Deep in Crimson (A Return to Sanctuary Novel)

by Sarah Gilman

  After walking halfway around the lake, the granite-and-glass house came into view, basking in the afternoon sun. Nothing moved and no sound, not even the chirp of birds, reached Jett’s ears. A presence thickened the air with menace. Jett stopped and waited, his arms loose at his sides, the tiny hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. “I’m not here for a fight, Guardian.”

  A demon stepped out of the trees, dressed in black, blades gripped in each hand. He blocked the path to the house, his narrowed gaze behind his light shades intense and unblinking. The sunlight that filtered through the canopy accented his close-cut red hair and glinted off small, gold markings on his collar: a cursive G on the left and a pair of wings on the right.

  Jett suppressed a growl. Lark, Raphael’s primary Guardian, remained a bitter reminder of the years Jett and Raphael spent under Thornton Bailey’s thumb. But Lark, who had been possessed by Thornton’s vengeful spirit, had been every bit as much a prisoner as Jett and the archangel. This is not my enemy.

  “Lark, I’m here to speak with Raphael.” Jett held the other demon’s gaze.

  A long pause followed. The threat radiating off Lark remained steady.

  “Now is not the best time for a social call, Jett,” the Guar-dian said, his voice flat.

  “I have information about the human who organized today’s attack.”

  “Then it’s me you need to talk to.”

  “I need to see Raphael. Now.” Jett cocked his head and studied the tiny, golden wings on the right of Lark’s collar. All the Guardians wore the golden G to the left of their throats, but only Lark wore the wings, a symbol of his esteemed station as personal bodyguard for Raphael and his family. The cool voice of logic told Jett he had no reason to worry over the archangels’ safety with a predator like Lark on duty.

  Raphael doesn’t need me.

  But Jett’s need to verify the archangels’ safety remained. Logic be damned. Shoulders squared, he held the Guardian’s gaze, daring him to say no, preparing to fight if need be.

  Still gripping the long daggers, Lark lifted one hand and his gaze wandered away. He scanned the trees, looking for all the world like he could see through them and pick out any enemy that dared approach. That gaze resettled on Jett, but Jett didn’t flinch.

  “Raphael trusts you, so I’ll bring you inside, if he agrees to see you. But I don’t have the luxury of trusting anyone, even you, right now. Your weapons.” Lark pointed with a blade to the base of a nearby tree.

  Jett unhooked the leather belt at his waist that held his daggers and the guns the Guardians had given him, and dropped them between the tree’s roots. “That’s all I have.”

  “We’ll see. Jacket. Boots.”

  Jett cursed and stripped down to just his jeans and long-sleeved shirt.

  “Arms out.” Lark sheathed his blades.

  “Why?”

  “Just hold still.”

  “Fuck you.” Jett backed away.

  Lark shrugged. “Fine. Town hall’s that way. See you around.”

  Oh, hell. Clenching his teeth, Jett extended his arms and held still as Lark frisked him. He breathed in Lark’s scent and relaxed just a bit. When Thornton had been in possession of Lark’s body, the human’s scent had been noticeable. At the time, Jett had thought Lark some sort of half-breed, but no trace of Thornton’s stench remained.

  Still. He fucking hated being touched. Whenever the damned humans had touched him, he’d bled, bruised, or been restrained as a result.

  The Guardian straightened and nodded. “This way.”

  They approached the house. Lark pressed a button by the door and spoke. “Raphael. Jett is here to see you. It’s about the poachers’ employer.”

  “Show him in,” Raphael responded.

  Jett waited as Lark entered a series of codes in a keypad mounted into the stone wall. Heavy locks released and the Guardian held the door open. The system reminded Jett of Raphael’s former prison and his skin crawled.

  Lark met his gaze and the edge left his tone. “They’re never locked in. They prefer to use the flight decks on the upper floors to come and go. This door is only for those of us who are flight challenged, and it needs to be kept secure in case poachers ever get this far.”

  Of course. Jett shook off the memories of that vile underground prison and stepped inside a cavernous, empty space with stone walls and floor. Apparently, the archangels didn’t use the ground level at all. Lark led him up a flight of stairs to a large landing and a second reinforced door. The Guardian entered more codes and the locks released. This time, Lark stepped through first.

  Jett followed and entered a large, furnished space filled with sunlight from the wraparound windows. He kept his sunglasses on. When was the last time he’d been in anything that resembled a normal home? Pictures on the wall, blankets tossed over cushy furniture, books, potted plants, the scent of coffee. Never. He’d never experienced such a place outside of the few magazines he’d flipped through over the years.

  “Hello, Jett.”

  The quiet voice hit him with physical force. He turned and faced Raphael for the first time since the prison. The archangel’s white wings framed his body and brushed the floor. Other than that most distinctive feature, Jett barely recognized Raphael as the prisoner he’d guarded. When Jett arrived there six years ago, Raphael had long since taken to starving himself and was more wraith than man. The creature who stood in this room had muscle on his bones, thick feathers, and a little color to his skin. His silver eyes, no longer sunken, held curiosity.

  The archangel took a step closer and held out his hand. “Welcome to my home.”

  “Raphael.” After a brief hesitation, Jett stiffly took the offered hand. He’d deliberately kept his distance from the archangel all this time, hoping his preoccupation with protecting him would fade. No such luck. Jett scanned the room, his muscles tense and ready to deal with a threat.

  At least Raphael stepped back and got right to the business at hand. “You’re here about the human who put forth a fortune for my grandchildren?”

  As Jett explained his history with Lawrence and the details of Bryce’s kidnapping, Raphael settled on a tall, backless chair and partially extended his wings. Lark stood against the wall, arms folded, head down, brow furrowed. Jett paced as he spoke.

  “Scientific experimentation,” Raphael said. “This is why he wants the twins alive?”

  “Most likely. Regardless of his exact motives, I’m certain he is the one behind this.”

  Raphael’s gaze shifted past Jett and his eyebrows lifted.

  Jett turned to see Wren on the flight deck, folding his wings, an infant in his arms. Wren paused, his narrowed gaze on Jett. Lark went over and pulled the French doors open. After a muttered exchange, Wren came inside.

  “Son, you really should try to sleep,” Raphael said. “You did too much today.”

  “Ginger finally nodded off, but Phoenix is fussing. I didn’t want Gin to wake.” Wren stopped near Jett, fatigue evident in his eyes but not in his posture. “Hello.”

  So this was the son Raphael had been willing to die for. Prior to meeting Raphael, Jett hadn’t known a parent who gave a shit about his children. The archangel’s willingness to die to prevent his son from being imprisoned or killed had been an eye-opening act for Jett, and the moment he first considered freeing the archangel.

  Jett had seen Wren in flight many times, but this was the closest he’d ever been. The resemblance was striking, but his green-blue eyes were so much more…human than his father’s unearthly silver. “Hello, Wren.”

  Jett couldn’t help but stare at the miniature archangel in Wren’s arms. From his distant vantage point in the woods, he’d never seen either of the twins. The child—a girl, judging by the little pink hat—gripped the edge of her down-covered wing with her tiny hands and stared back.

  Raphael introduced them formally and explained Jett’s purpose. Wren nodded but didn’t offer his hand, using both to clutch the infant to his chest.
“Jett, I’ve never had the chance to thank you for helping my father.”

  “You don’t have anything to thank me for. I almost got him killed.”

  “You made a decision based on the information you had. But it’s the years of kindness you gave him leading up to that day that I want to thank you for. It’s a miracle he left that hole in the ground with his sanity intact. So, thank you.”

  Jett cleared his throat. “I know what it’s like to be locked up that long and how much of a difference a little conversation can make,” he said, awkward as hell. “But what kept Raphael together was you, knowing that you had a life outside of that place. He talked about you constantly. It was annoying.”

  Raphael chuckled, but the moment of light humor didn’t last. He gazed at the floor.

  Wren ran a hand down the child’s wings. “Being hunted is a part of our lives. I’ve long since accepted that for myself.” He glanced at Raphael. “But staring it down from the perspective of a parent…” His voice dripped acid. “Phoenix and Talon have done nothing to deserve all the hate and greed directed at them.” The infant reached out and grasped his thumb with her tiny hand. “It’s unforgivably cruel.”

  “I’ll find Lawrence. You have my word.”

  “Thank you.” The fury in Wren’s gaze contrasted with his tender hold on his daughter. She curled up in the crook of his arm and covered her face with her down-covered wing. “I’d go out there myself to rip the son of a bitch out of his hole, but I need to stay with my family.”

  “Yes. Making an easier target of yourself wouldn’t help anything.” Jett turned to Lark. “What intel do you have? Lawrence’s men left no trail after Bryce’s kidnapping.”

  “The cell tower has been hooked up to emergency power, and the tails I put on the fleeing mercenaries have reported in,” Lark said. “They have no information as of yet. The humans are cooling their heels in a motel in a nearby town.”

  “They probably know they’re being tailed, or at least expect it.”

  “I’m sure. They’re not amateurs.”

  Jett cocked his head, considering all he’d found out about Lark in recent months. Lark possessed a psychic talent, rare among demons. “You have the ability to travel outside your body as a spirit.”

  Lark’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah.”

  “You could sit in their laps and they wouldn’t know. The quickest way to find Lawrence may be for you—”

  “Absolutely not.” Lark paced. “If I tailed the humans, I wouldn’t be here. I will not and cannot leave this family unprotected for that long, even in an offensive maneuver against an enemy.”

  Silence lengthened. Jett’s gaze drifted from Raphael, to Wren, and settled on the newborn. He shook his head. “Letting Lawrence escape is not acceptable.”

  “Of course not,” Lark said, his voice quiet. “But for now, we have to wait. Hopefully, the Guardians tracking the humans will turn up some useful information.”

  “I’m not waiting. Where I can find them?”

  Lark paused. “I’m not comfortable with a hothead getting involved with my only lead. If these men get more spooked than they already are, we could lose our chance to confront Lawrence before he attacks Sanctuary again.”

  “I’d be a hothead if I simply wanted revenge on the asshole.”

  “Don’t you?”

  “Yes.” Jett hissed the word through his fangs. “But more than that, I don’t want another child to grow up in the same hell I did. I won’t allow it. I need to be involved because I know more about Lawrence and his habits than your men do, but I will work with them, not against them. Now, are you going to tell me where to look, or shall I search every town in northern Vermont and lose more precious time?”

  One side of Lark’s mouth curved upward. “Right answer. Your knowledge of Lawrence is invaluable. I’ll text and tell them to expect you. They’ll contact you with a location to meet them. Did Vin give you a phone?”

  “Yeah.” Jett gave Lark the number.

  The Guardian entered the digits into his own cell. “You’ll hear from them soon. In the meantime, take a vehicle and head south toward Island Pond. Fuck this up, though, and I’ll snap off every one of your vertebrae.”

  “Jett,” Raphael said, rousing from his prolonged silence. “Good luck.”

  Wren echoed the sentiment.

  “You know,” Jett said to Lark as dryly as he could, “they’re much nicer than you.”

  Grinning, Lark motioned Jett toward the door. “Don’t let them fool you. They’re not as angelic as they look.”

  “Where’s our demon-smiting heavenly wrath when we need it?” Raphael shook his head and turned to Wren.

  “That does sound useful,” Wren said.

  “See?” Lark opened the door. “Call me the moment you learn anything.”

  Jett’s gaze lingered on the infant a moment before he hurried out. “Will do.”

  Chapter Eight

  The stink of wet ashes filled the air. Lexine took in the smoldering remains of several of Sanctuary’s buildings as she walked through the center of the colony. Guardians and civilians worked together on either side of the wooded path, removing debris and salvaging belongings from the ruined dwellings.

  The brick manse where most of the colony’s oldest demons lived—including her parents—had escaped harm, set farthest back from the main path the humans had taken. Her emotions and stomach churning, she’d left Bryce and their parents to their reunion and went to see the damage caused by the humans.

  Alone now, her heart sank deeper into a pit of pain with every step. She’d been sick before, knowing fate had paired her with a poacher, but seeing the fresh carnage brought the horror and shame to an all-new level. As she passed a Guardian, covered in grime and blood, she avoided his gaze.

  She stopped in front of the residence where she’d shared an apartment with her brother, Jac, for so many years. A grenade had blown out the windows. Fire and shrapnel gutted most of the interior.

  A shudder ripped through her body. No better than a traitor, how could she continue to live here in the colony?

  “Lexine—”

  She gasped, startled so hard it hurt, and whirled.

  “Sorry. Like I said before, you need to be more aware of your surroundings.” Jett approached, but stopped with a wide gap between them and surveyed the smoldering building. “This your place?”

  “It was.” She rubbed her arms.

  A small group of civilians walked by, some glancing furtively at Jett, some scowling at him, all staying as far away from him as possible, even though they had to walk over debris. Jett didn’t seem to notice—his gaze stayed locked on Lexine.

  “Jett, I need to talk to you about something,” she said, ignoring the others.

  He hesitated but nodded. “Walk with me. I’m taking a car and going after some of the humans who are responsible for this mess.”

  She fell into step at his side, her hands in her pockets. “They were really after the twins?”

  “For certain.” Tension filled his voice and stiffened his shoulders.

  Acid shot into her mouth. “Ginger has become a good friend of mine.”

  “So I’ve noticed.”

  She shot him a glare for good measure, but to be honest with herself, she didn’t mind that he’d been watching out for her. It’s what Guardians did, after all, even though he wasn’t officially one of the demon elite. Some things ran stronger in the blood than on paper, despite the fact that he had no idea it was the extra-rare qualities in his family’s bloodline that drove him to protect the archangels, even if that meant sulking on a mountaintop all winter. Would Lark or Raphael explain all that to him, now that he’d finally come into the colony?

  She let out a long breath and refocused on what she had to ask of him while she had the chance. “Back in the motel, I told you about my recurring dream. A dream I hope Ginger will never find out about.”

  His expression darkened.

  “I want to ask for your discreti
on.”

  “You haven’t told anyone else?”

  “Never. I was overwhelmed after Jac’s death and Bryce’s kidnapping, so I wasn’t thinking straight. After I bit you, I owed you an explanation. The secret just spilled out.”

  They walked in silence until the path meandered up a hill and no one lingered within earshot. Jett stopped and faced her, a deep frown on his face. “You believe the colony will reject you over a dream?”

  “More a prophecy than a dream. If the Guardians found out, I’d be branded a traitor. If the dream came to pass, as a poacher’s mate, the Guardians would be within their rights to have me executed.”

  “You’re not a poacher’s mate, yet. These types of dreams…they come true, always?”

  “Yes, but…”

  “But what?”

  “I’ve never asked questions about the phenomenon to avoid drawing suspicion, but from what I’ve read, previous dreams haven’t been of such deplorable events. I don’t believe the dreamers tried to change their fates. They had no reason to.”

  “So, it might be possible to intervene?”

  “I don’t know for certain one way or the other.”

  Jett shifted his hands to his hips and shut his eyes.

  “I only ask for your silence. The archangels need your help far more than I do. You should hurry.”

  “Are you going to try to change your fate, Lexine?” He opened his eyes and lifted his gaze to hers.

  “Jett—”

  “I’m not going anywhere until you answer me.”

  “I doubt I have any real choice. You can’t imagine how strong, how real, the sensations and emotions are in the dreams. I don’t have much hope my fate can be changed, but yes, I have been trying, by dating demons, searching for a mate. I care too much for my family and my friends to walk the path that leads to my dream. But, I fear in the end, the choice won’t be mine to make.”

  Frowning, he walked around her, slow, focused. A shiver raced down her spine as he drew near her on purpose for the first time.

  “I grew up at best a lab rat, at worst a prisoner without the slightest liberty.” He bent closer to her as he spoke, his words firm, unhesitant, but laced with pain. “Now that I’m out of that hell, I will never be a slave again, in any form. Nor will I tolerate seeing anyone else stripped of their free will, least of all by something as intangible as a dream.”