Stryke (New Vampire Disorder Book 4)

by Marie Johnston

  Stryke didn’t move, but the soles of her feet tingled. Energy flowed through the floor.

  She scrambled farther back as a line of light burned through the hardwood from Stryke’s feet toward Quution. The demon disappeared just as the blast reached him. A yelp echoed off the walls and Quution reappeared at the bottom of the stairs. A heat wave reached Zoey a millisecond before she was zapped.

  Her breath whooshed out and she flew backward, hitting a wall. No air returned to her lungs. Gaping like a fish, she writhed and twisted as she slid to the floor. Burning energy coursed through her body, robbing it of natural function.

  A snarl ripped from Stryke. Zoey blinked, tried forcing herself to relax.

  Another ball of light zoomed in her direction. She arched to roll out of the way before she passed out. Stryke intercepted the blast, diving in front of her and sending the object back toward Quution. But Quution had lobbed a second energy grenade.

  Zoey’s body calmed as the energy dissipated, and she dragged in a ragged breath, then another. Her heart beat erratically, threatening to disrupt her breathing. The air around her crackled and tasted like seared wiring. She might be dazed, but she registered that Stryke had saved her more than once, even after her adamant rejection.

  “S-s-s—” She couldn’t get his name out and he couldn’t hear her over the energy sizzling in the room. If her hair had been out of her bun, it’d be standing on end.

  The battle raged, each catching and throwing balls of destruction. Quution tried to get his strikes around Stryke to attack Zoey, but Stryke was a formidable wall.

  Why did he keep protecting her? She should be glad to see his ass get kicked, should root for Quution to destroy him.

  Should.

  Every blast of searing wind toward Stryke sent a surge of adrenaline flooding her veins. Was she scared for him, or for herself? She wasn’t one to fear death, especially not after losing her true mate. How could she be worried for Stryke after what he’d done?

  The floor burned and sputtered, but Zoey didn’t move from behind Stryke’s protection. She’d never felt more useless since the day she’d watched Mitchell burn to death. Inch by inch, Stryke closed the distance between him and Quution.

  Fear clawed up her throat. If their two forms connected, what would happen? Could their collision destroy Stryke in the underworld?

  “Get out of here, Zoey.” Stryke lunged, a wall of energy, his arms flung wide.

  What was he doing?

  But when he met Quution’s image, they both shimmered and disappeared, the deafening bang like a large firework going off by her ear.

  “No!” Her voice echoed through the empty cabin.

  Her ears rang and her heart was thudding. She waited. Were they going to come back?

  She swallowed and tested all of her limbs. Stiff, they worked on command, but she’d have to guzzle some Gatorade. If she hadn’t fed from Stryke as much as she had, the attack would’ve depleted her completely.

  She stared at the spot the males had disappeared from. Stryke was gone.

  Her breathing slowed and she rolled to her hands and knees and groaned as she pulled herself up. She limped to the kitchen and wrestled open a juice. Propping herself against the fridge, she sipped.

  He was gone. Was either one going to come back?

  Zoey chugged the rest and tossed the bottle. Wait here or head back to the compound?

  She checked her phone but couldn’t get anything beyond a black screen.

  Super. Her phone had been fried in the fight. Not her fight, though. She’d been so fucking useless and if it hadn’t been for Stryke… Well, none of this would’ve happened. Not Quution, not Hypna…not Mitchell.

  She screwed her face up. No. She’d been there and Mitchell’s chances had been slim to none.

  Had her mate really been planning to turn on their entire team? He’d been so moody those last few months before his death. She’d assumed it was the stress, had no idea… Mitchell had to have known she wouldn’t have left.

  Tears welled as she recalled how he’d tugged and banged on his side of the door while she’d frantically pounded her side while her skin burned each time she touched the sweltering door. But the door had been constructed for creatures with their strength and it had held.

  Stryke was right. If Mitchell could’ve gotten out, he would’ve, and he hadn’t been thinking about anyone else’s safety. Who could blame him? Zoey wouldn’t fault him for reacting to the most basic instinct of survival. If he had gotten out and she had gotten hurt, it would’ve destroyed him.

  Hot tears rolled down her cheeks and her anger toward Stryke ebbed. The irony was that Stryke had done exactly what Mitchell would’ve wanted to be done if he’d been in his right mind and not in full-panic mode.

  She snatched a bag of potato chips and ripped it open. As she munched, she lost hope that Stryke was coming back.

  Why would he? She’d forced him to break the bond. She’d chosen her work over him. And he was gone.

  Had he survived Quution? Of course. He had to have.

  Had he?

  Enough about Stryke. What about her team? No fucking phone. She had to find out what was going on and daylight was coming soon. The cabin was no longer safe.

  She eyed the destroyed living room. It looked like fireworks had gone off. Scorch marks marred the floor, walls, and ceiling. Furniture had been destroyed or overturned. A haze lingered behind the electrical battle. Her gaze swung toward the banister, to the gap left behind Quution’s first attack when she’d somersaulted down the stairs.

  The owners of this place were going to shit themselves when they returned. Zoey’s mouth quirked. If she didn’t have such an aversion to fire, she’d burn it to the ground. Instead, she packed her items and gathered Stryke’s few belongings and stepped outside. Dawn lightened the horizon with pink and orange. Salt infused her body, but fatigue weighed on her. She doubted there’d be time to rest when she got home. Updates had to be made, and she had to find out if her presence put her friends in jeopardy.

  ***

  Stryke entered the underworld. The charged air between his hands filled with clothing and muscle as he faced Quution in living color. Stryke was still in his chamber, but Quution was here. Had he tracked Stryke down, then followed him to the cabin?

  Stryke summoned all his anger—at the Synod for demanding Zoey choose, at Hypna for forcing his hand before he was ready to reveal himself, at himself for not handling the Mitchell situation differently, and…at Zoey for using that damn bracelet because she’d wanted away from him so badly.

  With a roar, he gripped Quution’s shoulders and spun him into a choke hold.

  Quution’s claws speared his arm and Stryke gritted his teeth against the pain. Winding back as far as he could, he punched Quution in the kidneys, or whatever organ was in the middle of his back. He never knew with the full-blooded crowd. His hit glanced off Quution as he twisted and dropped, loosening Stryke’s hold. Stryke dropped with him and his arm slipped. His limb screamed with agony, and when he rolled back to kick Quution in the trunk, he stalled.

  The claws that had been buried in his arm were still there and no longer attached to Quution.

  Quution grunted and flipped over, sending waves of energy meant for harm toward Stryke. He absorbed each tendril and stared at the gap in Quution’s ratty clothing. Detachable claws, but a normal torso with rippling abs?

  “What the fuck are you?” He was on his butt, should be on the offensive, should at least be ready to defend himself.

  Quution paused and glanced down at himself. “Oh, demon balls.” He snapped his robes together.

  Stryke’s goal shifted from destroying Quution to uncovering what he was hiding.

  He crouched to leap to his feet, but Quution slammed a booted foot into his knee. Bone crunched and Stryke gritted his teeth against the agony. Quution reared his leg back for another kick and Stryke waited. He hadn’t noticed how odd the boots looked before, but with the jagged pant leg
hitched up, the thick sole was revealed—at least three inches thick. Stryke couldn’t risk the distraction to inspect Quution’s other foot, but if both boots were platforms, it’d bring the male closer to Stryke’s height.

  Quution’s leg extended, but the male lacked extraordinary speed and Stryke was ready to seize the opportunity. He caught the boot and wrapped his legs around Quution’s, giving him a good punt in the groin. From Quution’s squeal, his dick was in the standard spot.

  The boot had laces. Stryke wiggled his fingers under them and tore as many as he could in one shot, then he yanked the boot off.

  A normal foot. With a sock even.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Quution couldn’t holler; he was still wheezing from the direct hit to his underworld jewels.

  Normal torso. Fake claws. Regular humanoid foot. Was Quution compensating for a more demon-like extremity, like a cloven hoof?

  Stryke pitched the footwear at Quution’s head and wrestled the male’s other foot into his grip. By the time the second boot came off, Quution was raining fists onto Stryke’s shoulders, weakly because of the odd angle. No hooves, but a matching athletic sock. Since when did one of the Circle shop at department stores?

  The way his knee throbbed, Stryke needed to keep the fight on the dirt floor or he’d be at a major disadvantage standing. He unwrapped his legs and tossed Quution’s limbs in the opposite direction. The other male recovered quickly and flipped over onto Stryke. He attempted to pin Stryke but couldn’t gain a good hold. Stryke twisted and jabbed fists, trying to gain his own handhold.

  Quution hissed, his jagged teeth and fangs dripping saliva onto Stryke’s chest. Stryke aimed a punch at the male’s ugly teeth. His fist connected, and teeth tore into his flesh before they dislodged and went flying.

  Quution’s eyes flared and he touched a hand to his mouth. Stryke expected blood to be welling through the male’s hand. He’d just gotten his teeth knocked out! Instead, the male grimaced, flashing sparkly white chompers and a normal set of fangs.

  “What the fuck are you?” Stryke asked again.

  Quution’s gaze turned black and he hammered his fists into Stryke’s chest.

  Easily batting his arms away, information clicked into place. Concealing clothing, hidden platform boots, fake teeth—Quution was a fraud. He’d gone to great lengths to create the appearance of a pure-blooded demon.

  Stryke snagged one of Quution’s fists in his hand. “You’re not a full-blood.”

  “Aren’t you the smart one.” Quution ripped his hand out of Stryke’s grip and jumped off. Stryke scrambled up, favoring the knee that was slowly mending itself.

  Without the boots, or the teeth, Quution wasn’t as fearsome as before. Stryke prowled around him, covering his limp as much as possible.

  “How’d you fool them all?” He couldn’t keep the awe out of his voice. His father had fooled the Circle, but he’d genuinely looked the part. Quution was as humanoid as Stryke, with horns that could be concealed by his hair and minimal fangs. The male’s hair was a few shades lighter than Stryke’s. His horns were the unique color of the sunset, but hell, maybe he polished those a different color, too.

  “It’s not hard. Humans have been using costumes for years.”

  Stryke cocked his head. Quution sounded different. The male’s real voice was smooth, not harsh and garbled like before, but then talking around prosthetic fangs couldn’t have been easy.

  “Temporarily in costume.” Stryke stopped his movement, gave his leg a rest. The throbbing cleared his head, pushed the memories of Zoey abandoning him away. “You must’ve been living in that getup.”

  Quution nodded, the hostility in his eyes at a low simmer. “Had to be done.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m not going to be another slave to the Circle.” The glimmer in his lilac eyes turned to hatred. “I’m not going to be locked away until I’m useful, only to be disposed of at a moment’s notice.”

  Stryke’s brow creased. Everything he said sounded so familiar. Quution had always seemed familiar to him, but Stryke had assumed it was because he was also an energy demon. Then there was the personal hostility Stryke had felt during their first encounter.

  Puzzle pieces fell into place until an idea formed that seemed impossible. Yet, they were demons. Wasn’t trickery and deception part of their very being?

  But it all made perfect sense. Stryke straightened and drew his shoulders back. He’d only heard the story of his mother’s demise from his sire, had never seen the evidence. That was his mistake. “You’re my brother.”

  Displeasure and satisfaction undulated over Quution’s expression. “I guess you’re not as stupid as I thought you were.”

  “And you hate me. I get it.”

  “Do you?” Quution sneered. “While you were gallivanting around with our sire, I was locked away. Told every day how useless I was, how my birth was a waste of time. How my conception was the worst thing that had ever happened to her.”

  Stryke chuckled, but it lacked all humor. “Ah, the nurturing of a pure-blood mother. It was the same for me. Until our sire found a use for me, and it certainly wasn’t to claim me as his own.”

  Disbelief shimmered in Quution’s gaze. “Of course you’d say that. But our sire didn’t try to kill you, did he? It took me months to recover.” Quution spit in disgust. “The only good thing Mother did for me was die. I used her for fuel while I healed.”

  A sour taste filled Stryke’s mouth and he swallowed. The nightmare Quution must’ve endured… “I didn’t know you existed until our sire said he’d killed you and her.”

  “And you believed him?” Quution’s lip curled.

  “I had no reason not to believe he’d slaughter his own mate and son. I was only alive to aid in his ruse.”

  I would’ve saved you should’ve spilled from Stryke’s lips, but he’d been a different male then. Too eager to please their sire. Sweet brimstone, what would he have done had he known Quution not only existed, but survived? Pleased his sire, or taken mercy on his brother?

  The answer was instant. As much misplaced hero worship as he had for his sire, he’d been raised—neglected and abused—by his mother. He would’ve gone for Quution. Even if he hadn’t had the demon balls to stand up to his sire, Stryke would’ve squirreled his brother away to heal.

  “I would’ve saved you.” His voice rang with truth. All his life, Stryke had wanted a connection. His mother had been beyond useless, his sire a lesson in futility. Lee had paid with his life. Zoey—his chest constricted.

  Quution glared at him, then rubbed his face, like he was suddenly tired. He shuffled to his boots and stomped his feet into them. “You don’t bother checking on my mortality, but you’ll defy the underworld for that female.”

  Fair enough. “Is that why you want her dead? Out of resentment?”

  Quution nodded as he straightened his clothing. “You helped our sire, you helped the vampires, but you left me rotting in a dank cell.”

  For the second time, Stryke found himself saying, “I’m sorry.”

  His brother glanced sharply at him, his expression probing. “Me, too… I guess.”

  “Now what?” Stryke asked.

  “Isn’t that the million-dollar question. If you plan on telling anyone about me, I’ll have to kill you.”

  “Cuz you’ve done such a good job of that so far.”

  Quution scowled at him, then went in search of his teeth. Stryke turned his arm over and plucked the claws from the skin that had healed around it, wincing each time.

  He waited until his brother brushed the dirt off his teeth and fitted them back in his mouth. “I’ve got a deal for you.”

  “I’m sure it benefits you greatly.”

  Of course. “Both of us. Make me your second-tier and I’ll help you keep your secret. Together, we make sure the rest of the Circle quits tampering in the human realm. I know they think they can rule both realms, but all it’ll do is expose us and turn things into a mass
ive witch hunt. The numbers aren’t on our side.”

  Quution shuddered. “And who wants to live under the thirteen’s power? The human realm is the only place to get away from them. No one but them wants to change that.”

  Stryke had the exact same thought. All of the second-tiers relished the ability to escape to the human realm. “We deal with Hypna.”

  “How do you know I won’t kill you after I help you kill her?”

  “Because you’re as curious about me as I am about you.”

  Quution’s mouth screwed up. “What does that even mean?”

  Stryke shrugged. “We both wanted some sort of connection to our parents and they more than disappointed. Now we have each other.”

  “You have Zoey.” Quution rolled his eyes toward Stryke but paused. “Wait. You don’t have Zoey. Am I like your rebound? Your plan B?”

  Stryke ground his jaw. What else was he going to do? Zoey had spelled it out clearly that they were done and it wasn’t in Stryke to roll over and die. But he had a brother now. One who wanted Hypna dead. Stryke would have an easier time figuring out the rest of his life if he didn’t have Hypna after his seed. He wasn’t fool enough to think that if Quution backed off of her, she’d give up. She saw the power, craved it.

  Quution narrowed his eyes and straightened, then caught himself and hunched again. “What if Zoey comes running back, throws herself into your outstretched arms, and begs you to take her back? Do you tell her everything about me? Report to her team? Draw a picture of what I really look like?”

  “I still don’t know how you really look, only that you’re not as god-awful fugly as you are now.”

  “Aw, Stryke. Are you jealous you’re not the only one that got the looks?”

  Well, one of them had a healthy dose of arrogance. Was hubris Quution’s driving force? If so, Stryke would have to tread carefully. He’d learned the hard way, watching his sire’s demise. Brotherly love wasn’t strong between the two of them, but Stryke had no wish to see Quution accept their sire’s fate. He didn’t even trust Quution, but they were bonded by blood and that had to count for something. Chasing after the male blindly, like he had with Zoey, wouldn’t happen.