Heart's Inferno (Fallen Guardians 4)

by Georgia Lyn Hunter

  Týr narrowed his eyes. Instantly, the demon’s expression morphed into a wry grimace, obviously recognizing what Týr was. He wisely stepped back, which probably saved his neck but did little to settle Týr’s ire.

  “Are you leaving or not?”

  “No,” Kira snapped. “I told you, I’m not finished.”

  Without a word, he swooped low, picked her up, and dropped her over his shoulder. A startled oomph escaped her.

  “What the hell, Týr!” she wheezed, clutching his jacket. “Have you gone insane?”

  Probably.

  She thumped his back as the crowd parted, and he headed straight for the stairs. “Put me down!” she yelled, hitting him again.

  “No.”

  A choking growl broke free. She yanked at his jacket then pinched his waist.

  Too pissed to care, he slapped her backside. Hard.

  She stiffened, a shocked gasp escaping. “I hate you!”

  Týr briefly shut his eyes.

  Yeah. Nothing new there. It didn’t matter. He was so fucking tired of everything. Of nightmares that didn’t quit, of a job that no longer gave him pleasure. He was just damn tired of feigning gaiety he never felt. But mostly…of her aversion to him.

  “Don’t fucking care.”

  This can’t be happening. Tears of frustration burned Kira’s eyes as she bumped along on Týr’s rock-hard shoulder. Her pride stung more than her backside, but worse, she could see the stupid smirks of the guys standing near Tagg as Týr carted her out of the club like some smashed-outta-her-mind idiot.

  A high-pitched wolf whistle hurt her ears. Embarrassment hiked. But the dickweeds loitering in the dimly lit corridor apparently enjoyed Týr’s caveman behavior. “Good goin’, man,” one of them yelled. “Let ‘em know who’s boss.”

  Kira lifted her head and gave them both middle fingers. More guffaws erupted. Assholes.

  Outside in the wintery air, away from the throng of people waiting to enter the club, Týr stopped just inside the accessway to a thoroughfare and dropped her on her feet.

  “You’re such a jerk.” She yanked her sweater back into place while he stood there like a brick wall, expression twice as hard.

  “Got the job done with minimum fuss.”

  Job? Fuss? “Tagg would have told me more if you were just a little bit patient. Now we’re stuck not knowing anything!”

  “Yeah, patience…not a virtue of mine. Why the hell was he touching you?”

  “Why not?” she countered, too angry to care that she sounded petulant. But recalling those women on the landing almost climbing over each other to get to Týr while he just stood there formed a pit in her stomach. “I like him.”

  Týr’s scowl became a thundercloud. Whatever. She was done with his cranky-ass behavior. About to march off and leave this entire disaster behind, she heard him ask quietly, “What’s wrong? You’re not yourself tonight.”

  And just like that, her fury fizzled out at his concern. That certainly was one way to pull her out of her anger, recalling what had occurred at the bar. Worse, she’d taken it out on Týr. As if she could ever tell him about the father who didn’t want her, who’d pretended to be dead all these years.

  Yes, discovering she had a father who still lived—the faithless parent—would do that.

  Most would be happy, she supposed. But the only thought looping through her mind was his echoing absence from her life. The silence so loud, it made her old hurt and torment flare rapidly again.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she muttered and wheeled away—or tried to. But Týr’s hand on her wrist stopped her. His hold was gentle, but his concerned expression made her throat swell with tears. She refused to let her pain show. Not now. Not in front of him.

  However, staring into that too-perfect face, reminded her of those women in the club, and it set her teeth on edge. He probably stopped off at Club Anarchy every night after patrol.

  Anger at her father, and with Týr spilled free—the words spewed out. “How you get anything done while on patrol with all the fawning is beyond me…” He went deadly still, but she couldn’t seem to stop. “I really don’t get it. Do you get some kind of kick out of having those women drool all over you?”

  “Is that what you think I care about?” His voice went utterly quiet, and as lethal as his obsidian blade. “So, you let a bloody demon paw you for useless information just for payback?”

  Heat scorched her face. Tagg had only stroked her arms to soothe her. Those women had practically undressed Týr with their looks and false smiles. But that he hadn’t denied her accusations, something inside her shriveled into a painful knot. “I’m done talking about this.”

  “Godsdammit, Kira”—he tunneled his fingers into his hair as if to stop himself from shaking her—“you want to know something, ask me, not some damn demon!”

  “I don’t care what species he is. Tagg’s my friend.” She tilted her chin in challenge. “Well? You have some information to share? Go ahead.”

  He glared into the pitch darkness of the thoroughfare, jaw rigid, a vein throbbing on his brow. Then his flat stare swung back to her. “There’s a sect of demons in the Dark Realm that use human children to re-energize their dark souls by feeding on their blood…” There was a grimness to his features as he spoke. “The younger the kids, the better their value since their life essence is purer.”

  Oh, dear God. Bile rushed to her throat. “You knew all this time, and you didn’t tell me?”

  “I only became aware of it this evening. And what could you do, Kira?” he asked, voice as cold as the sludgy snow on the ground. Besides flirt with demons for information. He didn’t have to say it, but it was there in his hostile gaze. “We will find the boy regardless of what shit’s flying around out there. I’ll take you back, then get on with my job.”

  The sudden prick of tears burned her eyes, the sting of his words like blades slicing through her heart. Right, she got the message. She’d wasted his time, and he only pandered to her demand so he could get rid of her.

  Too upset to say anything, she pivoted, her blurred gaze fixed on the busy club.

  All those stares, the tormenting teasing, the growing awareness—everything was only on her side—her over-active imagination at work. Týr’s loyalty lay with Gran.

  “Kira, look…”

  “Don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Dammit, just listen…” He stepped toward her when her name rang out from the gloomy alley.

  Grateful for the interruption, knowing that whatever he had to say would only leave her more humiliated, she spun away.

  A petite, goth girl with purple streaks in her waist-length dark hair ambled toward them. Despite the horrid weather and the biting cold, her friend totally rocked a short plaid skirt, which she’d teamed with knee-high boots, thigh-high socks, and a zipped-up leather biker jacket.

  “Shadow!” Kira darted forward, ignoring Týr’s growl, her footwear squelching in the snow and water from a broken pipe. She hugged her friend. “I didn’t expect to see you.”

  “Or you.” Shadow eased back. A wry smile lit her eyes that reminded Kira of a starburst—blue with hints of crimson edged with brown. “You asked me for a favor, one I couldn’t refuse. Besides, it keeps me busy.”

  Heck, the girl was single-handedly trying to save every street child in town. “Did you find anything?”

  Shadow’s attention shifted behind Kira, and her eyes widened before a look of wariness took over. Kira stifled a sigh, not really surprised by her friend’s reaction. Týr seemed to have perfected the keep-the-hell-away-from-me glare as the evening progressed. There was no sign of the easy-going warrior—probably because of her. And that started the horrible, heaving sensation in her stomach again.

  “This is Týr”—Kira stuck a thumb over her shoulder—“he’s helping me search for Tomas, too. Týr, my friend, Shadow,” she said, finally slanting him a brief look.

  He gave a short nod, still looking lik
e a storm cloud.

  Fighting to keep her expression even, Kira turned to Shadow. Týr shifted closer, his arm brushing hers. Even with her thick jacket on, it was like an electric shock zinging across her naked skin. Kira dug her toes into her boots to keep from stepping away, wishing she wasn’t so intensely aware of him.

  Yeah, well, this was her problem, and she would just have to work on that.

  Shadow’s nebula-hued gaze came back to Kira. “After your call, I searched the homeless sanctuaries underground and spoke to the people there. It seems Tomas appeared briefly before he took off. I searched TV’s hideout and then HD’s lair, but I couldn’t do more with that asshole, Tolvi, on my back again. So, I’m prowling the streets now.”

  TV…HD? Oh, right, Tolvi’s Vipers and Hades’ Disciples.

  Shadow had mentioned the underground gangs once. Kira frowned. Those mob names sounded dangerous. She didn’t want her friend putting herself into a difficult situation. “It’s okay, Shadow, I have help looking for Tomas. I don’t want to get you into trouble with your…er, leader.”

  Shadow’s attractive features tightened. No, she didn’t like the guy. But for some reason, she remained with the gang.

  “Hey…” Kira touched her arm. “Look, I know you said no before, but the offer to stay at my home is still open.”

  “Nah, I’m good. I have a place I can go to if I need it. Don’t worry about me, I’m okay, and being underground is safe.” Shadow glanced over her shoulder and then back at them. “I gotta go. Catch you later. If I find the little terror, I’ll personally drag him back to The Shelter and stand guard until you get there.”

  “Thanks, Shadow.” Kira watched her friend’s retreating figure, her worry increasing. She couldn’t understand why Shadow insisted on staying with the treacherous mob. And how could underground be safe?

  “You know some interesting people,” Týr said from her side.

  Her brow creasing, Kira pulled her attention away from the dark, silent alley. “I met Shadow a few months ago. She was at The Shelter with a couple of kids she found—newbies on the street—when Tomas first ran off. She helped me find him.”

  He frowned. “You’ve known the boy that long?”

  “Yes.” Kira rubbed her cheek, distracted by Týr’s closeness. Then remembering what just occurred between them, she inhaled a deep breath and forced herself to concentrate. “It took me months to coax him back there again. He hates being confined. I think he saw The Shelter as some kind of trap. Then I introduced him to Liam—”

  “The boy in the alley.”

  At his abrupt tone, she cast him a wary look and nodded. “They seemed to get on, and he stayed. Now, Tomas is gone again.”

  “You do realize you can’t save everyone.”

  “I know that. But he thinks I lied to him. It’s why I can’t leave just yet.”

  “You are leaving.”

  “You just told me about the horrible fate that awaits him if he gets caught. Týr, I need a little more time to search for him. I’ll go catch up with Shadow—”

  “Godsdamn, Kira! It’s dangerous out here right now. You think it’s only the boy we must find? We’re hunting for the demons responsible, as well—fuuuck!” Týr flew back without warning. He hit the brick building hard, the thud echoing in the quiet alley.

  “Týr!” Kira sprinted over, fear clogging her throat as he fell. She reached for him, but something batted her away like a pesky fly. Kira crashed into the opposite wall and fell into the soggy snow pile, pain slicing across her shoulder blades. She lay there, winded, finding it hard to pull air into her lungs.

  In the dim thoroughfare, a gigantic shadow loomed over Týr as he fought to get to his feet. The creature’s spindly claws rose as if to swipe off Týr’s head.

  “Hell, no!” Ignoring the ache in her back, Kira freed her iron blade from her boot and lunged forward. The blob of black shot off in a blur. A blazing streak of fire like an arrow hissed past her. A chilling howl that made the fine hairs on her arms stand reverberated through the lane.

  Callused fingers snagged her waist, hauling her back against a hard chest. Her breath escaped in a terrified gasp until the familiar scent of bergamot enfolded her. “Týr? Oh, God! Are you okay?”

  “I got to get you outta here!” A dark, swirling mist consumed them, and the dank alley disappeared.

  Chapter 9

  Thick, black clouds hid the moonlight where they reformed again. It took a moment for Kira to get her bearings.

  Hastily, she glanced around as Týr grasped her hand and pulled her along, their boots sinking into the powdery snow. Endless white blanketed the ground. The absence of honking cars and chattering people deepened the quiet to an almost uncomfortable silence. The icy air slid through Kira’s jacket like chilly fingers caressing her skin. She shuddered, more so recalling the sinister shadow that had attacked Týr and her.

  Could it be the demons had already figured out the Guardians were looking for them? No, her chest cramped in fear for Tomas. Oh, God. Please, please keep him be safe until she found him.

  In front of them loomed a large log cabin with a jutting pitched roof, which appeared like a dark, cavernous maw waiting to swallow them. A single, solar porch light came on, chasing away her macabre thoughts.

  Týr grunted, nearly skidding off the ice-covered steps. He grabbed the railing and continued up to the sheltered porch, then slapped his palm on the door. It flew open. He waited for her to enter, his expression hard, lips tight. The moment she slipped past him, he shut the door. But she couldn’t see much in the gloom. Stale, woodsy air tickled her nose.

  A swirling orb of fire, as big as a baseball, hovered above Tyr’s palm. Kira blinked in surprise. She’d had no idea he could command that element.

  “So you don’t trip.”

  The air locked in her lungs at his thoughtfulness. Since she didn’t have super-sight to see in the dark, she appreciated the gesture. The warm glow brightened the interior, but nothing could take away the awful chill creeping into her.

  Shivering, Kira sheathed her blade in her boot and wrapped her arms around herself. Her gaze skimmed over Týr, searching for signs of injury as he took in the place. “Are you okay? That thing—”

  “I’m fine.”

  At his brusque tone, she bit back a sigh. Even if he were hurt, he wouldn’t tell her.

  Tyr made his way to the huge stone hearth in the center of the open floor plan.

  He crouched before the fireplace, and the fiery orb vanished as if absorbed back into him. Soon, the snapping sounds of growing flames echoed in the silent room, the glow highlighting a deep-brown leather couch and coffee table taking up space opposite the hearth.

  God, this cottage would make an icebox proud at how cold it was. Her wet jeans and jacket stuck to her numb body like sheets of ice. “W-where are we?” She could barely get the words out, her teeth clacked so badly.

  “The cabin in the Adirondacks.”

  Right. Middle of nowhere.

  “Don’t you think it would have been s-safer if we went to the castle?”

  “And lead whatever attacked us straight to our home base? With the females alone right now?”

  He had a point. Even though the castle was shielded from supernatural assault, anything could roam the estate, waiting for a chance to attack. But being isolated here was equally dangerous. “So, you’d rather it come after us here?”

  Týr cut her a sharp look and went back to tending the crackling flames, apparently in no mood to talk.

  “I take that as a y-yes.” She rubbed her numbed arms.

  “Whatever it is wants me,” he finally said. “But seeing you with me…” His jaw tightened.

  The fiend would use her as bait to get Týr? Not happening.

  Týr shoved more wood into the fire, his leather jacket stretching over his back at the movement. The slashes on the top part of his right sleeve gaped open.

  “You’re hurt,” she whispered.

  “I said I’m
fine.” He got to his feet. “Stay near the fire. I’ll be back in a sec.” He strode through the kitchen on his left, then opened a door on the far side and disappeared outside.

  Kira trudged to the fireplace, which actually divided the long room into two, and held her chilly fingers above the flames. And wondered if she’d survive emotionally being here alone with him.

  A rumbling sound from outside startled her, like the drone of an engine starting up. Lights flickered on, and a soft golden glow warmed the wooden interior of the cabin, revealing the entirety of the dwelling. Fat timber poles held up the steepled roof, and long slabs of rock made up the stunning stone hearth and mantel. Several animal sculptures were lined up near a small pile of logs, as if to be used for firewood.

  To the left of the fireplace, a few wooden steps led upstairs. The place possessed a rustic beauty and really minimalistic décor. Oh wait, more furniture. A small table and two mismatched chairs were shoved against the scenic window near the entrance.

  The back door opened again and Týr reappeared. As he shut out the cold behind him, his stare went down her wet jeans and up again. His mouth flattened into a tight line, he shrugged off his ruined jacket, tossing it on the couch before he disappeared upstairs.

  Guilt settled in her tummy like a rock. He’d gotten hurt because of her and he’d been forced to bring her here to keep her safe. But Tomas was in so much danger. How could she do nothing?

  A heavy sigh escaping her, Kira sat on the stone step in front of the warm flames and wrapped her arms around her knees. She had no idea what to do anymore. The entire night had been a dismal failure. All she and Týr did was fight. Her spirits sank even lower.

  He reappeared a few minutes later, expression still stony. “Go. Take a shower and get out of those wet things before you get sick. The water’s hot.”

  He didn’t have to ask her twice. She hurried past him up the stairs and stumbled into a sizable bedroom. The massive windowed wall from downstairs continued up. A small wooden closet was built into the opposite wall, and from the adjacent door came the sounds of splattering water.