Earth Warden

by Mina Carter

  Table of Contents

  Earth Warden

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  About the Author

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  Earth Warden

  by Mina Carter

  August 2014

  Copyright

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  EBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared, or given away. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is a crime punishable by law. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded to or downloaded from file sharing sites, or distributed in any other way via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000 (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/).

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real in any way. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Author's note: All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older

  Published by Blue Hedgehog Press

  Copyright © 2012-2014 by Mina Carter

  Edited by Helen Woodall | Cover by Mina Carter

  Chapter One

  Less than ten feet into the alley Hawk knew he’d made a mistake. A big fucking mistake. Instead of the foul tang of rotting flesh, the hallmark of the revenant he was tracking, the soft breeze carried the overwhelming scent of cheap perfume and cheaper hairspray to fill his lungs and make him gag.

  Fucking hell.

  He recognized the scent immediately. It was the kind of mistake that had six inch claws, bad hair and an even worse case of PMS. He backed up fast as figures detached themselves from the shadows. Dressed for clubbing, the three women eyed him with interest. They weren’t women. Oh, they looked like it, but as a warrior with more years fighting under his belt than not, Hawk knew better. They were Keres demons, the unmistakable stink of sulfur under the perfume gave them away.

  “Sorry, ladies. Wrong alley. My bad. Have a great night.”

  He smiled amiably, hoping like hell they’d already fed tonight. In an area like this, there were plenty of low-life scum, of both the human and paranormal worlds, for them to feast on. The fact that such a hope meant another being may have already lost their life to feed the Keres’ appetite didn’t bother Hawk in the slightest. Who would miss one more human drug-pusher or mule? And any paranormals in the area knew that cruising these particular back alleys was liable to get them into a shit-storm of trouble.

  Typically, Lady Luck was not with him tonight. In fact, she’d deserted him pretty early on, his day’s sleep interrupted by a bunch of kids playing ball in the parking lot of the motel he’d holed up in. Kicking the ball into the wall. All. Damn. Morning. He’d tried to drop off again, but the trash trucks had arrived, and then someone had spent at least an hour revving an engine farther down the street. They’d quit right at the point Hawk decided to go out there and ram the exhaust where the sun didn’t shine. Basically, today had been let’s make a damn noise outside Hawk’s window and keep him awake day. And he didn’t do too well on little sleep, one reason for his scowl.

  “Where you going handsome? The party just got started…”

  One of the demons stepped forward, a pout on painted ruby lips as she swept a glance over him. His long jacket concealed his weaponry, mandatory in public where humans could see him, but Keres weren’t stupid. They had to know he was a warrior, a creature born to fight all that was bad in the night—and occasionally in the day too. Evil was an open-opportunities employer—so tangling with him would be akin to baiting a tiger.

  “I’m not much fun at parties. I’m a bit of a wallflower.”

  He took another step back, but a wash of air across the back of his neck warned him there was a fourth demon behind him. Stepping to the side, he put his back to the wall and cast a glance at the entrance to the alley. Great, he was pinned in and without backup he was screwed six ways to Sunday. There were just four of them now, but the bitches travelled in packs. Which meant there would be more. Soon. Very soon.

  “Oh,” Ruby-lips trilled. “I’m sure we can get a stud like you warmed right up.”

  He rolled his shoulders, easing the tension across them, and looked directly at her. Deliberately he let his jacket fall open, revealing the hardware strapped to his body beneath. He was loaded for bear. Or wolf, dryad, wraith, pixie, vampire…even dragon on a good day and with the wind in the right direction.

  “Lady,” his voice was low, the rough edge of something not quite human in it. “I’m not looking for trouble, but if it comes looking for me, I’ll finish it.”

  She hissed, revealing sharpened fangs blackened near the gum line, and anger contorted her features. “Warrior.”

  “Yeah, no shit Sherlock.” Hawk fought the urge to roll his eyes, his hands hovering over the blades at his hips like some sort of modern day-gunslinger. But with blades not guns. And bitches from hell rather than a cowboy as his target.

  The three others looked at Ruby-lips, their stances not half so confident now they realized what he was. The one nearest the alley entrance shifted from foot to foot, nerves in every line of her body. Hawk squinted, trying to see under the layers of encrusted makeup, and blinked.

  “Do your mothers know you’re out?”

  The screech that followed his question clued Hawk in that it had probably been the wrong thing to ask of a group of teen Keres demons. Cursing under his breath, he barely got his blades out their sheaths before they were on him. Screams and catcalls filled the alley as he dodged and wove, ducking razor sharp claws to slash and stab with his twin swords. Teenagers or not, they were damn fast, Hawk was hard pressed to keep his defenses in place and his back to the wall.

  A vicious slash with his blade, followed by a smash with his elbow felled one when she got too close but she was immediately replaced by a couple of the others. They attacked at the same time, screams falling from their lips. One high and one low. He blocked, and kicked out, catching the lower one in the center of her magically enhanced bust with a size eleven boot but the other managed to snake a hand under his guard.

  Claws raked across his ribs, drawing lines of fire and pain right down to the bone. Hawk bellowed, slicing down and across. His blade bit deep, removing the offending hand from the creature’s arm. It hit the ground, falling into a puddle with a splash. The water hissed and spat at the touch of the acidic blood. The Keres backed up, looking at the stump in anger then glaring at Hawk.

  “You bastard! How am I going to explain that?!”

  Hawk had been in many situations before that had redefined the boundaries of his endurance, but nothing compared to the next few minutes as the Keres, maddened by the scent of blood in the air and the injury dealt to one of their number, swarmed over him. The air became filled with his blades and glittering claws, more and more of which snuck through his guard to rake at his flesh. Across his ribs, his back, his thigh… Lungs heaving, he dragged air in with hard pants. Blocked the pain, kept moving. Blood-darkened teeth snapped at him, each demon trying to get a shot at his throat.

  “Anarak!”


  With a roar, he activated all the wards he was carrying, the magical protections combining to bathe him in light and repulse the Keres. He’d never triggered them all at once, couldn’t afford to. The damn things burned out too quickly so normally he used them sparingly. Right now though, it was a choice between using them and surviving the next few minutes.

  Feminine screams filled the alley, the demons falling back, hands up to cover their eyes. With a grim expression on his face, Hawk moved in for the kill. Yeah, they were teenagers, but homicidal teenagers at that, and now that they had his blood on their claws, they’d always be able to track him. Emotion leeched from his very being as he sliced and stabbed, taking down the demons within seconds.

  Ignoring the still warm bodies on the ground, he stepped back and sheathed one of his blades to run a hand across his ribs. It came away slick with blood, bright red in the glow from his wards. On cue, the light stuttered, then dimmed, the wards burning out to leave him un-warded, and wounded, only his blades and single spell-shield left to defend himself with. Fuck all that would do against claws and teeth.

  “Shit.”

  Lesson learned. Never mess with a bunch of women...of any species. He needed to get out of here before more Keres, or something worse, turned up. Swaying on his feet, he sheathed the other blade and wrapped his jacket tighter around himself, heading towards the end of the alley. Three streets later his back was wet with blood. Turning a corner, he spotted a late-night diner up ahead. Pulling his jacket tighter around himself, Hawk headed across the parking lot to the diner. If he was lucky, he could get a mug of coffee before the blood seeped through and forced him to move on.

  Checking through the windows as he approached, he breathed a sigh of relief to see that the sign read ‘open’. The way his day was going, he wouldn’t have been surprised for the place to close just as he reached the door. Taking a deep breath, he checked behind him to make sure he wasn’t leaving a trail of bloody footprints and pushed the door open.

  Hello, gorgeous.

  Lyssa paused mid-swipe as the door swung open to reveal the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen. He filled the door-frame like an avenging angel, the black leather coat covering him from broad shoulders down to large combat-style boots. For a moment, she considered the possibility that she’d fallen asleep, that the tedium of the late night shift had finally gotten to her and she was slumped, drooling on the vinyl tablecloth, in one of the corner booths.

  He looked around, gaze sharp as it swept the interior of the diner. Instinctively she shrank back, withdrew into herself to avoid notice. She didn’t like to be noticed. Didn’t like to stand out. A childhood filled with having everything about her criticized had ensured that. His gaze moved on and a sigh of relief escaped her.

  Watching out of the corner of her eye as he considered the booths along the far wall, she finished her table and walked to stow the cleaning gear behind the servers’ counter before heading over. He’d chosen the corner one, his back against the wall and the rest of the room in front of him. She hovered for a moment, her ingrained need not to be noticed warring with her duties as waitress. Shit, why was she having a problem with this now? She’d left the Haven years ago. No one watched her or put her down anymore just for the way she’d been born. Grabbing her pad and pen, she plastered a smile over her face and headed over.

  “Hey, I’m Lyssa,” she said as she reached the table. “Can I take your order?”

  She forced herself not to flinch or draw back as he looked up and subjected her to that intense gaze again. His eyes were blue, and a scar cut through one eyebrow to give him a rakish air. His nose was straight, but with a slight bump that said it had been broken once, set over lips that were way too sensual to belong to a man. Stubble covered his jaw, the slight scruff making her wonder what it would feel like against her fingertips.

  His expression though was set and unimpressed.

  "Ready to order, sir, or do you need more time?" she asked when he didn’t answer.

  "Yeah, coffee. Black and strong,” he ordered dismissively and looked out of the window, ignoring her.

  Well, wasn't he the charmer? Face of an angel, personality of a warthog. And that was probably unfair to warthogs.

  Lyssa stalked back to the counter to get his coffee, entertaining thoughts of dumping it over his head when she went back.

  “No manners.” Her grumble was low, for her ears only as she poured coffee into a blue stone-ware mug. Ignoring the cream on the side next to the coffee machine, she loaded the single mug onto a tray and headed back to the table in the corner. He hadn’t asked for anything else, so black coffee it was, and just black coffee. She’d happily serve it without the mug, but she needed this job. Thank god they closed soon. It had been a slow night, and rude customers always irritated her. Despite her irritation, she couldn’t help her gaze lingering as she approached.

  Over six-foot tall, he had a heavy build which dominated the booth. Large shoulders filled the leather jacket, while a black t-shirt clung to the muscles of his chest underneath. Long legs stretched out under the table and half into the walkway, the fabric of his tactical-pants pulled tight over muscled thighs. Even with the touch-me-not attitude, she felt herself react to him. Especially sitting the way he was, with his head leaned back against the wall. The strong line of his throat was just too inviting... He’d smelled of warm man, and that faint woodsy scent she’d caught when she took his order.

  "Your coffee, sir," she announced as she set the tray on the table.

  He didn't move, and Lyssa frowned. Had he gone to sleep, or was he just ignoring her? Then he opened his eyes and reached forward to wrap his hand around the mug with a grunt. Irritation surged through her when no other reply seemed forthcoming.

  "Would you like anything else with that?" she asked. Like maybe a personality transplant?

  "No, thank you. I like my personality just fine, thanks," he drawled, a sardonic tone in his deep voice.

  Ohmigod, please tell me I didn't say that out loud.

  Lyssa's heart stopped, the color fleeing her face as she opened her mouth and nothing but a strangled croak emerged. Embarrassment burning across her cheeks she finally managed to snap her lips shut and scurry to safety.

  Chapter Two

  Hawk's lips quirked in amusement as the waitress fled, grabbing a spray bottle and a cloth to attack the already spotless tables. He really should tell her she hadn't said that aloud, that her mind had been clear and focused enough for moment. Enough to allow him to pick the thought clean out of her head.

  Still, she was a puzzle. Her thoughts were too clear and precise for her to be a pure-human. Their minds were a cluttered mess, a thousand things going off at once in their heads. He didn’t know how they managed to think at all given the noise their minds created.

  Hawk frowned as he looked at the sugar, then sighed and pulled the coffee closer. He reached into his inside pocket for a small vial. Hesitating for a moment, he emptied the contents into the mug and watched as the fluid—an earthy, apple green—swirled and disappeared into the darkness of the coffee. His last healing potion, saved for an emergency. He seriously needed the shit not to hit the fan now. Not until he could find another Haven and hit them up for supplies. The way his luck was running recently though, he wouldn’t hold his breath.

  Picking up the doctored coffee, he took a swallow then grimaced as the bitter taste hit his sensitive palate. Determined, he carried on drinking, ignoring the small flash as the empty vial lost its form and was absorbed back into the witching. Usually he took his coffee laced with milk and sugar, but both would interfere with the potion, so he had to suffer the bitterness.

  They did say that the best medicine tasted the worst, and if this got him back on his feet and combat capable, then he would live with it. After another long swallow, Hawk sighed in relief, his eyes half-closed as he felt the wounds start to close.

  Did he have time for another mug? This time with sugar and cream to wash the bitter
taste away, and perhaps even a pastry... As soon as the thought came to him, he dismissed it. He'd been bleeding, and even though the potion had closed his wounds, he had blood on his clothes. Blood that would act as a beacon to every vampire and flesh-eating demon and other nasty in the area, not to mention relatives of the Keres demons he’d wasted. He might as well put a flashing light on his head and a sign around his neck that said, All you can eat buffet.

  Cradling the mug in his hand, he glanced at the liquid left inside. He’d have to make it last as long as he could, then move on and find someplace to sleep. Somewhere that didn’t have a dawn chorus like this morning. He was tired. No, make that exhausted. No fool, and he’d long since grown out of the I am invincible stage most warriors went through. He was dog-tired, clawed up, and in a mood. And if he didn’t get a decent night’s sleep tonight, his next fight might well be his last.

  The waitress with the sassy turn of thought was by the door, still scrubbing the tables and trying to pretend she wasn't watching him. Deliberately, Hawk caught her eye, grinning when she flushed and looked away. His gaze wandered, taking in the curve of her ass as she bent over the table.

  She was slender but not skinny. His gaze travelled up the seductive line of her spine and latched onto the thin sliver of skin that showed between her T-shirt and her trousers. Then he saw, it and the world stopped.

  Half hidden under the fabric was a small tattoo. An unmistakable tattoo. Not the sort of tattoo one could wander into any tattoo parlor and pick. It was the sort of tattoo one had to be born into a certain sort of family to have. Less a form of body art, it was more a permanent, magical protection. The sort of tattoo a Warden, the wizards of the paranormal world, wore. Which meant his sassy little waitress was just the sort of woman Hawk was looking for. On more than one level.

  He studied her movements over the rim of his mug. Warden blood explained the color of her eyes. Although they looked, walked and talked human, Wardens were born with the ability to manipulate the witching, the magical layer in everything. Calling a Warden human was like calling a lion a house-cat. Same basic description, but he wouldn’t like to tease one with a ball of string.