The Stone Warriors: Damian

by D. B. Reynolds

  She nodded. “I think so. But, Nick, it’s—”

  “It’s about to blow,” he said, before she could finish. He cupped her cheek gently, detecting the tremor of fear she was fighting to hide. “Don’t worry, Case. I’ve got this one.”

  Sliding his hands underneath the jacket, he closed his fingers over the artifact, shocked at how soft the bronze setting had become, the metal practically melting as the big, central stone heated up, overwhelming it. It wasn’t this physical heat that Nick had to deal with, though, it was the magical energy of the thing. It was full to bursting, like an overripe fruit. Or one rotted from the inside.

  Taking the device completely away from Casey, he rested it on the floor of the truck with both hands surrounding it, and then he closed his eyes and focused. There was so little magic left in the world anymore, that it had been a while since he’d had to deal with such a concentrated and potent energy source. Simply put, he was a bit rusty. Sweat rolled from his temples, his lungs heaving with effort as he examined the artifact, searching for weakness, for a way to disrupt the destructive power roiling at its center. After what seemed like hours, but was probably no more than a few minutes, he felt the jewel’s power begin to collapse, dissipating harmlessly until finally the light faded and died. He held it a moment longer, almost as if his fingers were stuck and he couldn’t let go. But finally his grip eased, his eyes opened, and he looked down on a dull, green stone in an ancient bronze setting that looked slightly worse for wear.

  He lifted his head to find Casey staring at him in question. He smiled slightly. “This stone is clean,” he said, in parody of one of his favorite movies.

  She smiled slightly. She got the reference, of course. She was a magic nerd at heart, just like he and all of his hunters.

  “It’s all yours, Case,” he said, standing.

  “What? Wait—” Damian objected, but Casey waved him away.

  “It’s okay, Damian. It’s dead, or at least inert.”

  “You can use this,” Nick said, producing a tightly packaged silk bag from his jacket pocket. “Just to be safe.”

  But Damian wasn’t satisfied. “Why don’t you take it yourself, Nico?”

  He turned to grin at his oldest friend. “I’m hunting much bigger prey tonight, brother. I’ve placed a marker on Sotiris’s trail, and if I can catch him before he realizes it, he’s mine. Take care of my Casey, and I’ll see you in Florida.”

  CASEY LISTENED TO the rumbling purr of Nick’s Ferrari, as he tore out of the parking lot with the screech and smell of burning rubber.

  “His Casey,” Damian muttered. He took her hand and helped her to her feet, and then held the silk bag open so she could place the Talisman inside. The bag didn’t seem substantial enough to hold such a ponderous device, or maybe it was that the Talisman didn’t seem heavy enough for the danger it had created. Either way, she was happy to see it in the bag, happy to tighten the drawstring and tie it off. Happy not to be touching it with her bare skin anymore. She shivered, remembering.

  “I have a warded box in my truck,” she told him, with a private smile for his muttered comment. “It’ll be safer in there for the trip to Florida.”

  He walked to the end of the truck box, and jumped down, then turned around and put his hands on her waist, lifting her to the ground in a totally unnecessary gesture. She could have climbed down perfectly well. But it made her girlish heart flutter nonetheless.

  He didn’t let go of her, but tightened his fingers around her waist, tugging her closer. “So we’re taking the SUV, huh?”

  She wanted to point out that, of course, she’d be the one behind the wheel, and that he hadn’t been invited. But she wasn’t that self-destructive. Or delusional. So she just smiled up at him and said, “I might even let you drive.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Pompano Beach, Florida

  “HE’S NOT THERE, right? And you’re sure you don’t expect him? I need to get rid of this thing, and I’d rather make it simple.”

  “Honestly, Casey,” Lilia said, clearly exasperated. “You’re going to have to talk to Nick eventually.”

  “I know, I know,” Casey agreed. “But Damian and I just got in late last night. I’d like a few days of peace before I have to deal with his irritating lordship.”

  “Whatever. Just make sure you bring Damian along. I want to see if the body matches the voice.”

  “You don’t concern yourself about that.”

  Lilia laughed. “When are you coming?”

  “Oh, I already did that,” Casey murmured, and hung up to find Damian watching her.

  “You’re blushing,” he said, moving close enough to stroke the backs of his fingers over her heated cheek. “What were you two talking about?”

  “Just, you know . . . details.”

  He laughed. “I can imagine. Are we going to Nico’s then?”

  She nodded. “But he’s not there.”

  He made the same exasperated noise that Lily had. “You should talk to him, Cassandra. Nico is a good man.”

  Everyone assumed that she was still pissed that Nick had kept her in the dark for so long about his true nature. And in a way, that was true. But it was far more than that. Now that she knew what he was, knew the kind of power he possessed, she didn’t know what her role was supposed to be. She’d always been different than the other hunters, her talent unique and necessary. But now . . . he was a sorcerer. And not just any old sorcerer, but one of the five most powerful in the whole fucking world. He didn’t need her to tell him about magic flows. He’d never needed her. So, what was left? Could she be content as just one more hunter, haunting auction websites and estate sales, roaming crowded fan conventions for the occasional true artifact among the replicas?

  She couldn’t say any of that to Damian, though. Or to anyone else. They’d think she was acting like a spoiled princess, upset because she wasn’t the favorite anymore. And, okay, that was kind of true. Still, she didn’t want to hear them say it.

  “But that’s the problem,” she said, predictably, playing into the idea that she was simply pissed at Nick. “He’s not a man at all, is he?”

  “Because he’s a sorcerer?” Damian scoffed. “Believe me, Nico is very much a man.”

  “Yeah, yeah. He’s a real stud.” She laughed as Damian yanked her up against his chest.

  “What do you know of it?” he growled playfully.

  She patted his cheek. “Don’t worry, baby. You’re quite the stud, yourself.”

  He snorted dismissively. “I wasn’t worried, but if you’d like a demonstration—”

  “No, no,” she protested, slapping away his hands. “I’m still feeling your last demonstration.” And that was putting it mildly. What she could have said was that her pussy was still clenching with mini-climaxes every time she remembered what they’d done that morning, and she was getting wet all over again just thinking about it. Though she didn’t say any of that out loud, she didn’t need to. The smug smile on his face told her he knew exactly what she was thinking.

  His hand rested possessively on the curve of her ass. “We should probably take time to recover from our journey once we return from Nico’s,” he suggested. “A day in bed will do wonders.”

  She recognized that wicked gleam in his eye. And so did her pussy, which throbbed in eager anticipation. Her pussy was such a slut, she thought, grinning.

  “What are you thinking now?” he demanded.

  “I’m thinking we need to get the hell out of here before we’re stuck with that damn Talisman for another day.”

  “Right,” he said, pulling her toward the door. “I’ll even let you drive.”

  CASEY WAS STILL laughing at Damian’s reaction to Miami traffic when they finally arrived at Nick’s estate. Her townhouse was on the outskirts of the city, so their trip to Nick�
��s was the first time Damian had experienced a full-blown traffic jam.

  “It’s lunchtime,” she’d explained. “Everyone’s in a hurry to get somewhere.”

  “I’d be in a hurry to leave,” he’d muttered as they’d sat there, surrounded by cars that were barely moving. But now he was eyeing Nick’s rather spectacular home, which had a huge length of deep-water frontage and stunning views, especially at night with the lighthouse in the distance. “Nico lives here?” he asked.

  She nodded, trying to see it through his eyes. She was sure it looked even more beautiful to him. Hell, he was probably wondering why he was stuck in her little two-bedroom townhouse when he could be living here.

  “He always did like his luxury,” Damian said rather fondly. “The rest of us preferred more modest accommodations. Comfortable enough, but with fewer silk curtains.” He laughed to himself, probably remembering some private joke. Something between him and Nico. Maybe the rest of the brothers, too, she thought sourly.

  She parked her Yukon near the front door, trying to ignore the contrast between her very utilitarian truck and Nick’s elegant house. She felt as if maybe she should park around back, near the servants’ entrance. Did Nick even have a servants’ entrance? She’d never worried about it before, but seeing it all through Damian’s eyes was making her insecure.

  “Come on,” she said brusquely, suddenly eager to drop off the Talisman and get out of there.

  Damian offered to carry the box with the Talisman in it, and she let him. The artifact weighed relatively little, but the damn box was heavy. She’d let him use all of those big muscles.

  The front door buzzed open before they hit the top stair to the rounded porch. Lilia was watching, as always. It was worth noting that Damian didn’t blink an eye when the door snapped open. He had completely adapted to much of the modern era already.

  “This way,” Casey said, leading him down the long hallway to the east wing of the huge house, which was where Nick and Lilia had their offices. This was the only part of the house she was really familiar with. She’d been to the west wing once or twice, for social gatherings with the other hunters. But those meetings were rare, since the whole team was hardly ever in one place at the same time.

  They hit Lilia’s office first, although it was probably more accurate to call it her domain. It wasn’t one office, but rather an entire suite. When you walked in the door, all you saw was an antique receptionist desk, with spindly legs and a desk lamp to match. A couch and two chairs in what Casey guessed was the same style completed the look, with tasteful art on the walls.

  Lilia wasn’t there. She was never there, unless outsiders were expected, and that wasn’t the case this morning.

  “Back here,” Casey told Damian, and led him past the desk and through a reinforced door, holding it open while he carried the Talisman in its box into the chilly heart of Lilia’s domain.

  The room wasn’t that big, maybe twelve feet square, but every inch of it was filled with technology. Computers mostly, with big screens that did double duty as computer monitors and video displays of broadcast and satellite reception.

  Lilia spun around on her chair when they entered, a broad smile creasing her face. She was very pretty, and deceptively delicate-looking, with long blond hair that hung nearly to her waist, and big blue eyes that made her look like Alice in Wonderland. Except that this Alice was skilled in several martial arts disciplines and was a sharpshooter with the FBI’s favored .40 caliber Glock 23.

  Those big blue eyes were dancing now as she stood on tiptoe to return Casey’s hug. “You made it!” she said, as if there’d ever been any doubt. “And this must be . . .” Her voice trailed off as she stared up at Damian.

  “Damian,” Casey supplied. “Damian, this is Lilia Wilson.”

  Lilia gave Casey a surreptitious wink of approval, and offered Damian her hand. Instead of shaking, he took her hand and kissed the back of it gallantly enough. But for one brief instant, Casey was sure she caught a quizzical look on his face, as if Lilia wasn’t what he’d expected. The look was there and gone so fast, that she thought she might have imagined it.

  And then Lilia was reclaiming her hand and waving it in front of her face with a murmured, “Oh my,” like some sort of southern belle, which she absolutely was not.

  “Yeah, okay, fine,” Casey said, breaking up the love fest. “Where can I leave this thing?”

  “I’ll take it,” said a voice from behind her.

  She fought not to groan as she turned to see Nick standing there. “Nick,” she acknowledged then aimed a glare at Damian. “You didn’t see the rays of sunshine this time?” she muttered, remembering his earlier description of what he experienced when Nick was near.

  Damian only grinned at her, unrepentant. He wanted her to work out her problems with Nick, and clearly wasn’t above a little subterfuge to get it done. He turned over the box with the Talisman to Nick, who said, “Casey, why don’t you come with me to my office? There’s something I want to show you.”

  She stifled a sigh. She didn’t approve of Damian’s methods, but he was right. She and Nick did need to talk it out, because she liked her job, and he was the only game in town if she wanted to keep doing it. Besides, he and the other hunters were the closest thing to family she had.

  “Fine,” she said ungraciously. “We’ll talk later,” she warned Damian, and then followed Nick out the door and down the hall to his office, which was considerably bigger and way more palatial than Lilia’s setup. An entire wall of windows looked out over the water, behind a massive desk of some dark wood. A short couch and some chairs of deep brown leather formed a conversation group in the far corner, and there were expensive-looking collectibles scattered on shelves and tables all around. None of them gave off a magical vibe, but they all said money.

  “In here,” Nick said, continuing through his office to a hidden keypad. He entered the appropriate code and a concealed door popped open with a hiss that spoke of a tight seal.

  How cool was that? No matter how many times she’d been here, Casey was always intrigued by the very idea of a secret room. She followed Nick into the hidden room, and then gazed around, amazed again at the extent of his collection. She’d seen a lot of magical collections. Hell, she’d just spent way more time than she’d have liked in one of Sotiris’s treasure troves. But this . . . this was possibly the largest collection of magical artifacts on the planet. She’d certainly never seen or even heard of anything like it.

  “Still pretty nice, even compared to Sotiris’s, huh?” Nick asked in a massive understatement. He walked over, and set the Talisman on a narrow table in the center of the room.

  “Sotiris’s junk room doesn’t even come close,” she admitted, then asked casually, “So, what’s up?”

  Nick turned with a grin. Sorcerer or not, she had to admit he was a damn fine male specimen. “You know what’s up, Casey. You’re pissed because I didn’t reveal all the bloody details of my past—”

  “Your past, Nick? You mean like two thousand years ago?”

  He shrugged. “What does it matter? You wouldn’t blink an eye at a thousand-year-old vampire, would you? Magic exists. You know that. And for some, it bestows great gifts. You know that, too. As for my past . . . there’s a lot riding on the decisions I make. I won’t apologize for that.”

  “Okay,” she said, wanting to be reasonable. “I don’t like it, but I can understand that. I can even understand your obsession with secrecy. After all these years, it’s probably second nature. But this was my mission, Nick. Damian took that box from Sotiris’s collection without telling me about it, and then you wanted him to keep it a secret, even after he turned it over to you. I know what drives Damian. He’d walk through fire if you asked him to do it. But it’s not right, Nick. I should know what’s happening on my own fucking mission.”

  �
��You’re right. But if you only knew how important it was. . . . You know what, Casey? Come here.” He walked past her to the far corner of the room, with its softly lit alcove, and the four small statues she’d seen before . . . no wait, there were only three statues now, and what looked like a pile of sand. She stepped closer. The statues were crudely made, nothing like the sophisticated art in the other room, but the figures were still discernible. Three warriors, all very different, and yet with the same fierce aspect, the same determination in their expressions. And the fourth . . .

  The truth took her breath away. She glanced over at Nick, who was regarding the statues with a look of such longing that she knew he hadn’t intended for her to see it. She shifted her gaze back to the crude stone figures. “This is them, isn’t it? And that one”—she pointed to the pile of sand—“that was Damian.”

  “Yes,” he said roughly. “These are what I work for. The whole reason I accepted this position with the FBI. Because it gives me access to resources and information that I can use to find them.”

  She looked over at him and cocked her head. “It was total serendipity that I found Damian and lifted his curse.”

  He smiled slightly. “But you would never have been on that rooftop if I hadn’t sent you to find the Talisman. And aren’t you the one who suggested that Damian’s release could weaken the hold of Sotiris’s magic on the others?”

  She nodded. “It makes sense. His spell hit them all at the same time, which means the curses are linked at least a little bit.” She tilted her head quizzically. “Damian told me about what was in that box that he took.”

  Nick smiled. “Of course he did.” He bent slightly to retrieve a small, but elaborately carved, wooden box from the bottom shelf of the alcove. The shelf wasn’t lit, and the one above it was solid, which explained why she hadn’t noticed it before. Still, the box was gorgeous, its beauty only highlighting the coarseness of the statues above.