiffened as I fought to hide any betrayal of emotion. What did I care if Seth needed space? It wasn’t as if I enjoyed him watching me drain other Fey to fuel my own powers.

  “Where should we meet?” I asked, my voice stiff.

  Seth glanced around at the buildings nearby. “Outside the dust den? People don’t ask many questions after they’ve entered the haze.”

  “Shall we say half an hour?”

  “Make it an hour. It takes more time for me to work my magic. We can’t all possess your talents.” Seth winked. “Stay safe, love. And try to enjoy yourself a little while you’re here. Gods know the rest of the day will hurt once the angel gets his hands on us.”

  We went our separate ways, Seth heading further into the north end of the city while I lingered closer to our designated spot to reconvene. Only after Seth had vanished did I realize I had no idea what to do next. A sea of bodies surrounded me, passives and Feyfolk alike migrating through the crowded streets. I swore under my breath and wiped my sweaty palms down my trousers. The more I allowed my nerves to work me up, the more obvious it would be I was up to no good.

  It was maddening how I’d learned just enough about the world around me to realize I had a lot more to discover. Various questions tugged at my thoughts to distract me from the task at hand. If all magic had a price, what terrible toll did Viktor’s abilities take on his life? Would my hunger fade away if I refused to use my powers? If I gorged myself enough on the essence of other Fey, would I have the power to turn back time and save my father?

  “Where do Fey spend their free time?” I muttered under my breath. The surrounding shops all se
emed too mundane for my purposes. Aster had exposed me to plenty of places the Feyfolk passed the late-night hours, but she rarely left home during the day. Did the Fey have careers or formal gathering places in Carramar? Or did most of them value their privacy as much as Aster?

  “...and did you hear about what happened in Wyvenmere?” a voice gushed from behind. “A pair of crazy wolves tried to attack a nobleman’s daughters at her own birthday party! Queen Moara sentenced them to hang when she caught them.”

  “A pity,” another voice, this one more gravely, scoffed. “If the wolves continue their shenanigans, they’ll soon cease to exist. Few left as it is.”

  I bit my tongue and sucked in a sharp breath, slowing my pace to allow the pair of overdressed women with their heads ducked together in gossip to pass me. Like a child, my throat itched to correct their ignorant assumptions. Viktor and Jett had walked away from the queen’s sadistic game without a scratch, and I refused to believe they had any part in kidnapping anyone. But I’d only earn another lecture if I picked a fight in the middle of the streets.

  Instead, I held my pace a few steps behind theirs and studied the pair of presumptuous tarts. On the surface, neither stood out as anything interesting or remarkable. Their anatomies mirrored the human body in every way, their complexions pale and porcelain. Both wore wide-brimmed hats on top of their poofy updos, their hands clutching matching personal fans. No wings protruded from their backs or horns from their heads. At first glance, the women could pass for a pair of mortal sisters.

  But I had spent enough time in Aster’s company to know how to peer beneath the surface. I bit the inside of my cheek and narrowed my eyes, focusing on the shape of their bodies as they glided through the twisted streets. A dull ache settled behind my eyes, but I refused to ease the intensity of my gaze. The more it hurt, the closer I had to be to the truth.