Demon Warden: A Paranormal Urban Fantasy (The Cursed and the Fallen 1)

by Selene Kallan

  One of them sits on a bench on the front porch. Emerald eyes with golden specks lock with mine without surprise. She felt me the moment I crossed the wards.

  “Had a fight recently?” Dhanika asks, examining me.

  I realize then I didn’t change from my fighting leathers to my usual suit.

  “No,” I say simply.

  She arches a brow and rises. Standing a bit over six-foot-three, with golden hair streaming straight to the middle of her back and waving a bit to her waist. The elegant, sharp ears and unearthly features are exquisite, her figure graceful even dressed in jeans and a loose button-down shirt.

  Once upon a time, she was part of the Fae royalty. Were I to call her by her title, she’d kick my arse.

  “Is your brother around?” I ask, climbing the steps, keeping a few feet of distance with her.

  Dhanika cocks her head. “No, he’s across town playing with his bees, shall I call for him?”

  “No, it’s you I need,” I admit, setting the bag a couple of feet away from her. She detests physical contact with passion, only her brother is free to touch her without being zapped.

  And Isir.

  I am more than familiar with the sentiment, so I keep my distance.

  I banish the leathers off and summon one of my suits with a smoky ripple of amethyst power as Dhanika crouches and opens the bag. She lets out a surprised, delighted sound, full lips curving into a smile.

  “It’s not even my birthday,” she says.

  My lips quirk. “I need a few full sets of weapons, you can keep the rest, of course.”

  Dhanika is a master crafter of the weapons Nephilim and Fae wield to channel their power. Made with an alloy of diamond, quartz, and other precious stones, Light Weapons are near indestructible and only bested by the ethereal weapons of the Asteri.

  Dhanika hums. “For whom am I making these weapons for? If I may ask.”

  “A Nephilim female.”

  Dhanika’s long, dark golden lashes flutter as she blinks in surprise. “You are helping a Nephilim?”

  She’s no stranger to how much I despise the Nephilim.

  “She was attacked by Kazzian,” I explain. Dhanika’s brow slightly furrows with evident anger at the mention of the demon’s name. She is unfortunately acquainted with him too. “I am bound to help her,” I admit

  “Why?”

  “Aside from the fact Dinah’s barely more than a child and I have to protect her even from herself, she is also the granddaughter of Magdalena Novak.”

  Her eyes widen. She and her brother, Khaylen, are aware of most of the story. “Very well, how tall is she?”

  “Five-foot-eleven, though I think she will be slightly taller soon, I reckon six-foot-tall.”

  “All right, I shall have them ready in a couple of weeks,” she agrees. “I’ll use the standard channeling stones, emerald, sapphire, topaz, and ruby. Any particular stone you’d like me to use aside from those?”

  “Amethyst.”

  She arches a brow but does not comment. “Khaylen will be sad to have missed your visit. He is eager to add reinforcement and a slight modification to the wards,” she lifts a hand at my curious expression, “do not ask. The complexity of the spell made my head hurt. I think he’s one bad hair day away from turning into a mad genius.”

  I snort. “I think he’s already crossed that line.”

  Dhanika smiles. “Maybe.”

  I incline my head slightly. “Thanks.”

  She nods. “We owe you.”

  I swallow hard, fighting down the memories. “The debt has been long paid.”

  A flash of pain crosses her features. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

  I nod. “See you around.”

  “Bring the girl,” Dhanika requests almost nonchalantly. “I’d like to meet her.”

  It takes all my self-control not to cringe at the burst of protectiveness she’s attempting to hide. She wants to protect me from Dinah. There’s irony there, I’m sure of it.

  “I will,” I promise, portalling away and deciding hunting psychopaths makes for a better distraction than getting into caves and visiting too perceptive friends.

  * * *

  I’ve been immersed in paperwork for hours, my face scrunched up in disgust. Going through the records of supernatural hunters is never an easy task. Even after centuries of being acquainted with the depths of cruelty and perversion humans are capable of, I can never quite quench the desire to burn something after I read the experiments conducted on innocent beings.

  I sigh, pinching my nose’s bridge. Unfortunately, demons can get headaches.

  My eyes snap open as I feel Dinah close. I glance at the clock on the wall, it’s 2 AM, she should be asleep considering how much she hates getting up early.

  I stand and open the door a sliver. Dinah is tiptoeing down the hall. She’s wearing a t-shirt and yoga pants, her hair messier than usual. Biting her bottom lip, she eases open the guest bedroom door, putting her head inside, then the rest of her body.

  I follow her, keeping my steps silent. She’s completely unaware of my presence, which is confusing. She should feel my opposing energy and be uncomfortable with my stare on her back.

  I observe her for a moment. “What are you doing?”

  Dinah lets out a squeal and jumps up like a scared kitten, turning fast to look at me with comically wide silver eyes. “Gods-dammit dude, you scared the shit out of me!”

  I arch a brow, resisting the impulse to grin. “A good scare is what snoopers get for putting their little noses where they oughtn’t.”

  She scowls, crossing her arms in front of her chest in a slightly protective gesture. I take a step to the right to avoid blocking the door, sliding my hands into my pockets, keeping my posture relaxed.

  “I realized I hadn’t examined my surroundings as a certain grumpy sensei taught me to do,” she says, looking a bit more at ease. “For all I know, you could have some creepy dungeon in one of the rooms I haven’t explored.”

  I roll my eyes. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I keep the dungeons on the ground floor.”

  She narrows her eyes with mock suspicion. “And what about that other door, did you just come from there? Is there something sinister inside?”

  She’s teasing and curious at once.

  I shrug. “Perhaps, you’ll never know.”

  She purses her lips in an effort not to stick her tongue out at me. And then it hits me, I’m being almost friendly, aren’t I?

  “Go back to sleep,” I say, hearing the command in my voice.

  She furrows her brow. “Excuse me? I can stay up all night if I feel like it.”

  “I don’t recommend it since I will be taking you to the desert in less than three hours,” I say, she groans. “However, if you wish to be irresponsible, I suggest you occupy your room, not mine.”

  Dinah blinks, irritation fading as she looks at the bed I haven’t slept on yet, then back at my face, cheeks turning a beautiful shade of pink.

  “Right!” she cries, embarrassed, and practically zooms out of the room.

  I step out to the hall, she’s standing by her door, bottom lip trapped between her teeth. “Erm, sorry, I tend to wander after I’ve had nigh—erm, when I can’t sleep. Goodnight!”

  I give her a nod, and she vanishes.

  I’m no stranger to nightmares, so I can relate.

  For some reason, I feel tempted to knock on her door and invite her to have a drink.

  I take a step towards her door, then turn and go back to my study.

  CHAPTER 12

  DINAH

  I’m exhausted. And I am certain I’d be unable to move or think if I were a normal human. Nox is ruthless. He wakes me up every day before the sun is even out to run in the desert. Then takes us back to the gym and has me lifting weights until I can’t hold them anymore; all that followed by a sparring session.

  I haven’t managed to land even a single blow on him, and not for lack of trying. He’s taught me several m
oves to make up for my diminished strength, just in case I need it, which translates to being cornered by a demon before I am fully recovered. He doesn’t say it but I know that it’s useless; I know that despite the improvement in my resilience, I’m still not a match for Kazzian.

  That’s the only thing that keeps me from telling him to leave me alone and quit altogether. His icy, distant behavior has not wavered one bit. He refuses to tell me his real name and doesn’t bat an eye with all the creative nicknames I give him.

  I know I’m behaving a bit brattish, but I detest the lack of trust. Which reminds me, I did the same to Spence for months, keeping him at bay, hiding behind sarcasm. And even after I trusted him, I never told him why I woke up screaming in the middle of the night sometimes, why I freaked out when being hit on. I owe him an apology. Being on the other side has shown me that.

  Things are not getting better on the mental aspect either. Isir still cuts through my meager defense with relative ease and has me doing push-ups, or jumping, to my embarrassment, even dancing, something I’m horrible at.

  I’m currently pinching my nose with two fingers and jumping on one leg.

  I hate this.

  ‘Then do something about it,’ Isir’s voice echoes in my head.

  My brow is coated in a thin layer of sweat as I try to think a shield into existence around my head, and I push. Isir’s brows furrows. She’s slouching behind her desk, azure eyes intent on me. She pushes harder and the pathetic shield I’d managed to build falls, my mind opening to her.

  Panic seizes me, I’m useless, so useless, what will I do if Kazzian or another tries to take control of my mind? I can barely breathe as fear coils in my gut making me shiver, memories I’ve fought long to bury make their way to the surface.

  Isir’s eyes widen as my body goes slack, I can barely feel my feet against the floor. Sharp pain cuts through my head and I can somehow feel Isir’s echo of pain, of fear. The image of a muddy road illuminated by headlights fills my mind. My heart spikes as I hear Daniel’s voice saying things I’d rather forget, feel his hands on my arms, his hot breath on my face, hear myself scream in rage, pain.

  A loud beeping sound explodes in my head, everything goes dark and I’m falling, falling into the forest floor, surrounded by black fire. Kazzian will burn me to death, he’ll take my soul and I can’t stop him—

  “Dinah!” calls a voice with urgency. “Dinah!”

  My throat hurts, it feels raw and I realize I’m screaming, not just in my head but actually screaming.

  “Open your eyes, you’re safe,” urges a male voice. A voice I’d recognize anywhere. “Dinah, look at me.”

  I force myself to clamp my mouth shut and fight to open my eyes. I blink several times, finally visualizing amethyst eyes and a pale, worried face.

  “Nox,” I croak.

  “Yes,” he says, taking a lock of hair off my face, fingers warm and firm. His face is unguarded for the first time. Worry plain in his sharp features; something settles inside my chest at the sight.

  “Isir!” I cry, sitting, the room spins, Nox holds my shoulders. “Isir, is she fine? Tell me I didn’t hurt her.”

  I look around; the succubus is not in the room.

  “She’s fine, she had to get out,” Nox explains. “The psychic attack was too much.”

  “Wha-what happened?”

  Nox’s warm hands make me shudder, and I feel cold all of a sudden.

  “Isir must have unlocked the part of your psyche that contains your biggest fears,” he muses soberly. “She did not do it on purpose.”

  I hold his gaze, surprised by the vehemence in his tone. “I know that,” I say. “It was my fault that I overwhelmed her. I was scared.”

  “What exactly did you see to make you scream like that?” Nox asks.

  A wave of nausea rises and I’m unable to contain the bitter words. “Like you care.”

  Like the fall of the curtain, his expression changes at once, the cool mask back in place.

  I immediately regret my defensive reaction. Part of me wants to take it back, but why should I? He doesn’t trust me, why should I trust him?

  He helps me stand, keeping his hands on my shoulders to make sure I won’t fall on my ass, but I can’t feel anything coming from him. His emotions, even his aura, are closed off.

  “Right,” he says, overly formal. “Isir must be downstairs at the bar, I need to go.” He releases my shoulders and I miss the warmth at once.

  “Why did you come here?” I ask impulsively.

  He gives me one of those piercing yet unemotional stares. “Keep working on your mental shield,” he says, avoiding my question. “Do not think of it as a barrier that blocks others from entering. Think of it as a cocoon that keeps all that is precious to you cloaked in shadow, safe.”

  I stare at him, fighting to read something, anything, and for a split second I see a shadow of ancient pain in his amethyst eyes.

  And then he’s gone in a flash of purple light and a blast of chilly wind.

  Taking a deep breath, I open the office door and make my way to the bar. My legs are a bit unsteady and my head feels as if someone’s hit me with a cudgel. I greet some employees that are beginning to organize tables and carrying boxes of liquor. A few are most definitely not human, but I’ve learned not to ogle in the past week.

  I find Isir sitting on a stool by the bar. A transparent bottle of green liquid that smells alcoholic, and a small glass container with a cork containing a blue liquid in front of her.

  With a sigh, I sit beside her. She pushes the blue vial towards me.

  “Doesn’t look like booze,” I comment.

  “It’s a potion for the headache,” Isir explains, still not looking at me.

  A potion - fae magic. Isir has mentioned it in passing, and I’ve been too busy to ask much about it.

  “Thanks,” I murmur, pulling the cork from the vial and sniffing; mint, ginger, chamomile, and what I can only describe as sunlight. I gulp it down at once, feeling a cool, calming sensation replace the headache.

  “Oh, that’s nice.”

  Isir nods.

  “Would you look at me?” I insist.

  The succubus turns brown eyes towards me, her expression pained. “I didn’t mean to do that to you,” she says. “I was convinced I was only pushing the superficial layers of your mind.” Desperation leaks into her voice. “I know what it is like to have someone take your memories, make you relive them, I would never do that to you—”

  “Isir,” I take her hand in mine impulsively, she swallows hard. “I know,” I assure her. “Gods, it’s probably insane of me to trust you as much as I do since I barely know you, but I know you meant no harm.”

  She takes a deep breath. “I am so sorry, Dinah. I feel tempted to hunt that bastard down and drain his life. Slowly.”

  I shake my head. “No, D-Daniel is just an idiot, what he did to me is nothing compared to what other women have gone through.”

  Isir takes both of my hands in hers. “Dinah, don’t minimize this. Denying that what you went through was traumatic and underestimating the damage it’s done to you, is the reason why those memories can hurt you the way they do.”

  I try to pull away, but she doesn’t budge. “Look at me,” she demands.

  I comply, jaw clenched tight. “You need to deal with those memories, with the pain. You need to stop seeing yourself as weak and inferior, you won’t make progress otherwise.”

  To my embarrassment, my eyes get misty.

  “It’s okay, shhh,” Isir croons, pulling me into an embrace. I bury my head in the crook of her neck, inhaling her honey and amber scent. She lets me get her neck and pristine blue shirt wet with tears I didn’t know I had to spill. Everything comes crashing down, my grandma’s death, Kazzian’s attack, and Daniel coming after me again. I try not to hate myself for fearing Daniel. I hate him, I would fight him again, but I’m scared. Why? I have no idea. If he dares to show his face again, I could probably throw him like a
football ball with no effort. But that is new. Until recently, he could very well hurt me.

  My head is a fucking mess, but I’m done with crying.

  I pull back from the embrace to find Isir’s chocolate eyes are a bit shiny. She takes a lock of hair off my face as I sniffle.

  “Erm, sorry to interrupt,” says a male voice, startling us both.

  It’s Stephan, the tall redhead with amber eyes.

  “Sorry, boss,” he says in a wary tone, scratching his neck, “but you told me to let you know when the latest shipping arrived.”

  “So I did,” says Isir, standing but keeping her eyes on me. “Be right back,” she promises. “I’ll bring us a drink.”

  “Okay,” I say.

  She saunters off with enviable grace, as usual. Stephan is standing close. His amber eyes meet mine, he gives me a small smile as he fishes for a handkerchief of his black jeans’ pocket.

  “Thanks,” I say, wiping my face and runny nose.

  He’s muscular and huge, but I feel no threat at all coming from him, and his apprehension has lessened. Not for the first time, I wonder what kind he belongs to.

  “Lycan,” he says.

  I blink.

  “I’m a lycan, I assumed you were wondering,” Stephan says. A small smile lifts his lips.

  I return it. “Sorry, I know I’ve been drilling you and Derek with my nosy eyes.”

  He chuckles. “It’s okay, I remember what’s like being curious.”

  “So, a lycan,” I prod, he nods, “like in Twilight?”

  He laughs, leaning against the bar. “Not at all, Twilight’s lycans are more like shape-shifting fae.”

  I don’t know what’s more shocking, that he’s watched the movies or his comment about shape-shifting Fae.

  “I lost a bet and had to watch all the movies,” he says, wrinkling his nose. “They weren’t as bad as I’d heard, to be honest, and yes, there are shape-shifting Fae.”

  I smile. “Gods, you are either a mind reader or I am painfully transparent.”

  “Would it make you feel better if I say I’m a mind reader?” He teases.