Falling Blind: The Sentinel Wars

by Shannon K. Butcher

“I suppose that’s a chance you’re going to have to take,” he said. “If it’s any comfort, I plan to go kill the demon that stole your blood. I’ll be too busy to bother you.”

  That thought drove all others out of her in a single instant. As pissed as she should have been at him, fear over him facing more demons and whatever was going to happen to her now made that anger pale in comparison. “What will that thing do with my blood?”

  “We don’t know. And I don’t plan for you to find out the hard way. I’ll kill it first.”

  “How do you even know where it went?”

  “I don’t, but I’ve hunted down plenty of demons in my lifetime. And if I can’t locate its nest, Logan will be able to help.”

  “How?”

  “He’s smelled your blood. He should be able to track that scent back to the demon.”

  Rory let her head fall against the seat in overwhelming defeat. “I don’t understand any of this. I don’t know how Logan can smell my blood. I don’t know why the demons want it. I don’t know why your touch blocks my visions or how it can make me feel like this. All I know is that I want to live my life in peace, without monsters hunting me all the time.”

  “That’s all any of us want, Rory. But you and I aren’t like humans. We don’t get that kind of life.”

  She was human, albeit a fucked-up version of one, and no one could persuade her otherwise. But there was another question his comment brought up, one she could barely stand to ask. If it hadn’t been for the curiosity that was burning a hole in her brain, making all logical thought dribble out, she would have stayed silent. “What kind of life do you have?”

  He didn’t say anything for several seconds. His jaw was tense and a vein pulsed in his temple. He really was a handsome man in a barbaric kind of way—not at all like the type of guy she normally went for, all artistic and flimsy—but that was part of his appeal. She’d made so many bad choices in the past, it was comforting to be sitting next to a guy so utterly different.

  Rory would have been willing to bet Nana’s house that the man didn’t have a single flimsy spot on his entire body.

  He pulled in a deep breath that expanded his thick chest even further. “There are two kinds of Theronai: those who are joined as they were meant to be, and those that aren’t.”

  “And which are you?”

  He glanced at their twined fingers, and she swore she could feel a sense of sadness and loss radiating out of his touch.

  “I’m like most of my kind. We live a long time. We hunt and kill demons. We protect humans and each other, and try not to think too hard about the things that we can never have.”

  “Sounds like a pile of suck.”

  His mouth twitched. “It’s a life filled with honor, duty and purpose. It’s more than many ever have.”

  It was more than Rory had, which was disgustingly pathetic. Ever since she’d lost Nana, she’d been lost. The only friendships she could manage were long-distance ones—people online she’d never meet in person for fear of what she might see through their eyes. They helped fill the void, but there were still gaping holes Rory knew would never be whole. She was twenty-five and hadn’t been able to go to a normal school or hold down a job or keep a boyfriend for more than a few days—at least not one who wasn’t planning to hand her over to a demon in exchange for drugs.

  She’d stopped dreaming about a future years ago. The only thing that drove her was her quest to find the person who made her visions go away. It was her white whale, her reason for getting up in the morning.

  Now she was holding the hand of a man who blocked her visions, and as nice as that was, it wasn’t enough. It was hollow. Worse than that, it allowed her to see just how empty her life had become. How worthless.

  Once her visions were gone, then what? What would get her out of bed then?

  She had no answer, which made a whole writhing mass of fear spring to life in her stomach. She wasn’t the type of person who panicked, but she could feel that now, cutting at the edges of her confidence, wearing it away, bit by bit.

  Her visions had defined her life. She couldn’t live with them, but she wasn’t sure she could live without them, either.

  Rory didn’t know how to calm her fears. She didn’t even know if it was possible. What she did know was that the man she’d pitied only a few moments ago for his crappy life had a better life than she did, and if she didn’t start taking some chances, she was never going to be able to make something of herself.

  “Head south at the next exit,” she told him.

  “You’re going to let me take you home?”

  “Looks like.”

  She was quiet for a long time, only speaking to give him directions to Nana’s house out in the country. “These people you said might be able to help me? Would they be willing to come see me or meet me somewhere—somewhere without a lot of people around?”

  “The men would swim entire oceans to meet you.”

  That sounded a little over the top and left her confused. “But not the women?”

  “The women can’t help you. That’s not the way it works.”

  “Then how does it work?”

  “Our kind—Theronai—were created to work in pairs. One man, one woman.”

  “You don’t know I’m your kind.”

  “I do. Your ring-shaped birthmark proves it.”

  Outrage slammed into her, and if he hadn’t had a firm hold on her fingers, she would have pulled away in shock. “You looked at my ass when I was asleep?”

  A slow smile pulled at his mouth. “No, but now I know you have the mark. No denying it.”

  “You tricked me.”

  He shrugged and she felt the powerful movement all the way up her arm. “Denial will get you nowhere. It could even kill you, which is something I can’t allow. We all have to face reality, and yours isn’t going to change just because you don’t like it.”

  “You say that like you know my life better than I do.”

  “Not your past, maybe, but I know your future.”

  She grunted in amusement. “So you can see the future, can you?”

  “Only yours.”

  “Fine. Then spill. What does my grand future hold?”

  “Power. More than you can imagine. Purpose, too. Your life will be filled with fear and danger, but also love. Undying, unyielding love and devotion from a man who would put your safety and happiness above all else, except, perhaps, that of your children.”

  Rory laughed at the ludicrous image he painted. “You know, back when I used to think about having kids, I always thought my visions would come in handy. I’d know what they were up to all the time. No sneaking cookies before dinner or cutting their own hair without me knowing.”

  “You say that as if you no longer think about having children.”

  “I don’t. How can I care for someone else when sometimes I can’t even walk without running into walls?”

  “I’m certain that you will learn to control your visions.”

  “Oh. I see. You’re certain. Well, that makes it true then, huh?”

  “Every female Theronai has a special gift. These visions are yours, and once you’re connected to your mate and have access to his power, you’ll be able to use that power to control them.”

  “And the winner of today’s Too Good To Be True contest is . . .”

  “I’m serious, Rory. I’ve seen this kind of thing before. You have no idea how much power awaits you once you connect yourself to the right man.”

  “And just how do I find this right man?”

  “I’ll send some men to you.”

  “And I’m supposed to trust your judgment?”

  “It’s not a judgment call. There will be no question. His luceria will react to your presence. It will vibrate and change color.”

  That sounded kinda kinky. “Luceria?”

  “The ring and necklace our kind wear.”

  “Oh. Not at all what I was thinking.” She looked at his left hand, which wa
s clamped around the steering wheel. Purple and pink swirls danced madly along its iridescent surface. “Yours is doing that.”

  “Yes.”

  “Is that why the visions go away when I touch you?”

  “I believe so.”

  “So why can’t you be the one to take the visions away?”

  “I’m not right for you. You’ll have to make a promise to this man—one that will demand trust.”

  “You’re saying you’re not trustworthy?”

  Cain shifted in his seat, his jaw bunching. “You clearly don’t trust me.”

  “Yeah. Knocking me out like that was definitely a big black mark in the Don’t Trust column.”

  He snorted, dismissing her statement. “That was nothing. And for the record, I’d do it again if I thought it would keep you safe.”

  “We’ll call that strike two.”

  “Call it what you want. It doesn’t matter. Our path together will end as soon as I’m sure you’re safe.”

  Rory didn’t like that thought, but she was sure it was only because his touch brought her so much relief and pleasure. Once he was gone, he’d take that with him, and she’d be alone in her hollow little life, hiding from the blindingly bright world.

  She sat in silence while they rumbled down the gravel road leading to Nan’s house. “What kind of promise?” she asked him.

  “That’s your decision, but whatever you promise will be binding, so choose your words carefully.”

  “You know this doesn’t make any sense, right?”

  He pulled in a deep breath as if seeking patience. “Your chosen man will vow to protect you, even if it costs him his own life. Then you will give him a promise in return. Something like vowing to stay with him until the end of time.”

  “Whoa. That’s a hell of a promise.”

  “It doesn’t have to be that. You could choose to stay with him for one single night, though it’s doubtful that would give you enough time to learn to control the power you’ll have access to.”

  “What kind of power?”

  “You know those sparks sinking into you wherever we touch?”

  “Oh, yeah. I definitely know those.”

  “They’re like single snowflakes inside an avalanche. As your trust and connection to your partner grow, so will the flow of power. Your job will be to learn to control it and mold it to perform the task you choose.”

  “Can I use it to dust my house?”

  He let out a long sigh. “I’m explaining this badly. It will be much easier if you let me show you.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t have much ability, but there are a few things I can do.”

  “Like knock me out.”

  “Yes, like that. I can also touch your mind if you let me.”

  “Uh.”

  “I’ve done it before with others,” he hurried to say. “We frequently have to remove the memories of humans who are attacked by Synestryn so that they can continue to live normal lives.”

  “You want to remove my memories?”

  “No. But I could show you mine—let you see what I’ve seen. Then you’ll know the kind of power you’ll possess.”

  “Will it hurt?”

  “No. I’ll be gentle. Go slowly so that there is no pain.”

  Once again, her mind went off the rails into the gutter. Maybe it was these warm tremors of magic soaking into her that were filling her mind with inappropriateness. Maybe it was simply the man himself, big and strong, saving her life and turning her into a wilting, vapid mess. But whatever it was, Cain was potent, going to her head, weaving through her thoughts and sending her off on naughty little tangents that had her thighs clenching.

  She hadn’t been with a man in a long time. Matt hadn’t done more than kiss her, a gift for which she was thankful every day. Letting him trade her for drugs was bad enough without having slept with him.

  And she’d never been with someone like Cain, all lethal grace, dripping with testosterone. She shouldn’t have even been thinking about him like that. She knew better. Her taste in men was about as good as a ten-year-old boy’s fashion sense. She would only end up naked, embarrassed and wondering what the hell had happened.

  “Is this really necessary?” she asked.

  “It depends on whether or not you want to be informed or ignorant before you’re asked to make what could possibly be the biggest decision of your life.”

  “Gee. No pressure.”

  “This isn’t a game, Rory. I’m trying to help you.”

  She could tell that. His earnestness was obvious in his tone, and she really did want to be rid of these visions permanently. If this was a way to make that happen, she had to at least do everything in her power to learn more.

  “Okay,” she told him. “I’ve had a long and intimate relationship with bad decisions. I think it’s time we broke up.”

  “A wise choice.”

  “Assuming it’s not a bad decision to let you do this thing in the first place.”

  “It’s perfectly safe. I’d never do anything to harm you.”

  She believed him. That made her a fool, but at least she was staying true to form.

  * * *

  Maura hurried down the street, her head tucked low to ward off the cold wind. The suitcase in her hand was too light, reminding her of just how little she had. A few items of clothing, a few toiletries donated by humans. Those things wouldn’t sustain her for long.

  Maybe it was time to go home. Take her punishment. Let the Sentinels exact their revenge.

  It was no less than she deserved.

  Then again, neither was the cold chill in her bones, the empty churning in her stomach and the fear that constantly walked at her side.

  If the Synestryn found her, she knew she wouldn’t survive. Her value to them as an ally was gone. The only thing they’d want from her now was the blood and meat her body offered. Or worse yet, a vessel for their spawn.

  Maura refused to end her life that way. Even she, with all her vast sins, deserved more than that.

  She rounded a corner, walking in no specific direction. All she knew was that if Cain saw her, he would be honor-bound to take her into custody. With her powers gone, she had no way to defend herself.

  Her focus was so tightly turned inward, she didn’t notice the trio of men ahead of her until she was upon them.

  The street here was dark. The nearby buildings were run-down, their windows more often boarded over with wood than filled with glass. Neglect and decay lingered here, and if she were seeking out Synestryn nesting grounds, this would be the kind of place she would look.

  But as she lifted her head, she realized that the danger to her here now was not of the demon kind, but human.

  The men barred her path, their faces shadowed by hoods and hats.

  “Where you goin’, pretty lady?” asked the tall one in the center.

  Maura straightened her spine and used the same voice she’d used to command armies of demons. “Step aside and let me pass.”

  Two of them broke into laughter. The third stared at her, leering. “He asked you a question.”

  Fear clamored in her stomach, so familiar and yet so unwelcome. She tried to hide the quake in her voice. “And I issued you an order.”

  He reached out and slapped her. It happened so fast, she barely had time to register what had taken place. By the time her head swung back to center, the violent ache radiated through her jaw.

  No one had ever struck her before. She was so stunned by the mere thought that someone would dare touch her that she simply stood there, holding her slack jaw.

  “Answer the question,” said the tall one.

  Maura had killed better men than these. She’d watched their struggles weaken as the blood was drained from their bodies, as the meat was stripped from their bones. She’d never once felt fear standing over them, and refused to show any now.

  She lowered her hand and straightened her shoulders, staring the man right in the eyes. “Whe
re I go is no concern of yours.”

  The tall man spoke again, still grinning. “Listen to miss fancy pants. Maybe you wouldn’t be so uppity with those pants around your ankles and my cock in your cunt.”

  Revulsion swarmed over her, choking the air from her lungs. She’d seen violence. Rape. But never had she feared it would happen to her. None of the demons dared touch her. Everyone who touched her died screaming in pain.

  At least they had until the night she’d shed her child’s body and become a woman. Since then her powers had failed her, leaving her weak and defenseless.

  That had never been more evident to her than it was now, and that weakness disgusted her.

  Even as a grown woman she was no match for the strength of three men—human or otherwise. Her only choice was to run.

  Maura swung her suitcase up, slamming the one on the right in the face. Blood sprayed from his nose, and she darted around him, taking off as fast as she could.

  She made it three steps before a weight hit her back and shoved her to the ground. Her chin hit the concrete, stunning her for a moment. Wetness cooled on her skin. By the time she recovered her wits, she was on her back, with the man’s hands ripping her jeans open.

  Fear trembled through her, taking hold of her body. She kicked and clawed and screamed, struggling to push the man aside.

  His friends came to his aid, taking control of her arms. There was nothing she could do. She was trapped. Helpless.

  Anger exploded in her chest, shoving a scream from her lungs. That furious cry echoed off the surrounding walls, mocking her as it came back to her ears, weaker and weaker each time. She tried to fight, but nothing she did freed her body from these men. They were going to do what they were going to do, and there was nothing she could do to stop them.

  But when they were done, she would seek them out. She would find human weapons and make sure that each of them paid for what they did to her now. Revenge would be her domain, just as fear had always been. She would not allow that part of her to die along with everything else.

  The man on her left pulled away from his death grip on her arms, staring at his hands in horror. A scream ripped from his lips and blood poured from his fingers.

  The man on her right stumbled back, blood raining from his eyes.