“How very domesticated,” Kim said with a sneer.
I wanted to rip the place apart.
“The restaurant is several floors below us.” Bran said and glanced at his watch. “He’s probably there.”
“Just a second. My powers are peaking and I need release.” I pulled out a knife from the sheath inside my boot, walked to the couch and stabbed the edge of the cushion. Slowly, I moved across the white upholstery, from one end to the other, the fiber filling spilling out. I did the same with the back and the arms.
The surprised expressions on the others’ faces when I looked up didn’t bother me. I grinned. “I’m starting to feel better already. Remy, could you change the white walls into green mixed with gray and whatever ugly color you can think of? Too much white makes my headache worse.”
Without batting an eyelid, Remy pressed his hand on the nearest wall and murky green color spread from the point of contact. It spread over the walls.
“Hmm, I’ve an idea,” Sykes said as energy balls appeared above his hands. He dribbled them on the white carpet as one would a basketball, leaving behind blotches of scorched surfaces. Smooth moves. He leaned back and smirked. “How’s that headache, Lil?”
“Getting better by the second.” I cocked my brow at Kim and Izzy.
Laughing, they joined in. Bran chuckled, but he didn’t try to stop us. Izzy helped me remove the down inside the pillows and cushioned stools, while Kim blew them around, along with other knick knacks off the tables and shelves.
Gavyn’s place had three bedrooms, and from the décor and the displayed images, one was supposed to be Celeste’s and the other Bran’s. While Sykes continued to bounce his energy balls from room to room, Remy changed the shapes of anything he could touch, including electronics, which Gavyn appeared to collect. Bran gave up trying to stay uninvolved and turned on water in every bathroom and kitchen, flooding the floors and carpets.
Trashing the place was childish and we knew Gavyn would get the place fixed in seconds, but it felt good. We were all laughing by the time we finished.
The hallways were quiet when we left, no humans or demons, but the demonic energy hung in the air and our amulets warmed. They lit up when we teleported to several floors below us.
‘Hermonite Lodge,’ written in white, looked stark against the dark-gray wall. Underneath them were the words ‘Private Club and Restaurant’. There was a set of double doors to our right. Bran placed his palm against the door and pushed. It didn’t budge.
“Allow me.” Grinning, Remy pressed his hand against the door. The door shimmered and flowed, as though it was alive, until it became a doorway.
Let me do the talking, guys, Bran telepathed us. But stay vigilant. If anyone attacks, take them down.
The others grinned. They were eager to take down demons as payback for the attack on the island. I was more cautious because once again my powers were off and I had the hated headache messing with my head. I dragged my feet as we followed Bran into the club. Remy took the rear and transformed the doorway.
We were in some kind of an entryway with chest-high walls to our left and right. Behind the walls was a sunken floor packed with customers dressed in expensive suits and dresses, their perfect hair nicely groomed. The club looked like any exclusive club for the rich and wealthy—heavy curtains and paneled ceiling, comfortable leather seats and subtle lighting. A wrap-around bar dominated the center of the room, and further on, there was a lounge area facing glass windows and the patio. But the similarity to a human club ended there.
Menus hovered above the table from clairvoyant stones. Drinks floated from the bar to patrons’ hands in an orderly fashion without spilling, but the aroma of food, leather, and wood mingled with demonic scents. And even though the diners used forks and knives like any civilized being, their diet made me want to gag.
Werenephils, who loved their food raw, sliced and chewed on bloody meat. The ones who preferred bugs scooped them by the spoonful or forkful. To our right, two Nosferatus buried their fangs into the necks of two scantily-dressed humans, who didn’t appear to mind. They lifted their heads, dabbed their lips, and went back to sipping wine while their lunch supply got up and disappeared behind a curtained door only to be replaced by two more. Probably dessert.
A demon dressed all in black blocked our path before we entered the main floor of the restaurant. An upper-level demon, going by his psi energy. Behind him stood two security guards, who looked like they could bench-press the Rock of Gibraltar. Their energies weren’t noteworthy.
“Your kind are not allowed in here,” the head honcho demon said.
“And you are?” Bran asked rudely.
“The assistant manager.”
“Well, Mr. Assistant Manager.” Bran casually reached out and flicked imaginary dirt from the shoulder of the demon’s jacket. “We are here to see my brother. So why don’t you run along like a good minion and fetch him?”
Confusion flashed across the demon’s face but he recovered fast. “Your brother?”
“Tall, gray eyes, silver hair…otherwise known as your boss. Meanwhile, we would like a table for,” Bran glanced at us and grinned, then faced the demons and added, “six, preferably away from the Nosferatus. My friends have a problem watching them feed.”
The demon’s eyes changed from gray to red. “You cannot be in here. Take your friends and leave, before someone gets hurt.”
“And guess who that someone will be. You or your minions.” Bran turned his head and surveyed the customers seated to our left then those on the right before adding, “or them. Tell my brother we are here.” He nudged the demon out of his way and the other two stepped aside. He waited for us to walk past him, then he joined Remy in the rear. “We’ll start with some drinks, please.”
We headed to the bar, a heavy silence falling over the restaurant. Bran was spoiling for a fight. From the smirks on Sykes and Remy’s face, they were feeling exactly like him.
The customers around the bar abandoned their stools when they saw us coming, even though only four of us sat. Sykes and I flanked Kim and Izzy. Remy and Bran remained standing, and faced the assistant manager and his bouncers. We watched the room through the mirror behind the bar, our bodies tense, eyes not missing a thing.
We were not wanted here. Hatred twisted their faces and flowed to me.
“Your brother is not here,” Mr. Assistant Manager said between clenched teeth. “He’s on Mount Hermon.”
Mount Hermon? The cluster of mountains in the Golan Heights in the Middle East? When the Principalities rebelled against their directive to guard humans and chose to marry human women instead, they met on Mount Hermon. Was it really the same one?
“Then we’ll wait while you send for him. May we see the menu now?” Bran asked, his voice carrying in the quiet room.
“I don’t know where Mount Hermon is located,” the assistant manager snapped. “He told me he was headed there a week ago.”
We looked at each other. Gavyn hadn’t been seen in a week and we first saw the lightning demon a week ago.
“Find him,” Bran ordered.
The assistant manager dismissed his minions with a flicker of his fingers.
“Hey,” a female shouted, drawing our attention to the left side of the room. “You have some nerve showing your faces here in our club after you kidnapped our brothers and sisters.”
“We haven’t kidnapped anyone,” Bran called back. “We haven’t even bothered you for months. You should be thanking us.”
The female hissed, a row of teeth like a shark’s elongating from her gums. Her male companion gripped her arm as though to calm her down, then he said, “Her sister disappeared last week. Who else could have taken her except your people?”
Bran shrugged. “She must have done something really bad to be dispatched to Tartarus. Unfortunately, it wasn’t by us.”
“She’s not in Tartarus,” the female retorted, the shark teeth sinking back into her gums. Her voice shook, then she
added, “I’d know.”
Bran frowned. “How?”
“We are twins and I’ve been able to feel what she feels since we were children. She’s alive. What do you want with her?”
We glanced at each other.
“Sorry, we can’t help you there, lady,” Bran said with indifference. “We didn’t touch her. Now if you’ll excuse us. We’d like to eat lunch in peace.”
“You won’t be served until we get some answers,” a male voice snarled and slowly got to his feet. Dressed in an expensive suit, his eyebrows connected above the bridge of his nose. His lunch partners got up too, and the four of them left their table and closed in on us. “My two sons were taken two days ago from their apartment.”
“My neighbors’ daughter is missing too,” his buddy on the right added.
“There will be no fighting in here,” the assistant manager yelled. “You know the rules.”
“To Tartarus with the rules. They are kidnapping our children for some secret agenda and we are supposed to let them?” Uni-brow lashed out in an angry voice. He jabbed a hand in the direction of the assistant manager. “And now you let them walk in here like they own the place.”
“I didn’t,” the assistant manager protested. “They just appeared.”
“Why would we kidnap your people?” Bran asked.
“To turn them into Guardians the way they turned you,” Uni-brow added.
“No one turned me,” Bran snapped. “I chose to be a Guardian.”
“Then you are a traitor,” Uni-brow yelled.
“Traitor,” his buddies echoed.
The room erupted as more voices joined them. A prickly feeling of imminent danger shot up my spine and I whipped around to see a knife sailing toward me. I froze as it inched closer and closer as though someone had slowed down time. It stopped a few inches from my face. The room grew silent, eyes on me and the knife. Then Izzy appeared beside me.
You okay? she asked
She had just saved my life by stopping time. Unlike humans and inanimate objects, Nephilim didn’t freeze when time stopped.
No, but thank you. I reached out and gripped the handle. There was a collective gasp around the room as though I’d done the unthinkable. It was beautifully crafted, the black blade gleaming under the artificial light, the handle curved perfectly for a small hand. A woman’s weapon. I’d never held a demon’s blade before. A strange energy vibe came from it.
The thing about my heightened senses was I didn’t just feel others’ emotions, I could separate them. There was so much hatred toward us in the room, but mingled with it were guilt and fear. I weeded through the emotions until I locked onto the guilty party—three of them—father, mother and son. My gaze locked with the boy’s. He looked young, probably early teens, maybe a tween. His mother gripped his arm as though to keep him in his seat.
The father stood. “I threw the knife.”
“No, you didn’t,” I said, speaking slowly. My hand tingled. The ancient writings appeared around my wrist and the back of my hand. The lettering was faint, but whatever power that accompanied them was strong enough to ignite the knife. I opened my hand and let go of the flaming knife. By the time it reached the floor, there was nothing left but a pile of ashes. “Your son did.”
“I will take his place and fight you,” the father said, starting toward me while the son struggled against his mother’s grip.
“No. I don’t want to fight you. We are here on personal business. Like my friend said, we have not taken your friends and relatives, and fighting us will not bring them back. When we finish our business here, we’ll leave. Oh, good luck finding your missing friends and family.”
The demon didn’t mask his surprise. Slowly, he moved back to his chair and sat. Murmurs rippled across the room. Even demons seated on the balcony moved inside and inched closer.
“What business could you possibly have with one of us?” someone asked.
“We are looking for the Summoners,” I said.
The murmuring stopped.
“We know that some of you summoned the Tribe, malevolent minions who love to hide inside clouds and play with lightning, break rules and hurt humans,” I added.
Two things happened simultaneously—there was mass teleporting from the restaurant and thuds came from behind me. I turned and blinked. Bran, Remy, and Sykes were fighting Uni-brow and his men. They weren’t using their weapons just open-hand strikes and well-aimed kicks guaranteed to cause maximum pain.
The assistant manager, sprawled on one of the chairs, watched them with a defeated expression on his face as they broke tables, plates and glass, spilled leftover food and spilled drinks.
“I guess no one wants to discuss the Summoners or the Tribe,” Izzy said.
“I guess not. You think they’d want to gloat. Demons can be so weird sometimes. Should we help them?” I asked, nodding at the guys.
“No, they’re having fun,” Kim said.
“How did you ignite the dagger?” Izzy asked.
“I don’t know. It just happened.” I checked my palm and the back of my hand. The writings were gone. I winced when Uni-brow landed a blow on Bran’s chin. He staggered backward, recovered and went after the demon with a kick, followed by a well-placed jab between his neck and shoulder. The demon dropped to his knees.
“We might as well get something to drink while we wait for them to finish,” Kim said and teleported behind the bar. She got three glasses, made eye contact with the assistant manager and added a fourth one.
A groan drew my attention back to the fighters. They all had bruises on their faces, more on the demons than our guys. Bran was so caught up in the moment he’d forgotten I could feel his pain. Two more minutes was all I would give them, then I was stopping the fight. It was one thing to let out steam and quite another to pound each other into pulp.
“Here you go,” Kim said.
I accepted the red liquid in a wine glass with a lemon wedge on the edge. “What is it?”
“Cranberry juice for you and something else for us.” She took a sip of her drink and looked at the assistant manager, who had moved to the bar. “So, do you have a name, Mr. Assistant Manager?”
Kim grilled the demon about the Summoners and the Tribe, threatening him with instant decapitation if he lied. When she realized he was clueless, she changed the subject to managing a restaurant. I shook my head. Kim was a class act.
The guys staggered to the bar, bruises and broad grins on their faces. The demons teleported one by one while Kim passed out drinks. I touched a cut on Bran’s forehead and froze when the cut just closed up and healed without leaving a mark or redness. I looked at my hand and frowned. The writings weren’t there, yet I’d just healed him.
“You okay?” he asked, peering at me.
I opened my mouth to tell him about the markings and what just happened, then decided against it. “Yeah. You?”
“I feel great.” He glanced at Sykes and Remy. “Guys?”
Remy stopped dabbing a cut on his lip and grinned, his eyes going to Kim. I’d noticed the way his eyes kept straying to her when we were at his place. She, on the other hand, seemed oblivious. Could he be into her? Sykes stuck up his thumbs, his knuckles red, showing off as usual.
“Liars,” Izzy retorted. “You look like something Tartarus spit out. Do you want me to take care of your wounds or what?”
“We’ll be fine,” Remy said. Sykes nodded.
Bran was busy fingering his forehead as though he just realized I had healed him. He caught my gaze and cocked his right brow. Did you…?
Don’t ask, I shot back.
His expression said he intended to discuss it later. “Anyone hungry?” he asked.
Everyone nodded.
“But not the food from here.” Kim exchanged a knowing look with Izzy. “Let’s go to Kieran’s.”
“Again?” Remy asked and scowled.
“It’s the only place you can walk in looking like a road kill and get a hero’s welcome,
” Izzy said.
“And waitresses inspecting our battle wounds,” Sykes added with a grin then tried to bump fists with Remy. Remy glared at him. I had no idea where Kieran’s was, but it sounded like a Guardian restaurant, which shouldn’t bother Remy. What was his problem?
“Kieran’s it is,” Bran said then glanced at the assistant manager. “Tell my brother we’re looking for him. We’ll be back.”
- 8 -
A NEW ORDER
We materialized inside a large office, where a Guardian was hunched over a computer while telekinetically pounding on the keyboard. On the screen, two warriors dueled with swords, a Werenephil and the other, going by the halo above his head and the self-righteous smirk on his face, an archangel.
He’s Keiran, Bran telepathed me, then added aloud, “You know the real thing is nothing like that,” Bran said mockingly.
The Guardian lifted his middle finger, then he rotated his chair around and studied us with a lopsided grin. “Cardinals, nice of you to drop by looking so…presentable.”
“Just open the damn door, Keiran,” Bran said testily.
Keiran ignored him. Tall and slender, Keiran had a dimpled chin, chiseled features and wavy brown hair with highlights. Alchemy Gothic earrings looped around his ears and a silver full-finger armor ring gleamed on one of his fingers. But his most striking features were his eyes. They were a deep shade of violet. They twinkled as his gaze swept us and zeroed in on Kim, a slow smile curling his lips.
Kim blushed.
Interesting. I’d never seen Kim blush before.
His smile deepened as though her blush pleased him, then he got to his feet, waved and a door appeared on the wall beside his computer desk. Bran, Remy, and Sykes made a beeline for it. “I’ll start charging.”
“You already do,” Bran said. “Your food is outrageously expensive.”
“That’s because it’s the best in town.” He turned and smiled, his gaze locking with Kim’s again. “What is it going to be? Something heavy or light?”
She smiled. “We had lunch in Bermuda earlier.”
“Light it is. The usual Lil…Izzy?”
Hunted (The Guardian Legacy, #3) Page 10
