“Gran, there is nothing to discuss,” Kira said with a stubborn tilt to her chin. “You either come live with us at the castle or…or I’ll stay here with you.”
“So you won’t live with your warrior if I don’t move?”
Kira’s luscious mouth flattened, her gaze lowered to her cup.
Týr waited on edge for her response. But on the off chance that she chose differently than he’d like, he was quite prepared to check into Hotel Brownstone until they convinced the Oracle to beat feet back to the castle with them.
“No, I’m not leaving him.”
At her rejoinder, a smile started, but he shut it down. What? He wasn’t a teenage boy with his first crush. Okay, maybe he was.
“And I’m not leaving you alone either. We’ll stay here until you see sense.”
“Aren’t you going to work this evening?” Lila countered.
Kira lifted a brow at the change in subject. “Smooth, Granny. But yes, I am.”
Damn, he’d forgotten about that. “Kira…” Týr moved his cup aside. “About your job—”
“Yeah, yeah, I understand. I’ve been around the castle long enough to know how you guys operate. I can’t continue working any longer.” A glower started. “Then what? I become your kept woman?”
None of the mates of the Guardians could take on jobs out in the open where evil lurked. She looked really adorable in her ire of this non-negotiable edict, eyes spitting fire.
He couldn’t resist. “Sounds like a plan. But I wouldn’t dare say so. You’d probably shave off my hair in my sleep.”
“Týr, I can’t just do nothing.” Kira thumped her cup on the table. Luckily it was empty, or else the Oracle’s pristine white tablecloth would have been ruined.
He sighed. “Look, we’ll discuss this later.”
“I think it’s a brilliant idea,” Lila said happily, sipping her brew. “You want a life with a Guardian, this is how it will be.”
Kira no longer glared at her grandmother. Nope, now, she kept all her glowers for him. Adorable female.
Lila set her empty cup back on the tray, along with his barely drunk one, and rose.
“Let me do that.” Kira jumped up.
“I’m going to the kitchen, dear, not another house. You stay with your warrior.”
“He’s not going to miss me for two minutes.” Kira cut him a brief scowl. Yeah, still pissed. She grabbed the tray and stomped off, her grandmother following.
Not miss her? She had no idea.
Dishes rattled in the kitchen. And irate grumbling sounded through the door.
After a short silence, Kira’s hesitant voice reached him. “Gran?”
At her tone, Týr instantly pushed to his feet, knowing exactly where this would lead. Her sire. Recalling how upset she’d been when she told him, he really hoped Lila knew nothing about Kira’s long-lost father. He made his way across the room.
The sounds of rushing water drowned out the women’s voices. He opened the door into an old-fashioned kitchen with warm, cream walls and faded blue cupboards. The myriad scents of drying herbs and spices surrounded him. Copper pots and pans hung from the ceiling rafter above the table.
Kira stood near the sink, washing a few dishes. She didn’t look at him, but he sensed her troubled thoughts. And her hurt. Her cell rang. She shut off the faucet, wiped her hands on a dishtowel, and retrieved her phone from her pocket. Anxiety etching her features now, she answered. “Shadow?”
“Get over here.” Týr could clearly hear the female’s frantic tone. “I have the little termagant. We’re at The Shelter. Back entrance. He’s fighting like the devil to get free— Stop that, you little brat. Kira, now!”
The line dropped.
“Gran, we have to go. We’ll finish this conversation when I get back.”
So, Kira hadn’t told Lila about her sire yet. Hell, he could put up with a lot of shit, and really, he didn’t care where he stayed as long as it was with Kira, but one thing he refused to do was continue seeing the hurt in her eyes.
This sire of hers had better have a damn good reason for ignoring his daughter.
Moments later, they took form in the alley. Kira hurried toward The Shelter with Týr at her side. The second Shadow spied her, she sprinted over, her normally pale features gone chalk-white. “He’s gone! It all happened so fast. Two guys appeared. They shoved me back with a blast, snatched Tomas, and just went…poof, disappearing into thin air. I’m so sorry.”
Kira stared blankly at her friend, fear tearing through her.
“Wait here.” Týr took off into the alley.
“I’m going to see if I can track them,” Shadow said.
“No. Don’t.” Kira grabbed her hand. “They’re dangerous and not human.”
Her friend’s lips stretched into a thin smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I know. I’ll be fine.”
Shadow ran back into the alley, her footsteps echoing in the dark.
Kira felt as if her knees would cave. Then she dug out her cell and hit speed dial.
“Yeah?”
“Tagg? It’s Kira.”
“Look, no sign of the boy yet.” His voice instantly lowered. “I have my men keeping an eye out for him—”
“Just so you know, demons snatched him a few minutes ago,” she cut him off. Being half demon, he would recognize what that meant, the kind of trouble Tomas could be in.
A curse drifted along the line. “Where?”
Kira reeled off the address.
“I’ll be there.”
As the call dropped, Týr appeared and dragged her against his hard, warm body. She held on tightly, so grateful for his presence. “They’ve taken him, Týr. We’ll never find him now—”
“They didn’t go to the Dark Realm…” He ran his big palm over her back. “I located the point where they flashed with Tomas and scanned but found no signs of a portal being opened in the alley or the surrounding areas. I’ve already alerted the others that the scourges are back on the hunt. They’ll want a huge batch of kids before they haul them into the Dark Realm.”
“Or just make off with one who’s psychic. Týr—”
“No.”
“How can you say no? You didn’t even know what I was going to ask?”
“You can’t go traipsing around in alleys, Kira. I won’t be able to pay attention to my job, worrying about you. C’mon, let me take you back to work. Then, I can go find those fuckers. And don’t leave the bar. I’ll come for you if I find Tomas sooner.”
Once Kira entered the safety of the Peacock Lounge, Týr dematerialized to an alley deep in the rundown area of the Bronx. As he took form, a familiar sensation coasted over him. Elytani and Aethan approached from down the alley.
Shit, he still hadn’t done his babysitting stint with their newest Guardian yet.
The others and I will take turns keeping an eye on Ely, Aethan mind-linked with him as if sensing his thoughts. You do what you have to.
With the Empyrean witnessing his massive meltdown earlier, yeah, well, time to take back the reins and validate that he wasn’t a walking ad bordering on psychosis. Okay, except for when it came to his difficult female. She drove him a little crazy, but he wouldn’t rest until he claimed her body and soul. No, I’m good. I’ll take over now.
Aethan pulled out his vibrating cell from his pocket and smiled at the name. “Give me a minute, I’ll catch up.”
Elytani remained silent beside Týr as they walked deeper into the backstreet. Michael must have lost a few screws, signing on this female as a Guardian. Sure, she could fight. He’d trained with her. But she appeared too fragile for this cold-blooded job.
“I know that look.” Ely gave him a little smile. “I can kick effen demon ass just as well as you males.”
Týr cocked a brow. Man, even her cussing was polite. “Kick effen demon ass?”
She shrugged. “Yes. Aethan uses those types of words a lot, and a few other colorful ones when eliminating the scourges.”
&n
bsp; Snorting, Týr filled her in about Tomas and what had happened. “Underground or cordoned-off buildings are our best bet.”
Ely nodded then halted, going utterly still. “We have trouble.”
Týr frowned, instantly scanning. In these alleys, there was always the residue of sulfur. Then, the malevolent abrasion of evil prickled his skin. No, shit. Ely was right. Dammit, she’d already taken off. He needed to get his damn mind back in the game.
Týr flashed after her then slowed down. Three lumbering figures stalked two vagrants trudging to wherever they took shelter, their shoulders hunched against the cold, unaware of the danger trailing them.
About to take them out, Aethan appeared at his side. Don’t, the Empyrean mind-linked with him. Watch. He pulled Týr into the shadows of a looming building.
The demoniis turned, eyes a neon crimson. Sniffed. They came at Ely hard, guttural growls issuing from deep within their throats. Lust rolling off them.
Assholes might need new souls to survive, but their dicks worked just fine. They lunged for Ely like bullets. She hit the wall and fell, her groan abruptly cut off.
Týr moved, ready to kill the fuckers, but Aethan grabbed his arm, stopping him again. As fast as they’d jumped her, the demoniis stumbled back.
Ely pushed to her feet, sporting a red bruise on her cheek and jaw. She spun around, and with her booted foot, she slammed one in the chest, sending him reeling away. A swirl of grayish fog appeared, and a meter-long, black rod took form in Ely’s hand.
What the—? Hell, Týr had never thought to ask her what weapon she’d been gifted by the ancient goddess, Gaia. Obviously, not a sword.
Twirling the staff in a figure eight like a pro, she flipped her weapon into the air. The other, braver asshole, who probably thought her an easy target with a puny stick, drew closer and grinned. “Put away your twig, little girl.”
Ely leaped into the air, grabbed her falling weapon, and landed like a cat in a crouch on the asphalt. She sprang up as the demonii charged her. A swish sounded, her rod snaking again, and she wheeled around, knocking the demoniis in opposite directions with her spinning weapon with the blade-like ends. Guttural shrieks eroded the quiet night air as they crashed into building walls.
“Everything okay with you?” Aethan asked as they kept an eye on Ely getting more hands-on training, fighting the real deal.
“Yeah.”
“Kira?”
“We’re good.”
Týr frowned, his attention split between the fight and the feeling that they were being watched. An indiscernible shadowy shape snuck away from the wall some distance away.
“Got another one.” Týr took off, almost crashing into the homeless humans. He dove for the bastard but collided into the dumpsters instead, sending debris and filth scattering into the sludgy snow. Laughter ricocheted off the dingy walls. I’ve waited a long time for a rematch and ripping you apart.
Týr froze.
Sinister laughter echoed in the night air. Soon… The shadow disappeared.
Bile churned his stomach and tracked up his throat. Týr stood there, ensnared by a past he could never forget. Somehow, the reality had found him. His sadistic demon jailer was here…
It took the faint yells coming from far off to burn through his blackout.
An icy abrasion scoured his psyche, and the over-powering stench of sulfur drifted to him on the wintry breeze of demons fresh from the Dark Realm. Týr furiously scanned for the source. His stomach loosened, realizing from where it originated.
Near the Peacock Lounge.
“Chica, the drinks coming anytime soon, eh?”
Kira leaned against the counter and looked over at the group of noisy drunks. One of them pinched the ass of a waitress walking past before she smacked the hand away. His pals broke out in boisterous guffaws.
It was an evening like any other at the Peacock Lounge, except she couldn’t keep her mind off the fear still roiling through her. Please let Týr be all right, and Tomas still be in this world.
She took the tray Brian pushed her way and traversed to the center table. Her cell in her apron pocket rang, but with her hands full, she let the call go to voicemail. Quickly, she dispensed the drinks, wanting to see who had called—hopefully, Shadow or Týr with news.
Kira set the tray down on the table covered with peanut shells when a hand slid up her thigh.
She gritted her teeth, so fed up with this shit. Before she could slap it away, someone hauled her from the groping paw. Kira frowned at the tall, dark-haired man with pale skin and austere features. He held the handsy drunk up by his throat, the idiot’s legs flailing like a two-year-old’s.
“You don’t touch females in that way.” The stranger’s low warning rang out in the silent bar.
“Put him down, Nicor,” a familiar voice behind her snapped.
Kira glanced back. “Riley?”
“Yeah.” But his gaze remained pinned on the man called Nicor. With a shrug, Nicor dropped the drunk, and considering he was so tall, the much shorter guy fell to the floor in a heap of fear and piss. Literally.
Dusting off his palms, the stranger held out his hand, his dark eyes studying her. “I’m Nicor. His most trusted friend.”
Riley snorted.
“Thank you for the rescue.” Kira glanced at Riley. “You came for an answer, right?”
“You didn’t respond to my texts. I got worried. I thought to stop by and see if you were okay—”
“Or check that I didn’t go into hiding.” She snorted as she piled the empties onto her tray. “Give me a minute. Be right back for your order. Find a seat…” She waved a hand over the jam-packed bar. “Or not.”
Handing the tray over to a busboy, Kira inhaled deeply, set her shoulders, and made her way back to Riley to inform him of her decision. But finding him and Nicor seated at a back table, their expressions innocent, she arched a brow. “Just tell me you didn’t hurt the guys who were already here.”
“Not even a hair.” Nicor traced an X over the middle of his chest. Yeah. Right. If that was a cross, he missed it by a mile. The previous occupants had probably taken one look at their cold features, recalled what Nicor had done to the drunk, and vamoosed without a fight.
Nicor pulled out a chair near him, his severe demeanor replaced by a smile. “Take a foot off, princess.”
“It’s load. Take a load off,” Riley muttered.
Still, the decimated idiom made Kira smile. As if she had time to sit back and kick up her feet. Heck, her poor limbs would probably appreciate a break, though.
Pen poised on her pad to take their order, Kira glanced at them. “So, what will it be?”
“Finally, I get to meet you,” Nicor said, his gaze roaming her face.
“Oh, so you’re the heavyweight my father sent to convince me to visit him?” She wasn’t an idiot.
Riley cut his friend a dark look. “Ignore him. He’s bored.”
Nicor’s smile grew, apparently happy to have annoyed Riley. “I’ll have your most fiery spirit.”
“One absinthe coming right up…” She jotted the order and then looked at Riley. “I’ve thought about it. I’m not going. Tell my father I fell off the face of the Earth or that I’m dead—I don’t really care which.”
Nicor leaned back in his chair and grinned. “That’s a good one; fell off the face of the Earth. But dead?” His glee faded. “Should I ever utter those words, it probably—no, it definitely won’t end well for me, ‘cause my head—”
“Enough,” Riley cut him off. “Water for me, thanks.”
Nicor was weird. Funny, but weird. Kira left them and got a few more orders along the way back to the bar.
A few minutes later, after dispensing the drinks, she headed back to Riley, and at the men’s tense expression, it looked like they were having it out. Gah, she had no idea what their beef was. She had enough problems of her own. Kira set down their drinks. “Enjoy—”
Screams echoed from outside, startling her.
Man, not again.
Chairs scraped on the linoleum floor, some crashing down as the customers shot up and rushed outside. The bouncer finally took up his position at the door instead of standing beneath the television suspended high up, which was mostly to deter the inebriated from throwing nut shells and food at the screen when their teams lost.
Riley frowned then snapped, “Fuck, did you have to do that?”
She didn’t hear Nicor’s response, more worried about the gang fight taking place. Kira squeezed past the mass swarming for the door and sprinted outside. Please, please don’t let Shadow be caught in the middle of this ruckus.
“Kira, wait,” Riley yelled as she tried to push through the throng congregating at the mouth of the alley, but to no avail. Dammit.
“C’mon.” Nicor grasped her hand and, somehow, he managed to shove through the tight crowd. He cut across to the opposite side and headed closer toward the chaos. “Got to love the fights.”
Men.
“That’s close enough.” Riley grabbed his friend’s arm, stopping him from marching headlong into the commotion.
They were concealed in the shadows of a looming building. Kira searched through the dark, moving bodies for her friend. The stench of human waste, along with the stomach-turning odor of sulfur triggered her gag reflex.
Shit! Sulfur. Not a gang fight. Demons.
The sounds of clanging swords echoed in the night, and at a lightning flash in the darkness, her heart jumped. The Guardians were here. Screeches resounded. Bodies fell and disintegrated. A taller figure sporting warrior braids headed to the crowd, and they quietly disappeared as if he’d sent them away. Where was Týr?
He appeared from the direction of the bar a moment later, tearing toward the fight. Despite his all-black patrolling gear, he stood out in the gloom with his pale hair. He slammed to a halt seconds before he neared the horde. His head snapped in her direction as if sensing her. A demon careened into him, sending him lurching back.
Heart's Inferno (Fallen Guardians 4) Page 17
