Iron Inheritance

by G. R. Fillinger

  “Please don’t scream, I just—”

  My body tensed before his words could even register, and I jabbed at all three pressure points in quick succession.

  He crumpled to the ground, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

  “Sriracha!”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Nate’s khaki shirt blurred in front of me on the second syllable, and he pushed me back toward the dilapidated church.

  “Who is he? What happened?” His small chest puffed, freckled fists raised.

  I sucked in a breath to calm my racing heart and stepped out of his shadow, wiping my dark brown hair out of my eyes as I inched toward my unconscious victim.

  He didn’t look much older than me—maybe nineteen or twenty? Tall. Muscular. Brown hair. A black shirt with a giant rip in the middle.

  “Action report,” Nate said.

  I started to say something, then stopped when I glanced at Nate. His green eyes were lit with intensity. For the first time, I saw him as someone with force behind his words. He had power and the knowledge of millennia crackling in his short, clipped words. How could I not have seen this before?

  “He just snuck up on me and…I reacted.”

  Ria jogged up next to me, her eyes wide and fixated on the mystery man as she came to my side. Clear-cut abs peaked out through Speedy’s torn black shirt. “Evey, when this caliber of man walks up behind you, you don’t react by knocking him out.”

  “I thought he was Nate.”

  Nate nodded. “Who is he?”

  “Don’t know. He’s super fast like you though,” I said, not quite believing what I was saying. Super speed and whips of green light were still so far beyond the realm of possibility that my mouth had trouble forming the words.

  “Do you think he’s one of those Babs?” said Ria.

  Nate and I stared at her until she translated—a common technique for interpreting her speech.

  “A Babylonian?” She rolled her eyes.

  Nate’s face contorted as he looked up at the sky. “He could be a scout. If he is, there’s one way to find out before the rest get here.” He looked back at the church. “Hurry. Grab his feet.”

  Ria failed to grasp a pant leg, so I looped my arms under each of his knees. Nate did the same under his shoulders.

  “How do we find out? Will he have like tattoos all over his body or something?” Ria’s eyes lit up.

  “Tattoos? Why would he—?” Nate shook his head, exasperated. “There’s blood above the door—same tactic the Israelites used, same that would have worked for us if Kovac hadn’t been so powerful.” He shook his head as if that fact still bothered him, like it shouldn’t have been possible.

  I pushed out a calm breath to keep Kovac’s face out of my mind. Every glimpse of it was like a reminder of a bad dream that had reached into my reality—the man who killed my Grandpa had also killed my mom. Definitely the type of conspiracy a sleeping mind would make, and yet, it was true. “What’ll happen if we take him through the door?”

  “If someone evil, like a Babylonian, tries to get through, any part of him that passes the threshold immediately starts to burn.”

  “And if he’s not a Babylonian? What’ll happen to him?” I said, the image of Speedy’s face burning off as Nate backed through the door the last thing I wanted to see.

  “I’ll interrogate him,” said Nate, his face in shadow from a tree branch above. “No one is supposed to even know we’re here.”

  My pulse quickened as I looked down at him. His dark brown hair was ruffled from the way Nate carried him, his eyes were closed, and his mouth hung open. Even if he was a Babylonian, I couldn’t just fry him. He could have knocked me out back there, but instead, he’d tried to say something. Even said “please.”

  “Stop,” I muttered and spun his legs around so I would enter first. “If he is Babylonian, he won’t be any good to us if his head is charbroiled.”

  Nate scowled, some of his true age and power burning through again, but he didn’t try to reverse directions.

  Each weathered floorboard from the porch to the threshold creaked under my feet as I backed through the doors. I looked down at the guy’s jeans when we were a quarter of the way. “Seems ok.”

  Nate exhaled through his nose harshly and stepped in the rest of the way. “If he’s not a Babylonian, then who the heck is he?”

  We set him down on a pew. He was still breathing, but his eyes remained shut.

  “He’s kinda hot in an unconscious sort of way,” Ria mused, taking out her phone for light. She bent forward, her cleavage hovering over the hole in his shirt. “Come on. Remember anatomy class?” She glanced back at me mischievously.

  “It was Biology, and the only anatomy I studied was of an iguana,” I said, a sudden urge to yank her back striking through my forearm.

  Ria stifled a laugh. “Look, he’s smiling. What do you think he’s dreaming about?”

  He was smiling. Maybe that’s just the way his mouth is shaped atop his strong jaw and neck and shoulders and…My mouth went dry, and my cheeks burned. I almost turned away.

  Then he opened his eyes.

  I jumped back, and Ria’s giggle-scream reverberated off the thin wood walls.

  “I hate when I have that effect on women,” he croaked and tried to roll onto his side, a playful smirk affixed to his lips even as he seemed to be in pain.

  My eyes narrowed. Had he ever really been unconscious? Or was all this a trick to have girls fawn over him…or get inside the safe house?

  “Who are you?” Nate growled, advancing and pushing the stranger’s shoulder into the pew so he had to stay lying down.

  “Name’s Josh,” he said, giving up his attempt to sit. “So much for Patron hospitality, eh?” He chuckled, his blue eyes searching for an audience.

  “Don’t mind him.” Ria had gone around and was now leaning over the pew, her caramel curls falling over her right shoulder, a seductive smile pressed into her lips. “Where ya from, Josh?”

  Her seduction had the opposite effect, however.

  His blue eyes flicked to me.

  I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

  Nate stepped in front of me. “You have thirty seconds to tell me who you are.” The words were simple, and so was the threat.

  Ria backed away like a scolded puppy even though Nate hadn’t looked at her, and Josh groaned as he tried to sit up again. Nate zoomed forward and pressed him back into the wood so hard it cracked.

  “Jeesh, I made it in here, didn’t I? Any good Patron would have this place warded with something to keep Babylonians out.” Josh lay on the pew and sucked in a sharp breath. “I’m no Babylonian. I was attacked by a hopped-up Bab with some kind of black cloud around him. I need help.”

  “You saw it? What time? Where were you?” I said, not caring who he was anymore. He might know something. Maybe he’d known Grandpa or could explain why this happened. I desperately needed a ‘why’ right now.

  Nate relaxed his grip and allowed Josh to sit.

  Josh massaged his neck and swung his head up level with mine. “I was in Arizona. Had to be early afternoon—I’m due to transfer to the L.A. headquarters soon, so I was on the road doing sprint drills to train. That guy—I can’t even believe it was a Babylonian—he flew right over me on top of that swirling black goop. I threw a burst of essence up to see what would happen.” His cheeks reddened, and the more he talked, the more hints of a Texan drawl I heard. “Guess I didn’t count on him sending anything back.” He stopped massaging his neck and let his hand drop to his side, his skin very pale, sweat glistening on his forehead.

  I leaned forward, a pang of guilt pinching me as I wondered if I’d hurt him worse than I thought. “What’s wrong?”

  “He sent some of that black cloud down—pressed me into the ground real good. When I came to, I was at the bottom of a crater.” He feigned a smile, his eyes getting heavier and heavier.

  “You shouldn’t have survived,” Nate
said flatly. “I barely did.”

  The right corner of Josh’s lips pinched into a grin. “I imagine I laid there for a peck before the buzzards started tearing at my shirt.”

  My gaze flicked to the six-pack peeking out of his shirt, then I turned away, embarrassed and let down. I’d wanted something about Kovac. Why had he come for us now? How had he known exactly where to look for me at exactly the right moment?

  Josh leaned back. “Anyway, I only came to ’bout fifteen minutes ago.”

  “Fifteen minutes? And you got here all the way from Arizona?” said Ria, her eyes bright with excitement. “Dang, you are fast.”

  Nate pursed his lips. “That was foolish. Graced have limited power. You’re obviously already weak as it is.”

  “I can take care of mine, Bub. Found your little hide out, didn’t I?” Josh grimaced. “If you’re going to make a Patron sanctuary, at least learn to cover your tracks. Saw some of the brightest essence I’ve ever seen swirling around in the sky when I came to, and I followed it all the way here. It was almost white.”

  I chewed my tongue. At least I knew how Josh found us now—Grandpa. But did he even really know what he saw? What that white meant?

  “You could’ve had half the Babylonians in the area after you if I hadn’t come and dispelled it,” he said with a glance at me like he didn’t want to look away.

  I turned and looked out the window.

  “Did you see anyone in the cloud before you were injured?” said Nate.

  Josh nodded. “Just for a moment after he hit me. Can’t believe it myself, but it was definitely that Babylonian leader down in L.A.—Kovac, I think his name is. Can’t see how he learned to conjure that much dark essence.” He tilted to the side and lay back down with a thump.

  Nate’s eyes widened and then narrowed. “You’ve been shielding your essence. Why?” he said, glaring at Josh.

  “I’m fine, Bub. Just need a friendly place to stay so I can sleep it off,” said Josh, his eyes closed.

  Nate tensed his scrawny forearm until a green glove of light enveloped his hand. He reached out and grabbed Josh’s ankle.

  Almost instantly, Josh’s eyes burst open, and his body thrashed like it had been lit on fire. He kicked Nate’s hand off and stood, breathing hard.

  Nate didn’t move back an inch but continued to stare at Josh, his eyes softening with every passing second. “Come on, change of plans,” he said, turning his back to Josh and grabbing up all of our supplies. “We need to get to L.A. tonight.”

  “Why?” I said, unsure about everything right now. My eyes flicked from him to Josh and back.

  “Because our newest guest has been hiding how hurt he really is,” Nate said stiffly.

  I looked back at Josh. Beside the rip in his shirt and looking a bit tired, he seemed fine. The more closely I looked at him, the more his stormy blue eyes connected with mine, the more butterflies I felt. Nothing to indicate that he was hurt.

  “I don’t get it,” said Ria before I could.

  Nate sighed. “The dark essence that Kovac used didn’t hurt him physically; it wounded him spiritually. Josh’s essence doesn’t look like it should.” He paused and waited for us. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  Josh cocked the right corner of his mouth up in a smirk. “Not many people can see through my shields.” He stopped when he was next to Nate. “You’re a Guardian, aren’t you?”

  Nate’s face went blank. “Is that a problem?”

  Josh grinned. “Not with me, Bub. Guardians have always been good in my book. Can’t say the Patrons in L.A. will feel the same though.” He took a shaky step forward.

  Nate wrapped his arm around Josh’s back and supported him down the steps as I followed, every piece of this puzzle still a hazy color and shape.

  CHAPTER NINE

  We roared down the gravel road and turned onto the highway five minutes later. Dust clouded the sky behind us, and rocks kicked up at the underside as the tires skidded on the turns.

  “You can slow down, you know,” Ria yelled from the front seat, her hair whipping out in the warm night air. “No one’s chasing us.”

  Nate gripped the steering wheel instead of speaking.

  I sat in the tiny backseat with Josh and tried to keep him awake. Nate had dumbed Josh’s condition down for Ria and I to understand. Apparently, it was like a spiritual concussion. Go to sleep, and he could die. As it stood, he should be dead. Nate couldn’t explain how he’d survived at all.

  The dirt road made it easy to keep Josh awake since the potholes sent us flying into each other every other second. When the road was smooth, however, his eyes started to droop.

  Ria flipped her visor mirror up, turned around, and snapped her fingers in front of his eyes. “What, this beautiful girl boring you?” She jerked her thumb at me.

  “I—no. I mean—” He ran his hand through his dark brown hair—just a shade lighter than mine.

  I narrowed my eyes at Ria so she’d turn back around. She returned my gaze with even more zeal. She was the expert at socializing, after all, and we’d made a pact that she’d be my wing-girl whenever I needed her.

  Which was always. I usually tried to stay quiet until I had something really good to say. Not exactly the approach you want when conversation’s the only thing keeping a person alive.

  “So, our job is to keep you talking. Your job is to keep talking so you don’t die. Capiche?” said Ria.

  Josh shook his head, looked dizzy, then nodded once.

  “Ok, you first, Evey,” said Ria.

  I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans, caught between wondering how I could even feel emotion right now and how my stomach kept fluttering every time I looked at him. “Where are you from?”

  “All over, but for the past few years, Texas.”

  “I thought I heard an accent. I love accents,” Ria purred.

  “It’s just certain phrases—can’t help it sometimes.” Josh smiled.

  “Say, y’all,” said Ria.

  “Y’all?” Josh looked at me out of the corner of his eye.

  Ria’s giggle cut through the roar of Nate’s gas-guzzling engine.

  “So…” I struggled to find something else to say as my throat became sore. Maybe I wasn’t really ready to be talking to him like this right now. He was handsome, but sometimes his blue eyes reminded me so much of Grandpa. Every glimpse was a reminder of the void in my chest.

  I faced forward and blinked several times to dissipate the tears already forming.

  “The same thing that attacked me, it attacked you, too?” Josh said, straining to focus his eyes on mine again, though seeming to sense what I was thinking about. “That’s why you were running, right? That’s why you were in that church?”

  I nodded, still unable to say anything.

  “Did you lose someone?”

  Ria sniffed and slumped back down in the front seat, the fun now over.

  My voice finally found its way out. “My grandpa. Kovac tried to kill me, and my grandpa jumped in front—sacrificed himself.” The last two words formed a lump in my throat.

  Don’t start crying again. Don’t start.

  “The white essence in the sky.” Josh shook his head like he should have known. “I’m sorry.”

  Tears threatened to flood past my eyelids. One minute I was devastated, the next I wanted to kill someone, then I was thinking about boys, and now I was back to square one—crying because the only family I had left had been murdered right in front of me. Peachy. If I wasn’t already a nutcase, I sure would be now.

  “I should have put it together. I’m so sorry.” Josh pushed his fingers through his thick hair again. “He must’ve been a great Patron to have done that. Probably the only one in a decade.”

  “Try seven,” Nate croaked, his voice gravely.

  I wiped my eyes when Josh looked away.

  Josh stretched out his thick hand and put it on my shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  I turned to look at him, but he h
ad his eyes closed as if he was concentrating. His hand was warm and covered my whole shoulder easily. Part of me felt like such a touch should be awkward, should make my muscles tense with unease and embarrassment, but instead, an overwhelming calm flowed through my limbs. I’d only just met him, and yet something about the weight of his hand, the way his rough calluses scratched against my shirt, all felt natural.

  I closed my eyes too, and Josh’s fingers squeezed into my skin. As if on command, an electric tingle crawled across my shoulder and into the base of my head.

  Twinkles of starry light blinked across my vision like a camera’s flash. I saw something—an image like a blurry painting from behind fogged glass.

  “Patrons are pretty touchy feely.” Ria’s head appeared like a Cheshire cat, floating in mid-air inches from Josh and me.

  We opened our eyes at the same time. Josh didn’t pull his hand away.

  “I mean, I don’t mind, it’s just that Evey here usually squirms away or makes some awkward comment when people shake her hand too long. Especially when their shirts are ripped and exposing a six pack.”

  Josh yanked his hand back before I could say anything even remotely embarrassing. I’d felt my cheeks burn red before, analyzed the way a boy’s first touch on my skin began, endured, and ended, but this was different.

  I turned and glared at Ria. Why’d she have to interrupt like that?

  But then I remembered all the times I’d been thankful she’d interrupted. Ned Billings’ breath as he tried to ask me out, for instance.

  I shuddered slightly to flick the memory out of my mind. Josh’s touch was different, and it wasn’t just a touch. He’d been trying to make me see something. Was this something to do with essence again? Something only Josh could see? I could almost still feel the electric tingle at the back of my neck.

  “Sorry. It’s just tradition for Patrons.” Josh turned back to me, his blue eyes darting up and down from my face. “What they do at funerals. It allows us to transfer positive emotions.”

  I closed my eyes and tried to visualize the blurry picture again, not wanting to analyze how this was even possible, or the fact that I didn’t believe it.