Nephilim Falling (Trenton Investigations)

by Felicia Beasley

“Have you?” he deflected.

  I smirked. “Plenty. I don’t need a white knight to protect me.”

  “Well, I do. So I’m sticking at your side so you can protect me from anything scary.”

  I couldn’t tell if he was making fun of me or not.

  It didn’t matter. I rounded the corner and got a good look at the back of the house.

  Chunks of glass surrounded the shattered sliding glass on both sides of the door. Blood was smeared across the jagged pieces.

  Lucas bent down to pick a piece up, running his finger across the red stain.

  His finger came back with blood. “Still wet.”

  I went to go through the door when Lucas grabbed my arm. “Wait. We don’t know what we’re walking into.”

  I shrugged him off. If the blood was still fresh, there was a chance I wasn’t too late.

  I didn’t slow down as I rushed inside, ignoring the glass that crunched under my feet.

  I skidded to a stop as soon as I entered the living room.

  Lilly stared at me with dead eyes, neck twisted like Regan from the Exorcist, mouth open in a silent, eternal scream.

  There was no blood which meant whoever had done this had left evidence behind. I would need to remember to get a sample. Peter might be able to tell me at least what had broken through the glass.

  Lucas gagged behind me. I turned. He had his hand covering his mouth, eyes glued to Lilly’s unmoving form.

  “First time?” I asked keeping my voice gentle.

  “It’s not yours?”

  I thought about the headless demon from two weeks ago. He hadn’t been the first dead body either. Damian tried his best to keep me sheltered, but I’m not very good at listening.

  Plus I’d been in Peter’s morgue countless times before. He’d even shown me how to perform an autopsy before. Peter seemed to think I’d be better off going to med school then follow in my brother’s footsteps as a demon wrangler. Save lives instead of taking them. With the bonus that I was less likely to get my ass killed.

  Unless, you know, zombies. Hospitals are ripe with the potential for zombies.

  Lilly was different, though. Events replayed in my head as I tried to think of what I could have done differently, how I could have saved her from this.

  Because make no mistake, this was my failure. She had trusted me, and in my hubris, I kept her a secret from Damian. He would have been able to keep her safe.

  She would still be alive if I weren't such a selfish child.

  Lucas pulled me into a hug, comforting me as if I was blubbering and hysterical. I wasn’t. Looking at her all I felt was regret.

  “This isn’t your fault,” he whispered in my hair as if he’d read my mind. “You tried.”

  I pulled away, redirecting my self-loathing in his direction. “Trying isn’t good enough.”

  He shook his head. “You can’t save everyone.”

  “I can’t save anyone,” I yelled.

  He flinched and turned away. “We should call someone. This isn’t something her parents should come home to.”

  I took out my cell phone. We couldn’t call the police or anyone human. Our best bet was for me to call Damian.

  I hesitated. Calling Damian meant telling him everything. He would rightfully blame me and ship me off to a school in Australia or something.

  I swallowed down my revulsion at my continued selfishness. Telling Damian wouldn’t bring her back, wouldn’t undo the damage. I wasn’t ready to blow up our relationship.

  I scrolled down my contact list to Peter’s name. I didn’t press the button. This wasn’t something he would keep from Damian, either.

  I hit the name above Peter’s and put the phone up to my ear. It rang until Wes’ chipper voice asked me to leave my name and number and he’d get back to me.

  I hung up feeling the urge to punch a wall.

  “I’ll call my dad,” Lucas said, turning his back to me as he took out his cell.

  He didn’t get the chance to call anyone.

  “Don’t fucking move,” a gruff voice said from behind me.

  Great. One of the neighbors must have called the cops.

  I raised my arms up and turned slowly, scrambling for some explanation that wouldn’t end with me in handcuffs.

  My heart stopped when I got a good look at the man. Tall, built like he’d been to war and won, he wore no uniform. Instead, he wore a black turtleneck stretched across taut muscles, green cargo pants with enough pockets to make any boy scout proud, and a long black trench coat that would have made Spike from Buffy jealous.

  It wasn’t any of that, though, that had stolen the breath from my lungs.

  Resting on his shoulder was a cutlass sword. The runes glowing on the hilt told me this wasn’t some pirate far from the sea.

  He was something far worse than a human cop or hungry demon.

  Sentinel. Legal assassin.

  All I had to defend us was a cell phone and a demon bloodstained pen.

  “Nice jacket,” I said, trying to break the tension and bring the red alert down a level. “Would look better on me, though.”

  The sentinel smirked. Clearly, he was proud of his fashion statement. “Ya, think?”

  “How about you let me try it on?”

  “How about you explain what the fuck you’re doing here?”

  “It isn’t what it looks like,” Lucas said.

  If I didn’t think it would get me skewered, I would have face palmed.

  The sentinel tapped the non-edged side of his blade against his shoulder, studying us, probably contemplating the best way to kill us.

  My hands tightened into fists. I couldn’t count on back-up from Lucas, and I had no weapon. My odds of starting a fight and winning were slim to none. However, the odds of both of us surviving if I did nothing were a lot worse.

  “What is it then?” the sentinel asked, eyes narrowed.

  I wasn’t as quick with my mouth as Lucas.

  “Lilly didn’t show up to school, so we came to check up on her,” Lucas said.

  The sentinel would have to be dumber than a box of rocks to believe that.

  “I’m going to have to bring you in,” he said.

  “Worried about witnesses?” I retorted.

  I couldn’t be sure he was the culprit, but it seemed awfully damn coincidental that he just showed up right now.

  “Tell me what you know, and maybe I’ll let you go.”

  Liar, liar, pants on fire.

  “We don’t know anything,” Lucas said. “Wrong place, wrong time. That’s all.”

  “Talk before I let my blade do the talking.”

  Wow. He sounded like a video game villain caricature.

  I shrugged. “She was like this when we got here.”

  “See anything?”

  “Just you.”

  I let the implication hang between us.

  He could have denied it. The fact that he didn’t told me what I needed to know.

  “Guess we have a problem, then.”

  Lucas walked in front of me, shielding me with his body. Now wasn’t the time to try and be heroic.

  “No problem here,” he said. “We’re very pro-sentinel. Keep up the good work keeping people like us safe.”

  I could see where Lucas was trying to go with this. Sentinels don’t have the same ability to detect preternatural creatures as we do. They are, after all, human. Or were. No one really knows what a sentinel becomes after they graduate from sentinel academy. All I’d heard were stories. Sentinels were the stories parents told their misbehaving non-human children. They were our version of the boogieman.

  Only our version was standing right in front of us with a gleaming, sharp sword.

  “Still bringing you in,” the sentinel said, not buying what we were selling.

  If he had been the one to kill Lilly, he would have known she wasn’t human. It stood to reason we weren’t either.

  I moved around Lucas so he was no longer blocking my way. Raisi
ng one fist over my face while keeping the other tucked into my belly, I took a step back with my left leg, falling into guard stance. He might have had a sword, but I had my fists. Many years of training with Damian had molded my body into a fighting machine.

  At least I liked to believe so.

  Lucas groaned. “Don’t be stupid. You can’t win.”

  “Once we’re in the compound, there is no leaving.”

  Sentinels didn’t take prisoners and then let them go. If we were lucky, we’d be tagged and shipped off to a reservation. I had a feeling though that this guy would be more likely to hide our bodies then relocate us.

  “Your friend’s right, sweetheart. You don’t want this to get messy.”

  I snorted. “You’ll never take me alive.”

  Why did that line always sound better in the movies?

  The sentinel smirked. “If you want to do this the hard way…”

  I rushed forward. The sentinel swung his blade, trying to catch me in my approach, but I saw it coming and dodged. Facing his back, I did a sidekick, my foot connecting with the small of his back before he could turn around.

  He stumbled forward but didn’t fall. He swung his sword with controlled movements in my direction.

  “Get out of here, Lucas,” I said.

  At least he might make it out of this alive. Small comfort but small is better than none.

  I didn’t look to see if he listened focusing on dodging the sentinel’s swipes and aiming to hit him in the genitals once he missed. Yeah, it would be a cheap move, but when it comes to life or death, there is no cheating.

  His blade came down on my right. I turned to the left, connecting my fist with his side. He grunted. Before I could follow up with another blow, a second sentinel walked into the living room dressed as a member of the men in black.

  Sentinel number one took advantage of my distraction and grabbed me from behind. He pressed the sharp edge of his blade against my throat.

  I went still.

  Lucas sighed behind me like a man already accepting his fate. “Didn’t you know they always come in twos?”

  Chapter 12

  The “interrogation” room looked more like a medieval dungeon than something you’d see in a typical police station. Not that I had a lot of experience with the police. I just watch a lot of television.

  I hadn’t liked my chances with two on one-Lucas didn’t count-so I had thrown up a white flag and let them roughly stuff us in the back of an unmarked van. They had taken our phones, Lucas’ wallet, and car keys. The new guy had driven Lucas’ car while the vampire wannabe chauffeured us to headquarters.

  I had two failed escape attempts to add to my record by the time the vehicle stopped. Trenchcoat guy had dragged Lucas off to one room while another sentinel brought me inside the dimly lit room ominously marked holding pen one.

  There were no chairs, no desk. A metal hook jutted out of the far wall. There were two short chains, one end looped through the hook and padlocked, the other connected to a rusty manacle. A few feet away from that was a bucket. By the smell, it had been used, probably not that long ago.

  The sentinel pushed me against the wall with the hook and locked one of the manacles tight around my wrist. Then he put his hand on my shoulder and pushed, forcing me to my knees. Because the chain was so short, my arm had to stay above my head. It was uncomfortable.

  The sentinel smiled at me. He looked like a skinny Santa Claus, bushy white beard and curly white hair. He was probably someone’s great-grandpa when he wasn’t torturing his victims in filthy cells like this one.

  “I’m only going to cuff one arm. You’ll behave, won’t you?” He had a forced friendly quality to his voice that I knew was fake. “I want you to be as comfortable as possible, Miss.”

  “What are you, good cop?”

  His smile faltered for a moment before returning twice as strong, and twice as strained.

  “I’ve just got a few questions, and then we’ll call your parents. Cooperate, and you’ll be home before dinner.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  He leaned forward, hot garlic breath blasting my nose. What the hell did he have for breakfast? “You’ll be dinner.”

  I laughed. I couldn’t help it. Maybe it was because he was so ridiculous. Or perhaps in the midst of crippling fear my body had no other choice than reacting this way. Laugh so you don’t scream.

  “What were you doing at the house?”

  “Straight to business? No foreplay first?”

  The back of his hand hit my face. I blinked away the spots blurring my vision. My cheek stung. My eyes watered.

  “Guess you’re bad cop, then.”

  He huffed out a hard breath out of his nose, reminding me of an angry dragon. “I don’t think you understand the situation you’re in.”

  “Nah, I can appreciate it. I’ve got some decorating tips if you’re interested, though.”

  “You like it rough, girl? So do I.”

  This time he didn’t pussyfoot around with a slap. He cold-cocked me in the jaw. Blood filled my mouth. I did the only thing I could with a mouthful of blood. Spit it in his face.

  He didn’t react the way I expected.

  He shook his head as he reached into his pocket, grabbed a white hanky, and moped my blood and spit from his face.

  “You’re a cliché, you know. Like every other half-breed that thinks we can’t see through the bravado.” He let the stained cloth fall to the floor. “After all these years, I know how to deal with little shits like you.”

  “Upgrade your toilet paper?”

  “You were right earlier. I am the good cop.” He licked his lips like a man eying a juicy hamburger. “Wanna know what bad cop is up to?”

  “Knitting? Catching up on his soaps?” I smiled. “Don’t leave me in suspense.”

  “Dougie likes to take his time. Savor it.”

  I giggled like a drunk sorority girl. “Dougie? Bad cop’s name is Dougie?”

  “I bet your boyfriend’s not laughing right now.”

  “You should work on your threats. Not very effective.”

  He wrapped his hand around my throat and lifted me up like I only weighed twenty pounds. The hook dug into my upper back. I clawed at his hands desperate for breath.

  He squeezed. I was a little worried my head was going to pop off.

  At least that would be a quick death.

  A loud screech filled the room, an alarm blaring from hidden speakers.

  “Shit,” he said, removing his hand from my throat.

  I landed on my feet and rubbed the sensitive skin on my neck.

  Saved by the bell.

  He rushed out of the room leaving me alone with a shit bucket and rusty chains. Oh and the hairpin that doubled as a lock pick in my hair. He should’ve secured both my wrists.

  I made quick work of the shackle’s lock. Rubbing the bruises on my wrist, I went to the door. I didn’t see any cameras in the room, but I also didn’t see speakers, and there was no denying the ear-splitting screams of the alarm.

  If I were lucky, anyone nearby would be distracted by whatever emergency was going on.

  I slowly turned the handle on the door, fully expecting it to be locked out of spite.

  The knob turned. Success.

  Pushing the door open, I flinched as the hinges squeaked. No one came yelling. No one was in the hall when I peeked out the cracked door.

  Satisfied that I was temporarily safe, I hurried over to the door next to mine. On the outside, it looked no different than the one I had been in. It was also unlocked.

  I burst through the door, fully prepared to kick whoever’s ass was inside.

  Only one set of eyes saw me as I rushed in. Lucas was slumped against the wall, both wrists chained over his head high enough up that it forced him to stay on his feet. He looked like he didn’t have any strength left as he hung there, barely moving.

  His eyes were swollen partially shut. His lips were cracked where someone’s
fist had made minced meat out of them. Cuts marred both cheeks. And that was just the injuries to his face.

  They had torn open his shirt, exposing lean, sculpted muscles and a sprinkling of fair hair on his chest. In a normal situation, I would have appreciated the eye-candy. But he wouldn’t be modeling on the cover of a romance novel anytime soon.

  Blood seeped generously from deep, jagged slashes all over his upper body. I needed to stop the bleeding before he bled out but had nothing to do so.

  I peeled off my t-shirt and pressed it against the cuts. Now wasn’t the time for modesty. My cheeks blazed as I caught him staring at my nearly naked chest.

  “I’ll take the leering as a good sign,” I said, trying to keep my voice lighthearted. It came out raspy instead.

  He winced as he tried to smile. “I’d have to be dead not to notice.”

  Still pressing the shirt against his wounds, my eyes turned to the markings on his body. Intricate tattooed runes covered his upper arms. One stood out on his forearm, more compelling that the others.

  “How do you hide that from the ladies?” I asked, tracing my finger along its markings. An electric jolt shocked me as the magic contained in the rune reacted to my natural magic.

  “Chicks dig tats.”

  Anyone with even a drop of innate magic can activate the magic inside runes. They just needed access to a powered up rune but every use drained a portion of the stored magic until it was empty. Only those with angelic blood can power up runes or create them in the first place.

  I had to stop pressing the shirt against his body to unlock the manacles around his wrists. As soon as he was free, he slumped into my arms, unable to hold up his own weight.

  I stumbled back but didn’t fall.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled into my hair.

  He pushed away from me and slid down the wall. I knelt in front of him.

  “We need to go. Can you walk?”

  He narrowed his eyes and reached his fingers out to graze the bruising on my neck.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “I’m better than you are.”

  “Let me help.”

  He rubbed his dirty fingers in his blood. He began to trace one of the runes with blood-smeared fingers. The markings began to glow with a pale green light.