Kindred of the Fallen

by Isis Rushdan

  Against her better judgment, she reached for his hand, but he checked the strap of his sword and weapons fastened to his utility belt, averting contact. She cupped the edge of the seat. It’d been foolish to attempt to ease the sense of distress flowing from him.

  Discretion and the pretense of normalcy, she reminded herself. Not that she should be touching him anyway. If pretending everything was okay led to answers, she could do it.

  He opened a black foot locker near Abbadon’s seat. Bundles of coiled metal with leather handles were stacked inside. He hooked one set to his hip. The shiny metal had sharpened ridges and appeared pliable like a steel whip.

  Undulations of their shared energy stream softened, returning to sublime equilibrium. He clasped his hand over hers and squeezed gently. A heartbeat later his hand was gone.

  The two men she didn’t know sat upfront flying the helicopter, oblivious to their interaction. Abbadon had her locked in his sights, monitoring every gesture and breath. There was something about him she couldn’t quite pinpoint that unsettled her. His brusque manner definitely rubbed her every color of wrong, but something else lurking in his cold eyes stung of a frightening recognition she couldn’t shake.

  Paying no attention to the landscape below, Cyrus stared out of the window.

  Jude Alucio of House Herut had fallen to bloodlust. Jude had to be euthanized. Jude.

  They were the same age. If blood rage could take him over so suddenly without warning, the same fate he’d soon impose could have befallen him had he not found his kabashem. So young, not even close to three hundred years. The torment of the curse afflicted more at an earlier age every day. A millennium ago, Kindred could endure for five hundred years, sometimes six before the torments of the curse laid siege victorious. Now, it had an unpredictable edge, striking old and young alike, wiping their species from the face of the earth.

  Jude. Warrior. Kinsman. Beloved brother.

  The helicopter circled Jude’s estate. The house was on lockdown. Steel Rolladens covered all windows and doors. A good thing Jude didn’t slack on proper security measures considering the house was practically made of glass. A beauty in the sunlight and stunning views from every room, but containment without the metal shutters would have been impossible.

  Krevitch, the human housekeeper waved to them, a frenzied expression upon his face. The chopper touched down on the lawn near the driveway.

  Jude no longer existed. It would look like his friend, but Jude’s mind was now lost. The creature suffering inside needed to be set free by the blade of his sword. Jude was already dead.

  Cyrus steeled himself and flung the chopper door open. He turned to help Serenity out, but if he touched her the tenuous hold he had on his focus would dissolve. He beckoned her to follow and hurried to Krevitch.

  Blood stained the housekeeper’s cheek, ascot and cuff of his jacket. The man stood steady as a tree trunk, but his hands shook.

  “I was told to call if anything odd happened,” Krevitch said with a thick Russian accent. “I was told to call if…” He pulled a crumpled business card from his pocket.

  Cyrus took the blood soaked card, acknowledging it with a nod. “What happened?”

  Krevitch shook his head as the others gathered around. “Jude…he began losing his temper early this morning over little things, the way the table was set for breakfast, a pen running out of ink. Then while Marisa went to change for a meeting, he stared at a painting on the wall for an hour, insisting it was crooked. I checked it with a leveler twice, but he insisted. When she came down, he went into a rage because she’d worn green. His eyes…his eyes…”

  His eyes were now the color of blood. Once the eyes changed, it was too late. Krevitch was lucky to be alive.

  “I’ve never heard of sangre saevitas taking over so quickly,” Abbadon muttered.

  It was the fastest case they’d heard of to date. Blood frenzy usually set in slowly, becoming apparent with fleeting fits of madness and rage, taking weeks until the eyes finally changed and the tormented Kindred was completely lost to the affliction.

  “Marisa?” Cyrus asked, wondering if she might still be alive and trapped inside.

  “He tore through her. She injured him before he finished her. Gave me time to get away. I followed protocol: Shut the house down. Call the number on the card. Wait for help.”

  “Where are the others?” Cyrus asked. They always stayed in groups, never alone. Jude had his sister Marisa with him and at least three others from the collective.

  “Jude said he was going to be reassigned later this fall. The others had already been summoned back home. That’s what he said.”

  “Krevitch, you did well in following the protocol.” Cyrus turned to Serenity. She stared at the human, her face pale. “I need you to stay with Abbadon and to do exactly what he says.”

  “Abbadon said you need at least four. He should go with you. I’ll be fine.”

  “I can’t leave you out here unprotected.”

  “I don’t know what you’re going to face in there, but it sounds like you’re going to need him. Please.” She grasped his forearm.

  Icicles raked their energy stream, prickling his flesh. She feared for his safety. Her emotions cut through him. She cared for him.

  He needed her trust and desire, but it struck him now that he also wanted more.

  “Take Abbadon with you,” she pleaded.

  “I need to be focused on one thing inside. If you’re alone, I won’t be able to…” He glanced at the warriors who stared, and roped in his words. Their gazes bounced from him to Serenity and back again, registering everything. “Abbadon will stay with you. It’s best this way.”

  He unhooked the fulcrix from his utility belt and slung the metal whip over his shoulder, grasping the eight-inch leather handle. “Krevitch, what’s the pass code?”

  “719365420.”

  Cyrus looked at Abbadon. His old friend bowed his head, accepting his duty. Cyrus marched to the front door of the house. Spero, one of the finest warriors he knew, was to his right. Micah, a young but capable soldier, was to his left.

  “We know not to ask any questions, but perhaps there’s something you’d like to share with us,” Spero said, glancing back at Serenity.

  Cyrus entered the pass code, ignoring Spero’s comment, and selected the option to open the front door, keeping the remainder of the house locked down. The Rolladen covering the door shooshed upward.

  “Jude was a deadly warrior before blood rage. Stay sharp and focused,” Cyrus instructed.

  They crossed the threshold, scanning the foyer.

  Fading sunlight filtered through the open door. Blood streaked the walls, and remnants of broken furniture and glass littered the floor. Cyrus sealed the shutter back over the door. Darkness surrounded them and a rancid stench clogged the air.

  A breeze brushed Cyrus as Spero unleashed his wings. The familiar whoosh to his left meant Micah had also shifted into battle mode. Cyrus concentrated on his desire to change and finally feel the glory of wings. His life force had merged fully with Serenity’s, and now that they were separated, a hunger for her gnawed at him.

  His latent ability should be activated. He strained, trying to force the shift, but nothing.

  It was probably for the best. Once his wings emerged, the others would instantly know he’d found his mate and Serenity was the next logical deduction. They already suspected, but for now weren’t certain.

  He slipped on a pair of night vision goggles.

  A crash erupted in the living room straight ahead. The double doors were closed, but a flicker of light danced in the crack. The scent of pungent smoke deepened as they approached. The handle turned and the door glided open without a sound.

  Jude, no, the beast hunkered low in front of Marisa’s body, which had been set on fire. It had built a small pyre on what was left of her stomach. From the amount of smoke, the flames hadn’t been burning long. Plumes coiled up, forming a cloud on the forty-foot ceiling.
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  Spero and Micah fanned out, circling the beast.

  Its wings had no feathers, slick as a bat’s. It held a mirror, licking the reflective glass methodically like an animal cleaning its paws.

  Once they formed a triangle around the creature—a shoddy substitute for the tight circle nine would have made—each one slid their fulcrix from shoulder to hand. The flexible metal was easy to wield and could lacerate the skin of a Kindred warrior, since it was made of barenpetium and not steel.

  Cyrus cracked his whip, drawing the beast’s attention.

  The mirror smashed against the floor. Snarling, the afflicted warrior craned its head toward the snapping sound of the fulcrix. The poor lighting and NVGs distorted the details of the beast’s face and the monochromatic hue washed out the blood red eyes Cyrus preferred not to see. One more layer of emotional distance he’d give thanks for when this was done.

  Spero’s whip popped against the floor, resounding like a bullet. The beast wheeled around in response, hunched with arms hanging out wide. Its fingernails had stretched to claws, another unnatural mutation that occurred once they entered the final stage of sangre saevitas.

  Next, Micah snapped his fulcrix and the beast’s head twisted toward the noise.

  They each took turns whirling the metal in the air and cracking it against the floor, steadily increasing their tempo to keep the beast disoriented and distracted. The staccato beats melded into a kind of music that made Cyrus’s heart heavy.

  Spero twined the whip around the beast’s outstretched arm. Micah went to do the same, but missed, lashing it instead.

  Ignoring the sting of metal, the beast reeled Spero in as it jolted at him.

  Cyrus winded the fulcrix around the thing’s calf and pulled in the opposite direction, while Micah flogged the creature across the back and legs with ferocious speed.

  Damn blood rage made it faster and stronger. They only succeeded in slowing the thing down.

  The beast caught Spero by the neck. Cyrus tightened the tether around its calf and yanked. Metal cut into the flesh and blood streaked down the leg.

  Micah charged with a drawn blade, but the beast ducked, keeping a lock on Spero’s jugular. A monochromatic blur, the next movement was so quick. The creature knocked Micah with its arm, sending him flailing backward.

  Spero stabbed the beast’s chest and arms with a dagger. Bat wings flapped, creating billows of smoke, and the thing took to the air with Spero.

  With a flick of the wrist, Cyrus freed his whip. He twirled it in the air and thrashed the wings. Blow after blow he unleashed, racing against the beast’s ascent.

  One bloody wing dropped to the floor. A howl cut through the room as the creature plummeted.

  Micah recovered and dove in, but the beast snatched him from the air and threw him into Spero, leaving both warriors dazed.

  Choking on smoke, heart thundering, Cyrus rushed over. He kept the flick of his whip between him and the beast. The creature looked back at the other warriors, as if reconsidering who to attack. Cyrus tore at the beast’s flesh. He lacerated the face and flayed the chest, keeping its attention duly focused.

  The beast stormed forward, unhindered by the blows, and tackled him.

  Momentum carried them into the air, smashing through a wall.

  Pain exploded, sunbursts of spikes in his head and back. Rubble beneath him and the beast growling on top, Cyrus wrestled to keep the thing’s snapping jowls from taking a chunk out of him. Drool dripped on his cheek and ran down his neck.

  His muscles shook, straining to hold it at bay. A hiss roared in his ear. Hot, putrid breath bore down on his face.

  Immense weight was lifted from him as Spero and Micah yanked the beast off. The warriors dragged the creature back, kicking and thrashing. The beast dug its claws into Micah’s leg, causing the warrior to trip, and the three toppled to the floor.

  Cyrus sucked in a breath, collecting his wits.

  The room swam in a murky haze.

  The creature had hold of a sandstone obelisk. A priceless piece of art, worthy of showcase in a museum, that Jude had loved. The beast slammed the obelisk into Micah’s chest, then swung it like a baseball bat and sent Spero sailing across the room. The bloodthirsty creature spun and charged a window, obelisk hoisted up to use as a battering ram.

  Serenity stopped biting the nail of her thumb as the ruckus coming from inside the house died down. The noises had sounded like gunfire and grenades exploding.

  Krevitch paced back and forth in front of a Land Rover, wringing his hands.

  Abbadon stood stiff, fixed on the house. An unflinching sentinel. She hovered behind her new guardian, wondering if Cyrus was okay. She needed to see him, to reconnect to the vibrant power of his energy, to breathe again.

  A great boom erupted, drawing her attention to the house. The metal shutter on the first floor directly across from the driveway rattled. Another thunderous bang sliced through the outdoor silence. She backed up into the fender of the SUV, gaze glued to the clattering sheet of slate-gray metal.

  Abbadon unzipped his jacket slowly, as if time were not a factor. He rolled the navy garment off his shoulders with dignified grace. Leather braces covered his forearms. Two slits in his tank top, running the length of his spine, caught in the wind and flapped.

  His complexion darkened, midnight blue pooling into his skin. Mighty wings burst from his back, casting a gust of wind her way as they swept out.

  Her heart lurched into her throat. She stumbled to the side of the vehicle, gaping in shock.

  Krevitch jumped into the car and locked the doors.

  Lowering his wings, Abbadon turned his head, glancing in her direction over his shoulder. He was the dark angel from her nightmares who had cared for her and sought with tender vigilance to protect and guide her through the darkness. In every dreamscape, he was as real as the spectacular warrior in front of her, fearsome and glorious to behold.

  “Stay low behind the car,” Abbadon ordered.

  She crouched down as instructed. He pulled knives from the back of his holster, specially designed from the way the leather straps were cut wide to give room for his wings and hung low to his waist.

  The metal shutter buckled under the force of pounding from the other side. Abbadon bent his knees slightly, blades pointed at the ready. The gray sheet of metal flew across the driveway.

  A roaring blue monster barreled out—fangs, claws for hands and eyes a seething swirl of vermillion. One scaly wing flapped uncontrollably.

  Scooting away, Serenity lost her footing and slipped. She scrambled back on her butt, her nails scraping the concrete, until her spine pressed against a hubcap.

  Abbadon bolted toward the monster and took it to the ground in a rough holding move, knives lodged in its sides. He sat up and blades ejected from the braces on his forearms. He drove them into the creature’s ribs.

  The crazed beast swiped at him, but he jerked back. With a brutal kick, the animal sent Abbadon hurling into the air and sprang to its feet.

  Abbadon collided with a tree. The force of his body knocked the trunk down. He lay sprawled on the ground, wings crumpled under him. A cascade of sapphire feathers blew in the wind.

  Bile flooded her mouth. Her pool of energy bubbled. Tightness seized her throat and she gasped to take in air.

  The monster homed in on her. Foaming at the mouth, it crouched low.

  Her body quaked and her guts twisted into knots. She grabbed the car handle, jumping to her feet.

  The door was locked. Energy swelled and churning waves swirled inside of her torso.

  “Let me in!” She banged on the window. “Open the door!”

  Krevitch had his head tucked between his knees, hands over his ears.

  She tugged the door handle and slapped the window. Krevitch remained immovable.

  Yowling, the deranged beast charged on all floors. A grotesque, one-winged, hairless gorilla spewing rage. Inhuman speed powered its body—unearthly quickness.

&nbs
p; Raspy breaths escaped her mouth as she stumbled backward.

  Cyrus jumped from the shattered window, whip in hand, but he was so far away. Abbadon wobbled to his knees.

  Blazing blood red eyes closed in. Her stomach curdled, her spine turned to water.

  I don’t want to die. She shook her head, unable to breathe. Her pool of energy boiled and crested, all cylinders in her body burned hot as lava. She had to get away, but there was nowhere to run.

  Get it away. Keep it back. Stay away from me!

  “No!” She flung out her arms and a burst of energy discharged from her midsection.

  A shimmering wave of bright chartreuse blasted out in all directions.

  The Land Rover skidded to the side. The beast tumbled back. Abbadon and the tree trunk rolled away from her. And Cyrus fell to one knee.

  Nausea washed over her and vomit laced her esophagus. Her limbs quivered, her pool of energy dimmed.

  With a roar, the beast leapt back to its feet. Cyrus lassoed the thing with his whip, but the hissing monstrosity lumbered forward. Cyrus dug in his heels and yanked harder.

  Claws curled and teeth bared, the crazed animal took four more steps.

  A bright streak of white light ripped through Cyrus, as if a star had exploded inside his body. Cream-colored wings unfurled in a thunderous whoosh. The ends of his mouth curled into a smile, radiant with triumph. He rose from the ground and dragged the monster back.

  Serenity’s heart leapt in exultation.

  Abbadon unhooked the whip from his hip and captured the beast’s ankle. The other two warriors flew out of the house, the deepest shade of lapis lazuli, graced with celestial wings. They glanced at Cyrus, eyes wide. Without wasting more time, they helped subdue the crazed creature, seizing the remaining limbs.

  They all had the majesty of archangels, fierce and magnificent. A sharp spike ejected from the handles of the warriors’ whips. They drove them into the concrete, pinning the beast to the pavement on its knees.

  Cyrus unsheathed his sword. “Be at peace, brother.”

  In a flicker of silver, Cyrus lanced the beast through the base of the neck, and the monster’s head dipped forward in a petering roar. The others removed the whips and laid the dead creature on the ground.