Banewolf (Dark Siren Book 2)

by Eden Ashley

  Kali wasn’t intimidated. She had been thinking about this moment all day. Images of fire and dances of graceful violence consumed her mind. She didn’t push them away. When she tried, other thoughts took over. Ones of grief, sadness, and foreboding. She would rather fight.

  After touching sticks with War, she ignited her weapons and backed away. War circled slowly. His eyes searched for an opening. A second later, he charged. The sound of wood slamming against wood clacked in the air. War didn’t hit as hard as York, but he was much faster. His attacks came from both feet and hand, and Kali was hard pressed to keep up. Sweat poured from her brow. Her muscles strained. Her breathing was ragged. But the patterns of the light were there, keeping War’s assault at bay. All she had to do was follow them.

  “Styganna Lumas,” she whispered.

  Grey fire erupted into an impenetrable blaze. War jumped away, folding himself backward at an impossible angle to avoid the flames. When the fire cleared, it was as if he materialized in front of her. Kali reached out to block, before realizing she had nothing to block him with. Her sticks had been reduced to cinders. As he swung at her legs, instinct took over. Without thinking she leapt into the air, flipping backward to come down on her feet as lithely as a cat. Dropping back into a defensive stance when War attacked, she took the hit against both forearms, grunting as the rod brutally struck her flesh. Grabbing his weapon, she spoke a command to summon fire within the core of the wood. The rod crumbled into ashes. Panting, War looked down and then up at Kali. She couldn’t read his expression. Rion hooted and started to clap.

  “I’ve never seen anything like that. Dude, you weren’t holding back, were you?”

  War slowly shook his head. “There was no need.”

  Adrenaline raced through her veins, pitching her heart into a jackhammer rhythm. She focused to slow her breathing. But it felt too good to stop. Stopping meant the misery would return. “Let’s go again.”

  War stared pointedly down at the ashes. “You burned our toys.”

  “Find new ones.”

  He shook his head. “We’d have to go live.”

  Kali was intrigued. “Does that mean using real weapons?”

  “Whoa,” Rion interjected. “Let’s not get crazy here. It was a good match. Leave it at that. We can go do homework or something.”

  “I can’t.” Her chest tightened at the idea of sitting in the manor with grief overshadowing every second and every thought and every breath. Hot tears stung her cheeks. She hastily wiped her eyes.

  “Don’t cry.” Rion looked absolutely panic stricken. “What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t say.” She turned away from him, trying to shut out the memories. She had to keep them at bay. No snow.

  “Okay,” War said quietly. “We’ll get blades.”

  #

  Three hundred eighty-eight. It was the number of times York had changed radio stations in the last hour and a half. A muted beep signaled the switch to yet another. Whenever York heard a song he liked enough to listen to, he momentarily paused the endless channel surf, but lacked the attention span to let any song play in its entirety. Country rock was the flavor for two minutes. Hip hop for three. And then hard rock blasted through the speakers. Rhane listened with half an ear, unconsciously tapping a finger with the bass. His attention was split in about a thousand different directions.

  “Why do they call this a stakeout anyway?” Beep. York changed stations again, cycling through several more until he settled on pop. Backed by big band sound, some chick caterwauled about the hardships of young love. Rhane cringed. “We’re not eating steaks. We’re not using stakes to kill the undead. I see nothing stakey about this.”

  “It’s a metaphor drawn from the human practice of marking land claims with wooden stakes. Construction surveyors still do it for buildings.”

  York directed a baffled stare toward him. “That is a seriously useless piece of knowledge you’re holding onto. Get rid of it.” He stared at the radio. “This is god-awful, isn’t it?”

  Rhane nodded, keeping his gaze to the window. “Change it as you have nearly four hundred times before.”

  “More useless knowledge. Why are you counting?”

  “To keep from strangling you,” Rhane muttered.

  York laughed. Beep. Beep. Beep. Heavy metal. The vocals of the lead singer were barely audible, screaming indecipherable lyrics above a cacophony of electric guitar and drums. It was remotely better than sugar pop. “Are you sure our friend is in there?”

  “Yeah. The second floor has a couple of rooms sequestered from the main section. Our guy is in that office. It's his light shining so brightly in the night.”

  “Now you’re a poet.”

  “Boredom inspires me.”

  “You’re a terrible poet. Give it up.”

  “You’re chock full of encouragement tonight.”

  “Boredom makes me cranky.”

  The window Rhane had watched for nearly two hours suddenly went dark. But even from across the street, his eyes could see a shadow moving throughout the second floor. Neither distance nor darkness were a challenge to his superhuman sight. “He’s on the move.”

  York’s head snapped up. The radio switched off. “This is good. Movement is good.”

  A figure exited the warehouse style building, secured the doors and alarm system before crossing the parking lot. The man was Wesley. He climbed into the only car parked on the deserted asphalt. A hybrid.

  “At least we don’t have to worry about him outrunning us.”

  Rhane grunted. The light blue sedan pulled away, turning left onto the highway. After a few seconds, he started the pickup and followed. The hybrid boarded the ramp to the interstate. Rhane tailed its every move, careful to keep at a safe distance. Traffic was pretty light during the late hour. So a safe distance was a pretty big one. Good thing for keen eyesight.

  They followed Wesley for nearly twenty minutes before he took an exit that put them back onto a main highway. A few turns later, Rhane and York found themselves cruising parallel to a rather upscale subdivision. It was country club, tennis court, golf course, and Olympic-sized swimming pool kind of fancy.

  York whistled. “This is not what I was expecting.”

  Rhane stopped a block away and watched a car pull through the gated entrance. It wasn’t the blue hybrid but rather a high-end luxury sedan. The security guard who manned the gate scanned an access card produced by the driver, and granted the sedan entry.

  “He must be already inside. I guess we’re taking the back door.”

  Not five minutes later, they scaled the wrought iron fence that surrounded about a hundred acres of private land, and scurried across the green of a nicely manicured golf course. Low and fast, they didn’t slow until they reached the residential areas. The light blue hybrid was parked in front of a residence with one of the largest floor plans in the community. Rhane led the charge, careful to keep away from the glow of dozens of streetlights, inanimate sentinels of the landscape. He and York ducked into Wesley’s backyard, stilling their breathing to listen. Multiple voices came from inside.

  “Third floor,” Rhane said.

  “We climb?”

  “Yeah.”

  The exterior was constructed of granite brick, making for easy and abundant footholds as they scaled the back wall. Reaching the third level, York and Rhane separated to search left and right. Peering into several windows, York located the exact location of the meeting and signaled to Rhane.

  Just outside of the room was a balcony, complete with a full set of patio furniture and an overhanging ceiling to offer limited protection from the elements. Rhane and York slipped over the railing, landed lightly on the deck. They took positions on opposite sides of two large sliding glass doors. Flush against the granite, Rhane trained every sense to take in what was happening on the other side of the wall.

  “…is well. We need not worry about the health of the siren.” That was Wesley. “What of the child?”

&n
bsp; Another voice spoke. “He continues to elude capture. We made no plan for this.” The second voice sounded very familiar. Rhane realized with a start he knew who it was. From the corner of his eye, York saw the change in his expression. “What?” he mouthed. Rhane jerked his head left, indicating for York to take a look inside. Edging closer to the window, York lowered himself into deeper shadows and slowly eased his head forward. Damn. It was Rhane’s contact, Tsai. And his facial hair had never looked more terrible.

  “Banewolf is taking steps to form new alliances. He has possession of the map, the ledger, and the key. He only has to assemble them.”

  “And yet he has not,” Tsai said. “If he does not find the vessel, The Faction will come for the pieces. They will send their champion to assemble them.”

  “It cannot be opened without the Heart.”

  As the two creatures conversed, their faces never changed to show emotion. Voices contained no inflection. And they barely moved. York watched them, trying very hard not to be weirded out. Being around one Builder had been hard enough. In that moment, he felt grateful for the glass and granite between himself and them.

  Tsai had fallen silent. Apparently, his stillness made Wesley suspicious. “You know where the Heart lies.”

  “I believe the Faction has it…or one of their representatives.”

  For the first time, York saw a hint of emotion ripple through the creature’s face. Wesley was distraught. “Why can we not avoid war? Our masters do not have to awaken.”

  “Wesley, you know it must be so.”

  There was no reply. The silence stretched on until Tsai spoke again. “Banewolf’s ties to the girl hold him here.”

  “Their bond is our strength.”

  “Currently, it is a weakness that has only spawned inaction.”

  Wesley nodded somewhat reluctantly. “We could intervene.”

  “I cannot,” Tsai said. “I fear my powers may become too limited in the next cycle.”

  “Then we wait.” Wesley bowed and left the room. The meeting was over.

  Rhane and York dropped to solid ground and then made double time across the golf course and back to the truck. They reached the main highway swiftly enough to catch site of the hybrid’s glowing tail lights.

  Chapter 49

  It was getting dark, but practice was still in full swing. For nearly half an hour, Kali had sparred with real blades. War and Rion insisted that practice begin slowly and progress from there. But after two rounds at a snail’s pace, Kali accelerated her dance. War would have to keep up or lose the match. He resisted at first. Then two cuts came dangerously close to trimming his red hair. After that, War engaged with a vengeance.

  The fight was a thrill to Kali’s blood. A fierce, hungry part of her was awakened like never before. The twin knives felt like extensions of her own body. She anticipated each move of War’s offense before he made it, her knives meeting his sword block for block. The metal weapons clashed, their song a rousing melody to the ancient creature who slept within. Though she tired, Kali felt powerful and strong.

  But then things went terribly wrong.

  Seeing moonlight touch a long braid of white, she faltered. Her knife slipped and missed a vital block. The cold silver blade cut through her arm like hot wire, slicing through skin and muscle and nerves without resistance. Pain choked out any voice for screaming. The agony was high voltage, electric, and demanded the release of the weapon from her fingertips. As if in slow motion, the dagger fell to the ground. Kali fully expected her severed arm to fall next to it.

  But War’s blade miraculously stopped.

  She opened her eyes and forced herself to look down. Yes. It was happening. It had happened. The sword was there, embedded in her muscle. To stop the kind of momentum behind that swing wasn’t possible on War’s end. No. What stopped the amputation of her arm had been Orrin. His hand had caught the tip of the blade, still held it from moving further. Kali whimpered. Warren swore. Rion babbled several things she couldn’t comprehend as she suddenly felt very lightheaded. Their voices muted. Her vision dimmed. The last thing she saw was moonlight caressing River’s silken locks.

  #

  Rhane was still tailing the blue hybrid. Up until this point, the plan was to gather intelligence from surveillance only. And they had successfully done that. But what was witnessed between Wesley and the other Builder changed things. This wasn’t only about Kalista. From the very beginning and in all aspects, it was possible that Builders had manipulated every significant event in Rhane’s life. It was a difficult truth to face. He knew they needed to get back to the manor, but he just couldn’t pull away. A quarter of a mile ahead was the person…or being…with all the answers.

  York’s warning cut into his thoughts. “Heads up.”

  The hybrid had cut its speed and pulled into the right lane. Flashers activated as the vehicle continued to slow. Rhane decelerated enough to stay a safe distance behind, but then the sedan came to a full stop in the emergency lane.

  York tensed. “Are we stopping?”

  To delay any longer would call attention to the tail. Rhane hit the accelerator lightly. “No.”

  The pickup cruised by the hybrid at a normal speed. Rhane swore under his breath. Yet again, the Builder had made the decision for him. He weighed the options. Tomorrow was a new day. More surveillance could be arranged for then. They had a solid location now, and two definite players identified. Rhane could even try contacting Tsai on his own, possibly feigning a new business proposition.

  “I could be wrong but…” York, completely turned in the seat to observe the roadway behind, faced forward again.

  Rhane rolled his eyes. “You should’ve just gotten out and told him we were following him.”

  “There was no one inside that car.”

  York’s color had turned an odd shade of green. That was worrisome. “What?”

  “The car was empty.”

  Rhane shrugged away a feeling of unease. “Maybe he got out to check the tires or something.”

  “I didn’t see him. He wasn’t there.”

  Reaching to adjust the rear view mirror, Rhane peered back into nothing but darkness. “That’s--”

  Red light suddenly exploded behind them in the highway. A floating, spherical mass of pure energy rushed up to the pickup, moving much faster than the vehicle was capable of traveling. There was no chance. No time. Before Rhane could finish his thought, the red mass had materialized through metal and glass, permeating the inside of the cab.

  “What the hell?” York exclaimed.

  Rhane barely heard him. A loud rush filled his ears. Burning, icy cold set his veins on fire. And then the red glow was gone. York was gone. The truck was gone.

  He stood in a barren plain, nothing living seen for miles. Up in the sky, an orange light appeared. The light grew bigger, traveling faster as it fell to the earth. It looked like an asteroid. A deeper sense told Rhane it wasn’t.

  The object slammed into the ground, leaving a giant crater in its wake. When the dust settled, there was a ship. Glowing blue symbols covered the vessel, nearly identical to the hieroglyphs once used in his homeland. Warekin, rogues, and kindred emerged to scatter in all directions. The creatures disappeared into the woods as animals…

  And returned as men.

  All-out war erupted. Rogues, clad in gold and black armor, battled against immense troll-like creatures that were kindred. The barren plain was soon soaked with blood. Warekin joined the onslaught, and their armies suppressed the fighting, spared only those who yielded and killed all others. Through them the conflict found respite. Man and beast stood still. The roaring in Rhane’s ears diminished.

  And then like an illusion of mirrors, the beasts began multiplying. Rogue and kindred soldiers duplicated until they outnumbered Warekin a hundred to one. Ghastly silhouettes stretched across the plains and to the horizon—as far as the eye could see. Until there was no more room for them, and the earth was covered.

  Thunder
rolled. The ground shifted. From behind, he heard the beating of wings…really large wings. Rhane turned. And saw a devil.

  A goliath descended upon him. Red and black scales cobblestoned its flesh. The eyes were yellow, split horizontally by black slits. He could feel hatred pouring from those portals of death. And he could feel the monster’s hunger. It wanted to consume the men and beasts of the battlefield. It wanted them to burn.

  The creature opened its mouth. A spark ignited. Fire materialized in its jaws, and a hot glow spurted forth like a jet stream of magma. Rhane could do nothing to stop it. His skin succumbed and he was engulfed. His body melted. His muscles fell away, exposing bone and raw nerves to the fire. Unrelenting pressure resonated within his skull as if wanting to implode. The pain was too much.

  Rhane buckled beneath the agony.

  The creature still hovered. Beating its wings, it stared at him, yellow eyes glowering with hunger and hatred. Then something changed. The dragon began to shift, leaving its monstrous shape to become something else. It fell like a stone, and was much smaller when it landed.

  Death would have been a release from the pain, but Rhane clung to life and struggled to keep his eyes open. He held on until the dark shape rose from the ground, and watched it unfold to stand on two feet. Dark hair fell around shoulders lightly bronzed by the sun, concealing the figure’s identity. But then the head lifted, casting aside the thick curtain of hair.

  Rhane looked into the boy’s eyes and knew him.

  Then he breathed one final breath.

  #

  “He is going to kill us.”

  “I didn’t mean to.” War said for the tenth time. He looked really afraid. They all looked scared. Even Orrin’s normally untouched expression was more than a little anxious.

  Kali fingered the bandage on her arm and winced. But she put on a brave face. “It doesn’t hurt as bad.” That was a lie. She actually wanted to tuck into the fetal position and cry like a baby. The pain was excruciating, burning all the way down to her thumb and forefinger. The rest of her hand was cold to the touch, nearly numb. And three fingers had lost all color.