As if reading my mind, Flynn holds up one hand. “We’re here to talk.”
Dylan snorts. “Yeah, good one. Your lies, along with your hairdo, need some work. Neither are doing much for me right now.”
Ronan takes a step toward Dylan. His fists curl at his sides. I look to see if he’s got claws, but it’s too dark.
Wait…did he just growl?
“What do you want to talk about? And why come here to do it?” I ask, trying to deflect the tension between Dylan and Ronan.
“Garret wants to meet with Jude. We need you to relay the message,” Flynn says.
Doubt nags at me. “Why come here to tell me that?”
Ronan shrugs. “Garret’s orders.”
Marcus told me protectors don’t lie. Or did he say they couldn’t lie? I decide to test my theory.
“That’s not the real reason you’re here, is it?”
“Our orders were simply to serve as a messenger. Nothing more.” Flynn levels his gaze at me. “You have my word.”
“They’re lying,” Marcus shouts behind us.
Dylan and I spin around as Marcus and Selima jog toward us from the backyard. Marcus and Selima flank me.
“Sorry I went MIA,” Marcus says in my ear. “I sensed other protectors nearby and went in search of them. I called Selima for backup.”
“Garret only sends his deflector soldiers when exterminating demons.” Selima cocks her head and arches an eyebrow. “What are you boys up to?”
“Garret will be very disappointed to learn you’re here, mingling with mundanes and…worse.” Flynn’s face twists as if he just ate something rotten.
The high-pitched noise pierces my skull. I clutch my head and clamp my jaw tightly as the hum vibrates through every bone in my body. “Make it stop,” I cry out.
Someone thumps to the ground and groans behind me. I turn and see Dylan kneeling on the ground, his body bowed as he punches himself in the head.
“Dylan, no!” I force myself to ignore the screechy-grinding noise, to ignore the pain that radiates along my jaw, stabs my brain. Before I can reach him, Selima is at his side, pulling his fists away from his face. She whispers in his ear.
A flash of movement darts past me. Marcus. He lunges toward the two protectors. Ronan steps in front of Flynn, and Marcus tackles him.
Flynn slides a cell phone from his pocket. Is he calling Garret? Is he telling him to expedite whatever he and the other soldiers have planned for Jude? We have to get to Lake Forest.
Heat surges down my arms and settles into my hands. My fingers twitch, and in an instant, a fireball appears in my palm.
Flynn presses the phone to his ear. Before Garret—or whomever he’s calling to take out Jude—answers the phone, I hurl the fireball at him.
Flynn ducks smoothly. He also drops his phone. He shoots me a look of annoyance. “You’re going to pay for that.” His English accent makes him sound even more menacing.
As I’m about to conjure another fireball, someone grabs my arms and forces them to my side. I thrash against the steely grip.
“People are watching,” Marcus says low in my ear.
I stop fighting him and pull my attention away from Flynn. There’s a crowd of people standing just outside Caroline’s front door.
“Show’s over. Just a drunken brawl.” Dylan waves everyone off. “Go back inside.”
Marcus takes another step toward the protectors. “You should leave.”
“Garret’s grand disappointment.” Ronan’s lips curl as he looks from Marcus to me.
The two of them stalk off. A moment later a car roars to life and peels off down the street.
I whirl around to face Selima. “Who were those guys? They…the pain in my head. It was like they were drilling through my skull. It was horrible.”
“Horrible,” Dylan grinds out in agreement.
“Assassins.” Selima shakes her head. “I can’t believe Garret sent them. The two of you are strong enough to defend yourself, but humans. People could’ve gotten hurt tonight.”
“Assassins?” Dylan asks.
“But their powers,” Marcus says. He glances over his shoulder. I follow his gaze and notice most of the crowd on the porch has gone back inside. “What was that?”
Selima studies us grimly. “Remember when I told you Garret may be up to something horrible?”
Marcus and I nod.
“The reason I followed him and Camille to Chicago—in addition to wanting to meet you and find out why you weren’t with the clan—was to find out their dirty secret.”
“And?” I urge her.
Selima holds her stomach as if pained. “Garret has been experimenting on a group of protectors, including Ronan and Flynn, enhancing their powers and giving them new ones.”
“Selima, what are you saying?” Marcus asks through clenched teeth.
Selima struggles to make eye contact with her brother. “They’re blood drinkers.”
Dylan jerks his head toward Marcus. Marcus’s jaw clenches.
“That’s gross. Whose blood are they drinking?” I ask.
“Demon blood,” Selima says, her voice barely a whisper.
Demon blood?
“But that doesn’t make sense,” Marcus says. “Camille told me herself that Garret wants to annihilate all demons. If he wipes them all out, then there’s no more blood to drink.”
“There are demons who are cooperating with Garret,” Selima says.
Dylan’s face twists with disgust. “Serving as a blood bank? Voluntarily?”
Selima nods.
I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, letting it all sink in. I open them again. “So, why is Garret after Jude? Is he trying to get his blood?”
Selima’s dark gaze slides to me. “Garret’s soldiers were killing demons and draining them. I heard Jude traced the deaths back to our clan. He retaliated. They want Jude out of the picture, so they can continue.”
“Unbelievable!” Marcus grunts. “Camille said Jude was slaughtering protectors for no reason, that the clan had to take action to protect itself. More lies.” He rakes his fingers through his hair and takes several steps away from us. He spins on his heel. “Selima, why do you think Ronan and Flynn came here tonight?”
My stomach clenches. “Are they after my blood? Or Dylan’s?”
“Neither of you are pure bloods—same reason neither of you have an effect on protectors—so I doubt that.”
I smack my palm to my forehead. “Jude. We need to go. Now.”
Tomorrow night, I will conjure the greatest demon of all, which won’t help at all if Jude and I die tonight.
Chapter Forty-Three
Jude’s front gate is open. That’s our first clue something’s wrong.
“Demons and their mansions,” Selima says under her breath. “Such a cliché.”
I drum my fingers on the dashboard, afraid of what we’ll find inside. That’s when the darkness hits me. “What happened to the lights along the driveway?”
A breeze rolls through the car as Dylan rolls down his window and leans out. “Uh…guys? There’s broken glass out here.”
“It’s hard to see intruders on the security cameras in the dark,” I point out.
“Garret’s men are here,” Marcus says. “I can sense them.”
“I can, too.” Selima murmurs.
Is that fear in her voice? I swallow hard.
Marcus pulls into the spot usually reserved for Dylan. I’m relieved to see he’s twitching and shaking in the driver’s seat. That means Jude is alive. Then again, the fact that I’m still alive says something, too.
Dylan leans forward from the back seat, thumping the headrest impatiently. “Should we split up? Selima and I could go around back.”
“No.” Marcus thrusts the gearshift into park. “Let’s get inside—together—and see what we’re up against.”
We hurry to the front door. As I slide between Marcus and Selima, I notice Selima isn’t trembling at all. I shouldn’t be surpr
ised, given that she works with demons. Will Marcus ever be immune?
I shove myself to the front of the pack. Heat races down my arms, then settles in my palms. The energy coursing through my body throbs painfully. Dylan puts a hand out to stop me as he lowers his shoulder, positioning himself to ram the door. He thrusts his body against the steel door with such force, it breaks free of its hinges and slams into the opposite wall. The sound is as loud as a thunderclap and I wince. He may as well have telecast our arrival.
Dylan glances over his shoulder at Selima. “You mentioned the plan. What exactly is your father’s plan?”
Selima levels her gaze at him. “To create a race superior to all other supernaturals.”
What would happen if that day came? I shiver at the horror.
The four of us pause in the foyer. I close my eyes and focus. My mind crawls along the hallways to Jude’s office. It’s empty. Then I move onto the kitchen and dining room. Again nothing. Same thing with the living room and family room. I push my mind further to the backyard.
Where is he? He has to be here somewhere.
In my continued training with my father, I’ve come to learn he has the ability to close his mind to me. When he wants to communicate mentally with me, he can. Otherwise, he locks me out and becomes invisible.
“What is she doing?” Selima asks.
“She can detect those she’s connected with,” Dylan says. “Jude, me, the ravens.”
That’s not entirely true. Since Persephone cast her spell over Dylan and me, our connection is gone. I’m sure Dylan knows that.
“Ravens?” Selima asks.
“Anything?” Marcus asks, ignoring Selima.
I shake my head.
“They can’t hide their auras from me,” Marcus says. “They’re here. Several of them.”
“I see them, too,” Selima says, her gaze traveling down the hall.
Dylan scowls. “What are we waiting for? Let’s search the house.”
Lucy!
I stumble backward and gasp as Jude’s voice fills my head.
“What is it?” Marcus grabs my arm.
“Jude.” I squeeze my eyes closed and focus harder.
Leave now! I flinch as my father’s voice booms in my head. It’s too dangerous for you here!
I relay his message.
“We’re not going anywhere,” Dylan says. “Not with a team of nutjobs here to kill him.”
His words linger in the air. None of us add the second part of that statement.
“They’re out back. Let’s go,” I tell them, rushing down the hall.
Marcus and Selima skid to a stop outside of Jude’s office.
“The auras are pretty dense behind these doors,” Marcus says to his sister.
“They spent a lot of time in there. They…” Selima’s voice trails off, her face turning ashen.
“They what?” I ask.
“Cut the protector telepathy crap,” Dylan snaps. “Spill it.”
“The color, smell, and density of an aura is affected by emotion,” Selima says haltingly. “There was a lot of rage here.”
I push past the two of them, Dylan close behind me.
“Lucy…wait!” Marcus grabs my arm. I shake him off.
I throw open the doors. Panic zigzags inside of me as I take in the state of Jude’s office.
“No…”
Bookcases are tipped and books, shredded to bits, cover the floor like snow. Jude’s desk is split in two. The computer and security monitors lay shattered on the floor.
Dylan touches my hand. It’s the first sign of tenderness he’s shown me in a long time. “Outside,” he says.
The four of us reach the back door in a matter of seconds. My heart pounds in my chest; adrenaline floods my veins. I’m ready for a fight.
“Leave Garret to me,” Selima says.
Marcus starts to protest.
“He won’t hurt me,” she says.
“Are you ready for this?” Dylan asks me.
“This is what we’ve trained for,” I tell him, pushing open the back door.
All four of us stop cold.
To our left, Jude hurls fireballs in quick succession, fending off three approaching protectors.
“Max’s here.” Marcus points to the right where two demons hurl fireballs at a group of men I assume are more of Garret’s soldiers.
The taller of the two demons clenches his head with both hands and drops to his knees. The shorter one swipes his hand through the air, and a protector loses his balance and slams onto the ground. The taller demon pushes himself upright then hurls a fireball at the offending protector, engulfing him in a ball of flame. I look away.
In the middle of the football field sized yard, two bodies lie immobile, consumed by flames. I choke on the stench of burning flesh as I charge toward Jude.
“Lucy, wait!” Marcus calls after me.
“Marcus, go with Selima. We’ve got Jude,” Dylan yells over his shoulder as he runs after me.
My ear catches a sharp thawunk behind me, followed by another. Marcus and Selima have changed form. Are they prepared to battle their own kind?
Dammit, Lucy. I don’t want you here! Jude’s voice blasts through my skull, rattling my teeth.
White-hot energy zooms across all of my nerve endings at once. I’m here to keep us both alive! I respond, not sure if he received my telepathic message.
With a sweep of Jude’s hand, one protector’s legs fly out from beneath him and he slams onto the ground. Dylan grabs the second protector from behind in a chokehold. I conjure a fireball in each hand and hurl them in quick succession at another protector about to charge Jude, his hands sporting razorblade-like talons. The protector dodges both fireballs and continues toward Jude. I conjure another fireball and am about to hurl it when the protector collides with an invisible wall.
“Oomph!” He grunts, his face squishing as if connecting with something hard. There’s a cacophony of crunches as his fingers smash against the invisible blockade. Blood oozes from his flattened nose, and shattered teeth splinter from his mouth as he slumps to the ground.
Jude and I look at each other baffled. What just happened? Then it hits me. The protection spell Persephone and I cast on Jude. The impenetrable wall. Could that be it? I only assisted Persephone, but I suddenly feel like there’s hope for me as a witch after all.
The protector in Dylan’s grasp falls slack. His gurgling noises fade away. Dylan releases him, and the lifeless body slides to the ground. As Dylan turns away, the body bounds upright.
“Dylan,” I scream. The protector faked Dylan out. I rush to close the distance between us, conjuring a fireball and hurling it quickly. Then another. But it’s too late. The protector pulls Dylan against his chest and sinks his teeth into Dylan’s throat.
I smack the air forcefully, and the protector’s head jerks back, a trail of bloody saliva flying through the air. I hurl three fireballs in quick succession. Two of them land on target, and the protector screams as he turns into a writhing ball of flame.
The third protector eyeballs Jude and me. I glance over my shoulder as Jude wrenches his hands in a violent gesture. A wet snap fills the air, and the protector drops to the ground. His head is twisted at a sickening angle. I swallow past the bile rising in my throat and focus on Dylan, whose breathing has turned shallow and erratic. His eyes glaze out of focus and he teeters.
“Dylan?” I reach out to catch him as his knees buckle.
“Jude!” I cry out.
Jude reaches my side in an instant. “The gargoyle bit him in the jugular.” He tears Dylan’s shirt away to study the wound. Blood pulses out of Dylan’s neck at a sickening rate.
“How do we stop it?” I ask.
Jude takes Dylan’s shredded shirt and presses it against the gash. His eyes, black and fierce, fix on me. “Get your gargoyle over here now!”
Adrenaline fuels me as I sprint across the massive yard. Marcus and Selima battle the two remaining protectors.
<
br /> “Marcus,” I yell. “Dylan’s been hurt. We need you!”
Marcus cranes his neck in my direction, and one of the protector’s lunges at him, slashing his chest.
“No!” I cry out.
Before Marcus can retaliate, Selima jumps into the air, her feet climbing invisible stairs and then connecting with the protector’s face. I hear a series of crunching sounds as his nose and left cheekbone collapse beneath the force. Blood spurts from his face, temporarily blinding him.
The protector chokes and gurgles on blood and snot. Another wet snap rings out. The protector collapses onto the ground, silent. I glance across the field at Jude, whose fists are twisted in the air. He’s killed another protector.
I pull on Marcus’s arm, aware that he’s bleeding now, too.
“I’ve got this. Go!” Selima pushes her brother away.
Blood streams from his chest wound. Marcus has healing powers, but can he heal himself?
We reach Dylan and Jude.
“It’s the external jugular; otherwise, he’d be dead already,” Jude says. He removes the blood soaked shirt from Dylan’s neck.
Marcus crouches beside Dylan’s unconscious body. I watch in horror as Marcus tears at his own flesh, opening a wound at his wrist. This is what Dylan witnessed the night of the homecoming dance. The night Marcus saved my life for the third time.
My stomach flip-flops nauseously. Jude wipes the fresh blood away from Dylan’s throat then holds Dylan’s head firmly to the side, while Marcus applies his own blood to Dylan’s wound. After several applications of protector blood, Dylan’s wound appears to cauterize itself.
“How is that possible?” I sputter. “Wait…what are you doing?”
Jude’s fierce glare stops me as Marcus holds his bloody wrist to Dylan’s mouth.
“I need you to drink, Dylan,” Jude orders. “This is going to save your life, son.”
I doubt Dylan can hear Jude in his unconscious state, but he starts sucking the blood from Marcus’s wrist anyway. Maybe it’s a demon order Dylan can’t refuse?
I whirl around as footsteps approach from behind. Selima. Max and the other demon follow, but in less of a hurry.
“How’s he doing?” Selima nods at Dylan.
The Girl and the Gargoyle: Book Two of The Girl and the Raven Series Page 24