Of Fire and Storm

by D. G. Swank

  I shuddered. Poor Elinor.

  “I’ve been told there’s a grace period after the stone has been removed and before it takes its true form. But it tries to find a new victim by then. Even if only for a short time.”

  I didn’t want to think about Lars lying somewhere dead with that mark on his neck.

  We’d had a long enough break. I picked up my sword. “So are you going to teach me how to use my new sword now?”

  He gave me a sly look. “Why are you suddenly so eager to learn it?”

  “Suddenly?” I laughed. “You wanted a demonstration of what I could do with the daggers. I satisfied your curiosity, we’ve both caught our breath, so teach me how to use my shiny new sword. You can’t give it to me and expect me to be patient too long.”

  He studied me for a moment, then said, “Okay. Stand in the middle of the mat.” But he didn’t look happy about it. He probably thought I was eager to learn how to use it so I could run off and help Elinor defeat the Great One. He wouldn’t be wrong.

  I carried the sword and turned my body sideways, leading with my right foot and holding my left arm in an L-shape at my side to maintain my balance.

  Abel walked up behind me. “Your stance is good. I thought Davis and Rupert kept you on the daggers.”

  “They did, but Davis uses swords from time to time and I studied him.”

  Standing directly behind me, he put his hand on my left outer thigh. “Bend your knees a little more.”

  My skin flushed, and I tried to hide my reaction. “Is the touching necessary?”

  “We want to make sure you have good form,” he said in a husky voice. His right hand cupped the back of my bare arm and slowly slid down to my elbow. “That’s good. Tip up.”

  “Did you mean for that to sound dirty?”

  “Is your mind in the gutter, Waboose?” He gently straightened my arm. “Now thrust…”

  I shot him a glare. “I’d like to learn how to shove this into your heart with as few distractions as possible.”

  A grin spread across his face. “The sword won’t work on me. Only the daggers will.”

  I stepped forward, turning to face him, and held the sword out to my side. I’d been playing around, but his response reminded me all too well that I would be forced to kill him. “Why the daggers?”

  “I don’t know. I only know that it’s true.”

  I cocked a brow. “The knowledge just came to you?”

  He frowned. “Someone told me. Someone reliable.”

  I couldn’t let him change the subject this time. “Who?”

  “A god. Now I want you to practice.”

  A god? How many were there? “Which god?”

  “Piper,” he said in frustration.

  “Do you think it’s the same being that’s killing people and sending their ghosts to me with messages?”

  “I can’t see what purpose it would serve him.” He shook his head. “No. It has to be something else.”

  “Why won’t you tell me which god it is?”

  “I have my reasons.”

  I considered pressing him but decided that learning how to use the sword was more important. I’d press him later.

  Right now, I had to learn enough to help my cousin.

  Chapter 22

  Two hours later, I was exhausted, hot, and sweaty, but I felt like I could handle the sword well enough to have a slim shot at not getting killed while using it.

  “That was an excellent first lesson,” he said, wiping sweat off his face—which made me feel better about my gross appearance. “Davis and Rupert were right that you’re a quick study.”

  “I was good at dance too. I nearly gave my grandmother a stroke when I refused to take any more ballet lessons once I started high school.”

  “That explains why you’re light on your feet. Why’d you quit?”

  “She wouldn’t let me take hip-hop. Said it was unladylike. So I refused to dance at all.”

  He laughed.

  “Free pointer, Mr. Abel—tell me what to do and I’ll do the exact opposite.”

  He pressed his lips together and nodded. “I’d already figured that one out.”

  He lowered his towel to his neck, and I tried not to stare at the way his damp shirt clung to the muscles of his chest. I needed to focus. I’d just gained the upper hand and I was at risk of losing it because of my raging hormones.

  I finished off my water bottle, then said, “I need to get my car from Fairview.”

  “It’s already at your house.”

  I lowered the bottle. “How did that happen? I still have the keys.”

  He smirked as he picked up my sword and put it in its sheath. Without turning back to look at me, he started walking toward a staircase. “We still have time to get ready and make it to your ghost appointment.”

  I picked up my daggers and followed. “You’re really coming with me?”

  “I said I was.”

  “I know, but…”

  “I only say what I mean, Piper.”

  That was good to know for future reference. “Are you going to let me have my sword, or are you going to keep it?” I asked as I slipped past him and climbed the stairs ahead of him.

  “If I’m with you, what does it matter?”

  “Then you won’t mind if I hold something of yours.”

  “Tell me what you wish to hold, Waboose,” he said, sounding amused, “and I’ll likely hand it over.”

  What did he have that he’d be reluctant to let go of? I reached the top of the stairs and turned to face him, holding out my right hand, palm up. “Your fancy new ring.”

  He gave me a blank stare. “My ring?”

  “Yeah,” I said, still holding out my hand. “You keep the sword and I’ll wear your ring.” When he didn’t budge, I grabbed his hand and put my fingers around the band. “It’s pretty big, but it might work on my thumb.”

  “I’m not giving you the ring,” he said. “It’s far too important for you to lose.”

  “Because being connected to me is so horrific,” I said, raising my eyebrows.

  “You’re telling me that you like me knowing where you are every second of the day?”

  “No, but I’m not so irresponsible that I’d lose it.”

  He handed me the sword. “Point made. I’m taking a shower. There are plenty of clothes for you to wear in your room.”

  I took the blade and slung it over my shoulder. “Okay. See you in a half hour.”

  Thirty minutes later, Abel was waiting in the living room again, this time wearing jeans and a T-shirt and staring out the back windows.

  “Lost the dress clothes, I see,” I said as I walked toward him.

  “I figured this will help me blend in more.”

  I wasn’t about to tell him that he wouldn’t blend in no matter what he wore. Kieran Abel was destined to stand out.

  His gaze swept over my attire, and I felt my skin begin to flush.

  I was wearing a pair of jeans that hugged my butt quite nicely, and a push-up bra that made me look a cup size bigger under a dark green shirt that brought out the green in my hazel eyes. I’d braided my damp hair and put on some mascara that I’d found in a basket of new cosmetics. I’d tucked the pendants from Deidre out of sight in my jeans pocket, and my daggers into the boots I’d borrowed from Rhys. My sword was slung over my shoulder.

  “We need to go by my house so I can get my bag out of my car,” I said, flushing even more at his intense gaze.

  “What’s in the bag? I might have what you need here.”

  “Do you happen to have bottles of holy water and a smudging kit?” I asked, then realized I didn’t have a smudging kit anymore—I’d left mine at Mrs. O’Keefe’s house. “Never mind. We can just go to the client’s house.”

  “Why do you need holy water for a ghost expulsion?” he asked as we walked toward the kitchen.

  “Sometimes ghosts are unruly. I had a bad one yesterday. It takes more effort to send them on their way.”r />
  “Typically, only demons respond to holy water.”

  “To be fair, I’ve only effectively used holy water on a poltergeist. The ghost yesterday took some serious smudging.” We passed through his shiny kitchen, and while I was impressed by all the stainless steel and granite, it felt sterile and cold. It only bolstered my resolve to go home to my century-old house that was worn around the edges. There was no way I could live here. I’d go crazy.

  Abel opened the door to the garage. “You said the demons were using ghosts to get to you. How?”

  I expected to see the car he was usually in with his driver, but the only vehicle in his three-car garage was a black convertible with the top up. I gestured to it. “I can’t drive up to a client’s house in that.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s too flashy. I need understated. We’ll stop by my house so I can get my car. I’ll meet you at the client’s house.”

  He shot me a look that suggested he was about to protest, but then walked around to the driver’s side of the car and opened the door.

  I got in and put my sword in the backseat as the garage door lifted.

  “What were the demons doing with ghosts?” he asked again as he started the car, then pulled out of the garage and onto the street.

  “They were finding powerful ghosts and giving them energy boosts in hopes of attracting me.”

  “How do you know that was their purpose?”

  “They told me. And it worked. The homeowners were so disturbed by the activity in their houses they called me. It was a great plan.”

  “What did the power do to the ghosts?”

  “One of them already wasn’t a nice person and she became more violent. She’s the one I smudged with great effort.” I paused, giving myself a moment to deal with the tightening in my chest. “When I send ghosts to the afterlife, a vortex of white light appears and they usually walk through it. But Edna…she murdered her stepchildren, and her husband hit her with a cast-iron skillet. A black vortex opened for her. That was a first for me. It was horrible. I have no doubt it was hell.”

  His hand tightened on the steering wheel.

  I gasped as I remembered why he didn’t want to have sex with me. “Do you really think you’re going to hell?”

  His lips pressed together.

  “Why would you purposely ask me to kill you if you’re so sure you’re going there?”

  He turned to glance at me, then quickly returned his focus to the narrow, curvy road. “Because I’m ready for the next phase.”

  “Why?”

  “I have my reasons, Kewasa.”

  “I felt that vortex, and it was awful, Abel. I can’t think of a single reason good enough to make me go there.”

  Even sleeping with the irresistible man next to me.

  “There are levels,” he said. “What you saw was likely one of the worst places.”

  “Where would you go?”

  “I’m not sure,” he said quietly. “But not there.”

  “And if you took me with you?” I asked, resisting the urge to shudder.

  “I’m not sure about that either.”

  I thought about what would make someone so desperate to voluntarily leave this world for the place I’d seen in Mrs. O’Keefe’s house. I couldn’t imagine a single thing.

  Abel continued driving down the windy mountain road, and a solemn silence sat between us until I asked, “Are you taking the offense or defense with the Guardians?”

  “Both,” he said, shifting in his seat. “I have people looking for them. They’ve gone underground. But I’m prepared to eliminate them if they show up.”

  Of course he was.

  “How will you explain it to the police?”

  He shot me a glance. “Who says they’ll be involved?”

  “How will they not be?”

  He didn’t respond.

  “I have a friend in the police department. Maybe two. They might help.”

  “You cannot trust the police, Piper.”

  “I fought a fire demon and a ghost on the same client’s property. The garage and kitchen were destroyed, and the neighbors called the police. The police get involved. Look at Gill’s murder. We couldn’t keep them away from that either.”

  “Call me next time. I’ll take care of it.”

  “I realize you have an ego the size of Texas, but you can’t take care of everything, Abel.”

  “Try me.” He turned onto a street that headed down the mountain. “What are you doing today after you take care of the ghost?”

  That was a good question. I needed to check on Tommy, check in with Hudson, and find out how Rhys was doing. I also needed to see if I could track down Elinor. But I suspected Abel wouldn’t approve of at least half of those things. “Go back to my house and deal with some business stuff before my next appointment at four.” I turned in my seat to face him. “Am I meeting Rupert for training tonight?”

  “No. You’ll train with me.”

  While I had to admit that Abel pushed me harder, all this closeness was stressing me out and putting my hormones into overdrive. “Will you have your men watch my house until my afternoon appointment?”

  “No, I’ll stay with you.”

  My mouth dropped open. “At my house?”

  “Am I not allowed inside?”

  “No, it just feels…weird.”

  He made a face as he looked at his phone. “We don’t have time to pick up your car if you want to be on time for your appointment. I plan on going back to your house afterward anyway, so let me just take you. If you’re worried about showing up in my car, I’ll park down the street.”

  He was right, and I knew it, but some of my clients struggled to pay my fee, even though I took credit card payments through PayPal. The thought of pulling up in a fancy car just felt wrong.

  “I’ll tell your client it’s my car and that I drove you,” he groused, “although it seems obvious enough.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  I expected him to smirk at that, but he remained stoic. His left hand was draped over the steering wheel and his gold ring caught the sunlight. I understood why he hadn’t wanted to give it up, but his reluctance had seemed suspiciously strong. What was he hiding? It reminded me about the night before and how I’d ended up at his house.

  “Will Elinor try to kill the Great One again tonight?” I asked.

  He frowned and shifted in his seat. “The demons got away. There was another party scheduled at the warehouse tonight, but it’s been cancelled.”

  “Because of all the ruckus last night?”

  He grinned. “Ruckus?”

  “Don’t make fun of me, you Yankee.”

  He laughed. “I was born in the Outer Banks and spent my first years there. I am not a Yankee.”

  That caught my attention. According to the research Rhys had done, Abel had lived in New York and his family had come from England and Europe. The Outer Banks hadn’t been mentioned, either as his birthplace or his former residence.

  “I can see the wheels spinning in your head, Piper,” he said. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “I thought you were from New York. Or England. Isn’t your father from there?”

  A sly grin tipped up his lips. “That’s what my bio says.”

  “It’s a lie,” I said.

  His brow shot up. “But which part?”

  “All of it.”

  “So where do you think my father is from?” The way he asked the question made me think I was on the right track.

  “I’m not sure, but you’re clearly much older than you look.”

  “And how old do you think I look?”

  “Thirty. Thirty-one.”

  “Good guess.”

  “Then how old are you really?”

  He was silent for a moment. “Too old,” he finally said with a weariness that implied he was ancient. My mind quickly did the math—he couldn’t be older than four hundred years or so if he hadn’t bee
n born until after the disappearance of the Lost Colony.

  “And that’s why you want to die.”

  “Immortality isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, Kewasa.”

  His insinuation seemed to confirm my guess. I took a long look at him. I was sitting next to a guy who had likely been alive for hundreds of years, yet he looked perfect. And he wanted me to kill him. “You call me Kewasa. Deliverer. Have there been Kewasas before?”

  “Honestly?” He seemed to ponder my question. “None that I know of, but I first heard of the title twenty years ago.”

  Twenty years? I’d been a child. That should have felt creepier than it did. “Who told you about me?” When he didn’t immediately respond, I asked, “The same god who told you about the daggers?”

  He released a long sigh. “Yes.”

  “There could have been others before me, then. Maybe you just didn’t know.”

  “I suppose…”

  “So I’m not that special after all,” I said. “I’m just the first one you’re aware of.”

  He frowned. “No. I think you’re my only hope.”

  I wanted to reach out to comfort him, which seemed odd given he was hoping for me to kill him. I kept my hand on my lap. “And the god who told you about me and the daggers…he’s not Okeus?”

  “No.” He looked like he was about to say something else when my phone rang. I pulled it out of my pocket, not surprised to see Hudson’s number on the screen.

  “Hudson. I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner.”

  “I’m just checking on you because your car was in the driveway when I got home this morning and you’re still gone.”

  “When did you get home?” I asked.

  “Late. Or early. It’s Saturday so it doesn’t matter. What matters is when you’re coming home. I heard there were a couple of murders last night in Fairview, and the police are calling them ritualistic killings. I was worried about you.”