by Sarah Gilman
But what would he do without their vehicle? How would he get Bryce out safety and kill Lawrence, without the other demons to occupy the security personnel and the rest of the staff? “Damn it.”
“We’re on the same side here, Jett,” Vin said, his tone tense.
After muttering more curses, Jett said, “Lawrence’s lab is in the White Mountains region of New Hampshire, a no-stop-light, more-moose-than-people town called Dearly.”
“What kind of security and defenses are we walking into?”
“Lawrence has the financial resources for substantial security, but he is a civilian and his research is a one-man show, so we’re not looking at an impregnable military bunker. Fences, guards, cameras, dogs. Of course, I haven’t been back to Lawrence’s lab in nearly six years. He may have made improvements.”
“We’ll be prepared,” Vin said.
“Is this the part where you tell me to go back to the colony and wait?” Lex moved to stand directly in front of Vin. No way she’d let him leave her behind. “The forecast calls for a sunny day. I can drive and spare someone a migraine.”
Vin’s lips thinned, but he nodded. “I can’t argue with that. This is going to be a bitch of a drive.”
Headlights pierced the foliage. Jett walked next to Lexine out from under the trees onto the logging road. Three black SUVs pulled to a stop. Overhead, the sunrise smeared half the sky with pink and gold, the brightness already uncomfortable. The daylight glinted off specks of gold in Lexine’s pale copper irises. Her eyes were a fraction too big for her face—a beautiful feature on a female. Resisting the urge to stare, Jett pulled his sunglasses from his pocket.
“I’m driving.” Lexine shooed the driver out of the first vehicle. She got behind the wheel and adjusted the mirrors. Vin slid into the backseat.
Jett sat in the front passenger seat. “Do you drive in human traffic often? We need to travel the main roads to save time.”
“Often enough. It’s a good skill to have, so I practice.” She shifted into drive with a shaking hand and hit the gas far too hard.
The force of her sharp U-turn pressed Jett against the passenger door and the tires skidded in the dirt. “Are you sure you’re all right to drive?”
“I’m fine. If I sat around and waited, I’d lose my mind. I need to help. Besides, I know that’s what Jac would want me to do.”
“Okay.” Bravery, a quality even more captivating than her eyes. He cleared his throat and averted his gaze to the windows. The SUVs sported tinted glass, thank goodness, but it would still be difficult to focus on the road for a long period of time in the sunlight. He kept his sunglasses on.
They drove in silence. The logging road met the wider dirt road that connected the colony to the rest of the world. Twenty miles later, unseen Guardians opened the heavy gates that marked the border between Sanctuary’s land and Vermont state land. The scenery remained the same—nothing but trees.
Tears slid down Lexine’s cheek. Jett sighed and the air whistled past his fangs. “If it makes you feel any better, Jac didn’t suffer. Neither did the other children. No one survives wounds like that for more than a few seconds. And I killed the two individuals who wielded the knives against your brother and the children.”
“The only thing that’ll make me feel better is getting Bryce back and seeing Lawrence pay for those murders.”
“I doubt vengeance will truly make either of us feel better,” he muttered. “But vengeance we will have.”
…
Welcome to Dearly, New Hampshire, Established 1761.
Lexine’s fingers hurt. She relaxed her white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel and glanced at the clock. They’d been on the road for three hours. The late-morning sun gleamed overhead.
Vin’s men had called a half hour ago. Their search of the area around Sanctuary, where they’d lost the scent trail of the kidnapper’s car, had turned up no leads. No credible responses to the Amber Alert, either.
“Where to now?”
Jett, who’d spent most of the trip in silence, stretched and adjusted his sunglasses. His voice dripped acid. “Home sweet home. Take this left.”
“Here?” Lexine turned. “The Dearly Motel?”
“Yeah. Dearly is a small town, but a tourist trap. Law-rence’s people won’t notice three black SUVs with tinted windows at a place like this, but on the back roads closer to the lab, we’d draw immediate suspicion. We’ll walk the rest of the way through the woods behind the building.”
She parked near the few other cars, and the two other SUVs parked nearby. The motel, a single-story, L-shaped building, lacked the run-down face of similar establishments. White paint gleamed. Hanging pots full of mixed flowers hung every ten feet along the porch that ran the length of the building.
Vin leaned forward between the two seats. “Lex, I need you to stay here. I can’t have you in the middle of this confrontation.”
“I’ll stay,” she muttered. She knew better than to be a distraction for the Guardians or put herself in danger. Bryce had already lost one sibling. So long as she was nearby, she could tolerate waiting on the side.
“Good. Thank you.” Vin turned to Jett. “I’m going to the motel office to book a room, so the humans don’t tow us. I’ll meet you and the others in a moment. They have weapons for you.”
Vin got out and Jett opened his door to follow, but she grasped his arm. “Jett.”
He stared at her hand and gently pulled his arm away. “If Bryce is here, I’ll bring him back. If he’s not here, I’ll find him, and bring him back. I promise you.”
“Thank you.” Her voice trembled. “Be safe, all right?”
He paused, looking for all the world like no one had ever expressed concern for him before, and he didn’t know what to make of it. “I will.”
Chapter Four
After accepting a gun and extra ammunition from the Guardians—though he preferred his knife and his fangs when it came to fighting—Jett led the procession through the woods. They discussed basic strategy as they traversed the undergrowth, quick and silent. One of the Guardians, Vin’s fastest runner and a skilled spy, listened to Jett’s directions and ran ahead to scout, vanishing in seconds.
Jett had been in this section of forest only once before but knew it well. The previous trip—after Lawrence sold Jett to a group of archangel poachers headed by Thornton—played through his memory like a video in reverse.
At that gnarled old maple tree, Thornton had shoved Jett to the ground and smashed his fangs with a rock. At that stream, Jett had tried to run after stopping for a much-needed sip of water, only to get backhanded by his new “owner.” Here, in the section of white pines near the house, Jett had hoped Thornton would be kind, that he’d taken Jett away from Lawrence as a mercy, that a better life awaited.
Jett cursed under his breath and slowed the pace.
Ahead, the trees thinned and the forest brightened with light. An involuntary growl ripped from his throat. Thornton had been dealt with eleven months ago. The poacher had wronged the archangels in far worse ways than he’d hurt Jett, and Wren had finished off the wretched human.
Now, it was Lawrence’s turn to die. Jett’s turn for abso-lution.
A night raid would have been beneficial, but he’d be damned if Bryce would have to wait. Besides, Lawrence wouldn’t expect a noontime assault from demons.
He tracked the scout’s scent and climbed a massive pine tree. Vin followed, and at the top, the three of them had an unobstructed view of the house. The brick colonial sat on the crest of a hill, surrounded by a brick wall.
“There’ll be numerous cameras, and he always kept dogs in the yard…” Jett paused, straining to see the details of the distant building. Even with his sunglasses, the sunlight added a washed-out quality to his vision as it beat down on the scene. The light glinted off haphazard edges of broken glass in a window. A knot formed in his stomach. “That’s not right.”
“What?” The scout glanced at him, then back at th
e house.
“There’s a broken window. Lawrence never tolerated loose threads on the carpet. The staff should be falling over themselves to fix a broken window.”
The scout nodded. “There’s been no movement.”
Jett scanned the property. One of the apple trees on the hillside had lost a branch, and no one had picked it up. The grass, overgrown.
“No!” Jett hurried down the tree and ran full tilt out of the woods. He traversed the tall grass to the driveway, continued up the hill, and stopped at the gate. The Guardians kept up with him, except for the scout, who ran ahead and climbed the wall. He stood, balanced, with his gun drawn, ready to cover them if need be.
A wasted effort.
The gate, which had begun to rust, stood open a few inches. Jett shoved it inward. The hinges creaked and tall weeds clung to the iron bars, trying to hold the gate in place.
“Son of a bitch,” Jett said through clenched teeth.
The front yard had been taken over by tree saplings and weeds. A doghouse sat rotting and collapsed. Bits of trash dotted the ground. Judging by the size of the young trees, Lawrence had vacated the property not long after Jett had left with Thornton.
However, the faint odors of bitter, human sweat and vehicle exhaust mingled in the air. Jett studied the ground. “It does look like a vehicle pulled up to the gate and turned around. Someone was here.”
Vin sniffed the packed dirt. “Lawrence’s henchmen would’ve had his new address, one would think, but this is the scent of the human who drove off with Bryce. It’s faint, though. He’s long gone.”
“Yes.” Jett inhaled, tasting the familiar odor of leather and cigarettes. “I don’t smell Bryce. However…”
He had to be sure.
Steeling himself against his past, he kicked in the front door. The Guardians spread out, some going around back of the house, some following him inside.
Bare wood floor. Bare white walls. After a quick glance in the empty rooms where Lawrence had dined and slept, he tracked the kidnapper’s scent up the stairs to the laboratory.
The damned place reeked of chemicals as if the foul mix of odors had sunk into the drywall, diluting the human’s trail. He moved further inside.
Dirty walls, black lab benches, dust. The door to the walk-in refrigerator stood open, the fist indentations and fingernail gouges on the inside of the door a lasting testament to how the tiny, freezing space had once been used.
Turned out a demon could ignite fire no matter how cold, unless drenched with water first.
“What the hell?” a Guardian murmured, inspecting the door and glancing in Jett’s direction. Jett turned away. Their concern, after all, came years too late. As a child, what he would’ve given to see one of these demons opening that door…
Bryce. Bryce was still that child. Jett focused on the floor, searching for footsteps in the dust.
Vin stalked around the far side of the room, glancing into the closets. Jett pushed ahead to the rest of the research area. The cell-culture room, empty. The computer and microscope room, empty.
He paused in the entrance to the deserted surgery suite, nausea overpowering him, phantom pains shooting up all over his body. Memories. Nightmares. Too many of them.
A muffled cry drew his attention, breaking the cold grip of the past.
“Bryce?” Jett rushed down the hallway in the direction of the sound, Vin’s footsteps behind him.
The smothered voice called out again.
He reached the door at the end of the white, featureless hallway, and found it open. Inside, floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall bars divided the room in half and simple bedroom furniture occupied the space beyond. Just in front of the bars, a black trash bag lay on the floor, the contents squirming and kicking.
Jett fell to his knees, grasped the heavy-duty plastic, and tore it wide open. Curled up in the bag, Bryce met his gaze with wide eyes. Duct tape secured his mouth.
Cursing, Jett ripped the plastic more. The humans had wrapped the tape around the child’s legs and secured his arms behind his back. But the difference between finding a dead body and a living child was the hole in the plastic Bryce had managed to make with his fingers.
The other Guardians gathered around, silent. Jett shoved the wretched plastic away. Kneeling, Vin freed the child’s arms and legs. Jett eased the tape off the boy’s face. Unlike during the first rescue attempt in the woods, Bryce didn’t scream or cry. Eerily silent, he sat up, leaned against Jett, and shut his eyes. Bruises marked the side of the child’s face and neck, and blood stained his fingernails. He’d gotten a piece of his would-be executioners at some point.
The humans deserved far worse than the death Jett would deliver to them.
He got to his feet, holding Bryce against his chest, and let flames coat his skin to comfort the child. “How would you like to see your sister?”
The corners of Bryce’s mouth twitched and a hint of color returned to his cheeks. He opened his eyes and nodded.
Jett turned and left his old room, Guardians in tow.
…
“Bryce!” Lexine spotted the Guardians—and Bryce in Jett’s arms—as she paced around the motel’s garden. She broke into a run, crossed the lot, and threw her arms around Jett and her brother.
“Lexi,” Bryce murmured, leaning toward her. “I’m tired.”
“You can sleep.” She kissed his forehead. “We’ll be home by the time you wake up.”
“I’m going to stay here,” Jett said. “If Lawrence or his men left any trail at all, I need to find it. I will finish this.”
Her stomach knotted. “The humans who did this are still out there?”
“Yes.” The single word held enough menace to kill. “But I’ll find them.”
He shifted Bryce to her arms, but her brother reached out and grasped Jett’s jacket. Panic filled his voice. “Don’t go!”
Lexine fought back a fresh wave of tears. His whole life, her shy little brother had only reached out to family, never fearful but always cautious and quiet around strangers and acquaintances. Jett couldn’t realize the significance of Bryce’s request. “Jett, please stay with us.”
“Lawrence is a threat to all.” Vin stepped closer. “We’ll search the town and let you know the minute we find something. In the meantime, you’ll do more good staying here.” He bent toward Jett’s ear and dropped his voice to a near-soundless whisper. “Bryce needs you. Don’t make me kick your ass.”
Jett scoffed, but Bryce yanked on the sleeve of Jett’s jacket. “Please?”
He shoved a hand through his hair. “All right, but you have strange taste in security blankets, kid.”
Bryce smiled.
The Guardians dispersed, some by foot and some in the SUVs, as Jett took her brother from her arms so she could dig the room key from her pocket. She unlocked the door and led them inside the motel room.
Jett settled Bryce on the bed. Her brother curled up among all the extra pillows, and Jett sat, his posture stiff, next to him. Bryce picked at a button on the cuff of Jett’s jacket.
“I have to call home and let them know.” She took her cell phone out of her pocket and turned it on, having forgotten she’d switched it off earlier to save the battery. A message waited.
“Lex? The Guardians have told us what’s going on. I’m here if you want to talk.” Ginger, a human-archangel half-breed, had moved into Sanctuary eleven months ago. Not many in Sanctuary spent time out and about during the day, so Lexine deeply valued the other woman’s company. But, she had to call her mother and father first. She dialed.
A high-pitched chime preceded a recording. “The number you have dialed is not in service.”
Frowning, she dialed again, trying Ginger this time. Same message. The phone showed a strong signal, but Sanctuary only had cell coverage thanks to a tower provided by a wealthy human supporter. Maybe the electrical power had gone out for some reason. That happened every now and then. Maybe another thunderstorm went through.
�
��What’s wrong?”
“The call isn’t connecting. Maybe the power’s down. Or maybe it’s my phone.”
“Try this one.” He freed his wrist from Bryce and pulled a cell from his jacket pocket. “Vin just gave it to me.”
She dialed but got the damned recording again. “Must be the power.”
“That happen often?” Grinning, Jett jerked his arm away as Bryce reached again for the button. Her brother made fists and Jett pretended to fight him. Bryce “fought” back, though his smile didn’t quite reach the shadows in his eyes.
Lexine watched them for a moment before speaking, her tense muscles easing. Her brother would bounce back from this, especially with Jett around. She didn’t dare say it out loud, but quiet, tentative Bryce would be inconsolable after this trauma if not for this stranger he inexplicably trusted. She understood, though. Something about Jett put her at ease, too. “The colony loses power two or three times a year, usually in severe storms.” She sat on her brother’s other side and whispered, “Thank you, Jett.”
Bryce settled down on the pillows and closed his eyes.
Jett met her gaze, all humor gone from his expression. “Don’t thank me. I was wrong.”
“About what?”
He glanced down at Bryce. “Not here. Just…thank God we got there when we did.”
She shuddered. Did Jett mean Bryce’s life had been in danger, even though he’d assured her otherwise? But Jett had brought him back, alive and mostly unharmed. The bruises…what kind of individuals, of any species, could mistreat a child like that? Did they have no hearts at all?
“Without you, we wouldn’t have known where to find him. Thank you.” She got up and moved around the bed. Jett stood and she threw her arms around him.
He lifted a hand and stroked the back of her neck, the skin of his hand warm and rough. She breathed in his scent: dark honey and rich tea. His grip tightened and his other hand settled on the small of her back.
But he pulled away too soon, his eyes hooded. “You should get some rest, too. Are you due for some sleep?”
It had been a week since her last sleep. She nodded.