He mind-linked with Dagan. The warrior’s capabilities were unprecedented in picking up past happenings. We might have a little problem. Gonna need your help.
Sure. Where?
Downtown. The Shelter.
Týr dematerialized and, moments later, reformed in the dark street. This time of the morning, everything appeared quiet, and the faded brick building stood worn and tired like an aging sentinel. The sounds of snoring and hoarse coughing drifted to him from somewhere inside the two-story place.
The Shelter’s dimly lit wall bulbs casting insipid pools of light along the length of the building did little to brighten the drabness. Týr cut around to the back, evading a tottering stack of cardboard boxes and reeking trash bags that lined the dank wall, and scanned inside the place for the boy. Nothing.
Hands on his hips, he glanced down the alley. A couple of vagrants huddled over a crackling fire in a sawed-off drum. A scrawny mutt slunk past them. All appeared calm.
An eerie feeling prickled his skin. His focus sharpening, Týr tracked the vibe, then looked up to the rooftops of the looming warehouses. Heavy, dark clouds hung low in the night sky. The sensation grew, scouring his psyche like gravel. No tinge of sulfur burned his nose despite the malicious intent. So, not demoniis.
In his peripheral vision, something moved in the narrow, pitch-black thoroughfare opposite him. His gaze lowered and became ensnared by a pair of glowing, amber orbs staring down at him.
You can’t escape me, the guttural voice ricocheted in the dead quiet. A tone that had the rustling in his skull hiking. Shades of Tartarus swept through Týr. The jeering laughter, the taunts…rip him apart, kill him. The echoes jabbed his mind like knives.
A dark rage erupting, Týr moved through the thoroughfare with preternatural speed. A low, vicious growl resonated off the walls. Soon…
The malevolent presence vanished just as fast as it had appeared.
Breathing hard, Týr skidded to a halt. Gut-deep, his instinct warned that whoever it was still watched him. Okay, asshole! Jaw hardening, he shut his eyes, fully opened his psychic mind and… After several seconds of scanning the supernatural plane—nothing! Not even a damn hint of a psychic vibe!
He clamped his lips into a thin line and headed back to The Shelter where his fellow Guardian loomed in the shadows like a crypt-keeper.
Dagan strode over, long trench coat flying behind him in the light breeze, his dark hair fastened in several warrior braids. “What’s going on?”
“Not sure yet. A boy from there”—Týr nodded at The Shelter—“ran off. Kira’s worried. She also mentioned that kids are disappearing from here, too.”
“Kira?” Dagan cocked a brow, his yellow eyes glinting like the damn sun. “I thought you two didn’t…talk.”
“Don’t fucking start,” Týr muttered, holding onto his fraying temper.
“Wouldn’t even dare.” Dagan smirked, the tips of his fangs flashing briefly. “You found anything yet?”
“No. Tonight’s incident could just be an anomaly. Maybe the kid wants to get back to what’s familiar to him…” He shoved his hands into his jacket pocket, his fingers snagging the M&M’s pack. Then he recalled what Kira had done and what he’d threatened to do afterwards. His thought instantly drifted to that lush mouth…on his. Dammit. He ignored his sweets and dropped his hand.
“But you don’t believe that?”
Týr frowned, glancing at the vagrants near the fire. “The people who run this place mentioned the disappearances, but I don’t think it’s been reported to the local authorities. Maybe we should check with Blaéz and see if he’s heard anything. He’s got a contact at NYPD.”
“Not unless you want your ass handed to you for disturbing him on his honeymoon,” Dagan drawled. “But it’s doubtful he knows, or he would have alerted us.”
Right. “See if you can pick up anything here.” Týr gave him a description of Tomas and headed for the vagrants, hoping he’d get lucky with them. The craggy, bundled-up humans looked up with rheumy eyes at his approach, and got a noseful of reeking, unwashed bodies. “I’m looking for a boy.” Týr added a compulsion to his tone to ensure answers. “Skinny. This high.” He brought a hand to his waist. “About eight years old, light brown skin, and curly hair. Sometimes wears a blue baseball cap. Goes by the name of Tomas?”
“No, ain’t heard of him,” the one with the tattered coat and cap muttered.
Damn. Týr glanced around the gloomy backstreet then took a shot in the dark. “You hear about any kids disappearing from the streets or this shelter?”
“Missing, leaving, same thing. Them brats always moving about,” the older human rumbled, stirring the fire with a twisted piece of wire.
“Cemetery,” the smaller one said, hunching down closer to the flames, his woolen hat pulled low over his brow. “By the river. Heard one say he be there with da boy.”
“Thanks.” Leaving the homeless, Týr headed into the shadowy thoroughfare and dematerialized, a cold anger settling in his gut. The cemetery, he telepathed Dagan.
Yeah, Nik just informed me. He’s detained two demons who had a kid with them. Can’t pick up anything here of the boy—too much traffic.
They took form on the snow-covered graveyard. Týr strode past Nik to the scourges the warrior had secured near a craggy mausoleum. Layers of ice bound them from mouth to feet. But no sign of the boy.
With flash of his hand, Týr set free a flare of reddish-orange heat. In a hissing steam, the ice melted off from the scum on the right. Before the blight to human existence shot off, Týr grabbed him by the neck and rammed him face-first into the vault wall. The demon roared, blood dripping down from his split brow.
“Where’s the kid?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know, Guardian?” The shithead sneered.
A local demon, then. And he knew the rules. Too bad his time on this realm had just ended.
“I will know, but either way, you’re dead.” Týr smashed his fist into the blight’s face. Bones crunched. A brutal kick in the belly followed and the scourge dropped to his knees, groaning, blood streaming from his busted nose. Týr hauled him up by his shirt. “Give me a reason to gut you like I want—”
The demon spat, spraying blood all over Týr’s face and clothes. “Fuck you!”
Good enough for him. A deep chill settling in him, Týr summoned his obsidian dagger and plunged it deep into the demon’s belly, twisting the blade and leaving the weapon in to stop scourge from flashing. A scream ricocheted in the eerie night.
“Watch him,” he snapped at Nik and crossed to the other ice-trapped scumbag.
Swiping his face free of the spit and blood, and with another blast of flames from his hand, Týr melted the ice restraints on the other demon, revealing the hatchet job Nik had already done on him. His body riddled with wounds, the demon moaned and fell to the ground, unable to flash. He curled into a ball, whimpering incoherently. “S-someone from the-the Dark Realm s-sent in the order for the kids.”
“Shut up, you fuc—oomph!” A dull thump sounded, the guttural snarl brutally cut off.
Týr crouched in front of the shuddering, fallen demon. “Names.”
“W-we don’t know. We’re meeting his go-between t-tomorrow at midnight—”
“Why do you care about these insignificant beings anyway?” the fucker behind Týr snarled. Apparently, Nik’s fist did little to stop his shooting mouth. “We’re supernatural, powerful. All this should be ours, but we’re forced to kowtow to these weak humans by your rules.”
Silent, Týr rose to his feet.
“With any power comes responsibilities, dumbass.” Dagan strolled over, stopping near him. “We protect not hurt the frailer species. When will you shits learn that?”
“It could be a little hard to do,” Nik drawled, yanking his captive’s arms tighter behind him, causing him to snarl in pain. “You havta account for the fact that it’s probable they possess one brain cell.”
“We don’t rip childr
en from their families or their world.” Týr summoned his Gaian sword. In a gust of gray mist, his mystical weapon took form, gleaming briefly as it connected with his fiery power. Nik let the demon go.
Týr wheeled around. With a lethal swing, he sliced off the demon’s head, then ripped free the dagger from the scourge’s disintegrating chest and wiped it clean on his decomposing shirt.
Týr’s attention shifted to the other moaning demon.
“Tempting, but don’t,” Dagan cautioned. “We need him.”
A tic worked Týr’s clenched jaw, fury still roiling in his gut. “Confine him. He’s going to that meeting tomorrow. With us.”
As Dagan hauled the demon to his feet and vanished with him, Týr scanned the cemetery and the numerous tombstones erected there. Yeah, the asshole’s execution amidst where the dead were buried was fitting. Who knew how many of these humans they’d killed. And some so young.
Toby Machen, five years old. Olivia Montgomery, twenty… Týr glanced at Nik hunkered quietly near the headstone, blocking the rest of the words. With his buzzed hair and ice-green eyes, the Greek appeared as cold as the power of cryokinesis he controlled. And the damn snake head tattooed on his neck stared right back at Týr. Each to his own weirdness, he supposed.
A faint, familiar scent wafted to him…candy and innocence edged with fear. Týr rapidly scanned the cemetery again, but all remained still. He pivoted to Nik. “The kid?”
“He took off. Fought like a little terror. Lit outta here the moment I took care of those two.” Nik pushed to his feet, his eyes as pale as the winter moon. “That was quite brutal.” He nodded to where the demon had been.
“They know the rules of this world and still violated them. There’s no such thing as an innocent demon. The fuckers are all tainted with evil.”
Nik slid his hands into his pants’ pockets, his gaze a chasm of nothing.
Týr narrowed his eyes. “You pity them?”
A shrug. “There’s good and bad in everyone.”
“You forget Tartarus.” Týr impaled Nik with a lethal stare. “You turn to the dark side—”
“Yeah, I’ll meet my maker early. Good to know.”
Týr inhaled harshly, pinching the bridge of his nose, rage like a living entity pumping in his veins.
Heads lowered, they headed toward the cathedral, their boots crunching through the thin layer of snow on the ground, the sounds an eerie echo in dead-still cemetery.
Dammit. If he told Kira he’d lost Tomas, she’d either skewer him or leave the safety of the castle and take off on her own to search for the boy. After tonight, Týr realized he couldn’t take her out with him tomorrow. With that malevolent fucker on his ass, hunting him, it was too damn risky.
“Nik?”
“Yeah?”
“I need a favor…”
The Greek snorted. “What?”
Back at the castle, Týr headed straight for his quarters. In his darkened room, he yanked off his jacket, hurled it aside, and fell flat on the mattress, his gaze bouncing around the gloomy, vaulted ceiling like a ping-pong ball.
The past shadowed him hard after the torture of the demon, the clamor inside his head escalating in a rush of fluttering black wings. Eons-old cries echoed. Kill him! Blood…we want blood!
Týr shot up from the bed and prowled the length of the enormous bedroom to the arched entryway of the living room. He shoved his fingers through his hair, struggling to shut off the yells. With his mind, he switched on the music. Heavy rock vibrated off the walls as he paced, but it did little to clear his mind. The fury within him roiled faster, as did his powers. Fuck! He had to get outta here!
He flashed to the dressing room, hauled on his workout clothes, and headed for the safest place for him right now, the basement of the castle. Arcane magic protected the massive training arena there and trapped their destructive powers that sometimes slipped free during an intensive fight.
Týr grabbed a sword off the shelf at the far side of the place, his fiery ability instantly extending to the inanimate object, turning it a searing orange. Heated power roiled beneath his skin, looking for escape—
“Fight me.”
Týr wheeled around. Nik strode to him, clad in sweats and a tee.
Hell, yeah. His thoughts turned into a miasma of white-hot anger. Who better than this demon sympathizer to work out his rage. Disregarding his irrational ruminations, he flew at Nik. Swords clashed with a furious clang.
“Whoa—what the hell, Norse?” Nik leaped back, eyes narrowing. “Are you outta your freakin’ mind?”
But the rushing inside Týr’s head grew, wiping out every lucid thought, hauling him into a past he could barely shut out. Flames exploded, searing his mind. Jeering laughter echoed in his skull. Snarls ricocheted. A firestorm took hold, consuming him. Yells started. Something cold slide over him, holding him down—
No!
Not again. Never fucking trapped again—
Hands, so many hands on him, tearing at his clothes—he would kill them—kill them all!
An unmitigated roar of fury tore free, the heat around him ramping. Crackling flames shot out, riding the walls, filling the arena like in a tornado. Voices rose in panic.
“Fuck! Do something!” someone bellowed in the distance.
Streams of ice swirled around him—
No, no, no—a trap! Týr fought harder. A giant fist crashed into his jaw like a sledgehammer. He fell and terrifying darkness stole over him…
Kira leaned back in the armchair in her castle bedroom, unable to focus on the movie. No matter how hard she tried to shut her thoughts off, Týr’s taunt after she’d taken his sweets rolled inside her skull like a relentless drumroll, even hours later.
You’ll pay. And you can be sure I’ll take every last one back… And that stare.
Ugh! She bit off an exasperated growl. Surely, this must be some new way he’d found to torture her when he wasn’t around. She couldn’t afford to let him get to her.
Kira flexed her tingling fingers. She had too much to worry about with her ability suddenly going haywire—changing colors of candies now? Usually, she could apply her talent to herself. And then there was Tomas.
Echo had been curious as to why Týr had come after her—as if her friend would miss that anomaly.
To make my life miserable! Yup, those words had shot out before she could think, then she’d hastily tacked on that she’d asked Hedori to bring her back to the castle instead of waiting for him. At least, it wasn’t a total lie.
She’d then told Echo everything regarding why she hadn’t been around much in recent weeks. About finding Tomas, and his crush on her. Now, he was out there all alone, again.
Kira understood what it felt like to be an orphan. The emptiness, the loneliness she endured growing up after she’d lost her parents in a plane crash. At least she’d had her grandmother. Though she’d made friends easily, she hadn’t been able to form the deep bonds of friendship with any of them. Until Echo.
Her attention slipped to her best friend, who sat on the opposite couch, frowning at the aged, leather-bound book on her lap, her fingers absently tugging at her emo-styled short hair as she read whatever text her tutor, Lore, had given her to study.
Echo had changed so much from the withdrawn, skinny girl she’d once been, but in her, Kira had found the friend, the sister she’d always wanted. Not because they were both a fusion of mixed ethnicities, or even because they looked alike. No, it was something within them, a kindred spirit that cemented their bond. And the fact that they were both a little psychic, even if Echo had turned out to be so much more, just bound them tighter.
“I’m sure Týr will find him, Ki,” Echo said softly, looking up, her over-long bangs falling into her striking mismatched eyes. “The Guardians keep their promises.”
“I know.” She sighed. “But Tomas thinks I lied to him.”
“Hey…” Echo got up and dropped to her knees in front of Kira. She grasped her cold hands, her e
xpression warming with compassion. “You helped me. Loved me all those years ago in spite of how distant or reticent I was. I felt it the moment I stepped into your house for the first time—your warmth. I will never forget it, and neither will Tomas. He’ll realize soon enough that you care about him.”
“You don’t understand,” Kira burst out. “This is different. He saw…” Heat rushed across her cheeks, recalling what had happened in the alley.
“Saw what?” Echo’s eyebrow arched. “From the way you’re blushing, I’m really, really curious.”
“I’m not blushing, just frustrated. The man’s utterly impossible… Ugh!”
A grin started. “Man, huh?”
Snorting, Kira pushed her friend.
Echo landed on her backside, laughter spilling free. “C’mon. C’mon, don’t leave me in the dark!” She drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around her jeans-clad legs as if settling in for story hour. “Who is he? Someone you met at the bar? It’s been a while since you dated.”
Darn. Kira rubbed her face. “I was searching for Tomas at his old hideouts…” She filled her friend in about coming across a demon hauling away a homeless child and the ensuing fight.
“What?” Echo gasped. “You could have gotten hurt!”
“Well, I did, a little… Nothing serious,” she hastily added when Echo’s mismatched eyes widened in distress. “Anyway, more demons appeared. We were hightailing it for safety when the Guardians showed up. I crashed into one. He smelled the blood and yelled at me before licking my wound better—”
“Who?” Echo squealed, jumping up with a little too much excitement, her concern apparently stomped into oblivion. “Aethan did the same to me when I first got hurt—on my lip.”
Oh, brother. “Don’t get your panties in a twist. It’s what they do, keep us humans safe, remember?”
“Nik?” Echo demanded.
Ugh, she was like an annoying barnacle, not easy to shake off. Damn stubborn Healer. She’d changed so much in the last year. She was no longer the quiet girl Kira had first met. Confident now, gorgeous, a little crazy…the weirdo. And Kira loved her.
Heart's Inferno (Fallen Guardians 4) Page 5