“Are you still with me?” Morgan asked.
Her suffering tainted her words, making them come out bleak and hopeless. “Where else would I be?”
He let out a heavy sigh. “Serena, I hope that one day, when you say those words to me, you won’t sound quite so defeated.”
Chapter Ten
When Ronan arrived at the largest shelter, he could tell he had his work cut out for him.
The smell of fear and desperation was nearly overwhelming. With it was the faint hint of sickness, as if some kind of low-grade infection had just begun to spread through the group, now that they were housed together so tightly.
Justice was at his side, a fact that still thrilled him daily. He’d spent so long searching for her—so long fighting to be near her—that he still couldn’t believe she was here, beside him.
She was a constant source of surprise to him, and a constant delight. Even in the midst of war, with injury, fear and illness raging around them, all he had to do was look at her and his spirits instantly lifted.
She was his world.
Her curly, black hair was pinned up in a messy bun that bared the slender lines of her throat. She’d taken to wearing it like that because he was in almost constant need of her blood these days. And she, generous soul that she was, wanted to make sure he had what he needed without impediment.
The long, sleek lines of her body were encased in clinging black leather so that she had at least some small protection from attack if they were caught off guard. She was good with her gun—which she lovingly called Reba and treated as a beloved pet—but bullets didn’t work as well on most demons as a sword did. Still, he’d seen her take down enough of the bad guys to know that Reba was as effective in Justice’s hands as it could be in anyone’s.
She had caramel-colored skin that was flushed with cold and the very recent climax he’d given her. Her silvery-green eyes glowed whenever she was excited, which was nearly all the time.
Even in the midst of war, with problems on all sides and people counting on their every move, Justice still managed to rock his world on a daily basis. She loved sex, thrived on it, as if it somehow fueled her.
He didn’t begrudge her the time their loving took away from their work, because he knew just how much more effective they were when they were joined so tightly.
Ronan had suffered in hunger and weakness for so long he still couldn’t quite believe that his new world of power and love wasn’t a dream.
He reached out and took her hand in his as they entered the shelter. His need to touch her and know she was near raged inside of him. She’d told him over and over that she wasn’t going anywhere, that she was his, but he’d been chasing her for so long that he had to constantly reassure himself that she was still by his side.
This shelter was larger than the others and housed the most people. Its metal skin had been imbued with just enough magic to keep the inhabitants secret. Thanks to Justice’s efforts and her guidance by an otherworldly power, she had worked for years to prepare these places and stock them with supplies, not knowing how or when they would be used.
If not for her, hundreds would have died.
Ronan squeezed her hand in silent thanks as he made his way through the crowded space. There was an aisle running through the middle of the warehouse with cots on both sides. Some of the residents had strung up sheets to serve as dividers. Others had upended pallets or used empty boxes stacked up to form walls.
He wasn’t surprised by their need for privacy. They knew they were going to be here for a while, and many of them—especially the children—had been through hell. They had been hunted for their blood. Some of them had been captured and held prisoner. Some of the children had been fed demon blood in an effort to alter their basic physiology so that they could help breed more human-looking Synestryn offspring.
The nightmares these people had suffered were beyond what most humans could endure without going mad. Ronan and his kind had done what they could to soften the edges of those memories and ease their minds, but there was only so much they could safely do. The residents here knew that if they left this place, they’d be hunted as food or worse. They knew they were trapped. And they’d been through hell. It was no wonder they needed some small space to call their own.
Most of the children were playing in an area set up for just that purpose. There were toys for all ages and several video game systems set up in an area covered in thick, soft rugs. The ratio of adults to children was skewed. Many of these children’s parents were dead, having given their lives to protect them. The adults who survived often adopted orphaned youngsters as their own in an effort to offer them some kind of parental love and support.
They all knew that it could have just as easily been their children who’d been orphaned.
People milled around, talking in small groups. There was an air of worry about them as they speculated how long they’d have to stay and whether or not they’d be safe. Some adults were in the breakroom, which had been turned into a kitchen, cooking in shifts because there wasn’t enough space to make food for everyone at the same time.
Ronan’s van was loaded with supplies, including more coffee, which had disappeared faster than Justice—or the forces that had compelled her to stock this place—had anticipated. Along with that were boxes of paperbacks to read and a stack of notebooks and pens so that people could make lists of what they needed in the future.
These people were going to be here for a while. Now that the confusion of battle and relocation had subsided and the majority of their injuries had healed—mostly cuts and bruises sustained when they’d fled—people were realizing just how dire the situation was.
None of them could go back to Dabyr until the walls were rebuilt. The magic surrounding that place was the only thing keeping the demons out. Until the protective barrier was strong and solid once again, the humans were trapped here.
As he and Justice moved through the group, several people asked for an update. He told them what he’d told everyone at the other shelters he visited. Lexi was working as fast as she could to rebuild the walls, but it was going to take a while.
Too long, he thought. It was only a matter of time before people became tired of living in such close quarters and began bickering. Turf wars would inevitably break out. People would argue, possibly even fight. Blood would be shed, and the scent of it would risk the lives of everyone present—including Jackie’s and Andra’s unborn children.
Once he’d delivered the status report, he gathered the Sentinels housed here and took them into one of the supervisor offices overlooking the space.
There were three such rooms, all raised up about ten feet, with a wall of glass windows that gave them a clear view of the space. It had been decided early in the relocation process that no one would be given these rooms as their own to avoid conflict. Instead, one was used as an infirmary, and two were classrooms so the children’s schooling wouldn’t be interrupted. Like the kitchen, the space wasn’t big enough to teach all the children at the same time, so they were cycled through in groups divided by age and given daily lessons. The regular teachers had been spread out among the shelters, so some of the parents had stepped up to help teach.
For the most part, these people were calm, rational, peaceful adults who were concerned only with the safety of their children and themselves. There were always a few that caused trouble, but Ronan and his kind had been instructed by Tynan to find them and use their power to keep them subdued.
The last thing they needed right now was more bloodshed. It was already a strain to keep the warriors at Dabyr in fighting shape. The less healing his kind had to do, the better. Even more important, the less blood shed here, the less chance there was of the demons smelling it and finding this place.
While the mated Theronai housed here—Paul, Andra, Nika, Madoc, Iain and Jackie—could hold their own in battle, the women were pregnant or, in Nika’s case, recently delivered. It was best to keep them out of co
mbat unless absolutely necessary. The lives of their children were too important to risk. Without them, there was no hope for the future.
The three couples and Sibyl, an unbound Theronai, sat around a small conference table. Like the rest of the residents here, their first questions were about the status of Dabyr.
“Joseph’s updates aren’t coming as frequently,” Paul said.
“He’s as exhausted as everyone else,” Ronan said. “There’s really nothing new to report, so why bother.”
Madoc jiggled his daughter in his arm. As he looked up from her, his expression turned from a goofy smile to a scowl. “Freakin’, jerk-faced demons need to go down in a flippin’ ball of fire,” he muttered.
Ronan was so used to the man’s foul mouth it was strange to hear him editing his speech for his daughter’s sake. He couldn’t help but smile, though he hid it quickly.
“The warriors are doing everything they can, but without the walls.…” He trailed off. There was no need to finish the sentence when everyone present knew the score.
Jackie, Iain’s wife, was hugely pregnant. When they’d found her in Synestryn caves, being used as a source of blood for demons, she’d been gaunt and hollow-looking. Now she was lush and rounded, her gray eyes luminous with the life growing inside of her.
Her daughter would be born any day. Ronan could hear her tiny, rapid heartbeat, strong and steady within her mother’s womb. The sound was more comforting to him than he could have imagined possible.
But something wasn’t right with Jackie. Her big eyes were darting around the space as if watching some invisible movie screen. Her features were pinched, and Iain hovered nearby as if he feared she might fall over.
“Is something wrong, Jackie?” Justice asked before Ronan could.
Her lips clamped shut. Beside her, Iain took her hand in a blatant display of comfort.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I’m sure there’s nothing wrong. Just tell them.”
“What?” Ronan demanded, more forcefully than he’d intended.
Jackie’s voice was tremulous. She looked at him, but her focus was off, as if she were staring through him.
“It’s the visions,” she said.
Sibyl tensed, but Ronan ignored her. The only thing that mattered now was the health of Jackie and her unborn child.
“I can’t control them.”
“The lights?” he asked.
She nodded.
Ronan had been working with her for a while now. Unlike any of the other female Theronai, Jackie seemed to be connected to every other female of her race. Not only had she been compatible with every male Theronai, she had some kind of link to the women, too. She could see them in her mind, glowing like lights.
Two hundred years ago, nearly all of the female Theronai had been wiped out in a worldwide, simultaneous attack by Synestryn. At that same time, the men became infertile. For two centuries, no new Theronai babies had been born—or so everyone thought.
In secret, men from another world had snuck through the gate to Earth and impregnated human women. These women—half human, half Athanasian—had been able to bond to the remaining Theronai men who suffered under the strain of their growing power.
But there weren’t enough women to go around. Only a few had been found, and there had been no way of locating others.
Until Jackie.
She saw the life essences of these women as lights spread across the world. Somehow, she was tied to every one of them.
She couldn’t control her gift. It came and went as it pleased. She’d been trying to guide unbound men to find these women, but they were often moving targets. Without more control over her gift—some way to tie the lights to geographical landmarks—there was no way to locate them.
Several men had tried. So far, none of them had succeeded. And now they were all called back to Dabyr, forced to fight rather than search for suitable mates.
“I can’t turn the lights off,” Jackie said as she squeezed her eyes shut. “They’re bright and flashing like they’re in distress, warning me to hurry. But I can’t do a damn thing.”
Madoc covered his baby’s ears and scowled at Jackie’s language.
She didn’t see a thing.
Andra spoke up now. “I tried to put a forcefield around her to block them out, but it didn’t do much good.”
Ronan nodded and forced his features to remain impassive. “There’s nothing to worry about,” he told Jackie. “It’s common for women to have trouble like this toward the end of their pregnancies. Your child is a magical being. As she grows, that power can come out in strange ways.”
“You’ve seen this before?” Iain demanded, almost desperately.
“I have.”
“How do I make it stop?” Jackie asked.
“You can’t,” Ronan said. “Consider it in the same category as swollen ankles and back aches. It’s all part of pregnancy. Once you deliver, you’ll be fine.”
At least he hoped so. While it was true that women sometimes experienced a surge in their powers, he wasn’t at all sure that this was what was happening with Jackie. The only thing to do was to wait and see. If it didn’t go away, they’d deal with the problem then.
“If you like, I can tie myself to you and see if I can offer you any relief,” he said.
Jackie nodded. “Please. I’m so tired, but I can’t sleep with this laser light show going on in my head.”
“Okay,” he said. “When we’re done here, I’ll see what I can do.”
She slumped in relief. Iain pulled her against his body and held her close.
Ronan shifted his gaze to Andra. This next part of his mission was going to be tricky. Joseph had asked him to do a job, but Ronan wasn’t convinced it was a wise decision. Still, he’d said he’d speak to her, so that’s what he was going to do.
“Joseph wants you to go back to Dabyr,” he said. No sense in wasting time mincing words when there was too much for him to do before dawn.
“What?” Paul bellowed as he rose from his seat.
Ronan held up his hands. “Hear me out. No one is going to make her do anything. But you need to know the situation.”
“What situation?” Andra asked.
“Lexi isn’t making any progress.” The blunt words were harder to say than he’d hoped.
Beside him, Justice shifted in her seat the way she did when she wished she had a gun in her hands. Across from him, Paul shook his head in disgust. Nika, who’d been silent this whole time spoke up.
“You can’t take my sister,” she said. Her voice was calm, but there was a hint of a threat running through her words.
Justice shifted restlessly. Ronan put his hand on her thigh to silently tell her to mind her manners. Reba was not necessary in this situation.
Ronan gave Nika his attention.
Her white hair had been recently cut. It swayed just above her shoulders without touching, like a child’s swing over the ground. She was no longer as frail and thin as she’d been when they’d found her. Madoc had taken good care of her through her pregnancy, and she’d come out the other side healthier than before conceiving. Her skin glowed with health. Her eyes were clear and lucid. Her pulse was strong, her breathing even.
She had the same pale blue eyes as her sister, but Nika’s were filled with the kind of pain that came from years of witnessing the suffering of a loved one.
“I’ve already lost Tori,” she said. “I won’t let you take Andra too.”
Madoc moved the baby from his right arm to his left as if preparing to draw his weapon.
Ronan wouldn’t let it come to that.
“I’m not taking anyone,” he said. “This is just a discussion.”
Paul bristled. “Andra isn’t going into combat. End of discussion.”
Andra turned to her husband and raised her eyebrows. The look she gave him was so pointed it could have drawn blood.
Some private conversation passed between them in the way of their kind, both swift and s
ilent. After a few seconds, Paul sagged in defeat.
“Fine,” he said. “Discuss.”
Ronan nodded. “The fighting at Dabyr is almost constant. Lexi can’t make any progress. Every time she almost gets finished fortifying a section of wall, the demons tear it down. Until she can connect the whole thing and keep them out, she’s just spinning her wheels.”
“She needs me to put up a forcefield so her work doesn’t get undone.”
“Exactly,” Ronan said. “I don’t like it. Neither does Joseph. But if we don’t make some progress soon, the warriors are going to wear out. They can’t keep fighting around the clock like this forever.”
Sibyl, who’d been so quiet Ronan had forgotten she was here, stepped out of the shadowy corner where she’d been standing. The movement was smooth and purposeful, seemingly choreographed as if she knew it was coming.
Maybe she did. She could, after all, see the future.
She’d grown taller since he’d last seen her. It was odd seeing her in a woman’s body when she’d been a small child for so long. But this new shell suited her. Like her mother, she was beautiful. Like both her parents, she was powerful.
Her voice was sweet, almost childlike, but filled with absolute certainty. “Dabyr cannot fall.”
Every head in the room turned toward her.
“Why not?” Madoc asked
“We won’t survive it,” Sibyl said simply, as if that were all that needed to be said.
Ronan winced inwardly. They didn’t need dire predictions right now. What they needed was hope and nice, steady nerves. Sibyl’s statement wasn’t going to help matters.
“You’ve seen something?” Iain asked.
Sibyl inclined her head slightly. “Many people must act if we are to live. Andra is one of them.”
Andra covered her rounded stomach with her hands as if she could protect her child from the future. Beside her, Paul’s face blanched with fear. Madoc pulled the baby closer to his big body and Iain tightened his hold on Jackie.
Everyone here had so much at stake.
Saving Daylight Page 9