by Sable Grace
She’d seen a werewolf! And . . . and . . .
“What the hell was he?” she blurted out, remembering the icy cold spark that Lance had directed at her handcuffs a second before she’d passed out.
Finally she opened her eyes and found Zach watching her, looking all too casual and comfortable in the pilot’s seat to suit her. She hadn’t known he could fly a plane. Hell, there was lot about Zach she didn’t know, though admittedly, he had tried to tell her once.
She hadn’t believed him then, but after what she’d seen this morning, she wasn’t so sure he was crazy anymore.
Maybe she was the crazy one.
“I told you. Lychen.” Lance adjusted the blanket he must have put on her while she was out, tucking it firmly beneath her chin. “How are you feeling?”
“No, not him,” she said, ignoring his question and shoving the blanket away, feeling as though she was going to suffocate beneath a panic attack. “Lance. What is he?”
This was all too surreal.
“Mage,” Zach said.
A small television monitor hung above her head and she stared at it as images of people fleeing crumbling buildings flashed and flickered. The ticker at the bottom of the footage read: “Nashville, TN: Earthquake devastates city. Thousands missing and/or presumed dead. City officials blame possible destruction of city zoo for number of wild animal sightings . . .”
“Pardon?”
“Lance. He’s a Mage.”
She was sorry she’d asked.
“Sort of a Witch but a lot more powerful—”
“Never mind. I don’t want to know.” She pointed to the television. “Earthquakes?”
He nodded. “All with unexplainable animal sightings. Not sure how anyone can confuse a demon with an animal. The Lychen, maybe, but the others? Nothing animalistic about the way they look. Just the way they eat.”
She was suddenly so thirsty she could cry, but she wanted answers more than she wanted water. “W-why are they happening?”
“I’ve told you why.”
“Because Hell is opening?”
“The earthquakes are occurring over the weak spots of the Underworld. Nashville, Orlando. I’m guessing Egypt had a massive one as well. And likely Miami, in our area. That would explain the asshole I found this morning and the Lychen back there.”
Shanna rubbed her temples, trying to wrap her head around everything. “When is all of this supposed to happen?”
Zach held out his watch. Leaning forward, she studied the countdown timer. Watching each second tick off filled her belly with dread. “Midnight?”
“Midnight,” he confirmed. “We have to get to the fort, get you safely Below before that time arrives.”
“And what about everyone else in the world? How are these gods you believe in going to save all them?”
Zach held her gaze but didn’t answer.
“My God.” Shanna closed her eyes, sickened by the images of all the wounded and dead she was conjuring. “How many people are going to die?”
“No idea,” Zach said matter-of-factly.
She couldn’t think about that right now. She needed to clear her head, to think about something other than the images of nasty creatures clawing their way out of the earth to kill innocent people . . .
“Was he really Lancelot?” she whispered, feeling foolish for asking something so silly at that particular moment.
“Yep.”
Shanna remembered enough from English class to know the name Lancelot du Lac, and he fit the description of the seven-foot-tall blonde she’d just met at the airfield. Maybe Zach wasn’t joking.
“The Lancelot?”
“He was a knight once, yes. But the Lancelot you’re referring to is a storybook character. Just happens to be based on Lance DuLaque. If it weren’t for his weakness for women, you’d have never heard of him.”
“Okay.”
Okay. That’s it. She would accept it because right now, it made about as much sense as anything else.
Zach reached across the small space separating their seats and squeezed her knee. “It’s all right, Shanna. The Order is setting up a couple of headquarters on each of the continents. The closest to here is being constructed in St. Augustine. An old fort there that they think will hold up well against attack. I’m getting you there and you’ll be safe. All right?”
“What about you?” she asked.
“What about me?”
“You said you’re getting me there. You meant us, right?”
“I’ll be reporting for duty when you’re settled.”
Her palms were suddenly clammy. And her chest hurt. Why did her chest hurt? “You’re going to fight them?”
He gave her a half-smile. “If I’m not too rusty.”
“This is all real, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. It is.”
“Okay.”
There it was again. That word of acceptance that she didn’t truly feel. “Can I . . . do anything?”
She was coming out of her skin, needing to do something, anything to occupy her mind. And Zach was still so familiar to her, still so strong and beautiful and hers, though she held no real claim on him anymore. It wasn’t his job to make her feel better. He was trying to save her life. That was far more than she could ask for.
“Shh . . .” he covered the earpiece with his hand and listened intently for several seconds. “We’re being ordered to land in Daytona.” He pointed over his shoulder. “Inside the table is a key that will unlock the shelves at the back of the plane. See if there’s anything you’re comfortable using. When we land, I want you armed.”
“I have my gun.”
“I told you, it won’t do you any good. You need silver to weaken most of them long enough to kill them.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“And Shanna?”
“Hmm?” She was struggling with her seatbelt, struggling to remember how to stand the hell up.
“Drink some water. Eat a sandwich. We’ll have to land in about ten minutes.”
It took Shanna what felt like an eternity to pull herself together and unlock the weapons case at the back of the plane. The water had helped, but the sandwich was sitting heavy in her stomach and she wished she hadn’t forced it down. But now, the cop in her was coming alive at the sight of all the weapons in front of her. She instinctively reached for a set of knuckle rings on the lowest shelf and pocketed them, their sharp spikes stabbing her legs through the denim.
“What else am I supposed to grab?” she called out, gravity shifting as the plane dropped altitude. They must be getting close to Daytona. Shanna wished they weren’t. She felt safer up here than she did on the ground, where the world wasn’t her world anymore.
“Anything you know how to use!”
“What about you?”
“I have my own.”
She grabbed a shotgun and a box of shells, then fisted a couple of daggers and something that looked like a foot-long nail. She found the bag he’d been carrying beside the guitar case and crammed the weapons inside. “I know you said guns won’t work, but I grabbed a shotgun anyway.”
“It’ll work. The shells are silver.”
She worked her way back to the cockpit. “What’s with the guitar?”
“What about it?”
“You never told me you played.”
“I don’t.”
“Oh.” She wrung her hands together and sat down.
“It’s only an hour to St. Augustine from Daytona. We should be okay, right?”
He answered with a smile that wasn’t quite reflected in his eyes. She knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t offer her any false promises. So he kept quiet.
Shanna realized she’d never been more afraid in her life. Not even last year when she’d had a gun pressed to her temple and a very noble stranger named Zach had distracted the perp long enough for her to take him down.
“Time to land?” she asked.
“Either that or risk being shot down by a nati
on in panic.”
Chapter Five
8:16 p.m.
3 hours and 44 minutes before the fall . . .
The minute they touched down in Daytona, a dozen armed men rushed the plane and hurried Shanna and Zach off the runway. The country was officially in red-alert mode, and all aircrafts were to be either grounded or shot out of the sky. The government was treating the situation like a terrorist attack, and in a sense, they weren’t wrong. But all the red alerts in the world weren’t going to protect against an enemy they didn’t know how to fight.
If Zach knew anything about the Order, they were quickly pulling shit together to keep the humans as safe as possible. That meant bringing officials in on the truth and trying to temper the reactions of the world as they discovered demons and gods weren’t just creatures of myth. They were real.
As one of the security guards rushed them toward the exit, Zach adjusted his hold on the guitar case and weapon bag, and grabbed Shanna’s hand, unwilling to risk losing her in the crowd outside the gate.
“All of Florida being evacuated or just the south?” he asked the guard.
The overweight man grunted and fumbled with the gate locks. “All of Florida is being urged north. Don’t know what’s happening, dude, but Florida don’t get earthquakes. This is fucked up.”
He had no idea.
“But if earthquakes are happening everywhere, where is everyone supposed to go?” Shanna asked, turning her hand so her fingers linked in Zach’s.
“Don’t know. Sent my family to Carolina an hour ago. Doesn’t look like much is happening there yet.”
As the guard shoved them through the gate and locked them out, he walked away grumbling, “Just so fucked up . . .”
They started toward the terminal. A golf cart sat abandoned just around the corner, keys inside and just begging to be used. He dragged Shanna toward it. “Let’s go.”
They hopped in and he maneuvered around the throng of people demanding flights they’d never be granted. A crowd had spilled from inside the airport into the drop-off and pickup lanes outside where Zach drove now. He wound around the thickest part of the mob toward the parking garage, not at all surprised to find it packed. Getting a car out of there would take forever.
He chose a shuttle van instead. The driver stood across the lanes, smoking a cigarette—it was his own damned fault. Together, Zach and Shanna rushed to the vehicle, got inside and took off. The driver chased them down the road, waving his hat and shouting before finally being left in the dust.
“I’m a cop and I just participated in grand theft auto,” Shanna said, fastening her seat belt.
“I think that’s the least of your problems.”
“No shit.”
Zach smiled. At least she wasn’t quivering in fear anymore.
“How’s your chest?” she asked.
“Fine.” It was burning, but it was his arm that was really aching. The fight at the Murphys’ had required muscles and skills he hadn’t used in ten years. The Lychen wound he’d sustained then had forced him to retire from the Order, the infection so bad he’d nearly lost his arm. Any overuse of it carried pain that brought him to his knees, and he had a bad feeling that before he reached St. Augustine, he was going to have plenty of cause to overuse every bit of himself. Including his injured fighting arm.
“I need a damned drink,” he muttered, massaging his forearm and fighting the overwhelming urge to scratch the burning itch that ran up the wound’s seam.
“You gonna tell me what’s in the case?” Shanna asked, ignoring his complaint.
“Guitar.”
“No, it’s not. I carried it off the plane. It’s way too heavy to be a guitar.”
He shrugged in response. “Open it. See for yourself.”
“Fine,” she muttered, unfastening her seat belt. “I will.”
She climbed over the seat, into the back where they’d thrown their things, and he heard the distinct sound of the case snapping open.
“It’s a sword.”
“Yep.”
“It . . . looks really old. God, Zach, it’s a tetanus shot waiting to happen.”
“Rusty, huh?”
“Little bit.”
He smiled, imagining her reaction to the big broadsword that had ten years of neglect etched all over it. Wouldn’t look like much, but that was just another testament to the cliché about not judging a book by its cover.
“Ow!”
“Touch it?”
“It burned me!”
“Yep.”
“Why the hell did it burn me?”
“Because no one can use it but me, that’s why.”
“Zach, no one uses swords anymore. How is this going to help you? It’s slow and—”
“Pass it up here.”
“I’m not touching it again!”
“Slide the case up here. Let me show you.”
“Maybe you should pull over first.”
“No time,” he said, reaching behind his seat for the top of the case and clawing at it until he could drag it into the passenger seat. “Open the case for me.”
Truthfully, he was excited to show Shanna this part of himself—something he’d never shown another soul outside of the Order. Something that was bound to impress her, because it never failed to impress him.
She flicked open the latches and he glanced down at the sad, pathetic weapon. Without Zach, the once glorious sword had tarnished. The intricate design placed on the blade by Hephaestus was hidden beneath ten years of neglect. The tool that had protected him, allowed him to protect the gods, was now nothing more than a fragile hunk of steel and silver.
“Ready? Keep your eyes on it.”
Then he pressed his hand to the hilt and Shanna’s gasp of awe made him grin from ear to ear. A soft white light glimmered up from the hilt and onto the blade, lighting up the dark interior of the van. Dirt and rust washed away as the spidery tendrils curled their way to the tip, revealing ancient Greek prayers meant to hold the sentinels safe. The mark of Ares shattered the remaining filth on the hilt, and a jolt of electricity shot through Zach’s hand as the sword came alive.
“How . . .”
“It knows its brother when it feels it,” he said, still grinning.
“Is that like Excalibur or something?”
Zach laughed. “No. Lance has that one. This one is just . . . mine.”
He ached to test it out, to wield the weapon that had once been as dear to him as his life. If he lifted it, it would be weightless now—and only for him—the heavy metal as light as a mere stick, but deadlier than any gun or dagger he might have used. He dug beneath the sword until he felt leather brush his fingers, then dragged out the broad leather belt he’d stored there. He set it on the console, closed the case, then passed it back to Shanna.
“What’s that for?”
“For when we stop again. It’s time to keep it close to me.”
Shanna climbed back between the seats and refastened her seatbelt. She watched him stroke the soft, worn leather.
Feeling like an intruder, she cleared her throat. “So, werewolves, Vampyre . . . Mages. What else is there? I mean, if we’re going to come across more bogeymen, I want to know what they are.”
“Leeches, which you’d probably call zombies. Ghosts, ghouls, Djinn.”
“What?”
“Genies.”
“Oh.” She wouldn’t mind one of those right about now. Three wishes and maybe none of this would be happening. Maybe she’d be snuggled in bed, dreaming sweet dreams instead of living a nightmare.
She watched his profile quietly, unsure about how he’d react to the question perched on her tongue. “And you?”
He held her attention for several long seconds before returning his focus to the road. “What about me?”
“Are you . . .” She licked her lips, “human?”
She closed her eyes, somewhat disturbed at the possibility that she might have had sex with a demon of some kind. She wasn’t
one of those women who found Dracula sexy. She’d always preferred Jonathan Harker—the sweet, reliable fiancé who’d go to the ends of the earth to save the woman he loved.
“I’m human. Plenty of humans work for the Order of Ancients. Mystics and Seers and sentinels.”
“Which were you?” He’d told her some of this, but she’d thought he’d been full of shit and hadn’t really paid attention. Now, however, she was all ears.
“Sentinel. I worked for Ares.”
She tilted her head, studying him. His strong chin, deep-set eyes, and long nose. He looked human, but there were still things about him that she couldn’t explain. “That weird body temperature thing you’ve always had. That doesn’t seem human, now that I know there are other possibilities for it.”
“Protection from Ares. Mages like to use temperature against their enemies. Fire, ice. That sort of thing.”
“Oh.” What else was there to say? It was like she was walking in a novel co-written by R.L. Salvatore and R.L. Stein.
As they merged onto the highway, it was as though someone had erected a wall of cars in their path. Bumper-to-bumper exhaust fumes, created by panicked evacuees.
Horns blared from ahead and beside them. “We’re going to have to use back roads. This will take forever.”
The parade of bright red brake lights ahead wasn’t so much as inching forward any more. Then, there was the sound of metal on metal, and every muscle in Shanna’s body tensed.
“Zach?”
The back wheels of the van bounced violently, as if being lifted from the ground, and Shanna lurched forward, bashing her head into the dash.
“Shit!” Zach yelled. “Get out! Get out of the damned van!”
She threw open her door. Her feet barely touched the pavement before he was beside her, snatching the weapons bag and guitar case from the back seat. He threw open the case, wrapped the sheath around his chest and slid the sword inside so it lay pressed against his spine. He grabbed her hand, pulling her around the neighboring vehicle, but as Shanna started to run, the pavement rumbled, throwing her off balance. She caught herself on the hood of a truck just before her knees could smack the pavement.