Son of Saints: A Dark YA Fantasy Adventure: Renegade Guardians: Book Two

by Kyra Quinn

  Faint music drifted out into the streets from the crack underneath the heavy wooden door. Rich laughter filled the room the moment Jett pushed the door open and led the way inside. Roasted meat and spices teased his nostrils, bittersweet ambrosia soon following. The room fell silent when the patrons noticed them, every eye glued to Jett and Viktor.

  Viktor had never seen a smaller tavern or hostel. A dozen small circular tables and chairs filled much of the room they’d entered, the tabletops filled with empty glasses and half-eaten meals. An aged oak bar sat against the back wall, five stools filled with men positioned in front. A small elderly man stood behind the bar and glared at them, his heavily inked arms crossed as he scowled.

  Viktor’s hand twitched for his knife, but Jett stopped him with a small shake of his head. Not yet. They had to give the passives a chance to attack first before they slaughtered them all and consumed their hearts.

  “Can we help you lads with something?” the man asked, his voice shaking.

  Jett took a step closer to the bar. “We would like to rent a room for the night, if you have one available. We plan to continue on with our journey come morning.”

  The man gave them a not-so-subtle once-over, his eyes sweeping over Jett first before landing on Viktor. He took his time studying them, as if he had the power to read their intentions in their faces. When he spoke, his eyes remained fixed on Viktor’s. “Go see if we have anything clean upstairs, Haldi.”

  A plump girl with skin as pale as the snow outside huffed and slammed a damp towel down onto the bar. She shot them daggers with her eyes and stomped through the narrow swinging door behind the man. The thud of footsteps against a flight of wooden stairs followed as the man’s face broke into a warm smile.

  “My daughter, she will ready a room for you gentlemen. Hungry?”

  Viktor opened his mouth to admit he was starving, but Jett shook his head. “Thank you, but we ate last not long ago.”

  “A drink, then?”

  “We appreciate your generosity, sir, but we have spent a long day on the road. It’s best we get to sleep so we may continue our travels tomorrow.”

  The old man shrugged. “Suit yourself. Where is it you lads are heading?”

  The rest of the tavern had resumed business as usual, their heads once more ducked together in conversation and smiles. Unease crept up Viktor’s neck like a spider. As much as his body needed rest, something about the innkeeper’s knowing smile made him hesitant to close his eyes.

  “Hunting,” Viktor answered. “There’s a good spot further north.”

  The old man’s fluffy eyebrows creased. “With what, those swords on your backs? Don’t many folks hunt with blades.”

  “We like a challenge.”

  A few thuds later and the daughter returned, her mouth still screwed into a frown. “Pay for your stay and follow me upstairs. The room is ready.”

  Jett dug into his pocket and pulled out a few smooth bronze coins. He flashed them at the barmaid before strolling over to the bar and dropping them in front of the old man. “Will this be enough?”

  His thin lips pulled into a relaxed smile. “Enjoy your stay, sirs. Rare we get lovers of your kind around these parts.”

  Viktor’s face heated. He opened his mouth to protest, but Jett shot him a look to suggest he hold his silence. He snapped his jaw shut as his hands curled into fists by his sides. Leave it to passives to leap to conclusions with little provocation or evidence to support it.

  They followed Haldi through the swinging door and up a narrow flight of wooden steps. The aged wood creaked beneath their feet with each step, and for a moment Viktor worried the timber might collapse under their combined weight. Even when they reached the long, claustrophobic hallway at the top of the stairs he worried the floor might split open.

  “End of the hall on the right,” she said, shoving a small copper key into Jett’s hands. “Try to keep the noise down.”

  Viktor rolled his eyes and bit back a snide retort. If he had to choose a human to eat to sustain himself, he wouldn’t hesitate to choose her. He attempted to force a smile, but the girl’s curled lip told him he’d failed. She let out a huff and stomped away downstairs to gossip with the other useless bags of flesh.

  He followed Jett down the hallway towards the final door at the end. Viktor kept his ears perked for signs of movement, but everyone appeared to be downstairs socializing. He could afford a few minutes of rest if he planned them well. Sleep deprivation weakened the best-trained soldiers.

  The door groaned as Jett pushed it open with his shoulder. Stale incense smoke and something floral perfumed the air as they stepped in and closed the door behind them. Two small beds sat on either side of the room, a small oak night table positioned between them with a small oil lamp on top.

  Viktor sat on the edge of the bed closest to the small window and slid his boots from his sore feet. His muscles relaxed into the mattress, every inch of his body sore. No one would die if he closed his eyes for a moment or two. He could just—

  “Are you ever planning to explain to me what all this is about?” Jett asked, arms folded over his chest as he leaned against the hideous floral wallpaper.

  Viktor’s body tensed. “What do you mean? I’ve told you about the war—”

  “Yes, but not how it relates to you. Why are you so determined to find this fallen angel? And why have we been attacked by forces from both sides with no sign of war? How do you fit into all this?”

  The endless stream of questions set a dull ache into the front of Viktor’s head. He’d suspected Jett would demand more information at some point. For weeks he had tortured himself over how to respond. Now that the moment had arrived, his mouth went dry as his preparations fled his mind.

  Viktor rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s complicated.”

  “What isn’t?” He pulled a dagger from his thigh and picked at his nail beds with the tip of the blade. “What are you not telling me?”

  Viktor stiffened. “Nothing. I told you everything I know.”

  “Why do I sense there is more to the story?”

  It was the perfect opportunity to come clean. Jett had already detected his secrecy. If he confessed everything he knew, Jett still might forgive his deception.

  But what if he didn’t? Viktor couldn’t take that chance. He shook his head and rose to his feet, his spine erect. “Since when has my word proven unworthy of trust, brother? Yet you doubt me now, when we are so close to following through with the plan you suggested?”

  Jett’s spine stiffened. “My apologies. I had no intention of offending you.”

  “We’re both tired.” He sighed. “We’ve had a long trip. Let’s get some shut eye and revisit this in the morning.”

  “You go ahead. I think I’ll take a stroll to settle my mind before bed.”

  Something about the way Jett curled and uncurled his fingers, or the tension in his muscles and darting of his eyes told Viktor he should try to stop him. But with the unease of their earlier conversation still lingering, he bit his tongue and gave a curt nod.

  “Stay out of trouble.”

  Jett snorted. Viktor squeezed his eyes shut as Jett’s footsteps made their way across the creaky wooden floor. The door opened and closed, and a moment later Viktor was alone. He released a heavy exhale as his body melted into the mattress. He’d prayed to Anja for a dreamless sleep, but she showed him no such mercy. His lie to Jett plagued his thoughts, his sleep riddled with dreams of betrayal and blood.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Mommy's Little Monster

  Though Esyn birthed the vampires by mistake, she grew fond of them after time. The vampires soon became second only to the sirens in Esyn’s eyes.

  -The Sacred Texts, 78:42

  Demons and vampire surrounded Aster on every side. They led her through the darkened streets of Killara, the tallest demon in front while the other two walked a few paces behind. Even with the katana strapped to her back, her limited magic left her feeling n
aked and vulnerable. She rubbed her fingers over the amulet. The powers had to come at a high price, but the weight around her neck offered a small reassurance she needed. The trip across the ocean and earlier attack had frayed her nerves. Every rustle of the wind caused her muscles to tense.

  She had tried to strike a conversation by asking the names of the monsters who had rescued her, but her question fell on deaf ears. No one spoke as they marched through the eerily empty streets. Aster held her arms pinned to her body, eyes darting between the strangers and their desolate surroundings.

  After some time, the demon in front paused and glanced over her head to speak to the two behind her. “To the cave?”

  The vampire gave a curt nod. “We can speak freely there, away from prying ears.”

  “Cave?” Aster arched a brow. Had they figured out she had come for the blood stones? Her throat tightened.

  As she’d expected, no one answered. They resumed their slow march across the island. Any time Aster staggered or lulled, the demon behind to her left jammed a sharpened talon in her shoulder and urged her forward.

  Rage and panic took turns churning the acid in Aster’s gut. Who were these pale, demonic creeps? And what gave them the right to push Aster around or tell her what to do? Had they saved her life only to enslave her?

  Her mind raced with possibilities and gruesome images of what enslavement might resemble. Did they plan to chain her to a wall and use her blood to sustain the vampire? Would they work her into an early grave? Or take turns having their way with her body? She shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself.

  A cold sweat dripped down the back of her neck and into her shirt. She reached for the amulet, then dropped her hands. They didn’t know she had it, and the element of surprise could come in handy if they tried to harm her.

  Even if she didn’t have the first clue how to use it.

  “What’s in the bag?” the vampire asked.

  Aster tensed as she pictured the sorry excuse for a stave Morrigan had stolen from the coven for her. Not that it would do her much good now. She shook her head and said, “Nothing. A few changes of clothes and a book or two.”

  “Books?” the demon behind her snorted. “Few of those left in Killara.”

  The demon in front took a sharp left away from the dirt path and into the foliage. Branches and leaves crunched beneath his heavy black boots. Aster took a step back, but the demon behind her pushed her forward once more.

  “Worry not, little one,” he cooed, his breath warm against her ear. “We will keep you safe.”

  His words gave Aster no reassurance. But they had her outnumbered and outmatched. She hurried into the forest behind the first demon. Thick, lush green leaves blocked the sky overhead, the moon hidden from view.

  Hot and humid air surrounded them. Insects hummed and buzzed, the gentle melody out of place in the dark, eerie jungle. Frogs croaked ahead. Long blades of grass and weeds tickled her ankles and legs. The deeper they led her, the more Aster worried she might never find her way off the island.

  “How did a cave wind up here of all places?” she asked, hopeful she might bait one of them into speaking to her. The sound of her own thoughts would drive her mad if she didn’t find a distraction. “Is it an animal cave?”

  “It’s our cave,” the demon in front barked. “Why do you ask so many damn questions? What’s it matter to you?”

  Aster bit her cheek as heat rushed up her neck and into her cheeks. No conversation, then. “Do you plan to kill me?”

  All three of them roared with laughter. “Why save you only to dirty our home killing you?”

  Aster kicked at the ground, aware they had a point but unwilling to admit it. She tried to ignore the burn of her cheeks and focus instead on the relentless chirping of the cicadas in the surrounding trees. Carramar always had a robust chorus of cicadas and crickets in the summer. She wrapped her arms around her waist and hiked with her head down, the conversation over aside from the occasional warning to watch her step or increase her pace.

  The rush of water filled her ears long before the waterfall came into view. They stopped in front of a wide river, the inside a shimmering crystal blue clear as the sky in Starbright. Water gushed down over the mouth of a dark opening in the stone wall.

  “See? Not so bad,” the vampire said, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “If it helps, I am named Seth.”

  Seth. Such an ordinary, almost boring name. She had expected something menacing, something like Spike or Fangs. To see him smile, to introduce himself as something as plain as Seth, almost disappointed her.

  “Aster. Thanks for...well, you know.”

  Seth and the demon men guided her along the muddy bank of the river towards the waterfall. Her feet grew heavier with each step, as if at any moment they might toss her into the river and let the water wash her away. The passives had burned and drowned their share of Shadowfey. Why shouldn’t the children of shadows have a turn at torture?

  “We have candles and such inside,” Seth said, trying and failing to read her thoughts. “And no one on this island is foolish enough to come here without our explicit permission.”

  So if they hurt her, no one would hear her screams. Delightful.

  Aster followed the demon into the dark mouth of the cave, sprays of cool water tickling her arms and face, and for a moment she pictured herself as a tiny fish swallowed alive by a massive whale. Their momentary heroism aside, only a madwoman would follow a pair of demons and a vampire into a pitch-black cave. What would Madre or Morrigan say?

  That she had brought whatever fate she found upon herself. Aster stood with her back against the cave wall, unwilling to give them an opportunity to rush her from behind. She folded her arms over her chest and willed herself to show no signs of weakness.

  Seth set to work on the candles the moment they entered the cave. Within a few minutes, a circle of thick onyx candles flickered to life and bathed the space with a gentle glow. The trio of monsters stood in a row and watched her with devious smirks, the flames dancing in the reflection of their eyes.

  “Welcome,” Seth said, his arms open by his sides. “It isn’t much, but we call it home.”

  She had expected a cave full of animal carcasses and dark artifacts or an altar thrown together to honor Zanox or Daeva. Instead, the cave sat almost empty. They pushed a small wooden chest in the back corner of the room in the shadows, a leather journal on top. She scanned the walls and ceiling, but no blood stones glittered in the candlelight. A few worn pillows presented the only place to sit besides the ground. Seth gestured for her to choose one before plopping down on the faded black pillow closest to him.

  She waited for the demons to join him on the ground, then lowered herself to kneel on the cushion closest to her feet. The ground beneath her knees felt cold and hard. Aster wrapped her arms around her waist, the knots in her stomach tightening and twisting.

  “Well then,” the tallest demon said, cocking his head with a mischievous smirk, “what brings a blood mage to Killara?”

  “Not the hospitality,” she muttered under her breath. “Who told you I’m a blood mage? And why should I answer any of your questions when you refuse to provide me with a name?”

  The three of them snickered, and Aster’s blood boiled. She moved to stand and leave, but Seth reached an arm out for her and shook his head.

  “Please, stay. We’re sorry. As I mentioned before, I am called Seth. This is Adrian and Kazimir Vissier.”

  “Brothers?” Aster blinked. She’d never realized demons had brothers or sisters, or any semblance of family. It struck her as strange to imagine them as anything other than simple-minded monsters with a wicked bloodlust.

  “Indeed. But that doesn’t answer who you are or what has brought you to our land.” The taller demon, Kazimir, picked at the dirt beneath his talons. He didn’t lift his gaze to meet hers as he spoke, but Aster could detect a hint of annoyance beneath his imaginary indifference.

  “What does it mat
ter?” Aster folded her arms over her chest. “I’m still not convinced you haven’t brought me here to kill me.”

  Kazimir leaned closer, his eyes locked onto her face. “If we had any intention of harming you, we would have done so long before now.”

  “Seth doesn’t feed on blood, if that’s what you’re worried about,” the other demon, Adrian, volunteered with a smirk. “None of us do. This is a safe space.”

  Aster arched a brow. “How does a vampire sustain himself without blood?”

  “Do you assume we are all alike?” Seth rubbed his chin.

  Heat burned Aster’s cheeks once more. She had given little thought to vampires or Shadowfey at all. She squirmed, unsure how to answer without betraying more of her ignorance.

  After a few moments of watching her suffer, Seth laughed. “It’s a fair assumption. The Shadowfey don’t associate with children of the light often.”

  “But she isn’t a child of the light,” Kazimir purred, leaning closer as Aster leaned away. “The shadows touched her soul. I can sense it from here.”

  “How did you know what I am?” she demanded once more. She had hoped to sound calm and controlled, but the quiver in her voice betrayed her.

  Seth shrugged. “I have a talent for reading energies and auras. Yours, my dear, is as dark as the sky above.”

  “Now,” Kazimir said, deepening his voice, “would you explain what has brought you to our gods-forsaken little corner of the world?”

  Aster rubbed the back of her neck and hesitated. Her stomach quivered. Every time she’d opened herself up to darkness in the past, it had dug its way into her soul and threatened to consume her. Only a fool would make the same mistake again.

  But powerless and alone, she had few other options than to play the fool.

  “Blood stones,” she muttered under her breath. “Killara is home to an ancient and powerful magic I need to get my hands on.”

  Their smiles fell as Seth and the others exchanged a look Aster couldn’t read. Her chest tightened. She wrung her hands in her lap, her knuckles white.