Deep in Crimson (A Return to Sanctuary Novel)

by Sarah Gilman

  “This is not the same thing—”

  “Do you want to mate with a poacher?”

  “No.”

  “Then don’t you dare feel like you have no choice. There is always a choice, Lexine.” After a pause, he cocked his head. “You tried dating other demons. That didn’t work out?”

  “To put it mildly.”

  That close, his scent dominated her lungs. His breath tickled her ear, warming her from the inside out. “And are you seeing anyone right now?”

  “No.”

  He leaned back just enough to meet her gaze with a sharp frown. “Is that your final answer?”

  She opened her mouth, but no words came out. He smoothed his hand over her neck. She blinked. She’d touched him a couple times, but this was the first time he’d touched her.

  “Actually,” she whispered, “there is a male I just met.” She swallowed. “I’d like to get to know him better, if he’s interested.”

  “Really? I’m glad to hear it. I’ll see you later, Lexine.”

  He turned and headed with long strides for the parking area beyond the town hall. Heart racing, she scowled to keep from grinning like a fool.

  …

  Jett took the SUV Lexine had driven earlier and headed out of Sanctuary. Her scent lingered, adding to his tension. The sun sank toward the western mountains in shades of pink and gold. Though summer hung on by a thread, the days had noticeably shortened. Soon, it would be dark at this hour.

  He put the window down to get cool air on his face, still hot from the conversation with Lexine. He understood her conflict all too well.

  While living under Thornton’s thumb, Jett had hated everything about his existence, but thought for years he lacked the power to change it. Lexine believed the dream showed her the future, even though she despised the poachers. He saw the torture he’d experienced reflected in her eyes.

  But he had changed his future, when the sacrifice Raphael had been prepared to make had given Jett the motivation to fight. At some point, Lexine would also need to make a choice. Hopefully, she wouldn’t bow to the dream.

  Jett clenched his teeth. He could always kill the son-of-the-bitch poacher when the opportunity presented itself. But he intended to leave Sanctuary after he killed Lawrence. He didn’t belong here, didn’t know the first thing about living a normal life, least of all one with a female. However, spending time with her, temporarily, could be good for them both.

  Dusk descended as he entered human territory, and he turned the headlights on despite his night vision. The last thing he needed was a brush with local law enforcement.

  As he entered the village limits of a tiny Vermont town, a text came through, giving him an address. He found the location a minute later and parked along the sidewalk.

  Lights illuminated the storefronts, but many Closed signs hung in the windows for the night. A figure stepped toward the vehicle, and Jett reached for the gun at his hip.

  “Evening, Jackass.” A smile from the platinum-blond speaker revealed fangs.

  Jett blinked. “You?”

  Almost a year ago, after Raphael had returned to the colony and Jett had hidden in the forest, Raphael had sent a group of Guardians, led by Devin, the demon who now stared through the open window. Jett had refused the help and sent a pissed-off Devin on his way.

  Since then, Jett had figured out Devin was Ginger’s adoptive father, making the Guardian an extension of the archangel family.

  “You remember me, then? Good.” Devin opened the door, the smug grin fading from his face. He held out a palm-sized, plastic case. “Put these on.”

  Jett extracted the colored contacts, set them into place, and got out of the car. He fell into step at the blond Guardian’s side. Devin had traded the black Guardian uniform for jeans and a Hard Rock Cafe shirt. Contacts colored his eyes plain brown.

  Jett mused that an onlooker could mistake them for brothers, both with their light blond hair and brown eyes, the big difference being that Devin had his hair cropped while Jett’s fell to his chin.

  “You look almost normal,” Jett muttered, keeping his fangs out of sight in case any humans observed them.

  “So do you, amazingly enough.”

  Jett ignored the sarcasm. “Do the Guardians frequently slink about in human towns like this?”

  “Not on official business, no, not often. Sometimes small groups leave the colony to practice driving, visit museums, that sort of thing. Law enforcement gets bent out of shape when we chase poachers beyond Sanctuary’s borders like this. On our land we can kill because the treaty with United States gave us sovereignty. Out here, the poachers have the right to a trial and don’t legally deserve to die.”

  Jett scoffed.

  “Yeah,” Devin said. “We’ve been negotiating with the Vermont State Police for about a year now, triggered when they figured out we raided a farm near Burlington to save Raphael. They want to curb poaching, though most of them are more concerned with the assholes getting themselves killed than with the safety of the archangels. If an agreement can be reached, some Guardians and Staties might partner together to deal with poachers’ activities across the state—their legal system combined with our hunting and tracking abilities.”

  “Interesting. You expect it’ll work?”

  “I’m hopeful, more so than some.”

  Jett scanned their dark and quiet surroundings. “Where are the humans you followed here?”

  “The inn’s restaurant. Gwyn is keeping watch inside.” Devin tapped his ear, indicating a discreet communication device, and nodded toward a building across the street. Music filled the air as the door opened and a young couple exited. “We can’t do anything in the public eye, even attempt to interrogate them. We have no choice but to wait and drag them into the woods if we get the chance.”

  Jett fisted his hands. “I fucking hate waiting.”

  “Lark assures me your head is in the right place.”

  “It is. Is yours?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Lawrence wants your grandchildren. You’re more at risk of making rash, emotional decisions than I am. I’m surprised you’re here.”

  “I’ve been a Guardian for over two hundred years. I can keep my shit together even under these circumstances, thank you very much.” Devin paused and his lips twitched into a tight smile.

  “Is something funny?”

  Devin shrugged. “Lark and I were both students of one of the most revered Guardians in the history of demons on earth, and we are respected for it. Since his death, no one has given me shit. The irony that you are, now, amuses me.”

  “I don’t see the irony.”

  “My teacher was Dante, Jackass.”

  Jett stared. “And?”

  Devin’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “I thought Raphael told you about him.”

  “He hasn’t mentioned any Dante.”

  “Son of a…” Devin folded his arms and shook his head. “But I know he gave you the photo.”

  Jett’s hand jerked toward his right jeans pocket, where he kept the wrinkled keepsake. “The photo of my family? He left it for me, but I never asked him about it.”

  “And now isn’t the time for the conversation.”

  Jett kept his gaze on the restaurant windows. “No, it’s not, but it’s a little late to drop the subject now. You’re saying this teacher of yours…”

  “He was your father, though my training was centuries before you were born. Dante was the leader of Sanctuary before Vin. He founded Sanctuary.”

  “Bullshit.” His father, the leader and founder of Sanctuary? And Jett got fucking kidnapped and never rescued? He backed away and shoved his shaking hands into his pockets. No, no, hell no. He didn’t lose anything by being kidnapped, least of all a good family. He didn’t want to hear otherwise.

  “Raphael didn’t recognize you. Neither did I when I first saw you, and it’s little wonder. You have such a good blend of both your parents’ features you don’t look strongly like
either one. But now, the more I look at you, the more of him I see. Your voice, I dare say, is close to identical, especially when you’re giving me shit.”

  Jett’s voice came out as dry as his mouth. “I want to think there haven’t been many children kidnapped from Sanctuary to confuse me with.”

  “There’s never been a kidnapping other than yours and Bryce’s. Everyone thought you’d been killed along with your father. I lived in Haven at the time, but I’ve been told the humans brought a whole residence building down with a handmade bomb. Dante was identified for certain. He was shot just outside, protecting you after hiding you within. By the time the rubble had been thoroughly searched, there wasn’t much left of those inside to identify. I don’t know how much you know about this, but after death, a demon’s body deteriorates rapidly, even the bone. Combined with the explosion, there wasn’t much more than dust left of the occupants of that building.”

  So that’s why the Guardians never rescued him. He’d been so young he didn’t remember much, but he recalled a sense of hope in the early days that someone would come for him. A hope that faded. The disappointment that filled the hole had given fuel to Lawrence’s lies.

  “I still can’t imagine how the humans got you out of there in one piece. Do you remember anything?”

  “Very little. Lawrence insisted my mother all but threw me at them to secure her own escape, and I do have a vague recollection of a woman who was with me. Who disappeared, leaving me alone.”

  Devin’s eyes widened. “Not possible. First, your mother was in a different building at the time, that’s how she survived. Second, she—”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Amelia. I know her well. She absolutely would have died trying to protect you, as your father did.”

  “No. They didn’t protect me. They didn’t care.”

  Devin frowned, but kept going. “Amelia never recovered mentally from the loss of you and Dante. Combined with the Decline, an old-age condition that can afflict older demons, she’s completely broken from reality. So much so, that I doubt she’ll comprehend who you are.” A pause. “I’m sorry.”

  Jett averted his gaze, his ears and face growing hot. He had been with someone. Abandoned by someone.

  Hadn’t he? His head ached. “I can’t tell where the memories end and the lies begin.”

  “You should visit her,” Devin said, his voice quieter. “She moved to Eden, the demon colony in Canada, six months ago. Her condition is not something our archangels can heal, and Eden, being a much bigger colony, has a better facility to keep her comfortable.”

  Jett hesitated, a weight settling on him. The weight of reality. Lawrence’s lies had been his coping mechanism—he knew that even though he hated to admit it to himself. Even as he’d observed Sanctuary that winter and spring and tasted the truth—that everything Lawrence had taught him had been pure shit—he’d clung to the lies. The truth was simply too painful.

  The humans did take me from a good home. From a peaceful community. They took me not from two indifferent demons but from my family, who loved me.

  “Why aren’t you listening to a word I’m saying?” Devin’s brow furrowed.

  Because I’m about to sit on my ass and bawl, motherfucker. “Just stop talking to me.”

  “Fine, Jackass.”

  Across the street, a picture window provided a view of part of the restaurant’s dining room. A man wove between the tables. Recognition hit Jett like a punch to the gut.

  “That’s one of them,” Devin said.

  “Son of a bitch,” Jett said, grateful not just for the good luck presenting itself, but for the end of the other topic. “Finding Lawrence just got easier.”

  “How so?”

  “That’s Logan Anderson. We’ve met.” Jett pressed his lips together to keep a smile from exposing his fangs and stepped off the sidewalk.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Going to have a chat with an old friend. Trust me.”

  Devin cursed, but didn’t stop him. Jett crossed the street and let himself into the restaurant. Inside, the scent of spices and coffee thickened the air. Jazz music played from hidden speakers.

  “Table for one, sir?” The hostess, a teenager in a black suit, smiled.

  Jett spotted his target sitting at a table along the back wall, facing a second man over a couple of beers. “Actually, I’m joining friends.” He minded his fangs as he spoke and indicated the table. “I’d like a coffee, please.”

  The hostess nodded and stepped aside.

  Patrons filled the small dining room. As he passed the bar, a woman in a blue dress pivoted in her swivel chair and leaned toward him.

  “I hope you know what you’re doing,” she said in a harsh whisper. Her brown eyes, framed by light brown hair, narrowed.

  “Gwyn, I assume?”

  She lifted a delicate shoulder and turned back to a mug of coffee and a fancy dessert. He had seen a couple female Guardians around Sanctuary, and Gwyn looked familiar if he imagined her with her hair up. The mirror behind the bar provided her a view of the poachers’ table, and their voices carried well. Unfortunately, their conversation focused on the upcoming football season as he approached. Time for a change of topic.

  “I might have known you’d show up here, Logan,” Jett said.

  “Jett?” Logan looked up from his beer, his mouth open.

  Jett helped himself to a chair, planted his elbows on the table, and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper from behind his clasped fingers. “Here for the twins, are you? So am I.”

  Logan’s shoulders loosened and he tapped his thumb against the tabletop. “Yeah, Henry and I are here on the job. You working for the old man, too?”

  “Victor Lawrence? I’m considering his bid, but I might have a higher bidder in the wings, no pun intended.” The lies rolled easily off his tongue. He’d been forced to be one of them for far too long. At least now, he could put that past to good use.

  Henry chuckled and held out his hand. “And you are?”

  “This is Jett,” Logan said. “He and I used to work together, but I left a few months before that fucking Guardian raid.” He turned back to Jett. “What happened to Lark, anyway?”

  Jett paused. He’d grown unused to hearing Thornton called by the name of the demon he’d possessed. These humans wouldn’t know that piece of trivia, of course. They also didn’t know Jett himself was a demon, so he focused on speaking through tight lips. “Some say he got killed; others say he just disappeared. I haven’t seen or heard from him, myself. I cut my loses and set out on my own. I figure if I can get even one archangel, I’ll be set for life.”

  Logan leaned forward, his gaze eager. “And you have a higher bidder than Dr. Lawrence. How much higher?”

  You’ve always been a greedy bastard. Lawrence’s millions aren’t enough for you? “High enough. He’s a collector of rare things.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Indeed.” Jett’s coffee arrived and he stirred in a packet of sugar. “But, so is Lawrence’s unusual request.”

  “Taking them alive?” Henry shrugged. “Whatever. The customer is always right.”

  “Yeah, and in this case, seriously pissed off.” Logan took a sip of his dark beer. “Today was totally fucked. More of the Guardians were supposed to go after the kid.”

  Henry nodded, a deep frown on his face as he stared into his own beer.

  “A full-on raid on the colony was a shit-poor plan to begin with,” Jett said. “It’s been done before. It’s failed each time.”

  Logan muttered a string of curses.

  “Have you spoken to Lawrence this evening?”

  “Yeah. A meeting has been set up, a few weeks out. New guys, new plan. I’m gonna give it another go. I need the fucking money.” Logan sipped his beer.

  Jett nodded. “Maybe I’ll stop by, try to start a bidding war and drive up Lawrence’s price. Got the details of this meeting?”

  “We sure do.” Logan’s grin faded.
“Not that we’d share such intelligence with a demon.”

  Jett paused with his coffee at his lips. “Excuse me?”

  Henry’s eyes widened and he looked Jett over. “That’s him?”

  A chilly grin stretched across Logan’s face. “You played your part well. Lawrence knew you’d lead the Guardians to the old lab looking for the brat, giving us a good opportunity to strike.”

  Suppressing the urge to reach out and crush the poacher’s throat, Jett set the coffee down and smiled, showing his fangs. “I figured Lawrence had used me. I didn’t expect a bottom dweller like yourself to be high enough up the ladder to know about it, though. Color me surprised.”

  Logan swept up his tall beer glass and hurled it at Jett’s face. Jett leaped to his feet. The human followed, a switchblade in his hand. The restaurant’s patrons yelled and scattered, tripping over chairs and spilling drinks. A few of the tougher-looking men in the room gathered in a loose semicircle. Henry made a run for the exit along with everyone else, Gwyn in pursuit.

  Jett wiped beer from his face, pulled a piece of glass out of his temple, and made no move to fight back. He could kill Logan easily, but doing so in the public eye on human turf would bring a shit storm to the colony’s doorstep. Best to not fight him at all, if possible.

  Logan lunged with the knife and slashed at Jett’s throat. Jett dodged, his movements limited by tables and chairs, taking the slice across the shoulder. The wound stung and blood seeped into his shirt, but Jett kept his focus on the poacher and on the exit beyond him.

  The gawkers all spoke at once, trying to talk Logan down.

  “Demon!” the poacher hollered and pointed at Jett with the knife.

  Jett hissed and growled, hoping to clear a path to the door. Getting out was the most important thing. The gathered humans took a collective step back, except for one.

  “You’re the one waving a knife.” The human who held his ground wore fatigues with “US Army” and “Emerson” stitched across his chest. He folded his arms and glowered at Logan.