Kairos

by K. J. Coakley

  Josie, Miles, and Triston slide back into a defensive position. Logan looks up and scans the rooftops for the rest of its kind. He can smell them…as I hone in on his senses, I somehow experience everything through his eyes, mind, and body.

  Thick, acrid, and pungent musk fills the air that moves through his nostrils as he breathes in quietly and exhales to steady his nerves. Logan signals to Triston, who hunkers down and pulls his bow out to take aim. Eli sidles up next to him, his sword making a slight hissing sound as he slowly pulls it from its sheath strapped to his back.

  He looks over his shoulder to check on me, but I’m not there. His heart picks up its pace as he scans the faces behind him for the one person that will put his mind at ease. But I’m not among them. He looks left, right, and then left again…no Sulwen. I can hear his thoughts. He notices Thad hasn’t rejoined the crew, and his mind instantly settles a small degree. Sully must be with him, disposing of the body. Smart thinking on his part, really. She’s not ready for this. Hell, I’m not ready for her to be a part of this, even though I know it’s inevitable.

  He slowly turns a full circle, and I watch as Kayla heads into a dead-end alleyway. The creature follows her like he can’t wait to have a taste. His slimy tongue reaches out to run over his cracked lips as his body coils up tightly with barely restrained desire.

  Kayla disappears around the corner, and it follows close behind. Before Logan can peek around the corner, to plan his point of attack, several heavy bodies land with a thump directly behind him. He whirls around and draws his sword in the same motion. A handful of moonwalkers attack the crew in the blink of an eye. A flash of silver light cascades toward his face, and I scream out…but no words escape my nonexistent lips, I am merely an observer. Logan raises his sword to deflect it just in the nick of time. It’s on…I’m going to bathe in the blood of evil tonight, he thinks to himself.

  Arrows whiz overhead as Triston takes out several more approaching from the rooftops. Two accost Logan from his front, and he swings his sword through a midsection, pulls back, and stabs through the one advancing from behind me. Just as the one in front slices at his chest, he jumps back and slams the blunt pommel of his sword into its face. It howls in agony and drops to one knee. He raises his sword over his head and sends it downward, slicing through its neck, leaving nothing but a bloody stump behind.

  A burning sensation runs across his side, but I feel it as if it was my own pain, and it draws our attention to the one on his left. Logan staggers back a bit and reaches to his side. He looks down to find his hand covered with blood. Damn, I’m off my game tonight. I can’t keep my mind focused on the task at hand, because all it really wants right now is to find Sulwen and make sure she’s safe.

  “You’re going to regret that!” he yells out as he charges toward the moonwalker. It looks a little startled by his bravado, but quickly pulls back on its dagger and takes a defensive position.

  Logan’s sword meets the dagger with enough force that it is knocked clear of his adversary’s hand. It tries to reach for another blade on its thigh but Logan grips its throat and slams it into the brick building. “You sick fuck. You get off on injuring the innocent?” Logan drops his sword and reaches for his dagger with his free hand, still holding its throat with the other. Its arms pull and scratch at him trying to break free, but his grip is like a locked manacle. He squeezes harder and its motions stop as it realizes Logan’s blade is now pressed against its chest. “Why? Why are you hunting the girl?”

  A bloodcurdling laugh escapes its lips as it hisses through razor sharp teeth, trying to suck in air from its constricted airways. “She is the key to the gate. Master wants her.” Its voice comes out a strained whisper. But I hear it. I hear the words that I have feared this entire time. Now I know that they will stop at nothing to take her. His thoughts echo my own right now.

  My heart quickens as rage builds in my veins. Logan explodes with anger. “You can’t have her. I will never let you have her.” He puts his face in the moonwalker’s and shoves the blade deep into its chest. His eyes stare into the moonwalker’s as the shock of pain runs through its quivering body. “She is mine.” Logan’s venom filled words echo down the alleyway.

  “…of sun and moon,” it sputters as blood flows from its mouth, “master will have her…n.n.needs her. She is k…k…” Its body falls limp in his arms, and he slings it to the ground.

  All around us swords and knives clank as they meet metal and slurp as they’re pulled from wounded flesh. Logan rushes around the corner to find Kayla on top of her adversary, knees pressed deep into its chest, hand clenched around the handle of her blade as she repeatedly slashes over and over into its face, neck, and chest. Her neck and face are splattered with black body fluids that appear to be its blood, but she doesn’t pay that any mind as she hacks away at its lifeless form.

  The closer I get, the clearer her voice becomes: “…bastard…you deserve…you piece of scum-sucking shit.” Logan runs to her and wraps his arms around her chest to pull her off of it. She kicks and slings her arms wildly in an attempt to pull free.

  “Hush, Kayla. I’ve got you. Hush now.” Her arms fall slack at her sides, and she sinks into his arms. Logan holds her for a minute, her back to his chest, his arm lying over her chest. His sword hand shaking as the adrenaline seeps out of his body. Something wet splashes on his forearm, and he tenses, because he knows she’s going to have a moment. He squeezes her tightly to offer the only comfort he knows how when he knows she’s reliving that horrible moment from years past. Kayla is only a hard-ass because she has a past that most people would’ve crawled in a hole and died to forget. But she’s a fighter, and no matter how shitty her attitude, you have to respect that. The depth of sincerity he felt at that thought is of little concern to me right now as I look down on a shattered Kayla. She looks utterly spent. Even though I have never cared much for her, I find myself trying to reach out and offer her comfort.

  Logan slowly releases her as her breathing resumes a normal pace. He takes a few steps back to survey the damage, his eyes running over the crimson gore before us. Bits of flesh are scattered all over the alleyway. He slides his sword back into its sheath.

  “Clean this up.” He turns his back on her and walks to the connecting alley to find me. I have to make sure she’s all right. It’s the only thing that will ease the worry I’m feeling over her being separated from me.

  Chase looks up from one of the bodies as Logan walks past him. “Where are you going?” He raises a blood-coated sleeve to his face to wipe the sweat from his brow. It leaves a burnished smear as we swipes it over his forehead.

  “To find Sully. Go help Kayla…she’s a little rattled.”

  Chase releases a weary sigh and pushes up from his squatted position. He gives a curt nod. “No worries. I’ll take care of our girl.”

  Logan keeps on walking toward the back entrance of the club.

  “Logan!” He stops abruptly, runs his hand through his damp hair, and waits for what he knows Triston is going to say. His body is drawn tight with concern for me. Fucking sick of this, he mutters under his breath. All of this. Night after night of endless patrols. Coming home covered with the blood of the dead I left in my wake. I’m so fucking tired. Tired of this life. I just want to hold Sulwen in my arms. Breathe in the scent that is uniquely her and revel in the warmth of her lush curves. He closes his eyes and readies himself.

  Triston’s boots make a slight splashing noise as they tread through pools of liquid sludge oozing from lifeless forms scattered throughout the bleak alley. He stops in front of Logan, forcing him to look at him. Triston’s face is as smudged with blood and dirt as are the rest of them. Blue eyes streaked with red from fatigue and stress. It’s the first time I’ve really taken notice of his worn and tired expression. He looks as sick of all of this as I feel. We’ve been fighting the good fight for nearly a decade now, and it seems to only get worse as the years burn away like cinders in a dwindling fire. Logan’s thoughts
come across sharp, concise, and to the point. Just like the man himself.

  Triston places a firm hand on Logan’s shoulder. “You must never allow that to happen again. Your heart wasn’t in the fight. You were sloppy, and it could have cost you. Could have cost all of us.” He squeezes Logan’s shoulder, gives a curt nod, and turns back to help the others as they pull the bodies next to the dumpster. Josie has lighter fluid and a Zippo in hand, ready to torch any evidence of tonight’s doings.

  Kayla is chanting a concealment spell and pouring a circle of salt around the bodies. Sometimes I forget she’s not like us. She’s something more. But she’s just as screwed up as the rest of us are from the toll this war has taken on us. The worst part is it hasn’t even really started. Logan huffs and shakes his head. We haven’t seen anything yet.

  He stomps over to the door and wraps his hand around the brass handle and pulls it open. The noise from the club is nearly deafening…Logan’s discomfort is my own. He slinks along the wall and stays to the shadows. His eyes scan the bottom floor for me…searching for her long waves of burnished brown hair. I can’t wait to slide my fingers through her mass of silken tresses.

  Neon lights swirl through the haze of smoke curling from candles and incense lit throughout the joint. He squints, trying to see clearly through the haze. He’s uncomfortable, like icy claws are making their way up his spine. Something isn’t right. I can almost feel it when the fine hairs on his neck and arm rise in alarm, and his heart starts to beat a heavy staccato rhythm as adrenaline flashes through his veins. He clenches his fist and pushes his way through the crowd. Shoving gyrating bodies out of the way, he breaks into a jog to reach the front door. Logan passes the bewildered hostess and bursts out the front door to find the security guard slumped over in a magic-induced daze.

  “Sulwen!” he yells, starting to run. I can sense the energy crackling over his skin as he crosses the street. Please no. Please no. Please don’t let them have her. I want to reach out to him, to calm his racing heart, but I’m nothing more than a breath of air flowing at his side.

  Logan reaches the sidewalk across the dark street, and it suddenly occurs to me that all of the street lamps are blown, and he’s cast in an unsettling darkness. He feels it too as his hand clenches tighter around the hilt of his sword. Then he breaks into a run in the direction his heart tells him I am. This feeling running through my bones is like none I have ever felt before…It’s consuming me. Rage. Anger. Fear. Love. Fear. Oh gods, I have never known such fear. His mouth is dry as he breathes in and out in an excited rush. I reach for my side but realize it’s Logan’s side that aches with pain, but he shrugs it off and continues on.

  Running. Running. His boots stomping out a furious beat as he races down the walk. My eyes take in everything as he blurs past parked cars and drunken pedestrians coming home from a night out.

  “Sulwen!” I can feel her presence like a warm cloak wrapped around my shoulders. She’s close.

  He spots movement up ahead in a parking lot, and I feel his heart literally stop as he watches the Narkarri thrust my limp body into a van and hop in beside me.

  “No!” Logan yells as loudly as he can to draw the Narkarris’ attention. His muscles burn as he pushes himself to run faster, harder. I have to reach her. His left hand pulls the blade from his thigh holster, and he sends it soaring straight into its neck. Its lifeless form slumps over my body. But I don’t wake, and Logan is already pulling another blade out, ready to attack. Ten feet. Five feet. I’m nearly there.

  A moonwalker leaps over the seat, just as he’s about to reach me, and slams the door shut. Tires squeal as the driver throws a heavy foot on the accelerator. Logan slams into the side of the van, shoving his blade through the metal and using it to propel himself onto the roof. He grips the luggage rack and braces himself as the van whips out of the parking lot and onto the road at a reckless speed. Horns honk and cars swerve as the driver runs through a light at the end of the street and makes a hard left onto another road.

  Logan’s legs sling left and right as he grips the rack even harder, trying to secure himself. He reaches with his left hand to his hip where he has another blade and pulls it free. He places the handle in his mouth and starts to move up the roof toward the front of the vehicle.

  The driver cuts sharply to the right and then the left, trying to shake him free. Logan keeps moving up. The wind causes tears to streak down his cheeks as he’s blasted in the face with its intensity. I can hear them yelling at each other inside the van.

  They’re speaking in an ancient form of Finnish that Logan can barely decipher, but he does catch the sentence that makes his level of fear quadruple: “Must not fail. Must take her to our master,” the nervous one says. He tucks his head into his chest and pushes himself farther up the roof, making his way to the windshield as quickly and quietly as he can.

  Another hard right nearly tosses him from the car, but he struggles to regain his grip as his legs dangle over the left side of the van. Logan groans as he pulls himself back atop the vehicle and then lunges for the windshield.

  His body lands with a heavy thump that dents the roof. He pulls his blade free of his mouth and slams the steel-plated butt into the windshield with everything he has. The driver panics and starts to jerk the van from side to side, trying to force him off. Logan flips his body over and lands face-first on the windshield.

  “Pull the fuck over.” Logan’s voice is a guttural growl. His legs strain as he struggles to gain purchase on the hood. His left hand is clenched in a death grip on the lip of the hood that meets the windshield, and he uses it to leverage his weight as he brings his right hand down to smash through the windshield.

  The glass shatters beneath the heel of his hand and crumples inward. Damn tempered glass. He rams the butt of his blade handle through, and it finally shatters completely and leaves a gaping hole. A pair of shocked obsidian black eyes stares back at Logan. The one in the passenger seat reaches to his side and pulls a handgun free. In reflex Logan flings his blade straight for its chest. It drops the gun and howls as it slumps over, gripping the dagger as blood gushes out around the edges. It’s a fatal wound to the heart. The driver scrambles to reach for the fallen weapon while trying to maintain control of the car.

  Logan swings his legs around and through the windshield, kicking it square in the face. Its jaw snaps and falls slack to the side of its face. Logan staggers, but maintains his balance as the car swerves into oncoming traffic, and he reaches for the steering wheel to quickly set us back into our lane. The driver starts to laugh and slams on the gas. Logan reaches behind it with his left hand and slams its face into his knee. Its body falls slack in the seat, his foot falling off the accelerator. We finally decelerate. Logan pulls the vehicle off to the side of the road, jerks the emergency brake, and throws it into park.

  He turns and rushes to my side, pulling me up into his arms against his chest. I hear a tiny moan escape my slack jaw, but my body and mind remains unconscious. He lifts my limp body up into his arms and cradles me into him. He can’t help but run his lips across my hairline. I’m overcome with a feeling of relief as he holds me, but he still has to get us out of this van and away from here before more of them come. Logan looks around the vehicle contemplating his next move. I can’t take the chance of driving the van and a tracking device leading them straight to us, he thinks.

  With my limp body cradled in his arms, he struggles with the door handle and then finally manages to slide it open. He steps into the night and takes in his surroundings. We’ve left the city. I can’t even see a faint glow of city lights. We must have covered more miles than I realized.

  The distant hum of a motor approaches from the other side of the road, and Logan scrambles to hide us in the adjacent field. It’s a narrow two-lane road that bends around multiple curves before stretching off into the dark distance. The oncoming headlights approach and pass without hesitation. He releases the breath he had been holding and looks down to my body cradled
securely in his strong arms.

  His hands run over my body, checking for injuries, feeling for a steady pulse at my neck, reassuring him that I’m safe and whole. They must have siphoned energy from her. All things considered we got lucky tonight.

  As he looks down at me I see myself through his eyes…listen to the way his thoughts roll like the tide through his mind. His thoughts become my own.

  Her dark lashes lie against her ivory skin. A few tiny freckles are speckled over the bridge of her nose. I run my finger from the indent next to her pert little nose, over her high cheekbone, and then trace the edge of her hairline down and around her ear. My eyes watch with rapt attention, taking in every detail of her beautiful face. She is the most breathtakingly beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. I smirk as I think of how she doesn’t even realize how truly alluring she is. God, I love this woman.

  I settle her down on the grass and lean down to graze my lips over hers. Her warm breath glides over my cheek as I turn my face into hers and run my nose and lips along her jaw.

  “I love you, Sulwen Macgregor,” I whisper softly next to her ear. I kiss the tip of her nose and then gently lay her down.

  As I stand I steal one more glance at her and feel the smile that breaks across my face. So peaceful. So much of everything that I need lies there looking like a nymph in the grass.

  I’m pulled from his thoughts as he reaches for his cell in his back pocket only to find its cracked screen taunting him. He presses the power button, hoping for some sign of life within the piece of electronics that links us to the rest of the world and safety beyond. Nothing.

  “Shit.” He turns back to glance at my unconscious form. She’s still out and probably won’t wake till the morning.

  Tucking the phone back inside his pocket, he decides to check the van for a phone, hoping to alert the team to where we are. Logan reaches the rear of the van and rises to peek inside the rear windows.