DAIMON (Nerys Newblood Series Book 1)

by Lucy Smoke

  “There were four refugees,” one says. He’s older, with a more experienced look about him. Charcoal eyes glaring from between slits and equally dark brows.

  “We’re not refugees,” Booker lies easily, his voice masked in confidence. I beg my legs to stop shaking.

  “Then why did you run?”

  “We didn’t think you’d realize there were people on the road,” Booker replies. “We didn’t want to be run over.”

  “And yet, here you are.” The man gestures around to the stretch of quiet dirt road. “And some of you look very familiar.” He grins behind me, towards Coen, while reaching for a gun on his hip.

  Coen doesn’t hesitate, rushing forward to tackle the man before he touches the weapon. Chaos ensures. Booker and Luca body slamming two more soldiers as I stand there dumbstruck.

  I’m more of a scrappy fighter, smaller and more brains than brawns. So when the guys disperse, I take a breath and let the trembling that hasn’t stopped take over. A tall blond haired soldier breaks from the tangle of legs and arms and curses.

  Though he’s tall and lanky, skinny some might say, I can see the definition of muscle in his arms as he reaches for me. I jerk back, my limbs still wavering slightly. It looks like I’m terrified, and to a point I am, but the trembling is caused by the amount of adrenaline coursing through me.

  Analyze, I remind myself. I glance over his neck, the Adam’s apple is sitting out on his throat like a big gleaming target is a weak spot. So are his groin, instep, and stomach. Incapacitate or maim? What will help me? What will help the others?

  “Come ‘ere pretty girl, I ain’t gonna hurt ya.” He opens his arms and slowly moves forward as if trying not to scare a small animal.

  “You’re hurting my friends,” I say.

  “They ain’t good friends to ‘ave,” he replies, edging closer. “I promise ya,” he says again. “I ain’t gonna hurt ya. No one ‘ere is gonna hurt ya. You just got caught up with the wrong crowd didn’t ya?” He reaches me. “Girl like you don’t have no business being with spirit guide sympathetics. You gon’ tell which of ‘em it is? If you do, I can help ya out.”

  “I don’t want your help,” I snap, slamming a closed fist into his throat. The soldier chokes, hands going up to clutch his heaving, bruised adam’s apple.

  Behind him, Titus takes a fist to the face and goes down, my sling shot flying out of his grip as a soldier jumps on him before he can get back up. I sigh in relief when Titus rolls over and pins the man on top of him, throwing a few jabs of his own, blood trickling from his nose.

  Another soldier barrels past the blondie, picking me up and slamming me into the ground before I realize what’s happened. He grabs ahold of my hair, yanking my face back to glean down at me. I struggle under his massive weight. Panic creeps in when I realize my legs are both pinned beneath his thighs. I try to jerk my head to the side, dislodging his hand, but he only comes back and grabs it again, tighter, pulling out several strands. I wince at the sting.

  “Listen, you little bitch,” he says, leaning down low. I grimace as his foul smelling breath hits my face. “You’re gonna tell us which one it is or I’ll gut you here and now.”

  “Wow, so chivalrous,” I taunt. “A soldier that hits women.”

  He grins, running his free hand down my front. “I enjoy doing other things too.”

  I growl, renewing my attempts to escape. He merely laughs and leans down into my face again. I can’t hit him in the same place, his head is too close to his shoulders. There’s no room for me to put any force behind a punch.

  Two thick arms band around the man’s throat and his self-satisfaction cuts off as he’s yanked up and away. Holden reaches out a hand to help me up as Luca struggles to contain the other man.

  “Thanks,” I say. He nods, turning away. “Look out!” I spot the blond soldier aiming for him a split second before I tackle him to the ground. A gunshot echoes across the space above our heads and I turn again slamming into blondie, knocking the gun from his grip. I smash an elbow across his nose, blood spurting from the obviously broken appendage. The soldier squeals bucking me off before standing and cursing me. He reaches for the dagger strapped to his belt and I take the two steps back to him, hands going to his shoulders as my knee jabs right between his legs.

  Blondie squeaks, letting out a pathetic sound of pain and slumping over. I turn back to the guys as Holden sweeps the feet out from beneath one soldier and I find myself so close that I can feel the rush of cool air that gets kicked up when the soldier goes down hard.

  Coen’s shout gives me pause. A deep wickedly jagged blade is shoved straight through his hand, the tip and several inches of metal protruding from the other side. He takes the handle of the knife and draws it out as slowly as possible to ward off further damage as Holden abandons his slain soldier and helps. I launch towards them, dropping to the dirt to look at the damage.

  “I’m okay, I’m fine.” Coen sucks in lungfuls of air between his teeth.

  “You got her?” Holden asks. Coen nods once and Holden disappears back into the fray.

  A sharp sting cuts into my shoulder as another soldier grabs ahold of me, sinking their nails deep. I turn in the direction of the grab, splitting my knuckles across the man’s face. He growls, launching over me only to be cut off when Coen throws himself into the soldier’s stomach and they collapse in a heap of seizing arms and legs on the ground.

  Coen throws a punch as I scramble over to pin the guy’s arms to the ground.

  “Stop!” I scream.

  Coen freezes, panting as he looks at me in shock.

  “We need information,” I say.

  He glances down at the struggling man with blood smeared across his cheek. “Fine,” he says. I nod and turn my attention to the soldier.

  “What does King Matric know about us?” I ask.

  He growls and spits at me, so Coen squeezes his throat until he chokes. His eyes are so wide, I fear they might pop out of his head.

  I shake my own at Coen, letting him know to release slowly.

  Coughing and wheezing, the soldier focuses on sucking in as much air as possible and I let him for several moments before I ask the question again. “Bitch!” he spits.

  “Original,” I deadpan before repeating my question.

  He remains quiet, glaring at us from behind watery, bloodshot eyes. Coen squeezes again until those eyes nearly bug out of his head. “Go...to...hell…” he gasps out.

  “You’re already there!” I snap. “Don’t you fucking see that? Your king,” I spit, “has you all so brainwashed or scared, you don’t realize he’s doing exactly what you’re accusing us of doing. Who has all of the power? Him. Who has all of the technology? Him. It’s all about him! He doesn’t care about you just what you can do for him!”

  “No,” he growls in response. “He saved me, me and my wife. He gave us a home. He’s good, and you’re evil.”

  “We’re just people,” I reply. “I don’t want anything to do with the Kingdom. None of us do!”

  “What exactly did the king tell you?” Coen asks.

  “You’re trying to take over,” The soldier spits at our faces. “You want to rule and take our homes and bleed us dry. We barely survive as it is!”

  “We don’t want that,” I say.

  “You’re liars just like he said you’d be.” He closes his eyes for a brief moment before opening them and renewing his struggles. I grip his wrists tighter and Coen squeezes again until he rasps.

  “My life I give for my king, my king’s safety for my life.”

  “Why can’t you see that he has you conditioned to believe whatever he says!” I scream at his face. “You don’t even know us and yet you judge us.”

  “Don’t need to. I owe the king my life. His word is law.”

  “Then you’re indebted to him,” Coen says. “He bought your loyalty and you listen to that drivel you call truth.” Coen raises his head. “This is over.” I look down at the man stretched out bet
ween us.

  “Should we…” I let my meaning linger between us.

  Coen shakes his head. I know exactly what he’s thinking. We can’t kill him. There will be people who will miss him, people who love him. He’s not a bad person, just brainwashed and stupid and an asshole.

  “He can’t follow us,” I say. Coen nods once before reaching for the man’s head. He grasps his skull with both hands and I have to back up, releasing his arms, or get in the way.

  Coen pulls him forward as the man begins to thrash under him and slams his head down against the ground once and then twice more. The soldier’s weight sinks into the earth and he becomes limp, his eyes closing.

  I stick a finger under his nose and feel the soft rush of air before nodding once to Coen and standing. “This is ridiculous,” I say, gesturing to the unconscious man. “He’s telling anyone who will listen that we’re bad people. We should still be innocents in their eyes, not criminal masterminds.” We’re only just starting out in life. I’m barely of age and even though Booker, Titus, Holden, and Luca all seem older, they can’t be too far ahead of Coen and me.

  Coen remains silent. We’re not kids anymore. We haven’t even had the luxury of pretending, not for most of our lives and certainly not since Obidian showed up.

  “Fear makes men do irrational things,” Booker says close by.

  Coen and I look over and find that the fighting has ended.

  “I can understand why Matric would be afraid, it’s his throne on the line. But common people should know better. What about all of those stories of heroic people possessed by spirit guides? Joan of Andromeda? How holy men and women came to be?”

  Luca joins us. “You and Coen came from a small kingdom, Nerys. Tell me, did you learn your history lessons in public school? Private tutors?” Coen and I glance at each other before shaking our heads.

  “We were schooled by the holy women,” I reply.

  “Then it’s likely that most of the citizens of Matric’s Kingdom are not as educated,” Luca says. “One way to control his kingdom is through the passage of information or in this case, the lack thereof.”

  “There were dozens of students in our orphanage,” I argue. “They were given the same lessons.”

  “If you hadn’t become a daimon, would you have cared?” Titus asks. I glance over my shoulder at him as he bends over and retrieves my sling shot from the ground. “Would you have run? Would you be who you are now, questioning his authority?”

  “This is why you’re dangerous, princess.” Holden’s face is pinched as he clutches his side and shuffles toward us. I note the lack of blood with relief. “It’s why he’s threatened by you. You could enlighten the wolf’s sheep.”

  It makes sense. But, it’s a vicious cycle. A king may be a lover of his people, but only truly a lover when he is loved in return. Kings who oppress their people understand that they have created a false security. When his people find out, that love will crumble to dust and his palace will become a gilded prison of his own making. And me. People like me don’t have an absence of fear. I’m constantly afraid. Thanks to Obidian, though, I can see past it. That’s why I scare Matric. If I can see past fear, see past today, then I can see him for what he really is. The one who is most afraid.

  “Are you okay?” I ask Holden. He sucks in a breath and then grins at me.

  “It’s nothing that’ll slow us down, princess.”

  “Good,” Booker says. “Because we need to move out.”

  I frown at him. He doesn’t even sound winded. In fact, as I look around the only people who look tired are me and Holden, and he only looks tired because he’s clutching his side. Otherwise, not a bead of sweat trickles on his smooth skin. No redness from overexertion. Nothing. I know my face is flushed and my knuckles are bruised. Perspiration is drying on the side of my neck. And they are perfectly fine other than a few bruises here and there. I pout. It’s just not fair.

  “We’ll head back to their vehicle and use it to get the rest of the way to the next coastal city. If we can start it, we’ll definitely be able speed up our timeline.” Booker leads the rest of us back through the woods where the soldiers abandoned their car. The motor vehicle is a small puke green tank, with gated windows and four doors. The squared front end looks like a hungry monster. I’ve never seen anything so huge on wheels. Certainly nothing inside the Kingdom looked like this. King Matric likely keeps his military machinery and magic spells hidden away from his public.

  “At least our luck seems to be turning around,” Holden says as Luca climbs into the front passenger seat. We pile into the seats behind him.

  In the back, Coen, Holden, and Titus are crammed together. The soldiers, though well-muscled, were much smaller than these guys. It’s a tight fit and I scramble up into the back and end up sitting on both Coen and Holden’s legs while Booker takes the front next to Luca. “Do you think there’s a way for them to track us?” I ask. Luca looks to Booker who opens his door and slides back out. Moments later the hood is lifted. “What’s he doing?”

  “Double checking. If there’s a GPS, he’s making sure it’s disabled. Disabling spells is fairly easy to learn, we’ll teach you a few incantations sometime,” he offers, settling down in his seat. “Even if your king is able to track this vehicle after that, we’re not keeping it. We’ll dump it outside of the next city,” Luca answers.

  “What’s a GPS?” I ask.

  “It’s a general placement spell,” Luca supplies, smiling over his shoulder. “I’m sure there’s similar technology out there but general placement spells are just small objects that are bound by magic. If there is one, it’ll have a distinct marking and magical make up that showcases who it belongs to. Any druid or magical being with equal ability could track it.”

  “And what about that?” I remark from the back. There is a big white screen sitting in the console of the front seat with a scripture that I can’t read. Luca fiddles with it for a moment, pressing his fingers to the screen before feeling along the outside of its casing.

  “I’m not sure what this is,” Luca comments as Booker slides back into the car after closing the hood.

  “It’s not part of the GPS. It’s a control panel. It turns the vehicle on and off,” Booker answers, buckling a series of straps across his chest and waist. I struggle to pull out an extra shirt from my bag. “Which is disabled now, but it should still work enough to power on the vehicle.”

  It still boggles my mind that Matric allows such technology and magic for his soldiers, but not for his normal citizens, especially since he seems to hate and fear daimons so much. I struggle to reach for one of the bags, pulling out a shirt and setting it on my lap. As Booker passes his hand over the vehicle’s screen, I rip the shirt into strips and use it to bandage Coen’s hand. He winces as I tighten it.

  “Buckle up, lady and gentlemen!” Luca says cheerily. I look back at the straps and buckles on the seats behind me and even help to strap Coen in when his injured hand hinders him.

  “What about princess?” Holden asks. “She doesn’t exactly have a seat.” Booker and Luca glance back, brows creasing in the exact same way that makes their subtle differences almost unperceivable.

  “I can hold her,” Coen offers.

  “I think it’ll be fine,” I reply. “Just go slow?”

  “I won’t ever intentionally hurt you, Nerys, but I’m not exactly an expert at driving these things,” Booker warns. Holden places one hand over my left leg and Coen places his uninjured hand over my right.

  Warmth shoots through my veins and I tremble as I attempt not to squirm. The heat of their hands is like flirting with fire. I take a deep breath as Holden speaks.

  “We’ll make sure she’s fine,” he says. Booker nods once before turning back to the white paneled screen.

  The vehicle shoots forward and I let out a startled scream clutching both of Holden and Coen’s free knees. I see Booker, Titus, and Luca wince. Coen and Holden’s bark of laughter has me shooting daggers at t
hem with my eyes. They merely continue to smile.

  “Laugh it up, trollfaces,” I grumble. They laugh at that, not insulted in the least before bouncing me on their knees. I gasp, my nails digging into strong muscular thighs.

  “Don’t worry, princess. We’ve got you,” Holden assures me. I roll my eyes, but can’t contain the smile on my face.

  In this moment, even without Obidian’s healthy voice in my head, his reassuring presence, I feel safe. Maybe it’s because we’ve finally reached one hurdle and we’re onto the next. Maybe it’s because I finally feel like I’m not just a single individual, like I have a family.

  I look at Titus and then at Holden, Luca, and Booker. Coen and I have always had each other, but now we have more. We’re riding in a stolen armored vehicle and I’ll likely be dead if King Matric finds me, but right now, with the guys laughing and Luca driving and my heart racing, I feel alive and I feel happy about it.

  ⚜⚜⚜

  My bones refuse to cooperate with me as I slowly rise from the depths of sleep. A lulling buzzing noise flitters about on the surface of my senses, the kind that you hear in the in between places of awake and asleep. Boiling heat hits my veins and spreads like wildfire. I open my mouth and merely an echo of silence is released.

  Nothing. I don’t remember falling asleep, but I hope this is a dream because I can feel my skin melting away, a charred, molten mess. It hurts so terribly that I can’t even cry. The shock of the pain has cut away my screams.

  “Princess?” Holden’s voice sounds as though it’s coming from down a long dark tunnel.

  “Ner? What’s wrong?” Coen’s question joins Holden’s.

  Together...we walk...in death...all are equal… Obidian’s smoke filled tone is suffocated. Soaked in something that chains him up, binds him. The binding, I remember. We need to get rid of the binding.

  “Nerys, open your eyes.” Booker’s no nonsense tone is biting, urgent. “What you’re feeling is not real. It’s not your pain.” It’s not, he’s right. What I’m feeling is Obidian’s pain and it is a tidal wave that crashes into my core repeatedly washing away everything that makes me who I am.