Storm and Fury

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  “Okay. The fact that Zayne’s eyes are different is odd, but what’s the big deal? Are we discriminatory toward light-eyed Wardens now?”

  “Don’t be dumb,” he snapped. “There is no other Warden like him.”

  “There is no other being like me,” I pointed out.

  “It’s not the same. Far from it,” Misha argued. “Look, his eyes are like that because he... He’s lost a part of his soul.”

  Out of everything I might have expected Misha to say, that wasn’t it. I leaned forward, nearly toppling out of the chair. “What?”

  Misha glanced at the door before continuing. “I don’t know the details, but their clan raised a girl who was half Warden, half demon.”

  “What?” I whisper-yelled. “How had I not heard about this until now?”

  He blinked. “Why would anyone tell you?”

  “Because I... Okay, I don’t have a good reason,” I relented, and I immediately remembered Zayne saying he wasn’t the only kid raised in his compound. Had he been talking about this girl? “Please continue.”

  “The girl was Lilith’s daughter.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath. “Like the Lilith?”

  Misha nodded, and I blinked slowly. Lilith was the mother of a lot of very dangerous demons—creatures that could take a soul with a touch. They were called the Lilin, and something was vaguely familiar about that. Several months ago, I’d overheard Matthew and Thierry speaking about those creatures. It had been right around the time Zayne’s father had died.

  “I don’t know the circumstances around how, but he lost a part of his soul,” Misha continued.

  Falling back against the chair, I had no idea what to think. “Are you saying he’s...soulless?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not saying that, because if he was, I doubt he’d still be alive. His clan would have put him down.”

  Put him down.

  Like a rabid animal.

  I shuddered as I gripped the arms of the chair. “Then what are you saying, Misha?”

  “Why do you think he’s not the clan leader? He was the last leader’s son, groomed to take over, and he didn’t.”

  I’d asked him that question and still felt like a nosy brat for doing so. “Maybe he just chose not to.”

  Misha looked at me like I was half-stupid. “Doubtful. It’s obvious that the clan doesn’t trust him in that kind of role, especially since he’s still friends with that demon.”

  “The half demon, half Warden?” I couldn’t wrap my head around that. I didn’t even know that inserting tab A into slot B between a Warden and a demon could produce a child.

  “Lilith’s daughter,” he corrected me. “And he’s been known to work with demons.”

  “Really?” I laughed at the absurdity of that claim. Not just because it was insane to think of a Warden doing that, but also because a demon wouldn’t get close to a Warden if they had a choice. This half demon, Lilith’s daughter, was obviously the exception and that was because she was half Warden too. “Where are you even hearing this nonsense?”

  “I’m not the only one who overhears stuff. I heard Matthew and Thierry discussing it months ago, apparently when all of this went down. And it’s not nonsense, Trin.”

  I started nibbling on my thumbnail. “He doesn’t seem like he’s missing a part of his soul.”

  “And how does one seem like when they’re missing a part of their soul?”

  “Evil?” I suggested. “And Zayne doesn’t seem evil.”

  Misha met my gaze. “Isn’t that evil’s greatest achievement? It often hides itself in innocence?”

  Well, he kind of had a point there.

  I had no idea what to think about Misha’s warning. Maybe a part of Zayne’s soul was missing. Maybe he couldn’t be trusted to be clan leader, and maybe even more crazily, he’d worked with demons.

  Misha was right. Evil often cloaked itself in innocence.

  I should be careful around Zayne, especially given the risks, but the truth was, what Misha had shared only made me more curious about him.

  * * *

  Thierry showed up shortly after that, and he wasn’t alone. He’d brought a whole crew with him that didn’t just include Matthew, whom I wasn’t surprised to see. It was the last one who walked through the door that shocked me.

  Nicolai.

  I glanced at Misha with wide eyes. Hadn’t he made it clear to Thierry what this conversation would entail? Misha looked just as confused as I felt.

  “Can you close the door, Nicolai?” Thierry asked as he crossed the room and sat behind his desk. Matthew joined him, standing to his right. “Misha told me that there is something you needed to share that can’t wait until after the banquet.”

  “Yeah, but...” I trailed off as Nicolai sat in the chair next to me.

  “I don’t believe Trinity has met Nicolai.” Matthew stepped in smoothly, his red hair falling forward, brushing his forehead.

  “No, we haven’t met.” Nicolai smiled in my direction. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “Same.” My confusion was nearing epic levels as my gaze swung back to Thierry. “I don’t understand...”

  “It’s okay. You can speak openly in front of Nicolai.” Thierry smiled faintly.

  Misha’s brows rose.

  I had no idea what was going on. “Um, I’m not sure—”

  “You can. Nicolai understands that what he hears in this room cannot go beyond it.”

  Nicolai nodded. “Of course.”

  “What do you need to tell us?” Mathew prodded.

  I glanced at Misha, who was frowning so severely I thought his face might crack. “I saw...” I took a deep breath as my heart started pounding. “I saw a ghost outside of the Great Hall tonight.”

  Nicolai’s head swung in my direction. “Excuse me?”

  I stared at Thierry, having no idea what to say.

  “Trinity can see ghosts and spirits,” Thierry explained rather calmly, as if he were telling Nicolai I was able to walk backward while patting my belly and rubbing the top of my head. “That’s all.”

  I got the unspoken message there.

  “You can?” Nicolai was staring at me, and I didn’t need to look at him to know that.

  “Yeah.” I sank down in my chair, feeling like a strange insect under a microscope.

  “I’ve never met someone who could do that.”

  Feeling about seven different kinds of self-conscious, I gave a close-lipped smile.

  “Yes, I imagine you haven’t,” Matthew murmured.

  My wide eyes swung to him, and he winked. I had no idea what was going on, but I knew in an instant that something was, and something big had changed for Thierry to go from they must not know anything to revealing one of my abilities to Nicolai.

  Nibbling on my thumbnail, I glanced at Nicolai, and yep, he was still staring at me.

  “Please, Trinity, continue,” Thierry urged.

  I tugged my gaze away from Nicolai. “The ghost—the man? He was killed by a demon,” I said. “And it wasn’t a Raver demon.”

  Tension poured into the room as Thierry said, “Tell us everything.”

  And I did, telling them what Wayne had shared with me.

  “How can you be sure it was a demon and not an animal?” Matthew asked. “There are bears in these mountains.”

  “The only animal I can imagine doing that to him would be a chupacabra, and the last time I checked, they weren’t real.”

  “Chupacabra,” Nicolai repeated, shaking his head.

  Matthew leaned forward, planting his hands on the desk. “How long ago did he pass?”

  “I’m not sure. He was too confused to tell me, but I first saw him the day they arrived.” I glanced at Nicolai. “And he disappeared before I could talk to him, but I don’t think it’s been that lo
ng. Maybe a few days.”

  “Long enough for a demon to have discovered the community.” Matthew looked at Thierry.

  “And the abandoned fire tower is only a few miles from here,” Misha reminded them. “But this could’ve happened around the time the Ravers were here.”

  Nicolai didn’t seem surprised whatsoever by the mention of Ravers, so either Thierry had filled him in or Zayne had.

  “Is it possible this man had been dead that long?” Thierry asked.

  “I’m not a forensic pathologist nor do I play one on television, so I can’t tell you the time of death. It could’ve happened before the Ravers or after,” I told them.

  “We’ll send a team out today to scout the area.” Thierry began to rise. “I don’t want either of you two speaking about this to anyone, not even Jada. Do you understand me? I don’t want to cause unnecessary alarm.”

  “Understood,” Misha said, and I nodded.

  We were dismissed after that, and I went upstairs to my bedroom. Misha followed, and as soon as I opened my door, I knew something was off.

  The room was an icebox.

  I scanned the room, seeing the curtains billowing over the cream-colored chaise lounge.

  “Peanut,” I grumbled, hurrying to the window. Pushing the curtains aside, I closed the window and then turned back to Misha.

  “That ghost is really weird.”

  “Not as weird as what just went on downstairs. I can’t believe Thierry had me talk in front of Nicolai.” I walked over to my bed and plopped down. “Something is going on, Misha.”

  “Normally I would tell you that you’re being paranoid, but you’re right.” He leaned against the door. “That was freaking weird.”

  “Yeah, it was.” I stared at him as I rubbed my palms over my thighs. “Knowing that I can see ghosts and spirits isn’t that big of a deal, but...”

  “But knowing that is one step closer to finding out what you are.”

  * * *

  I couldn’t sleep.

  Probably because it was only, like, eleven at night and normally I didn’t even think about climbing into bed until midnight, but I was feeling...weird.

  Again.

  Restless. Antsy. Irritated.

  I didn’t even know why I was irritated, but I was.

  I hadn’t even taken Misha up on his offer to go down to the Pit. I was kind of surprised to hear that people were there, but maybe the Accolade had ended early? Who knew? All I did know was that Misha wanted to go the Pit because Alina would likely also be there, so here I was, feeling...

  Antsy.

  Restless.

  Nervous.

  Irritated.

  Expectant.

  I didn’t understand that last one, or any of it, but that was how I felt—like I was waiting for something to happen. Like everything was about to change.

  Or that something had changed.

  Lying in bed, I stared up at the softly glowing stars as I drew one leg up. My heart was pounding too fast, like I was in the middle of a training session with Misha, but all I’d been doing for the past hour was lying here. Before that I’d gone looking for Peanut, but I guessed he was in the Great Hall peeping on Zayne.

  Zayne.

  Ugh.

  I smacked my hands over my face and dragged my palms down. Had be been flirting with me? Like for real? Not that it mattered. When he left, he’d be gone, and he’d been leaving soon. The final ceremony was in three days.

  And there were way more important things to be thinking about.

  I rolled onto my side, eyes peeled wide open. A thousand different things were circling around in my head. I was worried about what had killed Wayne and if the group that had gone out scouting would find anything. I couldn’t sense a demon, but all that meant was that one wasn’t close to the walls.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about how Thierry and Matthew had brought Nicolai into that meeting, letting him know what I could see, which was beyond freaking strange.

  And yeah, I was also wondering if Zayne really was missing a part of his soul.

  I was so not going to sleep anytime soon.

  Nope.

  Sitting up, I swung my legs off the bed, then reached over to turn on the bedside lamp. I blinked until my eyes adjusted and then rose. I grabbed a pair of leggings and pulled them on, along with a sports bra, before snatching up a thermal I’d stolen from Misha ages ago. It was baggy, almost a tunic on me, and I loved it because it was cozy and smelled like cloves no matter how many times I washed it.

  I left the bedroom and made my way downstairs. As I walked past Thierry’s office, I saw a faint light seeping underneath the paneled double doors. There were voices. Matthew’s. Thierry’s. A third voice, also, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying.

  More closed-door meetings.

  If Peanut was around, I’d send him inside to spy for me, something he’d love doing. Said it made him feel like Davey Osborne, and I had no idea who that was. I was guessing it was something ’80s related, but he was so curious about the visitors, all he was doing was hanging out at the Great Hall.

  Ducking my chin, I headed out the back door and across the patio, following the worn path I didn’t need to see to walk since I’d traveled this route hundreds of times over. I tugged the long sleeves over my hands and crossed my arms against the still-chilly night air as I reached the stone wall that was smaller than the one that surrounded the whole community. This wall circled one of the larger, wooded parks.

  All the way at the end of the stone wall was the Pit.

  I made my way to the opening to the Pit. The scent of burning wood surrounded me. Laughter and the hum of conversation mixed with the soft lull of music.

  I stopped at the opening, watching the flames dance against the night sky. What was I doing? Was I about to insert myself between Misha and Alina? If I did that, he’d be focused on me instead of Alina. Instead of enjoying himself.

  What if Misha hadn’t wanted to be bonded?

  The moment that thought entered my head, I wanted to scrub it out with a wire brush. Neither of us had a choice, not me from birth and not Misha from the moment he met me. Misha had said it was an honor, and I believed him, but just because something was an honor didn’t mean it was something someone wanted.

  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.