by JL Madore
Half a dozen cops moved in and tried to take control. “Police, don’t move,” someone shouted. “Drop your weapons. Do it now.”
Hark kept his palms raised and panned the situation so Tanek could see and advise.
“You’ve got TV cameras trained on you.”
“Yep.”
“On your knees,” the cops yelled. “Fingers linked behind your head.”
Hark lifted his hands, which opened his leather trench and exposed the arsenal of weapons he was carrying, including the compound bow slung across his chest.
“Holy fuck,” someone hissed.
“Everyone back!” another cop yelled. “Hands up, motherfucker. Now!”
“T? What’s my course?”
“You can’t let yourself get arrested.”
Not helpful. “Gentlemen, let’s slow this down. Yes, I’m heavily armed. I’m a soldier for a highly classified organization. These weapons aren’t for you. You need to stand down and let me work before someone gets hurt.”
The firemen moved to get around him again, and he shifted to block. The cops must’ve taken that as an offensive move because the pop of gunshots matched the searing burn of bullets puncturing his flesh. The impact knocked him back a step, but he locked his stance and kept from going down.
“How is he still standing?” someone asked.
“P.C.P. or body armor.”
“Has to be.”
Hark growled as the darkest side of himself—his beast—yanked at its tether. “I’m not on drugs. I’m a highly trained soldier. I’m here to keep you safe, so let me do my job.”
When the cops moved in to grab him, he fought back and put them all to the ground.
“I recognize you,” another officer said, joining the crowd. Hark recognized one of the men who worked the night shifts with Colt. “What’s happening? What are you doing?”
“I will explain this once, and only once. Colt, two of my fellow soldiers, and two civilians were in that building when the bomb went off. They are under the rubble, and your crew is wasting my time. The blaze is not a fire you’ve ever come across—therefore your methods of suppression and extinguishing won’t work. You might think I’m crazy, but I’m not. Stand back. Don’t spray water on it. And stop shooting me. You’ve put seven bullets in me, and I’m losing my temper.”
Ignoring the dropped-jaw crowd, he turned on his heel and jogged into the flames. The crackling sound of magic, the wail of sirens, and the rhythmic whirl of chopper blades subsided the moment he crossed the threshold of Other.
Inside the singeing blaze hung a serene silence. A strange, thickness invaded his lungs and weighed on him. His feet grew heavy. His breathing shallowed. His mind fogged. He needed to sit down and rest for a minute.
“Hark, why are you stopping?” Tanek asked in his ear.
“Tired,” he said. “Need to rest.”
“No! Hark, stay with me. Whatever you do, don’t rest.”
Storme stripped off her top in the back seat of her Mercedes as Ronnie drove like a bat outta hell and Tanek kept them updated on the car phone. Layne was headed to the warehouse and called her sister, Jhaia, in to help. Djinn magic wasn’t the same as witch magic, but maybe they could assist Rayvn and Wilder long enough to get their boys out of the flames.
“Ronnie,” Tanek said, through the speakers. “Take a left at the next intersection, and you’ll end up two streets behind the blaze. The scene is exposed. Sorry, Storme, you’ll have to make your way over as covertly as you can.”
“Not a problem,” Storme said, leaning back and shimmying out of her jeans. “Fences and backyards won’t slow me down. Still nothing from Phoenix or the others?”
“Nothing, but if Hark’s sudden need to nap had anything to do with it, I have to believe they’re alive but sedated somehow. You need to wake them up and get them clear before our entire garrison is exposed.”
Storme closed her eyes for a moment and tested her bond with Phoenix. As his familiar, their lives were bound, and she could sense him through that magical connection. “Our bond is solid. He’s alive, just not responding.”
Ronnie slowed the car to a stop and looked back between the seats. “Are you able to work magic in your clouded leopard form?”
“No, but it’ll get me there without being seen.”
Ronnie chuckled. “I think you’re reaching on that.”
“Okay, maybe seen but not identified.”
Ronnie leaned to look out the passenger side window. “Holy schmoly, how are the boys ever going to contain this?”
Storme dropped the last of her clothes onto the floor and stared at the pink and champagne swirl out the window. “Well, the witches who did this had style. It looks like a yummy drink swirling in a tall glass.”
“A cosmo-cyclone gone rogue.”
The blaze was mesmerizing. Even from two blocks away, Storme felt the power of the spell working its magic. “Hey, T? Hark said the flames rose sixty feet, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, it must be burning itself off. I’d give it forty, tops.”
“Okaaaay, what does that mean?”
“It means that to create a spectacle like this takes a lot of power. If a witch or witches were here casting, it could last indefinitely, but it’s not. It must have been triggered—like a booby trap or planned attack. Since there’s no source of power actively feeding the spell, it’s dying out.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?” Ronnie asked. “Then, when it’s over, our guys can get out.”
“Maybe,” Tanek said. “But if they’re unconscious and unable to get out, the humans will be able to walk in, and the rest of the garrison will be as exposed as Hark. We can’t have everyone’s faces on the lead story of the eleven o’clock news. How did five men survive the flames unscathed? Inquiring minds want to know.”
“Yeah, that’s hard to explain.” Ronnie sighed. “Okay, so we need them out before it dies out completely.”
Storme opened the door a crack and readied to shift. “Ronnie, you need to close the door for me.”
“And after that,” Tanek said, “straight back to the ranch, Ronnie. I don’t want you mixed up in this. Bo and Phoenix are already going to kill me for involving their mates. I don’t need Danel gunning for me too.”
“How will Storme get back?”
Storme wasn’t worried about that. “If I can wake Phoenix, he’ll take care of everything.” The only problem would be if she couldn’t wake Phoenix. In which case, she had no idea what she would do.
Ronnie gave her a quick nod and smiled. “Good luck.”
Storme shifted and bolted into the shadows.
Ren materialized down to the Human Realm, her overnight bag in her hand and a bundle of nerves pushing at the back of her throat. Standing in a vast, open entranceway, she looked at the majestic mural of horses running wild. She could feel the ethereal gift of the boy in the artwork and agreed with Her, that the boy was indeed a priceless treasure of the Choir.
Now, if she could only find the words to do this properly.
She’d never spoken to a human before, let alone lived among them. “This will be fine,” she told herself. After all, Lady Divinity knew what she was doing in all things.
“Who the fuck are you?” a hostile voice snapped. A fearsome warrior charged down a long corridor towards her. “And how did you get inside?”
Ren smiled up at the mighty warrior. He was tremendously tall and broad, and breathtaking power pulsed from across the distance to hit her like a physical force.
“Apologies,” Ren stammered, taking a step backward. “I was unsure how to approach, and it seems I’ve erred already.”
“Materializing into this home without permission or invitation . . . Yeah, you’re damned right you erred. Now spit it out. Who and how?”
Ren set her bag on the floor and stared at the highly polished marble tiles as she gathered her thoughts. Straightening, she pushed her shoulders back and forced a smile. “Perhaps we
might begin anew. Hello, warrior. My name is Ren.”
A woman with long, chestnut hair swept back behind her head descended the grand, winding staircase to the left. With a gentle hand on the rail and a stocky brown animal racing down beside her, the woman looked upon her with a kind smile.
“Tanek, stand down. You’re frightening the poor girl.”
“Too bad. So sad.” The warrior raised a hand as if to ward her from the danger Ren might pose. “Austin, stay where you are, cowgirl.”
Ren turned to the woman. “Austin? You are the woman I’ve been sent to speak with. You are the Sumerian’s mate and matriarch of the household, yes?”
The growl that rumbled from the throat of the warrior was nothing less than terrifying. “Don’t answer that. Again. Who the fuck are you, and how’d you get in here?”
She returned her gaze to the warrior, wholly unprepared for the violence storming in his eyes. He might well end her.
“Ren?” Austin said, drawing her from her fears. “Please explain who you are and why you’re here before Tanek goes full guard dog on you. I’m afraid this is a bad time, and he hasn’t the patience for evasions right now.”
Evasions? She hadn’t been evasive, had she?
Ren pulled a blank card with raised dots from her bag and offered it to Austin.
Tanek snatched it from her fingers and scowled. “You don’t look at her. Talk to me.”
Ren swallowed, the tension of the moment tightening her throat. “I am a Cherub of the Choir, and serve our Lady in the heavens, as you warriors do. Milady asked me to tend to the needs of the child.”
“Niobi?” Alarm widened in Austin’s striking, hazel eyes.
“No. The boy.”
“Zane?” Tanek asked. “What’s wrong with Zane?”
“Nothing,” Austin said, worry clouding her expression. “He’s sleeping in the bassinet with Nio upstairs.”
Ren shook her head. “The boy I’m to care for is in the beginning stages of transition. Lady Divinity considers him a treasure of the Choir, and I’ve been sent to ensure he thrives through what is to come.”
“Ringo?” Austin said. “Lady Divinity sent you to watch over Ringo?”
“Have you anything to verify that?” Tanek said, his gaze narrow. “If you think I’ll give a stranger access to our little brother without proof, you’re nuts.”
“You have both my word,” Ren said, meeting his gaze, “and that card, which I was asked to deliver to Lady Austin.”
“Not good enough,” Tanek said, flipping the blank page over. “Out you go, angel. Come back when you have proof.”
“Tanek,” Austin said, descending the last steps to stand before her. “Part of serving the Choir is faith and believing in things beyond proof. Now, do you sense any deceit or malintent from Ren’s words?”
“No, but—”
Austin raised her hand to end the argument. “Then give me the card meant for me.”
He shrugged and handed it to her. When Ren expected her to look at it and find it blank, as Tanek did, Austin pressed it between her hands and moved her fingers over the little bumps. “I see. Well, you are indeed welcome in our home, Ren.”
“Is that a brail note?”
“It’s a recipe card.” Austin’s smile broadened. “And an inside joke. I have no doubt our Lady sent Ren and understand the importance of why she’s here.”
“Well, I don’t,” Tanek said, his scowl deepening. “And I’ll be double-checking, Cherub. Don’t bother unpacking just yet.”
Austin tucked the recipe into the back pocket of her blue jeans. “You do you, Tanek, but please, back to the war room. The men need you. We women can take care of the homefront for a bit.”
Ren looked up the stairs and met the gazes of three women. Two stunning blondes. One was an angel, a Power by the aura surrounding her, and the second, a ghost? The third female was a tall, ginger-haired Darkworlder with the citrine eyes of a Shedim. Wow, Lady Divinity warned her it was an interesting household, and she needed to keep an open mind.
Ren’s mind was as open as they came. She loved diversity.
Tanek looked murderous as he pointed his finger at her. “Until I verify this, walk on eggshells, Lightworlder. Female or not, I will end you if you pose a threat to anyone under this roof. This is my turf to protect.”
Ren dipped her chin. “I understand, warrior. Blessed be.”
When the warrior finally relented and retreated down the corridor, the tension in the air dissolved a great deal.
“Well, then,” Austin said, exhaling a deep breath. “Now that the welcome wagon has finished running you over, let’s find you a bedroom to call your own. Once you’re settled, we’ll check on Ringo and see if he’s awake and up for a visit. How does that sound?”
Ren nodded. “Thank you. That sounds fine.”
Layne hated not knowing. Staring at the swirling pink tornado of magic rising from the debris-covered heaps of a warehouse, she had no idea what her Viking and the others were facing inside. “Whatever Storme’s dealing with at the witch house,” she said to Tanek, “this looks like it’s the same shit, different pile. Smaller though. I’m guessing forty feet.”
“Yeah, the other site is burning out too. We figure we’re working against the clock now too. Any sign of the men?”
“Nope.”
“What about Wilder and Rayvn?”
“Nope.”
“Shit. How are we on crowd control?”
“Not bad. The dragons must’ve dropped a veil to render the scene invisible to humans when they got here. I sense a magical field, but it’s not our kind of magic, so we can’t access it. Gheil and a few of his men are chatting with the dozen dock workers who thought they saw something weird and gathered. When we’re done, everyone will go about their business and not remember anything out of the ordinary.”
“Thank fuck,” Tanek said. “Layne, that’s the first good news I’ve had all night. If the dragons did the same thing as Hark, they went inside the magical field and didn’t come out. Can you send me a video or something so I can see? I’m driving blind here.”
She heard the weary frustration in Tanek’s voice and felt bad for the guy. To be eternally bound to one location would drive her batty. To be under house arrest when everyone she loved was in trouble would bring her to violence.
Lifting her phone, she recorded a clip of the scene and sent it to him. It was quite beautiful in a “cat’s outta the bag” scary kinda way. Staring hard at the flames made her retinas sting. She fought to see some shape or shadow that suggested her dear, wonderful hubby was coming out to join her.
Each moment that didn’t happen, she worried a little more.
Logically, she knew Bo and the others were immortal, but she didn’t care. What if the Rugaru found a way to use magic to negate their immortality, like Stryker had with the red alloy? What if being trapped in the magical fire was draining them or hurting them somehow?
Jhaia tugged at the green tips of her hair. “Don’t let fear win. Your Viking is devoted to a long life with his mate. He’s not leaving you less four months after your wedding. He knows your future. How many kids are you having?”
“Two boys and a girl,” she said, remembering the glimpse they’d been given into their future by Neima at the wedding.
Her sister tapped a finger on the platinum torc encircling Layne’s neck. “This isn’t the end. Your destined future has yet to be lived. Neima was never wrong in all the years of her ancient life. She wasn’t wrong about this either.”
Okay, that made her feel better.
Still, the truth haunted her. This was her fault. She’d done the recon work on this location. She pushed for them to act fast and sent them in there unprepared.
Gheil jogged over from the crowd. “All right. Crowd control is taken care of. No one I talked to seems to know how to stop whatever is going on, or how to get inside the magical field, but it’s contained for the moment.”
“Did you get that?” s
he said to Tanek.
“Yeah. At least that’s something. Thanks.”
CHAPTER SIX
Tanek gripped the edge of his desktop and fought not to flip the fucker. He hadn’t suffered under the weight of his beast since his death, but he still had a temper, and he’d officially lost it. He stared down at his white knuckles and tried to talk himself down. The only thing keeping him from going “Hulk smash” on the room was knowing that this equipment was his only way to communicate with his brothers in the outside world.
“Fuuuuucccckkkk!” he shouted, as long and loud as his vocal cords could bear. Panting, he closed his eyes and tried to rein in his shitstorm crazy.
Six months ago, when Lady Divinity offered him a second chance at his life, he hadn’t imagined a downside. Back with his brothers. Serving a purpose. Watching as their family grew, strengthened, and developed. Rainbows and unicorns, right?
The reality hadn’t lived up to the hype.
He couldn’t have fathomed hating it so much some days.
Being sequestered from the world. Watching his brothers flourish while his life remained frozen. Serving no actual purpose, except to watch the action unfold and have no impact.
“Why did I even bother coming back?” Sinking into his desk chair, he tipped his head back and closed his eyes.
“What did you say?”
Tanek frowned at Scarlett, the ghost of Ronnie’s mother, glaring at him from the hallway. “Sorry, I wasn’t—”
“Of all the ungrateful, shortsighted, meatheaded comments I’ve heard in my life, that tops them all.”
He scrubbed a rough hand over the jackhammer pounding in his head. Was gray matter leaking out his ears? Felt like it. “Thanks for the insult, but maybe dial back the judgment a couple of clicks. You don’t know shit about me or my situation. You’ve been here, what now, two weeks?”
“Three weeks tomorrow.”
He rolled his eyes, and it sent daggers shooting into his skull. “Yeah, two weeks of tea parties and ladies’ lunches gives you plenty of insight into my life. I’ve talked to you a half dozen times in passing, but sure, feel free to chime in and sling shit at me.”