by N M Thorn
Manifesting one of his daggers, Damian cut his seat belt and dropped down awkwardly, hitting the roof of the car with his head. Feeling a throbbing pain, he touched his right temple and felt the slippery wetness of blood under his fingers. His right shoulder ached with his every move, but since he was able to move his arm, he assumed it wasn’t dislocated or broken.
After a short struggle, he managed to turn around. Holding Jamie with one arm, he cut his seatbelt and lowered him to the roof of the car gently. He didn’t have time to check his vitals or help him because even though he didn’t see movement outside the vehicle, he sensed it with his skin. His intuition sprung up, throwing one red flag after another in his mind, and he knew he had no time to waste.
All these people were supernatural swords for hire. It meant they had some kind of magic, and they were trained warriors. Attempting to fight them in a tight space where his range of movements was severely limited was suicide. He was already at a serious disadvantage—drained magically by Mara, hurt and disoriented after the car accident, and holding the low ground. He needed to get out of the vehicle before they reached him.
He made his dagger vanish and tried to open his door. Warped by the accident, it didn’t budge. Leaning back as much as he could, Damian kicked it with his legs, and it flew off its hinges with a thunderous bang. He slipped out of the car and dropped to one knee, placing both palms flat on the ground. Connecting with his element, he let the energy of Earth take him over, energizing him. As the soft orange glow of his power surrounded him, he raised his head, watching the approaching enemy, anger slowly boiling up inside of him.
They halted, exchanging bewildered looks, and this momentary delay allowed Damian to get to his feet. He rolled his shoulders and touched his leather bracelet, turning it into a whip. The men exchanged a look and barked laughing.
“Remind me, guys, what do they call a man who brings a whip to a gunfight?” asked a tall man in a leather jacket who stood in front of the group. His eyes glowed brighter, and the air shimmered around him slightly, confirming Damian’s original guess—all these men were shifters, swords for hire.
“They call him a dead man, commander,” supplied one of the shifters, snickering, his long, greasy hair falling over his horse-like face.
“No,” replied Damian snidely, a dark smirk crossing his face. “They call him a man who is about to leave the gunfight with a few new guns.”
He swung his whip, and it hissed through the air, wrapping around the neck of the man upfront. Yanking the whip back, he ripped the shifter’s head off. As the corpse hit the ground, splattering everything around with bright red liquid, the copper scent of blood filled the air. The rest of the gang shouted all at once and raised their weapons, the anger around them almost palpable.
“Procedia Amnia,” hissed Damian, surrounding himself with protective magic.
The short barking sounds of discharged firearms broke the silence, but that didn’t slow him down. Confident that his shield was strong enough to protect him from mundane bullets, Damian spun around, allowing his whip to do its deadly job. Every swing of his glowing weapon left a dead body behind. Realizing that the guns were useless against him, the shifters stopped shooting and rushed toward him, unsheathing their swords and knives.
As anger roared through him, Damian couldn’t help but laugh, and the sound of his laughter made his attackers slow down, fear reflecting in their widened eyes. He spread his arms, calling to his element. The ground opened between him and the group of shifters, swallowing a few of them. He swung his whip again, catching a few more shifters at the edge and sending them tumbling down into the trench he’d created. With one move of his arm, he made the trench close up, burying his attackers alive.
“Anyone else wants to try?” he growled, the orange light around him getting brighter.
He outstretched his arm and squeezed his fist, turning it. The ground shook, responding to his command, and the trees leaned down, smacking the shifters with their branches. The men bent down, covering their heads with their hands, yelps of fear escaping their lips. As soon as Damian let go, the shifters turned around and ran. They hopped into their SUVs and left, tires screeching on the asphalt.
Damian didn’t care to pursue them. He already knew who sent them and why. The only thing he cared about was helping Jamie. Touching the cold forest floor, he gave one more command to his element, and the ground opened, swallowing the dead bodies as if they had never been there. Then he let go of the elemental power and swayed slightly, suddenly too exhausted to make another move. With a serious effort of will, he headed toward the vehicle and lowered to his knees by the driver’s door.
Jamie lay in the same position he had left him in earlier, still unconscious. His pale face was covered in blood, and his left arm was turned at an unnatural angle. Placing his hand on the young man’s chest, Damian didn’t detect any movement and grunted, cursing quietly. He took Jamie’s wrist, his fingers searching for a pulse, but since he couldn’t find one, he placed two fingers under his jaw. He found the pulse right away. It was weak and uneven, but it was there.
“Jamie,” he called softly, but the young man didn’t respond.
Damian reached in his pocket and pulled out his cellphone. Checking the screen, he groaned, slamming his hand on the ground—still no reception. Going through everything River taught him about cellphones in his mind, he dialed nine-one-one, hoping that since he had enough battery power, the cell would connect with the emergency service.
The phone dropped the call and went dead.
“Damn you, Mara!” he shouted desperately, adding a few choice words.
“You’ll witness everyone around you perish...” The words of the infuriated goddess sounded in his mind, and he shook his head resentfully. Not if I can help it.
Carefully, he pulled Jamie out of the vehicle and lifted him into his arms. With a strenuous grunt, he got up to his feet, his body responding with a dull ache in his shoulder and a stinging headache.
Climbing out of the ditch took more out of him than he expected, and when he finally made it to the road, he had to take one knee and give himself a few minutes of rest and catch his breath. He glanced down at Jamie’s limp body, and despair washed over him as he searched the empty dark road spreading for miles in both directions. He dropped his head, and for the first time in centuries, he prayed, silently and intensely.
Perun almighty, please give me the strength to help this young man. He’s just a boy... He has done nothing wrong. Don’t punish him for trying to help me... Punish me, if you have to, but help me save his life...
A soft wind rushed through the forest, rustling the tops of the trees. Damian glanced at the starless sky and shook his head, a bitter smirk curving his lips. Gods had never been there when he needed them before. Some things never change.
He got up to his feet and started walking alongside the highway. He had no idea how far the nearest town was, and he didn’t think anyone would stop to give him a ride at night. After all, he was covered in blood and carried an unconscious man in his arms. A few vehicles passed by, but as he expected, none of them even slowed down. After a while, he stopped trying to hitchhike and focused on moving forward as fast as he could in his condition.
He didn’t know how long he’d been walking when someone flashed lights behind him, and a small pickup truck came to a sharp stop a few feet ahead of him. A man in a plaid flannel shirt, baseball cap, and old, washed-out jeans got out of the truck and ran toward him.
“Are you okay, man? What happened?” he asked, his eyes darting from Damian’s blood-covered face to Jamie’s limp body in his arms.
Damian stared at him, his chest shuddering with short breaths as he struggled to even his breathing. “Car accident,” he managed to say finally. “My friend needs... hospital... please...”
“You look like you need a hospital yourself,” muttered the man, shaking his head.
He helped him into the truck, placing Jamie across Damian’s la
p and took off, driving at full speed. Luckily, the highway remained empty, and the nearest town was just a few miles away. Damian barely noticed where they were driving, his mind fading on and off. The man parked the truck in front of the door into the emergency room and ran inside the building, screaming for help.
Damian opened the door and walked out of the vehicle, holding Jamie tight to his chest. He took just a few steps when a few people in disposable medical gowns ran toward him, rolling a gurney. He remembered them taking over Jamie and placing him on the gurney. Then the world spun around him and tilted. Someone’s hands grabbed his shoulders and arms, holding him from falling.
“Young man! Look at me! Don’t close your eyes!”
An urgent voice sounded in the back of his fading mind, and he made an effort to comply but couldn’t. He moaned and let go as the darkness covered him like a heavy, suffocating blanket.
Chapter 29
~ Damian Blake ~
A ray of bright light touched his eyes, and he groaned, turning his head to the side, away from the unwanted brightness. His body responded with dull aches, and that brought back the memories. Damian jolted up and looked around, searching for Jamie.
A hospital room with light beige walls and white ceiling was separated in two by a curtain, and the scent of medications and disinfectants hung in the air. His arms were attached to an IV bag and monitors that were beeping evenly, their sound jarring to his stretched senses. Even though his muscles were still sore, he didn’t feel as drained as he had yesterday. Damian grabbed the IV line, about to rip it off, when a young woman in medical scrubs walked in, followed by a police officer.
“Hey, Mr. Blake, you’re finally awake,” she said with a kind smile, checking his monitors.
“Where is Jamie Coldwell?” asked Damian. “The man I brought in yesterday. Is he okay?”
“He’s fine,” replied the nurse, gesturing at the curtain separating the room. “He’s still asleep, but otherwise, he’s fine. A broken arm, concussion, and a few bruises. He’ll be all right in no time.”
“Mr. Blake,” said the police officer, stepping forward, “can you tell me what happened? How did you and Mr. Coldwell sustain all these injuries?”
“A car accident,” explained Damian, throwing a glance at the closed curtain. “Hit and run.”
He told the police officer where the accident had happened and everything thereafter. But as he went through all the formalities, the only thing he could think about was how to get out of here and be on his way back to Arizona as soon as possible.
Jamie woke up about thirty minutes later and without thinking twice, refused to stay another night for observation, adamant about leaving with Damian. After a short but intense conversation, they both signed an against-medical-advice form and left the hospital.
It was close to noon when they finally walked out the hospital door and headed toward a car rental place. Even though Jamie kept reassuring him that he felt just fine, Damian wasn’t convinced, noticing the sweat beading his young friend’s face and occasional wince when he made too sharp of a move. Luckily, the car rental wasn’t far away, and soon, they walked into a small, air-conditioned room.
While Jamie took care of the paperwork, Damian stepped away from the counter and reached for his phone. As the screen lit up in his hands, he saw that his cell service was restored, all four bars shining in the top right corner of the display. A multiple notification windows stacked on his lock screen, and his heart skipped a beat as he scanned through them—a few missed calls from his brother and River, a few messages and a text message from Cole.
Thousands of thoughts flashed through his mind. All this time Mara had been blocking him from the outside world. Why stop now? What had changed? With worry twisting his gut, he listened to Cole’s message first.
“We’re facing two angry deities, and everyone who lives in the house is their target because only people who live in Paradise Manor can pass through the wards. Please, brother, call me as soon as possible...”
“Two gods? So, Mara has a partner—” He cut himself off, cold sweat covering his forehead as a terrible suspicion originated in his mind. He dialed Cole’s number, muttering under his breath, “Come on, Cole, pick up, pick up, pick up...”
“You reached Cole Adams...” His brother’s even voice sounded on the other side of the line.
“Dammit, Cole!” shouted Damian, slamming his hand against the wall. Jamie spun around, and the rental rep raised his head, gaping at him with wide eyes.
Damian hung up the phone and held his hand up apologetically, giving a short nod to Jamie. Once they turned away, he redialed Cole’s phone number. This time, he waited until the beep and left a message.
“Cole, call me back. I think I know who the gods are, and it isn’t good news. We are dealing with Mara, Slavic goddess of Nightmares and Darkness, and Morok, Slavic god of Lies, Deceit, and Diseases. He’s the dark side of Svarog and just as powerful as him. I need you...” His voice trailed off as he realized that as much as he wanted to see Cole safe, he couldn’t ask his brother to leave the house. “Goddamnit... We can’t leave River unprotected, and if we get her out of the house, we’ll expose whatever the Guardians are shielding there! We’re doomed if we do and doomed if we don’t. I’m on my way home, but I still have twenty hours of driving ahead of me. Call me!”
He hung up the phone and looked at the second message. It was from River, and she had left it at around midnight last night. Expecting nothing but more trouble, Damian pressed play button.
“Damian, hi,” said River, her voice unusually strained. “I didn’t want to bother you, but Cole is missing. He didn’t come back home last night, and when I tried calling him, the call went straight to his voicemail.”
She fell silent for a moment, and he could hear a strange continuous noise in the background.
“Damian, something is going on,” continued River, lowering her voice to a whisper. “The house is filled with weird noises and whispers, and I can’t figure out where they are coming from. I tried calling my father, but he’s not answering either. I’m going to lock myself in my bedroom now. Call me when you get this message.”
The message ended, and Damian raised his eyes, staring at Jamie’s back. As if feeling his stare, the young man turned around and glanced at him with a question in his eyes. Damian pointed at his cell and gave him an urgent gesture, showing him that they needed to leave promptly.
Getting back to his phone, he checked the second message from River, realizing she had left it less than an hour after the first. He pressed the play button next to it and stilled, listening to River’s hoarse voice.
“Damian, something is seriously wrong.” She spoke fast, and while her voice sounded urgent and strained, he could also detect a cold determination in it. “I’m still in my bedroom, but I’m not sure I know what’s real and what’s not anymore. The whispers are louder and...” Her voice broke, and she cleared her throat. “I think I’m going crazy, Day. I can hear Nick’s voice, and he’s calling my name. Also, something is going on in the foyer. Someone is there... I wanted to leave the bedroom to check it out, but as soon as I came close to the door, Gypsy was ready to claw my eyes out. I can’t get hold of anyone—Cole, my father, you... and I can’t trust myself. I need someone with a clear mind. I’m going to call Jesse to come over. Call me when you get this message.”
Damian stared at the phone, his unbending fingers almost crushing its plastic casing. Then he dialed River’s phone number and stilled, counting the beeps. Even before the call went into voicemail, he already knew she wasn’t going to answer. Dammit, what the hell is going on in Blue Creek?
A light touch to his shoulder made him flinch and spin around.
“Let’s go,” Jamie said, readjusting his arm sling, giving Damian a troubled once-over. “The car is outside. Just need to check it and sign—”
“Just sign everything and let’s get moving. Buy the rental insurance if it would make it faster. I’ll pay fo
r all the expenses once we get home,” muttered Damian, walking out the door. “We have no time to lose.”
“I figured as much,” murmured Jamie. “When I caught your sight a few minutes ago, you looked like you’d seen a ghost.”
“Actually, a few of them,” replied Damian, staring at a car stopping in front of them. “Oh, come on, Jamie! Seriously?”
Jamie laughed, giving him a slap on the shoulder. “Well, your terrified look told me we need to... um... drive faster. So, I asked for something with extra muscle.”
Damian gaped at the red Dodge Charger R/T, feeling the wave of his usual claustrophobia rising to his throat. He grunted and grabbed the key from Jamie’s hand.
“Good choice,” he exhaled, watching Jamie signing the screen of the tablet in the rental rep’s hands. “I’m driving.”
He moved the driver’s seat back and got into the car, strapping his seatbelt on. Once Jamie settled in, he drove the car out of the plaza and into the first empty alley he could find. Parking it there, he made sure no one was in the area and placed his hands flat on the dashboard, channeling his magic. As he whispered a short spell, a gentle white glow surrounded the vehicle and slowly dissipated. Damian started the engine again and drove it toward the road.
“What did you do?” asked Jamie, once they entered the highway.
Damian pushed the accelerator pedal down, watching the arrow on the speedometer climbing over the hundred mark.
“A modified version of the turn-away spell,” he explained, pushing the speed over the hundred-twenty mark. “You don’t want cops on our tail, do you?”
“Dude!” yelped Jamie, excitement in his voice. “You have to teach me that.”
