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

by Selene Kallan

  Spence smiles approvingly. “Now follow me.”

  I let him urge movement to my hips and spin me around. To my surprise, I’m enjoying myself, a silly smile plastered on my face.

  Spence’s mouth touches my ear. “Whenever you want to talk, I’m here.”

  I swallow hard, emotion cramping my throat. “Thank you.”

  * * *

  It is much more interesting watching Spence and Xander dance; I decide. I’ve danced with both a few times and we’ve had a few fruity cocktails. Aside from the attractive flush on Spence’s cheeks, he doesn’t seem to be affected by the booze either. A lock of hair falls on Spence’s forehead and Xander moves it away, one of his strong hands gripping my best friend’s hip. A pang of something like yearning hits me. The desire of having that kind of connection with someone mingled with the sheer terror of being hurt.

  I shake my head with a sigh, standing steady and weaving through the crowd, pretending not to hear some leering invitations and slapping away a wandering hand. The small flare of panic that ignites in the pit of my stomach over my newfound boldness is drowned out by the confidence that I can take down the drunken college boys if need be. To my great relief, he just scowls and goes back to his friends.

  Surprisingly, there isn’t a massive queue outside the women’s bathroom. When I get inside, I realize why; there are twenty stalls, a couple unoccupied. The same amount of sinks in a marble counter and a massive mirror with small white lights on the top. There’s a big, red metallic door with a small sign on the top. “In case of a creep, push.” I chuckle, it has to be Isir’s idea.

  I take a look in the mirror after using the loo; the makeup is still in place, my eyes are bright and a small smile curves my lips. This is what it feels like to be a normal 20-something.

  A few sinks over, two drunk human girls exchange slurred compliments and apply makeup to one another with surprisingly steady hands.

  I smile and open the door, finding myself face-first against a broad shoulder. Faster than I can react, a rough hand clasps against my mouth and I’m being dragged towards the men’s bathroom. My right arm is painfully twisted behind me, my back against a strong torso.

  Panic explodes, and I wonder where Isir and Bryce are. I feel tempted to cry out for Nox.

  Nox, the one who’s trained me exactly for this situation.

  I bite the hand of my attacker, stomp on his foot and send my elbow back with all the strength I can muster. He shoves me and I turn on my heels, half expecting to see Kazzian. Coal eyes blaze with anger in a squared featured, pale face. His brown hair is unkempt, and he’s dressed all in black. There are horns poking out from his forehead.

  Demon.

  “Easy there, little Nephilim,” his voice is almost a growl. “All I want is a little taste, that’s all. You won’t even feel it.”

  I clench my teeth, raising my fists in a familiar stance. “Like hell I won’t.”

  Unlike the succubi’s pleasurable and ecstatic feeding, a demon’s energy drain is painful if forced, Isir has explained.

  “Stay away,” I warn, hating the trembling of my hands.

  He barks a humorless laugh, dark pupils dilating until there are no whites in his eyes, only a deep black abyss. He launches a hand to grab my neck and my body responds despite the fear. I realize then how much Nox has been holding back; my bones protest as I block strikes and deliver some of my own. The demon breaks a sink with his fist as I dodge him, cool water sprays us both. Someone knocks on the door and I bite my tongue to keep from screaming for help. What good would it do? I’ll only get an innocent killed, I couldn’t live with the guilt.

  I launch the next attack, praying to whatever gods are hearing me that I can incapacitate him and look for my guardians.

  “You’re fun, but I’m done playing,” the demon warns. His movements become almost invisible even to my eyes. A kick on my stomach has me flying against the wall by the door; had it been plaster, I would have gone right through it. A few loose tiles fall on my head as I stand straight, but it’s too late. The demon grabs my neck with one of his massive hands, lifting me off the floor. I kick wildly, only to receive a blow to the solar plexus that leaves me seeing stars and gasping for air. His heavy body immobilizes me. He’s not stronger than Nox, I know that, and still, I am not strong enough to stop him.

  I try to summon my power, but I’m lost in black eyes and caught by the feeling of falling as he inhales deeply, his face an inch away.

  No, no, no.

  I can feel my strength leaking, slipping from me, leaving me vacant except for raw fear.

  There’s a flash of green light and I fall hard on the floor. Coughing up my lungs and fighting to find the strength to rise, I blink hard and freeze. There’s a tall male with light brown hair standing in front of me, I can only see his back but I recognize him as the one who was watching me from the shadows.

  “Keep your filthy hands away from her,” my rescuer says, voice cool and controlled.

  He’s glowing with a green aura, his hands poised in fists.

  The demon backs down, but there’s no escape. The exit door of the men’s room is a few feet away from me.

  Musical, eerily familiar words are chanted by my rescuer. His aura blazes hard enough to make me squint as he stretches both hands and lets out a powerful beam of light that hits the demon square in the chest. The demon screeches, the sound making my ears hurt; an explosion of bright green and dark energy roars. Creating waves that make me shiver and press me harder against the wall.

  I open my eyes to find a black burn mark in the further wall shaped like a male. The demon has disappeared, or more accurately has been vaporized by the Nephilim standing in front of me, offering his hand. I take it and allow him to pull me to my feet. My neck burns and my stomach throbs, and I think that several of my ribs that have been cracked. I can feel my regeneration kicking in, but it still hurts like hell.

  “Are you alright?” the Nephilim asks, examining me carefully.

  “Never better,” I rasp out, feeling a tendril of energy run up my arm through our still clasped hands.

  I pull my hand back, feeling oddly exposed.

  “Are you sure?” he asks, taking my chin in his hand and tilting my head to expose the wounds. I bat him away, his warm hands and closeness making me uncomfortable after the confrontation. The stranger-danger bell in my head is blaring. Where the hell was it before I got attacked?

  “I’m fine, I just need to find my friends,” I insist, going to reach the door.

  The Nephilim blocks my path. My eyes widen as I look at him, measuring his small height advantage and knowing he’s more powerful than I am.

  “Let me out,” I command with a shaky voice.

  He cocks his head. “I mean you no harm, but what if there’s another one out there? Allow me to escort you.”

  He sounds perfectly reasonable, but I still hesitate. I want Spence and Xander, Isir and Bryce. Nox. Not a stranger.

  “Please move, I’d like to get out of here,” I plead, feeling the walls closing in, the air heavy.

  “It’s okay, you’re safe with me,” he says, a small smile that carries no emotion, gray eyes that are deep with secrets.

  My teeth clench.

  The door flies open, I let out a small whimper with the sight of Bryce, hair wild and eyes bright azure, and cat-like.

  “Dinah!” Bryce calls.

  The Nephilim stands between me and Bryce.

  “Get away from her,” Bryce orders, voice low and dangerous.

  Isir practically materializes right beside him. “You heard him, Nephilim.”

  I shove my rescuer away and cling to Isir, not caring if I look pathetic, not caring if being so terrified makes me weak.

  “Shh, it’s okay, Dinah,” Isir reassures me, rubbing my back. I bite my tongue to stop the whimper that claws at my sore throat.

  “Who are you?” Bryce demands of the Nephilim.

  He shrugs, unfazed. “I’m the one who saved h
er life from a demon.”

  Bryce turns towards me, eyes appealing. I nod.

  “That still doesn’t answer who you are,” Isir says, voice calm but full of ice.

  “The name is Aaron, succubus,” the Nephilim spits the last word.

  Isir tenses and I pull back from her glaring at Aaron, I don’t care if he’s saved my ass; he has no right to speak like that to Isir.

  “Careful,” I warn.

  Aaron’s slate eyes lock with mine. “You be careful, Dinah. There is no difference between a demon and them.” His lip curls as he glares at both Bryce and Isir.

  Bryce takes a step closer to him. “And there is no difference between your ilk and Nazis.”

  Aaron’s eyes flash with green power. “How dare you?”

  “See how generalizations are vile?” Isir croons.

  Aaron’s eyes rake over her from head to toe with disgust. “Facts are facts, those who live from feeding on innocent creatures are vile.”

  I snort. “Well, I happen to love bacon, and burgers so I guess that makes me vile.”

  Aaron’s eyes flash. “See what bad companies can do to someone? Do you consider humans to be cattle, Dinah?”

  “Enough of this,” Bryce cuts in. “Get out of here.”

  The Nephilim snorts. “This is how you thank those who save the lives of your friends?”

  “Thank you for saving my life,” I hiss. “Now get the fuck out of here.”

  Aaron’s eyes lock with mine, anger, and something I can’t define boils there. A shiver runs down my back as he bumps my shoulder on his way out.

  “Dinah, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Isir says with desperation, her hands on my shoulders as she examines me. “There was a fight between drunken supernaturals and I-I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay, Isir,” I assure her.

  “What I want to know is how the hell did a demon break through the wards,” Bryce says, examining the burn mark on the wall.

  “There are wards?” I ask, letting most of my weight rest against Isir’s side. The pain is receding but I still feel faint.

  “There are,” says Bryce. “Set up by a powerful friend of ours.”

  “Nox?” I ask.

  Isir nods. “Demons can come in, sure, but if they try to steal someone’s soul they receive something akin to an electrical discharge. Qetesh is supposed to be a safe place.”

  “We can figure it out later,” Bryce says, turning to us. “We better get you home.”

  I nod, but then I remember. “Spence and Xander, I have to say goodbye, I don’t want to worry them.”

  Isir frowns. “No offense, love, but you look like hell. And we need to clear you out from here, just in case. I’ll let them know you need to leave and make sure they’re okay.”

  I cling to her hand. “But what about you? Will you come with Bryce and me?”

  Isir shakes her head. “No, I’ll call Nox and we’ll clear out the club.”

  Bryce gives my arm a gentle squeeze. “It’s okay, Isir will be fine, we need to make sure you’re safe.”

  I bite my lip but acquiescence, knowing they aren’t lying, watching Isir wrinkle her nose a bit as she reaches for her phone and calls Nox.

  Bryce leads me out of the bathroom, into the hall, his hand firmly on mine. Several bouncers, including Derek, are blocking the way to the hall. A long line of glaring people has formed. I hold on to Bryce’s arm and let him lead me through a door that takes us to a narrow corridor and then to the cool, moonlit night.

  * * *

  I step inside the shower, sighing as the warm water hits my skin. Fear has me shaking and I hate it. I hate feeling weak; I hate the part of me that wants to crawl back into a life of isolation and hiding. I lean my head against the cool tiles and close my eyes, forcing myself to breathe steadily and allowing the warmth of the water to ease my sore muscles. Bryce is right outside the bedroom door, I can feel his restless presence.

  Why didn’t I feel the demon?

  What would have happened if Aaron hadn’t helped me?

  Where in the hell was my power when I needed it the most?

  I use the lavender soap to clean away the mingling scents of alcohol and the musky smell of the demon off my skin. When I stop shivering, I walk out of the shower and wrap myself in a fluffy bathrobe, refusing to look in the mirror and see the evidence of the attack on my skin. One of my ribs shifts, aligning itself into the right position, I wince, holding on to the knob and closing my eyes.

  Feeling drained, and about to collapse, I open the door and look for some clothes. I put on a fluffy sweater and soft yoga pants, then crawl into bed.

  “Everything okay, Dinah?” Bryce asks from behind the door.

  “Yeah, gonna try to get some sleep,” I reply.

  “Okay, I’m right here if you need me,” his deep voice carries concern.

  “I know, thanks,” I say, turning into a ball and hugging myself tightly.

  * * *

  Faster, faster, I urge myself.

  My leg throbs madly, but I refuse to stop running. The sound of my heavy breathing is too loud; surely he’ll hear it and catch me.

  There’s no moonlight to guide me as I run through the forest, barefoot. Small rocks embed into my soles, I can feel stickiness and I don’t know if it’s mud or blood, maybe both.

  “Dinah! Get back here!” Daniel screams. I bite down on a whimper, he’s closer than I thought.

  I look around, desperately trying to find the road and spot bright lights. Crouching, just in case he can see me, I make my way towards the lights; my hair sticks to my neck and back, I shiver.

  Finally, I reach the edge of the forest and make a run towards the lights, only to realize that’s Daniel’s car. Something collides with my side and I fall on the muddy road; I scramble on my elbows and back down, tears blurring my sight as Daniel comes into view.

  “There you are, thought you could get away that easy?” he leers.

  My fingers dig in the damp dirt, I’m shaking violently; his eyes are dark with a mix of lust and anger.

  I manage to scramble up to my feet unsteadily, my leg is numb with searing pain, I can’t lay my weight on it, I can’t run. He reaches for me and I hobble away.

  “Don’t touch me!” I screech.

  He reaches for me again and grunts as I slap and hit him.

  “Get off me! No!”

  He grabs a hold of my forearms and shakes me violently, my teeth clash, pain explodes in my head.

  “You can’t just lead me on and walk away,” he growls. “You’re nothing more than a little slut!”

  My head jerks violently to the left and I see stars before registering the pain on my cheek; all air gone from my lungs as I crash to the ground. Daniel’s considerable weight on top of me.

  “NO!” I cry, scratching, biting, kicking.

  “Stop!” he screams, slapping me again.

  I barely register the pain as my stomach burns, as if a volcano is roaring inside me. I can’t let him take what he wants.

  “Ego creo ignis!” I cry out, feeling the heat inside me flare, melting the fear into rage.

  “Argh!” Daniel screams, letting go of my wrists.

  My hands are on fire.

  I reach for him, and he backs away, patting at one of his shirtsleeves as it burns. He stands and looks down at me, something new flashes in his eyes, fear.

  I stand, barely feeling the pain in my thigh, my whole body, as both of my hands flare and my sight bathes in orange.

  “You fucking bastard!” I screech. The fire in my hands flares out and creates a wave; euphoria mixes with fear, I’m not supposed to use this power.

  Daniel backs down, going towards his jeep. “My mom was right! You’re a witch!”

  I reach a hand out to him, wishing I could send my fire to him and watch him burn. He screams and almost falls as he crawls inside his car. A flare of flame shoots from my hand and hits the windshield, leaving me breathless.

  Daniel’s cries could b
reak glass. He hits the pedal and I barely move in time not to be run over. I fall on the mud, my fire dying out; the pain in my thigh grows again and I scream, terrified of what I’ve done.

  I barely have time to kneel on the ground before the violent cramps in my stomach turn into full retching.

  I’m alone, in the middle of the forest, I can barely move. He could come back and kill me, I need help; I need my grandma-

  * * *

  The gentle pressure on my shoulders wakes me up; it takes my body a bit longer than my mind to realize I’m not in danger, and I kick and flail my arms madly. Nox doesn’t flinch as I hit him, his hands are firm but careful on my shoulders.

  “It’s okay, shh,” he croons.

  His image is blurry and I blink hard, realizing I’m crying.

  I hate being afraid; I wish I could just format my brain and rid myself of the memories.

  Nox’s brow is furrowed with concern. He wipes away my tears and soothingly rubs my arms. I force myself to match my breathing to his and stop the sobs.

  “Much better,” he approves.

  He lets me go, and it takes all my self-control not to jump on him and hold him tight. What the hell am I thinking?

  He doesn’t like me, he probably hates me. It’s easy to forget about that when he acts like this, when his jeweled eyes show concern and not the measured detachment I’m used to seeing.

  Nox hands me a glass of water and I gulp it down, parched.

  “Easy,” he advises.

  He takes the glass from me once I’m done. I take a deep breath and meet his eyes. He still hasn’t put on the cold façade, and despite feeling vulnerable and embarrassed, I can’t take my eyes off him.

  “What were you dreaming about?” He asks, tone gentle.

  I open my mouth, ready to tell him to mind his own business but bite my tongue. He’s right, keeping all that shit bottled up has probably caused more harm than good.

  “I was so stupid,” I say. My voice is still raspy. “Grandma had warned me she felt something was wrong with him, but I thought I knew best. He had good grades, was an athlete, and went to church every Sunday. How bad could he be?” I laugh ruefully, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. “I wanted to see an eclipse, and he offered to take me to this clearing in the forest. Grandma would have never allowed me to go, so I escaped. He’d taken a blanket and wine, I thought it was sweet.”