by Brianna West
“What about the others? Why do they have to stay?” I asked angrily.
“Because if we were all to leave, Tristan would know immediately that you were no longer here. At least with the group remaining, he may suspect we are in hiding, but not conclude—at least not right away—that we have, in fact, departed.”
Okay, that made sense. It still seemed pointless. If Tristan would figure it out, we were back where we started.
How did he keep finding our whereabouts? What did they not know? Could there be another double-spy?
My mind was churning as I finally gave in and followed Lucas into the passage. Despite my growing amount of questions, now wasn’t the time to hesitate. If they had prepared this escape plan, then I needed to follow it, or risk hurting the ones I cared about.
“Why my hometown?” I asked, narrowly avoiding a dislodged stone in the wall.
“Because it will be the last place he will look,” Lucas stated, grabbing my hand with his and pulling me quicker down the underground corridor.
I wished I knew how to transport. I was still crap at it.
Shortly after pulling me further down the corridor, the building began to shake with a sudden explosion.
“Damn it all,” Lucas cursed, lifting me onto his back quickly and speeding off down the corridor in seconds.
We traveled for what had to be miles in underground channels before he brought us to the surface and quickly darted across land and sea.
I wanted to look back and see if the compound had been attacked, but we were too far from it now for me to see. Besides, all of these buildings looked the same.
When I finally managed to adjust my eyes to the fast moving landscape, we were traveling over water.
I would never get used to seeing water beneath our feet; this feeling that Jesus probably had when he walked on water.
I tried to swallow the uneasy feelings welling up inside of me at the realization that everyone I had grown to care about was now fighting in my stead. It didn’t seem right at all. Even those perverted bastards didn’t deserve to have to fight my fight.
Lucas finally got us home, slowing to a run when I started to see the familiar landscape of my hometown. I watched lazily, my head fuzzy with exhaustion and worry. I should feel elation at being home, but I only had this foreboding sense of doom.
We were back where it all started.
“Now what?” I asked after we finally stopped in front of the home Lucas had rented.
“Now we find the Sword of Judgment,” Lucas stated as he helped me to my feet and led me through the door.
“How do we go about doing that? I thought you said it disappeared after you killed Tobis,” I asked as I flumped down onto the sofa, caring little for how childish it made me look.
Suddenly, I could hear a voice in my head, calling out to me as if from a distance. Victor called to me desperately, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying. I perked upwards, hoping to hear him better. The words were jumbled and faint. I closed my eyes and focused on them.
He has the sword. Lucas has the sword. He said urgently.
Where?
If he calls it, it will come. Came Victor’s cryptic reply.
What? If he calls, it will come. That couldn’t be anymore cryptic.
I turned towards Lucas, perplexed by the words, and was suddenly hit with a sudden feeling of dread.
I could feel him, sending a jolt of adrenaline through me.
Tristan had followed.
Chapter Thirteen
The seeping unease that his dark aura brought was causing my flesh to prickle. As if in slow motion, I turned towards the feeling, voice cracking as I attempted to warn Lucas, but it was too late.
Lucas flew clear across the room, colliding with the wall and denting in in with his body. He fell forward, dropping heavily to the floor.
My core burst with sudden energy, flooding out of me and over to Lucas as he lay still against the floor. It did nothing, however. Lucas still laid unconscious on the floor, and I nearly crippled with my need to wake him. I pivoted, shaking against the suddenness of the attack.
“Did you really believe you could flee?” the harsh voice of a former friend called to me.
I regarded the mangled face, devoid of glamour and exposed for me to truly look upon the pure evil that had destroyed Tristan’s once beautiful face. His skin was ashen, complexion dry and cracked, and his body emaciated with years of corruption. What had once looked youthful and handsome was now deteriorating into a deathly, injured complexion unfitting of an angel.
There were scars of every length and depth over his face. Ones jagged and others smooth and protruding. It was a maze of wounds old and new. It gave me the urge to look away because the injuries were so ugly and pronounced that it turned my stomach to see them, or to wonder how they had come to be.
Tristan eased forward, hand held out towards me as if he truly believed I would just reach out and grab it. I wouldn’t. I was not afraid of him. At least, that’s the way I wanted it to appear.
“You can end all of this,” he said sweetly. His voice caused a collective shiver to overtake me. “If you come with me, no one else will be harmed.”
Ha. Like I was that stupid.
I crossed my arms defiantly, thinking quickly to figure out how to defeat the bastard. “Yeah, no dice. I’m not going anywhere.”
I wanted to glance back, check on Lucas, but that action might lead Tristan to believe I was afraid. I couldn’t be afraid. I had to be strong.
Tristan’s face became menacing as his arm flung sideways and lifted Lucas from the floor, and then easily pinned his great weight to the wall. “I would advise you to rethink your answer. I can easily end his life. Right now.”
Finally, I glanced backwards at the unconscious form of Lucas. There was a fear inside of me that took root at the visage of him easily pinned to a wall, unable to defend himself. My core pulsed, sending out a sudden wave of heat. Tristan remained against the pulse, unaffected. He almost seemed elated by the power of it.
Reality was a bitch.
“You won’t,” I dared, finding my voice was much softer than I intended.
The prospects of losing Lucas was making my throat tight. My heart pounded in my chest as I looked at the lifeless form of Lucas.
Tristan seemed to sense the shift in my body. His hand squeezed the air, and suddenly, Lucas was crying out unconsciously as if struck with a pain unlike any other. I watched with horror as Lucas continued to scream and gasp against the onset of pain. His body, imprisoned, writhed and jolted against the invisible attack.
“Stop!” I cried out.
My body was now shaking so intensely, I worried I might fall to the floor.
“Then come,” Tristan ordered, his eyes glistening with dark intent. “If you surrender yourself, I will let the brute live. It would actually be my pleasure to do so. The very idea of his suffering while you are my prisoner gives me such an excited feeling.”
Well, fuck.
I searched through my body, hoping to find an answer inside the power I held, but I knew nothing could defeat Tristan, only the sword. The only person that could render that sword into existence was Lucas. If he died, then there was no hope to defeat Tristan.
I only had one choice.
Resolving my fate, I glared at Tristan. “Lucas will kill you.”
“Not if it means risking your life,” Tristan responded with a maniacal laugh. “Now, come.”
His hand reached for me, securing around my wrist, and drawing me to him. I fought back the urge to fight him, glimpsing the lax form of my vampire still secured to the wall.
Hot tears bit at my eyes as I felt the creepy sensation of cold, unyielding arms wrapping around me. Closing my eyes, I focused on leaving some sort of message to Lucas. Although, when the evil bastard’s arms tightened around me, I figured out he could hear my thoughts despite my tight wall around them.
“What do you have against Lucas anyway?” I asked, h
oping to divert his attention momentarily while I attempted to suffuse a message onto the picture frame near Lucas. I was already writing it in my head. “It’s not like you really have any reason to hate him,” I baited.
“No reason?” Tristan’s voice dropped, and then he was suddenly squeezing me until I felt he was going to crush my bones. “I have every reason…” he growled as he kicked from the floor and surged into the sky with a burst of speed. My stomach dropped, causing my vision to sway. “—he’s the very reason for…” Tristan thought better of his answer. “He took the only thing that has ever mattered to me.”
Okay. Totally cryptic.
I fought the woozy feeling in my stomach as he burst through the air, spearing through the clouds and taking us higher and farther from Lucas. As soon as I thought we were far enough, I pulled the power from him and made a move to burst it through him. However, I suddenly felt a hard rush of pain through my head and everything went black.
--
My head was splitting as I desperately tried to wake up. My memory was hazy as I attempted to sit upright.
What were in those drinks?
I assessed my surroundings. Dark, damp, and unappealing.
Did I pass out in someone’s garage or something?
It was so cold, I could barely feel my limbs. They were heavy as I attempted to butt-scoot along the hard stone floor towards a wall of some sort.
Before I could make it though, a light appeared out of the darkness. I watched it as it glowed brighter and moved toward me.
Was this a dream, or had I somehow manage to land myself in the twilight zone?
“Hello?” I called out to whoever this dark and scary person was. Hopefully not some serial murderer. Nattie would kill me. “I’m afraid that I’m lost. Where is this?”
“Good morning, Izzy,” the deeply eerie, bodiless voice greeted.
Serial-killer alert.
I felt the floor for my bag, hoping it hadn’t been confiscated. I had pepper spray that may buy me some time to escape.
“It’s unadvised to attempt to escape, Izzy,” the voice admonished.
“Who are you?!” I growled, finding that the hair on my arms and back of my neck prickled with the intimate use of my name. “And how the hell do you know my name?”
The dark shadow moved closer. “Do you not remember me?”
“Remember who?”
The dark figured laughed deeply. “How marvelous. My name is Tristan, dear. You are currently under my protection.”
“Protection?” Like hell I was. “Bullshit.”
“Actually, it is quite so. You’ve suffered memory loss, and I’m afraid, we had little time to get you out of danger. I have been charged with your safety,” he explained.
The figure moved forward, stunning me with his beauty as the low light finally captured his angelic features. Blue eyes regarded me with a gentle look before helping me from the floor.
“I apologize about your current quarters. Let me show you to your room,” he said, grasping tightly around my arm.
“Whoa, buddy,” I cried out as I fought his hold. “You may be gorgeous”—dammit, didn’t mean to say that out loud—“but I don’t know who you are, and I am certainly not buying this protection crap. All I remember is being out drinking last night. Nothing before that has you in it. Believe me, I’d remember someone that gorgeous.”
Blue-eyes regarded me with a handsome smile that made me very nearly drool.
Damn, if all serial killers were this hot, I was doomed.
“I assure you. It is all true. You suffered amnesia from a blow to the head yesterday. See,” he said as he pressed a hand to my head, and I hissed with the sharp pain of it.
Still not buying it.
“That could’ve been anything. That could’ve been you, for all I know.” I fought the pounding that now throbbed in time with my increased heartrate. Dear lord, that smarts. “I mean, I could’ve been kidnapped against my will, and now you’re trying to pull one over one me,” I accused with a misaimed finger.
Crap.
I tried again, getting closer to his face this time. Minor mishap.
“If I had, in fact, kidnapped you, why then would I have left you unbound?” he pointed out.
“I don’t know. You’re the kidnapper, not me,” I responded petulantly.
His grip was strong, but there was a gentleness to it that couldn’t be ignored. Maybe he really was there to keep me safe.
No, Izzy. Serial killers happen to be very intelligent and manipulative. Don’t fall for his obvious ploy.
“Okay, I’ll bite. What are you protecting me from, oh sir knight? And what be-ith thy name, so that I may gift you a personal favor in gratitude?” I added for flavor.
Yeah, I still had my witty banter. At least the head injury hadn’t taken my biting wit.
“From those that seek to use your power for evil, young Izzy,” he responded in kind.
Oh, we were definitely dealing with a crazy psycho path with a double side of crazy.
“Sure, sure,” I said dismissively.
I admit. Witty banter wasn’t usually the best escape method. Actually, it wasn’t any escape method at all.
I was in deep shit with this crazy hot kidnapper. Even though he reminded me oddly of Brad Pitt doesn’t mean I was willing to be his next arts and craft project.
I wanted to live, dammit!
Secondly, I wasn’t sure how or why I was here.
Sure, he offered some crazy story about protection and amnesia, but he couldn’t actually think I’d believe that crap, right?
I looked down and noticed my clothes were different. Quite.
Also, did I lose weight? I touched my stomach idly with the hand not being held against its will. My abs were rock hard. How the hell did that happen?
Finally, we resurfaced in the real world. Light flooded through several bay windows in a house decorated entirely by a man that had that special touch.
Dear lord, crazy hot killer was gay.
Super gay.
Oh, these couches are pretty.
My eyes wandered over the deep moss couches that felt like silk clouds.
Focus, Izzy. You’re being held against your will in a gay man’s house. You can’t honestly be looking at his couches!
But seriously, those couches were super nice. Must have cost a pretty penny.
The entire room was evenly decorated with just as much taste as the last. There was a good bit of femininity in the room I was led to, surprising me when I noticed that there was a small token I had once bought at a carnival sitting on the vanity.
Knight Brad Pitt let me go as I wandered over to the vanity and retrieved the small item. It was exactly like the one I kept with me.
It was the first time I had gone to the carnival with my mother—and the last. Two years later, she passed away. How was it here? I kept that in a jewelry box in my apartment.
I turned towards the man that looked just as delicious as a cream pie. “How did you get this?”
“Oh, that? You brought it with you. Said it was important since your mother had given it to you,” he replied nonchalantly. “You brought very little, but that was one thing you insisted upon having with you.”
I curled the small jewel bracelet, which had been broken for many years, in my hand before stuffing it into my pocket.
Okay, that was something that I only told people I trust. I never spoke of my mother, especially of the things most important to me with strangers.
Maybe. Just maybe, this guy was telling the truth.
“What’s your name, sir knight?” I asked.
“Tristan,” he responded with a small bow.
“Who’s after me, and why?” I asked quickly.
“A group that refers to themselves as the Promiscus Guardians. More specifically, a man named Lucas,” he divulged evenly.
I closed my eyes before opening them and staring back at Tristan. “Okay, I’ll bite.”
--
How could you be this beautiful, gay and crazy? It was against the laws of nature to be so many extremes in one…very beautifully sculpted body.
Of course, he was bat-shit crazy, but at least he was beautiful while doing it. Anyone would buy what you’re selling with a body and looks like those.
Everyone but me, that is.
“Even if I were to buy into this ‘someone is after me’ nonsense,” I began as I eyed Tristan seriously. “Magic…Dark versus Light, that’s stuff I’m not prepared to believe without some kind of proof.”
As if it had been the thing he was waiting for, Tristan displayed his palms before me, and to my amazement, a sphere of light collected in the palms of his hands. The beautiful colors wove intricately, spiraling and gyrating in perfect harmony, before dissipating into nothingness.
“Holy shit,” I exclaimed, clapping my hands over my mouth. “How…what….ohmygod.” I shook off the surprise and stared at Tristan. “How did you do that?!”
He must be some kind of magician. I checked the ceiling for mirrors, or some kind of generator of light orbs.
“Like I have said, Izzy, I am an angel,” he said with a soft sigh.
“You can’t be an angel,” I breathed as I finally turned up with nothing that could have possibly caused the ball of light.
“Why ever not?” he inquired in bemusement.
“Well…‘cause…you’re gay right? Isn’t that against the rules?” I asked incredulously.
“How did you deduce that, Izzy?” he asked.
His eyes were mocking me. I was sure of it by that little Tristan glint in his eyes. Damn him for being gorgeous while doing it.
I was a starved woman. Even gay man was my type; apparently, I was that starved.
“Because…God, or Buddha, or whatever doesn’t condone that, right?” I asked a bit more hesitantly this time.
“I do not affiliate love with a gender. Neither does He. So, no, it is not against the rules,” he said with a small smile.
His deep, resonate chuckle caused me to relax a little, regarding him first with perplexity, and then finally, with comprehension.