Blood Before Sunrise

by amanda bonilla

  “I’m not your enemy, Darian. But if you don’t stop acting like a fool, I won’t hesitate to make you one. Do you understand me?”

  “Fuck off.” Sure, not a supersnazzy comeback. I wasn’t completely convinced I wasn’t her enemy. What about threatening to draw my blood with her jagged blades? Arrows zinging at my head? She sure as hell wasn’t a friend.

  Moira smiled. “You have spirit, I’ll give you that. How many times do I have to tell you I’m not your enemy? I am a Guardian. And so are you.” Her tone indicated this was the one and only time she’d lay it out for me. “We have responsibilities that transcend Fae or human laws. Guard the Keys to the mundane world and O Anel, assist the Time Keepers when they need our protection, and maintain the natural order. Perhaps you should focus more on your role as well and abandon these petty squabbles over who withheld what from you and why.”

  “I appreciate your laying it all out so eloquently.” I hoped a little sarcasm leaked out in my tone. “Though I’m still not one hundred percent clear on the role I play in all of this.” I threw my arms wide in a sweeping gesture. “But since you’re so interested in explaining things, would you mind telling me why you let me believe that you were the one hurting Tyler? Because right now, I’m having a hard time being anything but suspicious of you.”

  “You’re referring to the Jinn?”

  Why in the hell did everyone insist on referring to Tyler as if he were “the dog” or some shit? It was demeaning.

  “Not demeaning,” Moira said as if she’d heard my thoughts. “I have nothing but respect for your protector. He is held in high esteem by many. Including me and mine.”

  I knew deep down—way down, past my bitchy attitude—that Moira was an ally. It just made me feel better to vent my frustration. Faolán said that Moira had helped to imprison the Enphigmalé. The enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that. But still…“You shot at me.”

  “I shot—at Faolán.”

  “No.” I’d recognized those magic arrows before the melee at the PNT facility. “In an alley. A few weeks ago. You killed a Lyhtan who tried to warn me about something, and then you shot at me.” Not to mention she’d run off like a coward.

  “Again”—her voice calmed as if to reassure me—“it was not I who shot at you. Besides, I had no reason to kill the Lyhtan. My brother sent him to you.”

  “Your brother? Reaver sent the Lyhtan?” Why in the hell would he send a Lyhtan to deliver a message to a Shaede? I guess Reaver didn’t realize I’d been a target for every Lyhtan within gutting distance since the supernatural community had settled down in Seattle. Or maybe he just wasn’t up on his Shaede/Lyhtan history. “He had to have known that was a stupid idea.”

  “He couldn’t reach me and he knew Faolán was close, so he sent the Lyhtan to warn you. By the time I arrived, someone had killed his messenger, and apparently tried to dispatch your Jinn as well. I tried to track the murderer, but I lost the trail. Believe me when I say, those arrows were not meant for you.”

  “Seriously, though, a Lyhtan?”

  Moira shrugged. “He’s employed by my brother as additional security. He was trustworthy.”

  If you say so. “So, I suppose that leaves Faolán as the shooter.” That crafty sonofabitch. It fit together perfectly, really. Faolán would have wanted me to stay good and ignorant for as long as possible so he’d have plenty of time to get his hooks into me. And I played right into his hands. Awesome.

  Moira nodded, sidestepping me again to look past me. “I assume once he killed the Lyhtan, Faolán tried to kill your protector as well. He wouldn’t have wanted anything to interfere with his plans to manipulate you into bringing him here. We don’t have time to unravel these mysteries now, however. We’re running out of time, and we should be tracking Faolán like the dog he is, not standing here, talking about it.”

  Moira had a point. Every second we stood around hashing this out was time I couldn’t afford to lose.

  “He’s very powerful,” Moira said. “And the magic at his disposal…ancient.”

  “More powerful than you?” I asked.

  Moira pointedly ignored me, a fact that didn’t go unnoticed. Either Faolán had one-upped her in the power department, or she found it insulting that I even asked. It didn’t matter to me which it was. Power or not, magic be damned. That bastard was going down.

  “Okay,” I said. “What now?”

  Moira looked to the sky, the once navy blue of night becoming lighter with the rising sun. A day that had passed in an hour. Moira reached around her back and produced a long dagger from her belt. The obsidian blade ran with veins of green and from the looks of it, it was just the weapon I needed. “Take this,” Moira said. “You’re going to need it. It’s time to hunt.”

  I needed Moira’s help if I was going to stop Faolán before he eradicated humanity from the face of the earth. I could sort out the details of this shit storm later—after I was safely home with Tyler and Faolán was dead and gone. I gingerly poked at my side, wincing as my fingers found the stab wound. “Worked over” didn’t begin to describe how I felt. I didn’t heal as fast as I should have, and I wasn’t sure how I’d be able to hold my own in a fight while I was at such a physical disadvantage.

  “You’ll be fine by the time we find them.” Ugh. I knew she could sense my thoughts.

  “You sure about that?”

  “I live here, don’t forget,” Moira said as we negotiated a stream. “It may take longer than you’re used to. But you’ll be back in fighting form before you know it.”

  “I usually heal fast. Almost instantaneously.”

  “O Anel isn’t like the mortal realm,” Moira said. “You became stronger once you were called to serve as a Guardian. Can you imagine how weak you’d be here without that newfound strength?”

  My recent evolution had definitely beefed me up in the strength and healing departments. Not to mention that I could become incorporeal no matter the hour. Well, usually, anyway, when someone wasn’t laying down the mojo on me. “So, I guess it’s sort of like being Superman?”

  Moira gave me a curious look.

  I rolled my eyes. “You know, he’d have been weaker, fallible on Krypton. But on Earth, he’s got all sorts of superpowers.”

  “I read a Superman comic once. Years ago. Reaver gave it to me. I suppose, yes,” Moira laughed. “Something like Superman. In order for you to be strong enough to be a decent protector here, you are afforded the benefit of being superior in the mortal realm.”

  Comic, huh? I guessed since she lived in O Anel most of the time, she wasn’t exactly up on pop culture. Or any of the many Superman movies that had been made over the years. “About that,” I began, not sure how I wanted to broach the subject. “Faolán said you live here and Reaver lives in the mortal world. Is that right?”

  Moira quirked a brow. She’d perfected her snark to facial expressions only.

  “Why is that?” I continued, undeterred by her sarcastic expression. “How can you possibly be a decent protector when you’re required to live an entire world away from what you’re meant to protect?”

  “Reaver is the Time Keeper of the mortal realm, and so in the mortal realm he must live. I am the Guardian of the key to the mortal realm. The doorway opens from O Anel, and so it is here that I must reside,” Moira said. “Balance must be maintained.”

  “So, since Brakae is the Time Keeper in O Anel, she has to stay here all the time? She can’t ever leave?”

  “It is different for Keepers. When she was chosen,” Moira said, “she became one with this realm. She has been bound to the essence of time.”

  I snorted. “You realize that makes absolutely no sense, right?”

  “It is not our place to question Fate—or the gods. We are meant only to serve.”

  “Serve,” I said. “What an appropriate word. Because it seems to me I’ve just become a slave.”

  Moira sighed heavily and shook her head. “Think of it this way, Darian. There is a pla
nk resting on a stone. At one end is the mortal realm; at the other, O Anel. If Brakae stands with Reaver at the same end of the plank, it will tip to the ground. But if they each stand at one end, the plank will balance straight on the stone. The natural order requires balance in all things.”

  “I dreamt about her, you know. Brakae. A couple of times.”

  “Keepers aren’t without their own power,” Moira responded. “She can’t leave O Anel, but she has ways to reach out to you if she needs you.”

  Creepy. But not an entirely ineffective way to communicate with your counterpart when she lived, oh, an entire universe away. She’d been trying to warn me about Faolán all along, and even my subconscious had been too stubborn to listen. “I suppose she can send messengers too? Say, for instance, a falcon?” That annoying little bird had delivered the key to me and had gotten my attention when Brakae wanted me to use the pendulum. Apparently she had more than a few tricks up her sleeve.

  “Certain animals do have the ability to travel between the realms.”

  “How the hell did you figure all this out?” Because last time I checked, I hadn’t been invited to any Guardian orientation seminars. “How did you know the rules? Where to live, what to do? I mean, sorry, but it flat pisses me off that no one prepared me for any of this.” Good God, I was starting to sound like a broken record.

  “Not that it matters now,” Moira said, “but we knew the first time we met you at the PNT Summit. Reaver was quite interested, and had the day gone more smoothly, we would have approached you at the conclusion of the day’s proceedings.”

  By “more smoothly,” she meant if Delilah’s supposed kidnappers hadn’t dropped her off gift-wrapped and beaten to a pulp. The whole of the Summit’s participants had fled the facility in the midst of the drama. If I’d only known it was a setup and that I’d end up the kidnapped one, the whole thing would have gone down completely differently. “Reaver was interested?” I said. That was an understatement. He’d used magical influence to try to push me to my knees—and right at his feet—but he didn’t realize I don’t bow to anyone.

  “No. I suppose you don’t.” Moira smiled, once again listening in on my thoughts. “But it wasn’t a show of strength on his part like you think.”

  I stopped her, closed my eyes, and felt Brakae’s presence shift to the west and change course. “Then what was it?”

  “He was testing your strength.”

  “Did I pass?”

  “That,” Moira said as she retrieved the bow slung across her shoulder, “has yet to be seen.”

  Chapter 27

  Moira put a finger to her lips and tuned out everything around her as she closed her eyes and listened. I kept my mouth shut for a change, deciding I was far and above the wingman in this mission. The hairs on my arms and at the nape of my neck prickled, danger plucking at my senses. With silent fluidity, Moira slid an arrow from the quiver at her back and nocked the bow, drawing the string back taut, ready to shoot in the blink of an eye.

  What is it? Hey, she’d heard my thoughts before; it was worth a shot.

  She opened one shrewd eye and then the other. Letting the bow string slacken, she held up two fingers, pointed to a stand of trees to our left, and motioned for me to flank the grouping at the side opposite her. I drew the long dagger—or maybe it was more of a short sword, depending on your perspective—making sure it would be ready when I needed it, and took off at a trot, careful not to stir even a blade of grass as I moved into position.

  I shook off the pull of Brakae’s energy and turned my attention instead on the dense cover of trees. Crouching low, I continued to jog, mindful of Moira’s position as I went. As stealthy as my shadow-self, I stayed true to my assassin’s training, relying on the element of surprise to give me the upper hand. But when I got close enough to look my enemy in the eye, I felt my knees give a little under the weight of their combined energy. The six bodies waiting in the distance paced as if antsy and ready for a brawl. Wide mouths yawned, strong and lithe arms stretched toward the sky, and feet stomped at the earth. I held my body rigid, refusing to allow the tremors that threatened to rip my composure to shreds. One enemy, I could handle. Hell, two or three—piece of cake. Gargoyles, Lyhtans, crazy-ass Sylphs, bring ’em on. But what the hell was I looking at right now? And how had Faolán imprinted them with the signature of his power?

  Sea Nymphs. Moira’s voice echoed in my mind. Violent and very dangerous.

  I steeled myself against the fear eating me alive and against the doubts about my purpose and my strength. Teeth clenched to the point of grinding, I moved forward. Gut-check time. Now or never, do or die—all of that inspirational bullshit. Kill my enemies or die trying. But just as I dug my boots into the soft turf, prepared to throw myself into the action, I heard Moira’s voice in my mind as clear as if she were speaking right in my ear. Not yet. Hold your position. If we startle them, they’ll be harder to kill.

  Harder than what?

  The Nymphs moved with a lazy fluidity that reminded me of water lapping against the shore. Their skin shimmered in the light passing between the tree branches as if their bodies were peppered with droplets of diamonds. Long green hair swayed with every step like seaweed tossed in the surf, and their eyes—gorgeous and swirling with as many shades of blue as made up every body of water in existence. One snapped its powerful jaws, revealing triangular teeth, razor sharp and sharklike. Observation: Stay away from the mouth. Despite their purposeful strides, the Nymphs looked empty, their expressions hollow and detached. Tall, sure. Strong, you betcha. Those teeth, again—stay away from them…. But all in all they didn’t look like they’d be too hard to take down.

  Don’t get too excited, Moira’s thoughts warned. Old, powerful magic. Remember? Easier to kill, perhaps. Easier to fight, definitely not. These creatures are under Faolán’s influence. Do not underestimate his ability or theirs.

  I’d been as good as Faolán’s marionette, strings and all. Who knows what I’d done in those moments when the world went dark and my memory lapsed? With no more exertion than a thought, he’d utterly controlled me. And now, it appeared he had a small troop of zombies at his disposal. I hoped Moira was reading me loud and clear, because we were without a doubt royally fucked.

  Not yet.

  When things calmed down, this whole telepathy thing was really going to rub me the wrong way.

  The silence that followed in my brain sent a zinging blast of adrenaline through my body. God, I needed Tyler right now—needed him like I needed the air filling my lungs. If I’d only opened up to him, I wouldn’t be standing here, waiting to go to the slaughter while time sped by at an incalculable rate at home. Why did I always have to shoulder everything on my own?

  Darian, this is not the time for such thoughts. Ready yourself for battle instead.

  How about you shut up and get the fuck out of my head? I mentally retorted.

  If you want to get home to your Jinn, I suggest you put your worry aside and focus.

  “Focus” was the million-dollar word of the day. Armed with swords, axes, and spears, the Nymphs were battle-ready and waiting. Good thing I never backed down from a fight. I waited in silence, my mind a blank page, my heart rate slow and steady. Fear tickled at the edge of my senses, but Raif always said fear was what kept you alive in battle. I didn’t fight it, but I didn’t let it overtake me either.

  I gripped the handle of the short sword and tested the balance, surprised that it felt as though it had been made for me. It didn’t sit well with me that I was about to fight creatures unaware of their own actions. But war was war, and the rules of morality did not apply. Kill or be killed. Protect the Keeper and the natural order. If I didn’t…the consequences were too terrible for me to comprehend.

  Tension mounted, the air nearly soured by it. The Nymphs continued to pace, their empty eyes staring off into space. I knew it was time to charge into battle when Moira let the first arrow loose, the sound of its passage like a whisper before it struck o
ne of the Nymphs in the neck.

  I hurled myself from my hiding place, entering the fray with a battle lust that would have made Raif proud. I dedicated every slice, thrust, and stab to his teachings, a silent vow that I’d keep his daughter safe and reunite them if it killed me. Moira had managed to drop three of the six Nymphs, her aim impeccable and deadly. When she joined the fight with her bow slung across her shoulder, I was grateful to have her by my side. I have to admit, we made quite a pair, our blades ringing out in the quiet clearing, our enemies retreating under our unrelenting attack. It felt so right, fighting with her instead of against her, as if I’d finally found my place in the world.

  Moira fought with a sword not unlike the weapon she’d given to me. A black blade with veins of glowing green. Hers was much longer, more of a broad sword than a saber. She handled its weight well. As she swung at the Nymphs coming at us, she maneuvered the weapon with as much precision as she would a dagger. Good thing, too. Those Nymphs were fast fuckers. Flanked on both sides with an attack coming at our center, I had no choice but to concentrate my efforts on one enemy at a time. The Nymphs took us on with a blade in each hand, making it feel as if we stood against six enemies instead of just three. But damn it, I wasn’t about to lose. Not when there was so much at stake. I emptied my mind of everything, save the fight. My sole focus became letting as much blood as possible. Swinging with a strength that surprised me, I caught the Nymph on my right with my blade, slicing open a nasty gash in his side.

  From my left, the other Nymph came at me, sinking his razor-edged teeth into my forearm. I cried out, spun away from the one I’d cut, and with an upward sweep, drove the dagger through the Nymph’s chin and straight up into his head. His eyes cleared for the barest instant, horror and confusion written in the depths of blue. I swallowed down the bile that rose in my throat as he rocked back, careened forward, and crumpled at my feet.