Awakened (Paranormal romance, YA fantasy) (The Guardian Legacy)

by Ednah Walters

  Six, someone offered.

  Do I hear point-six-five? the first announcer asked.

  Seven.

  Seven-five.

  Eight? Do I hear a point-eight? Ladies and gents, he’s at the top of his game, will own several super bowl rings in this decade alone. Going once, going twice…sold for point-eight million dollars to the lady in seat 37.

  The NFL star disappeared from the screen only to be replaced by a pompous-looking man in a business suit. The auction started again.

  I swallowed, my eyes swinging to Bran. “What are they auctioning?”

  “Souls. Let’s go.”

  I couldn’t move. My gaze shifted to the other side of the room—packed gambling tables, chips being swept off the table by angelic looking men and women. My gaze connected with a player as Bran pushed me forward. She looked like she could grace the cover of Elle, but desperation burned in her eyes. I didn’t need to ask Bran to know what the stakes were.

  Shock, revulsion and anger zipped through me in quick succession queasiness washed over me. All demons deserved to be sent to Tartarus. The female gambler’s eyes narrowed on my face. I let thoughts of Darius fill my head, his wraparound sunglasses, beard covering most of his skin.

  I faced forward and let Bran lead us to the left. I glanced back, expecting to see the gorgeous woman still looking at me or outing me as a Guardian. Her fevered gaze was back on her cards. But my ogling must have drawn attention because eyes were on me, followed by attempts to invade my psyche. I resisted and stared straight ahead, my insides coiling tighter with each step, my skin crawling.

  Ahead, through arched entrances, bodies writhed under colored lights. The music grew louder the farther away we moved from the entrance, but no one stopped us. I noted other things like the bar wrapping around the center of the entire floor, bartenders whipping cocktails without lifting a finger and drinks floating above us to clients’ hands. No waiters or waitresses. Why would they need them when the employees were busy selling poor souls to the highest bidder?

  “You okay?” Bran asked.

  “They play with peoples’ souls like it’s nothing,” I said, anger burning inside of me.

  “I know. If we didn’t need to be here, I wouldn’t have brought you here.”

  “Did you visit this place before you came to us?”

  He nodded. “No. Gavyn wouldn’t let me.”

  Whoever owned it ought to be vanquished, I wanted to tell Bran, but the heart-thumping hip-hop beats made conversation impossible. Besides, we were here for Grampa and Moira. We stopped near the booths and seats separating the lounge from the dance area. Flashing disco lights around the dance floor changed from red to blue, then green and back to red again.

  Mingle…dance, Bran telepathed and nodded toward the dance floor, a spacious area packed so tight I couldn’t imagine dancing. I was too edgy, borderline nervous wreck.

  Bran kissed my temple. I’ll see you in a few seconds. Then he disappeared.

  Who wants to brave the dance floor, Remy asked.

  We shook our heads.

  Let’s get those drinks and keep a lookout for trouble.

  We moved as a group to the bar and ordered drinks Kim insisted were ‘mocktails’ or non-alcoholic cocktails. The guys went for club soda, which I noticed they pretended to sip as we drifted along the periphery of the dance floor. My mouth was dry, but nervousness had such a chokehold on my throat I couldn’t swallow the weird concoction in my glass even if I tried.

  You guys ever been to a club like this before? I asked the others.

  Never, they all answered.

  They hold freakin’ auctions, man, Sykes said through clenched teeth. The fiends.

  I should have known “Rocket man” sold his soul, Kim added. It explains why his career took off after years of being a mediocre running back.

  We watched the dancers grind and pop, thrash and twist. Kim and Izzy nodded their heads to the beat, but it was all for show. Everyone was rattled by the macabre scene near the entrance. I scanned the dancers, the people around the bar. Were Valafar’s men here, watching us, waiting? And since no one wore a monk’s garb, I couldn’t tell which ones were Bran’s friends either.

  Remy nodded at the stairs, and we moved toward it. I checked my watch. Five minutes. Dread of the unknown curled in the pit of my stomach. What was Bran doing up there? I searched for his psi and sighed with relief. He was okay. Tense but okay. I searched for Grampa’s. Nothing.

  We stayed close to the rail and away from the clubbers giggling and dashing up and down the stairs. The upstairs wall was black with splashes and squiggles of neon colors, including the door Bran mentioned. We watched the frenzied dancers below for a few minutes.

  Remy leaned toward me. “I’ll go in first. Come after Izzy and Kim.”

  He spoke with the others then placed his drink on a table and sauntered to the camouflaged door. Kim then Izzy followed. Sykes squeezed my hand, an attempt to reassure me. I didn’t think I’d ever be the same again after tonight. I gave him a smile then left.

  The others were waiting behind the door. Everyone looked tense. The sounds from the dance floor didn’t penetrate the door so the silence was creepy. A hallway wrapped around a glass wall and disappeared.

  Music drifted in when Sykes opened the door and joined us. He locked it behind him. The sound of a door opening somewhere reached us, and everyone jerked. I swallowed panic, eyes steady in the direction the noise had come from. Relief coursed through me when Bran appeared around the corner and waved us over.

  We entered an opulent office decorated with plush chairs and a chaise in the private sitting area, a wet bar, floor to ceiling heavy burgundy draperies. A dark cherry office desk and swivel leather chairs took up the other side. Behind the desk was a large screen television screen. We were above the bar, the glass wall giving us a panoramic view of the lounge and the dance floor below.

  “Where’s Gavyn?” I asked.

  “He’ll be back. Let’s get ready.” Bran slanted his head toward the duffel bag with our weapons. It was near the door.

  “First things first,” Remy said and waved his hand. Our clubbing outfits were transformed into hunting clothes—black pants, matching shirts and coats,, and black combat boots. Thank goodness.

  There was silence as we passed around daggers, knives, stars and blades—Remy’s arsenal of lethal weapons. We slid them wherever we could—inside our boots, on sheaths strapped around our thighs, hips and chests. The guys favored close combat weapons, daggers and blades. Izzy grabbed a crossbow, Kim and I went for the throwing knives and ninja stars. I noticed that the blades were different from the ones we used at the dojo. These were lighter in color and had a green tint.

  Remy cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention. “Remember, we’re not here to start a war. We’re here to get the Cardinals out. We’ll use our powers to subdue, not vanquish.”

  “Too bad,” Sykes said.

  “I feel naked without my sword,” Kim griped.

  “I can transform the daggers into swords if need be. But I hope it won’t come to that. Lil, use your power of persuasion to—”

  The door opened, and we looked up. Gavyn sauntered into the room.

  22. THE SECOND BATTLE

  “Guardians. How nice to see you enjoying my hospitality,” Gavyn said with a smirk.

  “Just show us the secret passage,” Bran said.

  Gavyn hesitated, then smiled. “Of course.” He went behind his desk and pulled out the blueprints for the Underground and passed them to Bran, who spread them on the coffee table.

  “Bran’s not returning to the valley with you guys,” Gavyn said as he joined us.

  I flinched as though he’d hit me.

  “Not now, Gavyn,” Bran warned him.

  “That was part of our deal,” his brother continued as though Bran hadn’t spoken. “He’s chosen to leave the protection of Coronis and the Hermonite lords, and I’ve accepted that. But once he helps you, he’s prom
ised not to have anything to do with the Cardinal Guardians ever again.”

  Was that true? Or maybe that was Gavyn’s way of diverting my attention from our mission. “Just tell us about the Underground,” I snapped.

  He grinned, as though he’d scored by pissing me off. My fingers inched to zap him and send him straight to Tartarus for eternity.

  For the next few minutes, he talked while we listened. The Underground had ten sub-levels. Grampa and Moira were being held on the lowest one, inside one of the warehouses.

  “You need this to know where to teleport to.” He whipped out a panoramic photograph of the warehouse. On the left side of the picture was a bunch of guys around a long table, drinking and eating. The rest showed a typical rectangular warehouse with large wooden crates and plastic barrels everywhere. Not typical, windows were missing. In the middle of one were a set of double doors, and at the far left a small red door stood like a target.

  “What are in the barrels and crates?” I asked.

  Gavyn smirked. “Damned souls.”

  He hated me. Whether it was because of my relationship with Bran or because I was a Guardian, I wasn’t sure. “Charming.”

  “Right back at you, Guardian. Next time you use your powers against me, be prepared for the consequences,” he snarled.

  I grinned when the realization hit me. He was still ticked off that I threw those chairs at him at the school on the night of the dance. “The chairs? Child’s play. That was to make you listen. You should be thanking—”

  Remy slapped the table hard, causing a fissure on the wooden surface. “Back to the business at hand. What’s behind these doors?” he pointed at the picture.

  For a brief moment, Gavyn stewed and didn’t answer until Remy repeated the question. “More warehouses, offices. The security down there is pretty tight, but the majority of them are my boss’ workers. A few of Valafar’s men remained after he left for the island a few hours ago.” His voice was brusque.

  “How many?”

  “Half a dozen. The cell where they’re keeping the Guardians is behind the red door.”

  Remy reduced the blue-print to a postcard size, slipped it and the photograph in his pocket. “And the portal to the Underground?”

  Gavyn walked to the television screen behind his desk and placed his hand on it. The silver grey peeled away to reveal a steel door. “The stairs go under this office and end at a door. That door leads to a loading dock on the top floor of the Underground. From there, you can teleport to any floor.”

  My stomach contracted. Trusting the word of a demon who hated our guts was a big gamble. Add to that, this was our first mission. But despite my doubts, my thoughts always returned to Bran. I trusted his judgment, and he trusted Gavyn.

  “Is this the only entrance to the place?” Remy asked.

  Gavyn shrugged. “My Lord owns a lot of properties. There might be others, but this is the one I know.”

  “Thanks for your help,” I said.

  His eyes flashed with hatred. I pretended to not notice. He sneered. “I didn’t do this for you, Guardian. I did it to free my brother from you and your kind.”

  Bran shook his head. “That’s enough, Gavyn.”

  “If anything happens to him, I’ll hold all of you accountable,” Gavyn added.

  “Chill, dude,” Sykes said. “Your brother is his own man. He chose to be here.”

  “He’s doing it for her,” he spat, his eyes on me.

  “Gavyn,” Bran snapped and glared at his brother.

  Gavyn walked away, sat on the swivel chair behind his desk and watched us with a brooding expression. His gaze didn’t leave us until we all stood by the secret door.

  “Ready?” Remy asked, looking each of us in the eye.

  We nodded.

  “I’ll lead,” Remy said and pushed the door to reveal a rectangular landing and stairs with a metal rail. He stepped through the narrow doorway. Kim, Izzy then I followed. Bran and Sykes took the rear end. My heart was pounding so hard I was sure everyone could hear it. This had better not be a trap.

  Scones of light lined the rough concrete wall. The stairs were narrow and spiral, the air chilly. I peered down but couldn’t see the door Gavyn had mentioned. The door closed behind us and for a second, no one moved. Then Remy started down the stairs. We followed. The dull, yellow lights threw our shadows on the wall, but they offered adequate illumination. The stairs were made of slabs of concrete, which muffled our footsteps. Or perhaps the stealth way we moved, eyes alert and bodies coiled for action had something to do with the lack of sound. But audible sighs filled the tiny space when we reached the bottom, tense smiles drifted on faces, even Bran’s.

  Remy waited until we all got off the stairs, then placed his hand on the door. It swung on his hinges with a gentle whoosh. I held my breath, my heart thumping with dread. Then I gasped.

  Seth, Janelle and Hsia, dressed in hunting clothes and armed to the teeth, watched us from across the threshold. Shock robbed me of speech. But I was happy to see them, and so were the others, judging by their expressions. How did they know we’d be here?

  About time you got here, Janelle telepathed.

  We started to speak, but Seth shook his head, touched his lips and pointed to his right. We have company.

  How did you get here so fast? Sykes asked.

  And how did you know we’d be here? I added.

  Darius showed us another way. He contacted us the minute Bran spoke with him.

  We came here against a direct order. I will take full responsibility, Remy telepathed.

  Duly noted, Guardian, but you acted exactly how we hoped you would, Seth answered. If you had done nothing, we would have known you and your team weren’t ready for missions.

  What about Cardinal Falcon’s orders, Izzy asked.

  The others are suiting up. We’ll meet them at a rendezvous point after this, Seth explained.

  We need to get going. Where’s the picture of the warehouse? Janelle asked.

  That was another surprise. How did you know? I asked.

  We eavesdropped on your conversation from here, Hsia said.

  So what’s next, Guardian? Seth’s gaze stayed on Remy.

  Excuse me, sir?

  You’re leading this operation. We’re the back-up team. So what’s the plan?

  Remy outlined the plan he’d shared with us, waited until everyone had seen the photograph of the warehouse, then gave the order. Let’s go.

  We teleported to the warehouse in the photograph. The lights inside the room was blinding after the yellow glow on the landing and the stairs. I blinked then squinted and glanced around. There were so many crates and barrels. What were they hoarding? Damned souls like Gavyn had insinuated? The ceiling was high and painted white, the cement floor bare. A chill crawled under my skin. The air was cold and damp, which made sense since we were deep, deep under the ground.

  At first, there was silence. We stayed put, eyes still alert, fingers locked on weapons or flexing. Then a sudden burst of laughter reverberated inside the warehouse. Remy pointed at each of us and assigned us aisles. To the Cardinals, he indicated up. Seth, Hsia and Janelle teleported to the top of the crates. Remy pointed forward.

  Lil, see what you can do.

  Cold speared through my flesh to my bones. As for my heart, it was pounding so hard I feared the sound filled the room. I licked my lips, swallowed and started to move forward.

  I concentrated, locked on the psi energies of the people laughing. There were ten of them ahead, but a lot more in the adjoining warehouses and rooms. Their psi energies were weird, red, snarling blobs dotted with black swirls. Pure evil.

  Sleep. Go to sleep…go to a deep sleep….

  Pressure increased in my head, as though they were fighting back. I pushed back. Go to sleep…deep sleep.

  The laughter and conversation died down. Thuds followed then there was silence. I crept forward and peeked from behind the last crate. Eight men and women were slumped over a table.
Two more were on the floor. A few cups were tipped over, coffee dripping from the sides of the table.

  My gaze connected with the others. Sykes teleported to the double doors and gave a thumbs-up. Remy nodded. Seth, Janelle and Hsia, go to the red door and find the Cardinals. The rest of us will stay here and—

  A strong pulse swept across the warehouse, the sweet scent of berries filling the air. The slumbering demons, furniture and utensils flew across the room and slammed against the wall. Bodies fell from chairs. Cups crashed and broke. Shrieks and rolling thunder split the air as crates dragged across the floor and barrels rolled and piled in a corner.

  Nature-benders, Janelle warned. Recognize that smell.

  A dozen men in black jumpsuits with matching capes materialized, serrated weapons strapped to their arms. No snarls, no bared teeth or growls. With their beautiful faces and youthful appearance, they could be angels except their eyes were red, matching the round rubies on their belt buckles, the pin holding their capes around their necks and the wrists of their elbow-length gloves.

  I plunged my shaking hand inside my boot, grabbed the handle of my dagger and pulled it free just as omnis ignited above their palms. They launched them at us and created more as the first salvo whizzed across the room.

  “Focus on the omnis, Lil!” Remy yelled.

  I pointed my dagger at the sizzling energy balls. Freeze. Reverse. The omnis stopped in mid-air then shot backward so fast they were blurry. Some found their targets, setting them ablaze. Other hit the wall, leaving behind a charred hole. More of them appeared.

  “Send them to Tartarus,” Seth yelled, rotating his arm to churn the air. He sent a blast of wind at the demons. Two were caught in the drift and went flying against the wall. He flipped his wrist and blades shot out and sunk into their necks, chests.

  A chilling scream of terror resounded in the room as their bodies crumpled and burst into flame. They disappeared into the floor, leaving behind no clothing or blood, just scorch marks. But the omnis kept coming, keeping me busy. My commands were effective when I looked at them, so I kept checking my flanks and over my shoulders, making sure none hit one of us.