Another swarm of them came from the right, but Jack turned and let loose with voice waves strong enough to drop them all mid-flight. He repeated the bellow as they neared the bottom of the steps; one burst from his burning throat large enough to take out a cluster of demons. Black blood splattered to the pavement before disintegrating into puffs of curling black smoke.
Once they reached the street, Micah took a left and squeezed down the narrow alley between her building and another. The demons followed, some still flying and several climbing alongside them, their nails grating against the bricks. Addison cried out and swatted at two of them as they swooped down on her, one landing on her shoulder and the other on her head. With a vicious yank of her ponytail, one of them threw her off balance while the other tried to sink its teeth into her neck. Micah turned and put his knife through its gut, while Jack swatted the other off her head before putting a beam of light between its eyes.
The alleyway opened up into a small courtyard, which housed an outdoor café. As luck would have it, it was closed for the night with no one there to watch as Jack shoved Addison beneath a table and joined Micah in fighting off the little beasts. It seemed like a never-ending swarm that multiplied almost as fast as Jack and Micah could kill them. Three of the little creatures landed on Jack’s shoulders, their sharp talons digging into the fabric of his shirt. He shrugged them off before shooting, taking out all three in a single burst.
“Time to hit ’em with the light, podna,” Micah called out, his shoulder brushing Jack’s. They stood back to back, cornered on every side in what seemed like an impossible situation. They both knew better. Every Guardian possessed what could only be described as an inner light. It sapped a great deal of strength, so Jack always exercised caution about when he used the ability. A horde of demons surrounding him fit on his list of acceptable times to apply the power.
“Agreed.” He fired another shot into the fray, taking down five of the tiny demons flying at him from the same direction. A sixth one avoided the shot and landed against his chest, digging its claws in. Despite the small size of the minions, their claws were sharp and barbed. They dug into Jack’s skin, causing him to roar as a burning sensation exploded through his chest, almost paralyzing him. Forcing himself to breathe through the pain, he closed his eyes and pulled his inner light. He pictured it—white, bright, and glorious, reveling in the vibrations building inside until they hit a crescendo. The mark on his chest began to burn and he opened his eyes, his vision filled with the vibrant light emanating from it.
The demon shrieked and fell away. The light flickered and then a burst like a lightning flash emanated from first him, and then Micah, sweeping throughout the outdoor café and dropping the demons like flies. Their black blood rained down over them, splattering his face and clothing, and the putrid stench of sulfur invaded his nostrils. Still, the demons were gone and the café had gone quiet around them.
Jack swiped a hand over his eyes, flicking a handful of the black demon goop away with a huff of disgust.
“Ugh!” Micah grumbled, swiping one hand over his face and sending more of the globs splatting to the cobblestones. “This stuff is always a real crapeau to clean.”
“Guess I can kiss this shirt good-bye,” Jack muttered, staring down at his black-spotted top.
Micah laughed. “Don’t I always tell you not to wear your fancy clothes for demon huntin’?”
He rolled his eyes. “Micah, a clean t-shirt is fancy to you.” He turned away from his partner and searched the courtyard for Addison. “You can come out.”
At first, he couldn’t make her out in the darkness. Then, a dark shape shifted and appeared from beneath a table. She was clean, having avoided the shower of demon blood that had rained down on the two of them. Her questioning gaze darted between the two of them as she approached.
“What was that?”
Seeing the fear and confusion in her eyes, Jack stepped forward. “It’s okay,” he said, trying to reassure her. “We would never hurt you. Our mission is to protect you, remember?”
She nodded, seeming to relax a bit at that reminder. “Micah is freakishly strong, and that thing you did with your voice …”
“All Guardians possess gifts,” he answered. “Mine is my voice; Micah’s is his strength.”
“That burst of light … it was coming from your chest.”
He nodded. “All Guardians have an inner light, which we can use when we need a large bust of power in one sweep.” He sagged and sank down onto a nearby chair. “It’s exhausting, though, so we don’t do it often.”
Addison’s brow wrinkled in concern as she stepped closer, peering down into his eyes. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Nothing a few hours of sleep won’t help.”
“Speakin’ of which,” Micah cut through. “If you two don’t mind, I’d like to get home and wash the stink of demon guts off me.”
Jack stood, gripping the edge of the table as a wave of dizziness washed over him. Micah being stronger, it took more to sap his strength than one burst of inner light. Jack could curl up in a ball right there on the ground and sleep the rest of the night away.
“Sounds like a plan. It’s not a long walk from here,” he added, turning to Addison.
She nodded and fell in step with them, glancing back over her shoulder at the scene of their little fight in a bout of paranoia. She probably half expected another wave of demons to come crawling out of the shadows. The blood was disintegrating, vanishing in puffs of curling black smoke. Jack breathed a sigh of relief as the stench dissipated, though the dark stains remained in his clothes.
Silence dominated the walk home. He watched her from the corner of his eye. She was holding up well considering all she’d heard and seen during the last couple of days. He’d had other people cry, scream, and object in stubborn disbelief when faced with the truth of the world that existed right under their noses. He wondered what had happened to this woman in her life that caused her to adapt to unforeseen circumstances with such ease.
When they arrived at their place, Micah preceded them up the back stairway and straight to the door leading through their kitchen and into the apartment. With Addison there, turning in circles to observe her surroundings, Jack became very aware of how messy the place was. Her sparse, yet clean, apartment seemed like a palace compared to their little nook above the diner.
His face heated as he took in the rows of empty mason jars on the kitchen counter, dirty clothes piled up around the washer and dryer in the corner of the kitchen, and the random junk strewn around the living room.
“I call first shower,” Micah declared, making a beeline for the bathroom. A few seconds later, the sound of his off-key warbling drifted out to them, mingling with the cadence of water hitting the bottom of the tub.
Jack cleared his throat when he realized he and Addison had been standing in the living room, staring at each other for a full minute without speaking.
“I’ll sleep on the couch tonight,” he told her. “You can have my room.”
Compared to the rest of the house, his room passed for somewhat clean. Clearing the bed of a few books, he stripped the sheets from the mattress. After replacing them with a set of clean ones he kept in his closet, he stepped aside and gestured toward the small, twin bed.
“It’s not much, but the mattress is comfortable and with the hallway separating you, you won’t even be able to hear Micah’s snores.”
Addison giggled at that, coming toward the bed and plopping down on it. Her bag slid from her shoulder and landed on the floor with a soft thud. “He doesn’t like me, does he?”
Jack leaned against the dresser, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s nothing personal.” Micah would kill him for revealing too much about his sister, and it wasn’t his place to tell. Aside from that, he also had no desire to talk about Tracy. To anyone. Ever.
“Sure does feel personal,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes.
Reaching up, she pulled the rubber b
and loose and allowed her curtain of fiery red locks to cascade around her shoulders. The dim light of the lamp caused the strands to catch fire and for a moment, he was hypnotized by the shades of amber highlights dancing in the glow.
“What, does he hate strippers or something?” She glanced up at him, her gaze locking with his.
Jack lowered his eyes, realizing she’d caught him staring. Embarrassment flooded him. “Micah loves strippers,” he remarked with a dry snort. “Maybe one day, he’ll tell you about the one he used to date.”
“And what do you think about strippers, Jack?” She arched one titian eyebrow at him.
He shrugged. “I think people do what they have to do to make a living. I just saw a few seconds of your performance, but, uh …” he cleared his throat again and jerked at his collar. “You, um, seem like a … talented dancer.”
She laughed. A deep, throaty sound, almost like a purr. “I’ve gotten a lot of interesting feedback about my performances, Jack, but I have to say most guys don’t tell me what a good dancer I am.”
“Well, I turned away before you started taking your clothes off, so there isn’t much to go off of here.”
She cocked her head at him, eyes narrowing on him in curiosity. “You looked away?”
“I didn’t go to Temptations tonight to drool over you. I came to recruit you for an important cause. Didn’t seem appropriate to watch.”
Her gaze held his and she regarded him for a moment without speaking. You are a surprising person, Jack,” she said with a shake of her head, her voice low.
He didn’t know what to say. The truth was, now that he’d seen her wearing next to nothing, he found himself wondering why he hadn’t watched. She had a beautiful figure; all lithe curves and legs that went on for days. Reminding himself of the last time he’d mixed his duty with pleasure, he shook his head and broke her stare. As attractive as Addison was, he couldn’t let her distract him from what needed to be done. Most of all, he didn’t need the complications she presented. A normal life could never be possible as long as he had a Naphil hanging around. Better to finish the mission and part ways as soon as possible … better for everyone involved.
The bathroom door opened, the sound of Micah’s heavy footsteps crossing the hall to his room before the door slammed.
“Bathroom’s free,” he said. “If you want, you can have it next.”
“No. You’re the one that got covered in demon blood. I’m happy to wait.”
Nodding, he turned and opened a drawer to retrieve pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. He turned to find Micah standing in the doorway, barrel-wide chest bare, a pair of sweatpants hanging low on his hips. Damp hair clung to his forehead and neck as he came into the room, extending a small bundle to Addison silently.
Standing, she gave him a wary glance as she reached out to accept it. “What’s this?”
“Figured you’d need ’em,” Micah answered in a gruff tone, “since we took you before you could gather clothes and all.”
She gave him a tentative smile as she unfolded the bundle to reveal a woman’s t-shirt and gym shorts. “Thank you, Micah. That’s very sweet.”
Micah responded with a low grunt as he turned his back on them and lumbered down the hall. In the kitchen, Jack could hear him go to the refrigerator—likely to retrieve one of his many mason jars.
“See, he does like you,” he teased as he gathered his own clothes and turned to leave.
He just doesn’t want to.
Neither did Jack, if he was being honest with himself. But then, it was far too late for that.
8
Beignets and Broken Dreams
Addison woke up the next morning to the sound of pots and pans banging together and the low hum of masculine voices. It was so jarringly different from waking up in her quiet apartment that it took her a moment to realize where she was.
As she lay in that groggy state of awareness between wakefulness and sleep, the events of last night came rushing back to her in a blur. In the midst of the haze, Jack and Micah stood out in clear relief. Partners, they’d called themselves, but two more opposite men couldn’t exist in the world. Yet, she had watched them fight together like old battlefield buddies and interact like brothers. She’d never experienced that kind of camaraderie with anyone, and she envied that.
After a while, she recognized their voices as the ones filtering beneath the door. As she drifted to full wakefulness, she also registered the aroma of something delicious being cooked. Her stomach responded with a loud rumble—she hadn’t eaten anything since before her shift the previous night. Hunger seemed to fade when your life was being turned upside down by two supernatural beings who risked their lives to help you escape from a horde of demons.
Remembering the attack left a sour taste in her mouth. While the two Guardians had fought to protect her, she’d cowered under a table. Though, maybe cowering wasn’t the right word for it. During her time there, she had watched the scene before her with interest, her mind filling with images of a different outcome. All it had taken was a split second in which she’d let her guard down, and her thoughts became overwhelmed by dark imaginings. The thought of wreaking a little havoc of her own on the little demonlings had brought her a satisfaction she’d never known. Her fingers had itched with power held in check, just waiting to surge and take them all out in a tidal wave of mayhem. The thought of all that black blood drenching her hadn’t been repugnant; it had been … seductive … irresistible.
She’d done what she always did when faced with dark thoughts—closed her eyes and fought them down until they retreated back into the dark abyss of her soul. Now that she knew the truth of where she came from, she understood it all so much more. She was half demon. It must be in her nature; there could be no other explanation for it.
She turned onto her back and stared up at the ceiling.
Why me? Why would you want someone with the thoughts of some kind of a deranged serial killer?
As always, God remained silent. If it weren’t for the fact that she’d met a real, live angel, she would have continued in her belief that He didn’t exist. Now, she supposed He did exist, yet had no interest in communicating with her, or giving her any indication that He cared at all.
“He chose me,” she whispered out loud.
You will fail … just as you’ve always failed. You’re nothing … no one.
Ironically, the voice of doubt that clouded her thoughts was that of her stepfather. The cadence of his voice drumming against her skull brought back memories better left in the past. With a sharp gasp, Addison squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out images of calloused fingers reaching for her, the feel of them on her skin. The smell of cigarette smoke and liquor-laced breath in her face. Shaking her head, she forced herself to focus on the enticing scent floating into her room, the sound of the mingled voices bringing her back into reality and out of the past.
Leaping from the bed, she bolted for the door, glad for once she wasn’t all alone. Something about last night’s demon attack had awakened something in her. The memories she’d tried to block out were forcing themselves to the forefront of her mind, her dark desires never far from her thoughts.
Twisting the hem of the tank top Micah had lent her, she made her way through the apartment and toward the kitchen. The windows in the living room and kitchen had been thrown open, and the sounds of the Big Easy filled the small space. In the distance, the resonances of a French horn flitted in the air, the rousing melody of ‘When the Saints Go Marching In’ bringing a smile to her face. She now recognized the sweet smell that mingled with the strong aroma of coffee … beignets. She neared the tiny kitchen just in time to see Micah dusting powdered sugar over the fresh-fried pastries.
“Good morning.”
She jumped at the sound of Jack’s voice, even though she’d known he must be in the kitchen. What about him made her feel so on edge? Her breath caught as she turned to find him standing on the other side of the room, pouring coffee into o
ne of three chipped ceramic mugs.
“Good morning,” she answered, hoping she didn’t sound as shaken as she felt. As it was, her heart had just leapt up into her throat.
“Coffee?” he offered, sliding one of the mugs toward her. She accepted it with a smile. “Micah made beignets from scratch.”
Addison lifted her mug and took a sip. Strong and black, just the way she preferred it. “Wow, I haven’t had homemade beignets since before I left home.”
“Mais, even a demon has to eat, I s’pose,” Micah muttered as he slid the plate piled high with powdery beignets across the counter toward them.
“Micah,” Jack hissed, his tone laced with a warning.
She ignored Micah and accepted a paper plate from Jack before taking three of the beignets. After a bite, she gave a happy sigh and licked the powdered sugar from her lips with an exaggerated motion. “Mmmm, not bad for a big, dumb redneck.”
Micah glared at her and stormed from the kitchen, muttering under his breath in Cajun French. She didn’t catch it all, but she did hear the familiar phrase ‘bonne a rien’, which just got her hackles up more.
“How can I be good for nothing if I’m God’s chosen one, Micah?” she spat, sneering at the back of his head. “I may not be fluent, by my Nana spoke French … I get the gist of things.”
Micah paused and turned, coffee cup in hand. “My mamere always said the Lord works in mysterious ways … whatever His reasons are, I sure don’t understand ’em.”
Turning away again, he trampled back toward his room, causing the floorboards to quake with every step. Addison’s smile faded as she turned to find Jack watching them with a scowl on his face.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, lowering her eyes back to her coffee. “The beignets really are good, but he’s starting to get on my nerves.”
Leaning against the counter, she went back to the pastries. Just because Micah was a jackass didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy them.
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