by Jen Colly
“Someone should. He’ll live longer.” Cat glared at Navarre, then stepped over the demon’s legs and went to the children.
She gripped Rollin’s arm, and he sent her a quick nod. Then she turned to the teenage girl staring hatefully at the living demon as if she wanted to finish it off herself.
“Dulcina, you defended them well, but its life is not yours to take.” When Dulcina didn’t react, Cat stepped into the girl’s line of sight, blocking her view of the demon and drawing her attention. “The Guardians have it now. Put my sword back.”
Dulcina took two steps toward the bedroom, then turned and sent one last hateful glare at the demon. Her lip curled in anger. It practically seethed from this young girl. With an unladylike growl, Dulcina raised her arm before her and let go of the sword. It hung suspended in the air for a split second, as she flipped her wrist and snatched the weapon from the air, the blade now behind her.
Once Cat seemed convinced Dulcina would do as she was told, she turned to the two little girls still holding hands, tears streaming from their eyes.
“Maeryn. Oriana,” she called, and the girls came to stand before her, their heads bowed. Cat tipped up their chins, and brushed the tears from their cheeks.
“You’re twelve and nine, hardly babies to be blubbering at the first sign of danger. Maeryn, I understand you’ve never been good with this sort of thing, but fear is contagious. Keep it in check. Oriana, you’re cut from a stronger cloth. Stop following Maeryn’s lead.” The girls nodded, and though Navarre had been certain Cat would embrace the children, she did not. Instead, she said, “Do not fear the demon when it comes for you. To fear is to die. To fight is to live.”
Her cool tone struck a raw nerve. They were only children. Young and innocent. Navarre marched toward her, but a massive snarling panther planted itself in his path. The tip of the feline’s long tail twitched as it lifted a giant paw, eager to strike.
“Soren!” Navarre called, his gaze never leaving the volatile feline. “Why is this creature in my city?”
“He’s a good boy. He just doesn’t know you yet,” Soren answered, walking over to scratch the panther’s head. It allowed the contact but continued to growl a low warning while staring at Navarre. “He belongs to Cat. Just don’t make any sudden moves and you’ll be fine.”
Soren smacked Navarre on the shoulder and walked away, leaving him on his own. Rollin watched the scene, arms crossed over his chest, amusement playing across his face. He’d find no help there. “Cat? Contain this beast.”
“Barro, leave him.” Cat snapped her fingers, and the panther’s ears twitched, though it showed no signs of moving.
“Not very well behaved, is he?” Navarre said.
Cat shrugged. Indifferent.
“Two demons and half a dozen Guardians are in his home.” Cat went right to the panther’s side, gave a firm nudge to its shoulder with her knee. “Back off.”
Barro wove his way through the children to stand in their midst, his tail twitching as if annoyed.
Navarre took a calming breath when the panther moved away, now able to focus on Cat. “These children have just been terrified by a demon. There was no reason to scold them so harshly.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I’ll speak to them any way I choose. They’re mine.”
“They are not your children,” Navarre said with absolute certainty. Rollin certainly wasn’t her child, but were the others? It was impossible for a female vampire to bear more than two offspring. After going through the hormone cycle of conception, gestation, and then birth twice, their bodies stopped reproducing. It was a fact of their species. “They can’t be.”
Rollin came to stand at Cat’s right side, his immense frame towering. Large, muscled arms crossed over his chest, and he glared at Navarre, daring him to make an issue of this.
“Well, she’s ours,” Dulcina said, following Rollin’s lead. She stood on Cat’s other side, tipped her chin up, and settled her hands onto her hips. While Rollin’s stance warned don’t you dare, Dulcina’s screamed bring it on.
Captain Savard strode into the room and caught sight of the standoff. Two more Guardians stood at Savard’s back. “Are we having a problem?”
“Nice of you to show up,” Cat snapped to Savard, their familiarity again unmistakable. “Were you planning to set him straight about the kids?”
“It was on my list,” Savard said honestly. He placed a hand on Navarre’s shoulder and dropped his tone, “Navarre, these children are not hers by birth, but they are hers to care for. Trust me.”
Navarre nodded, redirecting his concerns to the matter at hand. “Captain, I want these demons brought to trial.”
Savard checked the demon lying prone in Cat’s kitchen, then signaled for his Guardians. They lifted the creature, hauled it from her home. “Still alive. Jail it.”
Then the captain strode past them to the demon farther inside and knelt beside it, checking its pulse. Savard shot a sideways glance to Cat, a smirk on his face. “Justice met.”
“What?” Navarre went to the fallen demon. Black blood oozed onto the floor. A three-inch blade had gone cleanly through the center of its left wrist, the same hand that had held the gun. The killing blow, a second blade, was embedded deep in the demon’s soft temple.
Navarre turned to face Cat, not bothering to hide his surprise. Most vampire women relied heavily on their mates for protection and rarely picked up a weapon. She had not only used the small blades, but used them well. Cat’s aim was deadly accurate. Being told she was a Guardian, he’d assumed her a capable female, but seeing her skill for himself was something else entirely.
“You did this?” he asked.
Cat pushed through the others, ignored his question, and placed her booted foot on the demon’s wrist. With a short tug, she extracted her blade, then pulled the second blade from its skull and wiped the black blood onto the demon’s shirt.
Rollin ushered the youngest two children to stand beside Cat, next to the fallen demon. Navarre took a step toward them, his natural instinct to keep the children away from the demon, but Savard stopped him.
“It took some time to get used to Cat. Her methods are different, but the demon is dead. No harm will come to them. She has a purpose,” Savard said, watching the small group huddle around the body. “You should move closer. Learn about demons from her as we did. We don’t often have this chance inside the city.”
Navarre gaped at his captain. “You say it like this is a grand opportunity.”
“It is,” Savard said with a smile. “In fifteen minutes that demon body and your chance to learn about the things that keep coming at us will be gone.”
Navarre moved closer, not knowing where to stand, or what to expect. Standing near the demon’s knees, he anxiously listened, and watched.
“Maeryn, you’re next.” Cat took the girl’s small hand, placed it on the demon. Maeryn pulled back and cringed, curled her fingers into her palm.
Maeryn. Navarre recognized her name. Flynn’s daughter. She’d been carted away by demons the night of the attack. Her fear was logical, warranted even. Navarre wanted to stop Cat, to save the young girl this exposure, but something in Cat’s changed demeanor stopped him. In this, she was patient, understanding.
“You can’t become demon by touching one. This is not a disease,” Cat said gently. Uncurling the Maeryn’s fingers, Cat pressed the girl’s hand against the demon’s arm. “You can’t always recognize a demon by sight. Use your other senses. What do you feel?”
“It’s…hot,” Maeryn concluded, then she checked the demon’s face. “It has a fever. Is it sick?”
“No.” Cat shook her head. “Demons run hot to the touch, even early in death.”
Navarre crouched down to get a closer look. He believed her, and yet he didn’t. Staring at the demon’s arm, Navarre mulled over the possibility of something so easily recognizable being missed.
“You’ve never seen one?” she
asked quietly. He glanced over to find Cat’s steady gaze on him, studying him.
“I’ve seen them, killed them, but this?” He shook his head slowly. Cat reached over, took his hand, and led it to the demon. Heat radiated beneath his palm. “I never would have known.”
“Clearly you’ve only fought demons with the end of your sword. Not everyone has that luxury,” she said, then laughed, short and humorless. “Seems yet again the adults in the city are in need of an education.”
“If you would, please,” Navarre said in all sincerity.
“You heard what he said.” Cat sent Navarre a quick smile, then turned to the children as she stood and stepped away. “Educate him.”
Rollin stepped forward, knelt down, and opened the demon’s eyelids. “The red you know, but the color flares with anger, gives you a heads-up on when it’s preparing to attack. Sometimes. The exception is when a demon has learned to control its eyes. The red can disappear completely. They look very vampire.”
“Impossible,” Navarre breathed, glancing back to find Savard watching them.
“We’ve seen it. Lived it,” Savard confirmed. “This is real.” Dulcina tapped his shoulder, dropping to one knee with a surreal grace. Navarre shifted his focus to the wild-haired teenager, and his next lesson.
“Fangs, yeah? Top only.” Dulcina opened her mouth and tipped her head back, tapping her own set. Then she crouched down and pried open the demon’s mouth. Navarre cringed at how easily she handled the dead demon. “Top and bottom. Bottom set is much smaller, barely noticeable, but sharp and effective. The top set is the real kicker. Behind them hides a second, smaller set. Double the fun.”
A second set of fangs? He’d never known, but it made sense. Demons tended to tear open the throat of their prey in their urgent need for blood. Those a demon fed from, human or vampire, commonly died soon after from loss of blood.
“I didn’t know,” he whispered.
Cat knelt beside him. “These children didn’t know. You kept them hidden underground, told them the world is scary, but never gave them the tools to recognize those dangers.”
“They shouldn’t have to know these things. Guardians are in place to protect them.”
She lifted a single eyebrow, her disbelief evident. “Yet your Guardians didn’t know what they were fighting or how to fight it.”
“And you do?”
Navarre looked into those green eyes of hers and she nodded slowly, then said, “One more lesson. Jovan?”
The name clicked instantly. Jovan Nicolen. Julian’s son. Jovan’s sister, Ivette, was lost to the demons. Navarre’s eyes shot to the oldest. Rollin. Bareth’s son. These were the five children he’d tried so hard to save the night of the attack.
Jovan stepped forward, a dark anger emanating from the boy. He didn’t look at Navarre.
“They don’t die,” Jovan said, practically spitting those hated words at the demon.
“That’s the best part!” Oriana chimed in, her bright blue eyes wide and excited, like this was her favorite fairy tale. She shoved her way between Jovan and Navarre to point at the demon. “This one, if you leave him be, he’ll come back to life. Like a real zombie!”
Jaw clenched, Jovan elbowed Oriana hard enough to throw her balance. Not missing a beat, she shoved him back, and squawked, “Hey, what gives?”
Cat stepped in, grabbed them both by the back of their shirts, and pushed them away from the demon. “It will return to life, decaying and half out of its mind until it feeds. Then it will fully recover. The only way to kill a demon is to decapitate it, unless you’re willing to trust the sun to finish the job. I don’t.”
The things he didn’t know, didn’t understand about this new world he’d been thrust into were piling up by the minute. Cat saw this new world clearly, and yet… Navarre stood and stepped back, taking in the scene inside Cat’s home. She’d missed something vital, and what he had to say was not for the ears of children. He leaned close, whispered, “Cat, I need to speak with you. Alone.”
She pulled back, and a brief flash of suspicion shone in her eyes, but she nodded and turned to Soren. “Soren, take the children to Faith until we can clean up this mess.”
Soren nodded, and ushered the children from the room. The remaining Guardians followed, carrying the demon’s lifeless body.
“I’ll wait outside for you, my lord,” Captain Savard said, then closed the door.
Cat spun around to face him. “What?”
Navarre moved closer, deliberately softened his voice. “These demons were after you, and would have used one of those little girls to get to you.”
The fight drained from her almost instantly. “You didn’t hear what the demon said?”
“No. I never heard it speak. I came in when you were on the floor.”
She looked past him, her eyes unfocused. “They were here for me.”
“Why? What are you to them?”
She laughed, a short sound void of humor. “I’ve killed enough of their kind to be hunted.”
“I’m sorry you were hurt.” Navarre reached out and she eyed his hand warily. Gently, he tipped her chin up and tilted her head, inspecting the damage done by the demon’s fist.
Cat jerked her face from his hold. “Don’t be.”
“Had I been there sooner—”
“I can fight my own battles.” Cat straightened, that fiery spark returning. She opened the door and whistled low. The panther trotted out the door ahead of her.
“Where are you going?” Navarre asked.
“Barro and I are hunting tonight. They can’t get in if they can’t get past us,” she said, and Navarre smiled. He believed her. It made sense that she would enjoy a fight. Even in her submission, she’d been defiant.
Cat turned to leave. The buff shirt she wore beneath her leather corset was saturated with blood at the small of her back. Navarre reached out, grabbed her hand, and stopped her.
“Let go of me,” she snapped, twisting to get away, but his grip was tight.
“You’re bleeding.” Navarre released her hand, pointed to her lower back. “On your back, near your waist.”
“The plan was to give up the gun and go for the knives. I bleed because it worked.” Cat left the room, not bothering to acknowledge her damaged state.
Navarre stepped into the hallway, watched her walk away. Captain Savard came to stand by his side. “Captain?”
“Yes, my lord?”
Navarre whispered to his captain, “What is she wearing?”
Cat’s madly concocted clothing was bold, brazen, and unerringly confident. Snug leather pants rode low on her waist, tapered to fit inside functional boots laced halfway up to her knees. The collar of her T-shirt was so wide he wondered how it hadn’t slipped off her shoulders. The fabric was barely visible beneath her thick leather corset. The piece was not an adornment, but armor wrapped tightly around her, buckled over her ribs and breasts. The clothes matched the woman, and the combination set his blood on fire.
“I believe Faith called it steampunk,” Captain Savard said, matching his hushed tone. “I suppose I can understand where punk applies, but I’m at a loss on how to explain the steam part of the description.”
Cat glanced back, her eyes meeting his for one brief second, and a jolt of electricity shot through him. To have that woman’s focus for even the briefest moment was thrilling.
“Where exactly did you say she came from?”
“I never did. I have no doubt that she was a Stalker before she found us. A rogue Stalker, but a Stalker nonetheless,” Savard said.
Stalkers were a rarity. They roamed the streets above with no city to call home and no ties, finding shelter from the sun where they could. They hunted alone, and every solitary one seemed determined to wipe out the threat of demons.
Navarre was one of the few who respected what the Stalkers did for the vampire race. It was appalling that those who worked so tirelessly to ensure so few d
emons lived to hunt the vampires were feared outcasts, branded as murderers.
Could Cat be a Stalker? It would explain her knowledge and intense hatred of demons, and her skills with weaponry.
“Do you trust her?” Navarre asked.
Savard shrugged. “I trust her to fillet a demon.”
Each solid, sure step Cat made beat through him like the rhythm of his very own heart. The way she moved, proud and strong, made her appear as grand as any queen. Navarre had to admit he was completely infatuated with the woman fate had selected for his mate.
Chapter 10
Flanked by Soren and his captain, Navarre felt confined. They were headed to the arena where Navarre would preside over the demon’s execution. The last time he’d been inside his arena, Bareth, his high justice, had executed a demon. They hadn’t known it at the time, but that demon’s death had been a signal to other demons. Within hours the city was under attack from within Balinese, and Bareth, along with so many others, was dead. Entering the arena set him on edge. Killing a demon publicly left him with an eerie feeling. He prayed history would not repeat itself.
This was Navarre’s first public appearance since his waking. He hadn’t intended to announce his return until tomorrow, but apparently expediting the announcements, recruiting volunteers, and even taking the older children out of school to help spread the monumental news turned out to be an easier feat than holding a rapidly recovering demon for another full day.
They neared the arena, the coliseum-style structure encircled by a wide corridor, its center supported by a row of pillars. The rumbling of voices blending together, each speaking over the next, rolled through the open corridor to his ears. He’d been prepared to greet his people, but he saw none. The door to both the private royal viewing box and the double door entrance to the arena were clear.
From around the curve of the corridor, two Guardians approached. Steffen moved with a slight limp in his step. The other man had to work to shorten his strides, the hindrance seeming to truly annoy him. It wasn’t the second man’s face that was familiar, but his petulant attitude that triggered his memory. “Captain? Is Tarmon a Guardian? I thought we didn’t like his temperament.”
