Lost Paladin: A Dark and Twisted Urban Fantasy (The Broken Bard Chronicles Book 2)

by eden Hudson

  But Tiffani wasn’t just not in Heaven. She was in Hell, being tortured for all eternity.

  This weird, wired shaking started up in my chest and spread down my arms to my hands.

  Eternal hellfire. Screaming. Gnashing of teeth. Unending death.

  “That vamp made her choice,” Sissy said. “You used to understand that.”

  “Yeah, well I’m not a fucking robot anymore.”

  Sissy made a disgusted sound in her throat. “Nice language. Real intelligent.”

  “Children,” Dad said.

  “Tiff saved me. She—” Even as sick and screwed up as I was, even knowing what it would cost her, Tiffani had saved me. “How can you guys not understand?”

  Beside me, Mom had started crying. Looking at her felt like looking into the infinite reflections of two mirrors facing each other. I could see that she was looking at me and seeing Dad saving her. No matter how far gone she was, Dad had always saved her.

  “Dad, you would’ve done it for Mom. I know—”

  “No, you don’t know.” Dad shook his head. “Only a sinless soul can walk out of Hell. The only way a condemned soul can be redeemed is—”

  “—substitution,” I said. “I know. A sanctified soul takes its place.”

  “Well, I hate to point out the obvious,” Sissy said. “But you’re no Jesus, Colt. If you walk in, you’re not walking out.”

  My hands balled into fists. That weird, wired shaking had spread out through my whole body. How could they not understand? Tiffani was in Hell. I couldn’t just sit back and do nothing.

  Ryder clicked at me. When I looked, he nodded at me—an I got your back nod.

  “Speaking of the J-man,” he said, tipping his chair back up on two legs.

  For a second, I could see the day Principal Baumeyer called Ryder and me into the elementary office and accused us—rightfully—of clicking at each other during school-wide standardize testing. Baumeyer had tried to play us against each other, but neither of us would snitch. When he threatened to take us both down, Ryder had given him the sort of casual cussing out that elementary school legends are made of. Baumeyer had been so pissed that he’d forgotten all about me.

  Ryder scratched his jaw and gave Sissy the same look he’d given Baumeyer just before he called him a fart-sucking fat-ass.

  “You’re supposed to be the logical one, Sis. But here I am, the only one who’s going to point out that there’s probably a reason JC didn’t show for the meet and greet? Like maybe He already knew Colt wasn’t here to stay?”

  Everyone went still.

  Dad was the first to move. He bowed his head. “Please, Heavenly Father, if there’s any other way, please don’t let this happen.”

  Goose bumps ran down the back of my neck. I had prayed that exact same prayer before. I could remember it—strapped to the table in Mikal’s basement doctor’s office. I had begged God not to let Mikal take away my last memory of Tiffani. At the time, I hadn’t been able to see that He didn’t let Mikal take it away. He sent me to Tiffani so she could bring it back, so she could bring all of me back.

  Now it was my turn.

  “Please,” Dad begged, his voice hoarse with desperation.

  Mom put her arms around him. He pressed his face into her hair.

  The scent of coffee and cinnamon and cigarettes and hot peppers swirled through my brain. Tiffani. Without her, without knowing that she was safe and protected and finally enjoying all the things that had been stolen from her on Earth… That wasn’t Heaven.

  I took a step toward my parents. “I can’t just leave her there. I won’t.”

  Mom sniffed.

  “I know.” She kissed Dad, then stepped back and faced me. She smiled and wiped her eyes. When she touched my arm, her fingers were wet with tears. “Always my good little boy. I know you won’t.”

  Tough

  After a while, Lonely got off me, stood up, stretched, then hauled me up onto his shoulder.

  “Sun’s coming up,” he said, hooking his thick arm around my knees. “Best get you inside.”

  He carried me two and a half blocks like that. My arms bounced off his ass with every step he took and my nose smashed flat against his back over and over. I stared into the red and blue print on his Hawaiian shirt until the lines stopped making flower-shapes and turned into blood splatter and spilled guts and cracked skulls.

  That heavy metal psycho-screaming in my head had gone quiet. Maybe my brain had overloaded and something had popped. Maybe I’d had an aneurysm. All I felt was this cold, sick ball of ice in my stomach.

  The same words looped through my head over and over again—I’m going to kill everybody in this fucking town.

  Lonely shoved open the door of the tattoo parlor, ringing the wind chime overhead. I hadn’t been in here since Harper had gotten her belly button pierced. The air inside the shop smelled like incense and ink and disinfectant. I had smelled that before. Recently. But I couldn’t take a breath while I was paralyzed. The tiny amount of that smell curled up inside my nose was driving me crazy.

  At least until Lonely cracked my head on a sharp corner as we passed the counter full of piercings and shit. He bent over and dumped me onto a tattoo chair.

  “Phew.” He straightened his shirt out and shook his head. “You’re heavy for such a little guy.”

  Normally, I probably would’ve thought something like, Big enough to stomp your sorry ass, but that icy black hole in my gut seemed to suck in every thought. Nothing could escape it. Nothing could escape me. Everything and everyone was going to be sorry. Lonely first, then Rian, then Kathan. All the fallen angels and anybody who got in my way. The second Lonely took this paralysis off, everyone was going to pay.

  “Not everyone,” Lonely said. “The others ought to be here soon.”

  That derailed my revenge fantasies for a second. That was the second time Lonely had acted like he could hear me.

  “You’re crowspawn now, tarnished one.” He plopped onto a rolling stool and leaned forward. “Your mind speaks a language I can understand.”

  Then understand this—unparalyze me. Now.

  “Let me tell you a story,” Lonely said, picking at one of the piercings in his nose.

  They took Colt. He’s going to get resurrected surrounded by foot soldiers, all alone. He needs me.

  “He won’t be resurrected. The white knight is dead.”

  Bullshit he is.

  “The story.” Lonely shook himself like a bird shaking rain off its feathers and leaned toward me. “There was once a girl who wanted to be a crow so badly that she covered her body with pictures of their black feathers. She went to the crows, but they laughed at her skin pictures. Those feathers would never make her fly, they said. So, the girl leapt into the air and flew. Furious, the crows grabbed her out of the sky. They tore her body to pieces and scattered her across the Earth. When the pieces hit the dirt, each one turned into a metal that reflected twice the light of the sun. The crows loved the pieces, sought them out, fought each other and died to gather them.”

  He stared at me.

  If I’m supposed to be having some kind of epiphany, you’d better spell it out, I thought. I’m not good at this game.

  Lonely straightened up and half-flapped his arms at me. “She became their one desire! The shiny girl directed the will of all crows from that day on.”

  I hoped he could feel the sarcasm rolling off me.

  “The white knight, your brother—he never cared about this earth. He never lived in it. He lived in her, in that crowspawn.”

  What. The hell. Are we talking about?

  “The vampire. When he found her, he found life. When he lost her, he lost it.” Lonely nodded over his shoulder, toward the door. “Without her, he will never return to this earth.”

  Colt’s not dead. He’ll get resurrected. He’s the last Soldier of Heaven. He—

  “He shined for her, tarnished one, not for the Earth. He would never cover his skin with their feathers. He cou
ld never have directed their will.” Lonely sat forward again and glared into my eyes. “The last battle was never his to win or lose.”

  Desty— Shit, just thinking her name hurt. —told me about the prophecy. Colt—

  “In trying to save you, he brought death upon you instead. He created the holy champion.”

  I killed Colt. Colt got resurrected. Brought. Back. To. Life.

  “You laid down your life and you rose again,” Lonely said, completely ignoring my tone. “You fall and you rise back up. You covered yourself with the feathers of this earth and they laughed at you. You leapt into the sky and you soared. They tore your tarnished soul into pieces and scattered it across the earth. Now, you have become their metal. They will seek you out and they will follow you.”

  Oh yeah? I thought of Scout and her crappy little living room packed full of people I hated, all staring at me. So, this is what? The part where I suddenly turn all good and start doing right and all my sins are washed away?

  Lonely cocked his head at me. “Nope. Redemption takes something you’ve never had, tarnished one.”

  No kidding.

  “But—” Lonely twisted his head even farther, until it was about a quarter-turn from upside down, and grinned that creepy crow grin. “—you don’t have to be the favored son to wage the father’s war.”

  Colt

  Mom led me out of the farmhouse. Dad, Sissy, and Ryder followed along behind us like one of those old-fashioned funeral processions.

  Outside… I can’t describe the brightness. It was like staring directly into the flash of a concussion grenade, except it didn’t hurt or burn an afterimage onto my retinas. And there was music. Singing. I hadn’t really thought about music in years—not since Mom died—but that sound. It was full. It made something in my chest swell and soar. If the black noise had an opposite, it was that singing light.

  For the longest time, I couldn’t even remember why we were outside. All I could think was that I wanted to spend the rest of eternity out here. I wanted to live in that light forever.

  An itch started up across my chest. That turned into a prickling burn, like being tattooed with dry ice.

  My chest piece. Resist or Serve. Tiffani. It all came flooding back.

  I looked at Mom, since she seemed to know what she was doing. “How do I…?”

  “He knows,” she said. “He’ll send someone.”

  We waited. That wired shaking was still running through me like electrical current. Every second I was here was another second Tiffani had to spend in Hell.

  Dad cleared his throat. “I wish you could’ve met your grandparents.”

  “And your Aunt Charlotte,” Mom said.

  I took a deep breath and let it out. I wished that, too.

  Something changed in the air, almost a shift in pressure. The light burned as bright as before. The music went on. But something was different.

  Sissy stepped up beside me and gave me a hug.

  “I don’t want to be here when It gets here,” she said. “Sorry.”

  “Yeah,” Ryder said, pulling me away from Sissy and slapping me on the back a couple times. “No offense, Sunshine—I know I’m your hero—but not even for you, buddy.”

  They headed up to the house.

  “Ryder?” I said.

  He stopped in the doorway and turned back.

  “Candi… Hunting accident or four-wheeler wreck?”

  He grinned. “Even better. Dynamite fishing while under the influence.”

  I snorted.

  “That’s right, motherfucker,” he said. “Dream girl.”

  Then he followed Sissy inside.

  The pressure in the air grew heavier and I felt something spiraling downward toward us. It made me want to sprint back into the farmhouse and hide.

  Dad put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “Colt, are you sure—”

  “Yeah.” I shook out my arms and legs as if that would dispel the trembling in my stomach. Tiffani needed me. She was in Hell. If I didn’t do this, she would be there forever. Unending death. An eternity of torture. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  Mom squeaked when It swooped down and landed in front of us. Both her and Dad took a step back.

  I held my ground. This was for Tiffani. I wouldn’t leave her there.

  It was on fire, the flames burning just a degree brighter than the light surrounding us, and so hot that a roar came from Its body. Its wings spread wide—three sets of them—as It reached a fiery hand toward me. When It touched my forehead, the flames engulfed me. My flesh burned and blistered away. All my soft tissue evaporated. My bones exploded and crumbled into dust.

  Tough

  Lonely finally took the paralyzation off me. I stood up, stretched, looked out the big front window at the sunlight. Then I turned around and punched that crow bastard in the teeth.

  Instead of getting pissed off and hitting me back, Lonely laughed and licked his bloody lip. It had already started to heal.

  “That one’s free,” he said. “But if you touch me again, I’ll throw you out into the sun. Now, come on.”

  I flexed my fingers and followed him into the back room. The cuts across my knuckles from all that scrap metal Lonely had in his face itched and crawled with the vamp healing. I scratched at where I could feel the maggots chewing, tore the dead skin off so the new layer could push through faster. It helped.

  “The white knight was partial to our cause,” Lonely said. He grabbed a cord hanging from the ceiling and pulled down a set of folding stairs. “He kept our arsenal stocked. He didn’t ask questions because we paid up front and didn’t ask him questions…and because you humans believe that the reasons you understand are the only reasons that there are.”

  For a guy his size, Lonely was pretty damn light on his feet. He jumped into the air and shifted form—ink-covered, Hawaiian-shirt-wearing pin cushion to crow—and flew up into the attic in less time than it took my eyes to focus.

  I took the stairs.

  I smelled the gunpowder and metal and grease before my eyes broke line of sight over the attic floor.

  Downstairs, I heard the wind chime ring. Somebody had just come in. Lots of somebodies—I could hear half a dozen different heartbeats.

  “Allies,” Lonely crawked as he shifted back to human. He flipped the switch on a hanging bulb.

  To say that Colt had kept them stocked was one hell of an understatement. Lonely’s arsenal was almost as good as ours. Boxes of ammo, grenades, and a crate stamped TBG-7 lined one wall. Upright gun safes along another. Swords, knives, clubs, rolls of razor wire. He even had a katana—a real samurai sword.

  I picked it up.

  Well, what was I supposed to do? I might’ve been pissed, but I wasn’t made of stone. Katanas are fucking awesome.

  It was light. Nothing like the greatswords we had used during the war. Those had been heavy. Ryder had given me no end to shit that I could barely lift mine, even though there at the beginning he’d gotten tired fast swinging that big-ass sword around.

  I gave the katana a swing. It whispered through the air. I felt a grin creep across my face. This thing was beautiful, music formed in steel. I could hear the slashing, smell the blood, see foot soldiers realizing too late that they’d been cut in half.

  Footsteps padded up the attic stairs. An old, one-eyed coyote came into the attic, baring his teeth.

  “Clarion.” Lonely kicked shut the crate he’d been messing with.

  “Lonely.” The coyote shifted into its human form—a guy with graying blonde hair and an eye patch—and looked down the attic stairs behind him. “It’s clear. The crow’s alone. Set up a perimeter.”

  Downstairs, soft footsteps accented with nails clicked away. More coyotes.

  What the hell is going on here? I asked.

  “We’re calling it a conditional ceasefire,” Lonely said. “When the last battle is over, we’ll go back to killing one another over territory. Assuming there’s any territory left.”

  The wi
nd chime downstairs went off again.

  The coyote whirled and glared with his one eye at Lonely, but Lonely just cocked his head and smiled.

  “Our negotiator,” Lonely said. “As per the terms.”

  More heartbeats. I lost count around eleven. They just kept coming.

  The attic stairs shifted under new weight. I smelled her before the top of her head came up through the hole in the floor—girl sweat and sex and that dime store potpourri. Except it wasn’t dime store potpourri, it was incense from Lonely’s shop.

  “Hey, Tough,” Scout said.

  This was where she had picked that smell up. It was definitely the where she’d gotten those porn star piercings. Probably where she’d learned that making her blood stronger trick, too.

  Because it was crow magic. The piercings and the blood thing—Scout was messing around with crow magic.

  I shot across the floor, grabbed her by the throat and arm, and slammed her into the exposed chimney.

  “Put the girl down,” the coyote barked.

  Behind me, I heard Velcro tear apart. The smell of cedar. Old One-Eye had come prepared.

  “I don’t want to stake you, Tough,” he growled. “Believe me, that’s the last thing I want. Don’t hurt her, and I won’t have to.”

  Tell him to back off or I’ll snap her neck, I told Lonely. This is between me and Scout.

  Lonely took a breath to relay the message, but Scout interrupted.

  “What the crap, Tough?” She squirmed under my fingers. “You won’t snap my neck.”

  You can hear me. You heard me earlier, at your trailer, too. You heard my questions about your army.

  “Well, yeah. It’s getting fainter now and it doesn’t work over long distances, but if we—” She glanced down at my fly. “—do it again, like, all of it, the feeding and the…you know…I’ll be able to hear you better.”

  Are you kidding me?!