by Lexi Ostrow
“I've fucking got her. Come here!” The soldier's shout made her blood run cold and before she could focus on closing the doorway he had barreled through and three others were coming.
“No. No. No.” Tears slid down her cheek. How many more were there? Could they even handle the three that were here? With a quick thought, she forced the one closest to the door through it and slammed it shut in her mind. She spoke with far more bravado then she felt. “Now I only have to kill two of you.”
The men had the good sense to look afraid. Good, so her exploits were known and maybe she could just scare them and open the door.
Gunfire exploded in the room and she cursed. Maybe not. She turned to see Dale struggling. Did he actually need water to play with it? She screamed for him to dodge as the other male sliced through the air with a knife. But she cried out far louder as a bullet slammed into her leg.
Her vision whited out from the pain and she felt the energy she'd practiced channeling come. Fire and electricity this time. Who would've known. Alcott, but he wasn't here. She heard a female voice and heard Dale shout his Guardian’s name. Good, she had come because Ciara had no idea what this was going to cause.
Looking down at her hands she saw claws extending from her nails and paused to flick her tongue in her mouth; fangs. “Bless you, Stryder.” She didn't think about the pain as another bullet lanced it's way in one side of her shoulder and out another. Hands raised high she felt a tear slip down her cheek before throwing her power forward at the man.
His screams of agony would always haunt her. The fire danced over his skin, singeing and burning every inch of him. The electricity appeared to dance around him, passing over him and causing him to shake. The howls of pain from behind her told her she'd somehow hit the one going for Dale too. Focusing on only hitting the two soldiers she prayed it was working. When the screams and howling stopped she let her hands fall, the power stopped.
“Ho. Ly. Fuck.” Dale punctuated his curse with a low whistle and she heard his Guardian tell him to be quiet.
Tears streaked down her face and her sobs were audible. Amazing how natural tears had become for her. This was so much different this time. She had been protecting herself the first two times. This time, she'd wanted to kill them. Her legs gave out from underneath her and she crumpled, sitting on the floor sobbing.
She felt hands on her shoulder and leg, the wounds were nothing to her now. But she cried out at the gentle touch and gasped, blinking through her tears as she watched as the injuries just vanished. Hiccupping, she shifted to look at Dale's Guardian.
She smiled. “It is a gift of my people. Dale may do it to, but he doesn't always realize that.” With that she backed away and noticed a shift in the air and heard Dale curse. He bent down and squatted next to her.
“Ci, I had no idea. I mean, wow.” He offered her a hand to help her stand which she grasped onto weakly and all but relied on him to tug her up.
“Dale, I don't want to talk about it ok?”
“Done deal, Ci. But come on. It's time we taught you more about your own heritage and figure out how to keep you safe, while you explain why your Guardian can't.
* * *
Stryder felt her pain. Somewhere off in the distance he could still feel Ciara. Almost four weeks, almost, and his body wasn't the least bit battle worn. Scarred, bloody and beat to shit sure, but he felt like he could go on forever.
Cleaving the head of some idiot from his body he turned and grinned, flashing fang at Fasheem. Fasheem had been released from his summons, famine apparently not an issue in this day and age where there was so much food stored. In fact, his brother had come to him almost immediately. He could've gone home, but he didn't. He had come to fight.
Demarcus had cursed him each time he appeared and this was no different. “God dammit, STRYDER!” His eyes flashed black and his fangs reflected the setting sun. “Stop fucking killing them or I'll be stuck here till after the fucking apocalypse.” He growled low and flashed out.
But Stryder wasn't in control at this time. He was curious how Demarcus seemed so in control, but let it go when War pushed through their link and launched him away from an exploding grenade. Fasheem helped him up and as they went to take down even more lives in the senseless fight he swore he heard his brother praising the nations that had found peace.
So the fighting wasn't everywhere? War thrashed at the thought, but Stryder didn't. He was tired of being a fucking vessel and he was terrified of the two times he'd felt Ciara in danger and couldn't do anything.
Chapter 27
Weeks slipped by and Ciara had no idea what was up and what was down anymore. She'd spent her time between meeting with Dale, who it turned out lived in Washington, the state, and work. Her knowledge on the world she played in shifted each day.
They'd formed a friendship as they'd worked together. She could write now and still keep the doorways closed. When she read they stayed together and dealt with the aftermath. He'd helped her learn the barriers of her gifts from Alcott. She could indeed play with the elements and sometimes, with a lot of focus, with gravity like she had done with Stryder that day in his house. But that was pretty much it. That and some of Stryder's demon traits were what they used. Dale was useless power wise in a fight unless she read next to a full tub of water. But he could heal them both and damn if that wasn't needed.
She'd almost finished Demarcus's book and it worried her. Stryder's was next. Would she read it? Did she even care anymore if he found someone else? How did that work? Was she mysteriously written into the book or no because that Stryder remained as nothing more than a name on a page when she wasn't reading or being his Word Speaker?
It didn't matter. She'd given up. After more late nights crying on Gina's shoulder and plenty of practice session with her powers with Dale she had pushed him away. Stryder wasn't coming back and she of course couldn't seem to find the mysterious man who played with them like chess pieces to ask if he was still going too.
Rubbing her eyes she shook some of the sleep from her mind. “Dale?”
“Hmm?” His head popped from the kitchen to the living room, but didn't stop cutting the steak he'd made them.
“I'm really sleepy. I have to get back. Early day shelving new releases before the store opens.” Dale looked a little put off and she was reminded he enjoyed his work and was pretty well off, a computer programmer for Square Enix games. As they'd grown more comfortable with each other, he had offered to help her with rent in exchange for her reminding him that he didn't need evil to feel powerful.
“It's cool. I was wondering how much longer you could hold a block while you read, you look tired. Go do your little doorway thing and leave. Who knows, maybe your Guardian will be ready for some love making.” He waggled his brows and she laughed and cursed him as she did just what he told her too.
It had been him seriously trying to comfort her at first and now it was just a joke and she was beginning to wonder if she read a different book, would she get another Guardian and be able to banish Stryder from her heart? With a salute she stepped through the portal back to her own state and couldn't help but think about just how awesome she really was. She'd never need a plane ticket again!
* * *
His body ached. It had been over five weeks since the damn summons. But it was over. Heaven and Hell had settled their little pissing match. The apocalypse that could start from a balance shift was averted for the time being. This shit happened every three hundred years or so where some moron decided they were going to do some cataclysmic event to get the ball rolling. But this had help and he swore he'd kill every Initiative member one by one for it.
He couldn't remember the last time they'd been occupied for quite such a long period. Normally between the four of them they could take down whatever moronic event was being planned no problem. This one should have been a cinch job. Seven suicide bombers had teamed up, one for each continent. Problem was, it was seven Initiative members trying to draw them out i
nto a fight. Perfectly executed plan on their part and Stryder hated admitting someone else's battle plan was better than his own. But it didn't stop him from being annoyed that they had been summoned to stop a fight that the Angels may have even known about since the Initiative had started it.
That was how the summoning worked. Something happened that tipped the scales in the favor of the Apocalypse starting and then they were drawn to stop the event since only Lucifer and Gods own fight could be the real catalyst. Everything else was just human casualties.
Stryder's mind was addled. He couldn't even remember all the things they'd used against him anymore. Pain was pain. Didn't matter what blunt force object, sharp, shiny knife, or skin ripping bullet did the job. Do enough of it at once and even the best of bodies would feel it.
He walked into the bathroom of his house and stood with his back facing the mirror and craned his neck over his shoulder to look."Damn, completely sliced." Blood was no longer dripping, but there was a large gash from a whip from a few days ago. Damn thing was infected if the yellow coloring was any indication.
Blood dripped into his eyes from a crack to his skull where he'd been slammed into a rock in the last wave of the attack. He pushed his nose and snarled as it snapped back into place. It must have been punched in at least ten times since the battle had begun. Hard to win something quickly and wound free when your opponents had been devising the plan for what seemed like years with all the thought it appeared to have.
When it finished, the four of them had been left standing in a warehouse in Cairo. Many leaders had been taken down, but he hadn't seen Jonathan there. Many innocent humans had been caught in the fight as well, as with all wars. But not Jonathan. That little prick was a pain in his side and he was damn tired of dealing with him, Once they'd realized the setup he had scanned each and every human for the little prick. No luck.
Running the water he carefully washed the blood out of his eyes and cursed. His poor vision wasn't from the blood. He'd been slashed and shot at with so much of their specially angel made poison that he was dizzy from it and more than annoyed that they'd been fighting both the problems created by the Initiative as well as the group themselves. He'd need a brother and from the feeling that was rocking through him, fast.
His cell was obliterated in the attack and he didn't want to use the landline, but he was in no condition to flash himself to Paris where Jameson lived. His youngest brother was always the least damaged out of them after a fight. They speculated it was because he could kill with a single cough in someone's mouth, some wicked power he could call when merged with his horseman. Much quicker his way.
Stryder rested the bulk of his weight on the kitchen counter while the phone rang. "What's up, bro? You need some juice?" Jameson's voice sounded damn stable considering.
"You could say that. Can you get here? I can't leave. Took it worse than I thought." He heard his brother’s chuckle and then felt the tap on his shoulder. "Fucking hell one day you're going to do that and I'm going to slice your gut open for it."
Jameson chuckled again. "You've been saying that for centuries. Notice I only do it when your ass is incapacitated?” He leaned over the counter and grabbed a knife out of the block and sliced across his bicep, flexing to help the blood flow. "Dinner's ready, hun!" He chuckled at his ridiculous joke and pushed his arm toward Stryder.
With a nod of thanks, he latched his mouth onto Jameson's arm and sucked down his brothers blood, three hard pulls and he let go of his arm. There was no sensation during the exchange, no tingling or queasiness and he didn't suddenly feel stronger. The blood would work its magic slowly and off the radar as it restored Stryder to health. Wiping his mouth he grabbed the dish towel off the counter for Jameson to tie the wound up with. "Thanks."
"You know I'd never not, bro. Ya think females would find it hot though? I mean with vamps its straight sexual dude. Wonder if we could convince them it is for us too."
"On second thought, give me that towel, bleed out a little maybe some common sense will return to you." They both laughed. What he'd told Ciara was true. They were immortal so long as they could feed from each other when they were badly injured, otherwise well, immortal no more. "Thanks again, Jameson."
"Sure thing. Wanna catch up on anything? I mean how can we be a part of our books if she isn't reading them and they're not all written," he shrugged, "fuck it, let's live."
"I think it has something to do with Ciara. I don't think this was the books. I think this was the world passing in a completely different way. But she said it couldn't do that. Not that anything makes sense anymore. Anyway, thanks for the offer, but no. I need to get to Ciara. I told her I loved her, told her I was serious and then told her that these summons never took that long and that was what five, ten, twelve weeks ago?”
“If even, bro. Could've even been more, my head’s always messed up after a summons. I blame the link to our dear old dad's for messing me up.”
He sympathized with Jameson, his head was fucked from the constant link with War, but more from the fear that Ciara wasn't going to remember what they had felt before the summons. He was certain she was ready to accept what being his mate meant, she had said I love you, that had to have meant she was ready. He groaned thinking about just how long it had been. “She probably thinks I'm dead somewhere and what if she decides to make a little trip into town and finds me shooting the shit with you before going to her? Nope not a shot in hell. I've got a box with a giant sparkling ring to give her. Not wasting any more time." He grinned and flashed the ring from his room onto the counter and popped it open.
Jameson whistled low. "No shit man? Good for you. Go get her. I like her a lot more than I liked you. If she was serious and wanted to be with you, well fuck man even better. Not sure how you're gonna pull it off with the whole double worlds, but it'll be fun to root for you guys."
He paled for a second. They'd never actually discussed it, the where and how. Didn't fucking matter, she loved him. She said it back and no way she wouldn't chose him, regardless of where they had to live. "Thanks. I'm out." He grabbed the box off the counter and put it in his pocket before mentally calling the portal. Fasheem had been the one to suggest trying it since they could flash. His grin was wide as shit when the doorway actually appeared. He'd have to remember to tell Fasheem that the focus for flashing worked on like a doorway for him too. Or he assumed that she wasn't just leaving it open willy-nilly for people to get her. Stepping through the doorway he frowned when he saw she was out. Popping around to the the few places he knew she usually was, he gave up and went to wait for her on her couch.
Eleven weeks. It was all he was thinking about as he waited for her to come home. Eleven weeks since he'd seen her. She was all that had been keeping him going. Keeping him sane during the attacks. Thoughts of their last few minutes together.
Now here he was sitting down and waiting like a nervous school boy. He was certain she hadn't gotten a new Guardian, or worse, killed. Otherwise he doubted he would be able to be sitting on her couch. Not that it wouldn't be some sick twisted game if she were. Just that he didn't think so. Would she look any different? How happy would she be to see him? How long before he would drop everything and ask her to choose him, to marry him when she was twenty-seven. He had already decided he was giving up his world. One less Horseman's Second would make things more unbalanced and he felt bad, but it was what it was. Mate's came first. Obviously he hadn't talked it over with his brothers, but they would understand.
His hand was tapping on his knee when he heard the front door creak open. His breath caught just looking at her. It was late spring, but there must have still been a chill in the air. A white sweater hood was bundled around her, jeans so tight he could swear they were painted on and plain flop flops that showed off some sparkly blue nail polish. She was beautiful, and she was too busy texting to see him.
"Ciara." His voice came out harsh, too many days spent on the fields barking out orders. Her heard immediately jerke
d upright and her mouth parted. He was up off the couch and closed the distance between them in two strides. His arms wrapped around her and pulled her hard against him before his head lowered to kiss her.
She pulled her head back and put her hand up. "Stryder?" Her voice held disbelief and fear. Had someone impersonated him while he was gone or was she afraid she was imagining him?
"Fuck!" His growl was low and deep. He nodded and pulled her mouth to his with her hair. Domination was the only word for the kiss. His mouth greedily sucked at hers, his tongue thrusting in and out of her mouth. For a moment she was limp in his arms. Unmoving. All it did was make him push harder. He nipped at her lower lip and released her just long enough to tear the hoodie from her body. "MINE."
She trembled in response and he picked her up, stalking quickly to the bed in the other room and dropped her down on it.
"All fucking mine." Yanking at his own pants he tugged them off and tore his shirt above his head.
She sat on the bed staring at him, watching."Is it you?"
Again the disbelief. It had been so long. How could he not blame her for thinking it was a trick. He did his best to control his overwhelming urge to pound into her, showing her just how much it was him. "Yes. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. But I need you, it's been too long."
A tear slipped down her cheek and she smiled, nodding her head she undid her zipper and peeled herself out of her pants. His cock went rock hard and he palmed himself. Stroking his length and groaning as she pulled off her panties before he covered her body with his. Her breasts brushed against his chest and he felt her nipples pebble at the contact. Letting his hands touch and explore and relive every curve of her body, he traced them up and down her, leaving nothing untouched.