Storm and Fury

by Armentrout, Jennifer L.

  Clay lowered his hand and I could see dark blood running down his face. “You didn’t put me through a—”

  “You obviously don’t get it,” Misha growled. “I did knock you through a window, and I’ll do worse next time. Understand me?”

  “Yeah.” Clay wiped his hand along his mouth. “I understand.”

  “Then get the Hell out of my face.”

  Clay bolted back inside and slammed the door behind him.

  “You need to get back to the house.” Misha’s voice was gruff as he took my hand and led me through the yard, into the shadows.

  I let him lead the way, because once we were outside the lights, I couldn’t see crap.

  “Thierry needs to know about this,” I said once we hit the sidewalk that led all the way back to the main house.

  “Oh, Hell, yeah, I’m telling Thierry. He needs to know and something more than an epic beatdown needs to be handed to Clay.”

  “Agreed.” A huge part of me wanted to go back and kick Clay through another window, but I’d let Thierry handle it from here even though that was going to lead to a very embarrassing conversation with the man who was like a second father to me.

  But Thierry was the one in the position to do more. He was the boss here, and not just a clan leader but a Duke, overseeing all the other clans and the many outposts in the Mid-Atlantic and Ohio Valley. He was ultimately responsible for training all the new warriors and ensuring that the community remained safe and relatively hidden.

  He could make sure that Clay learned to never, ever do that again.

  Misha stopped once we were far enough from Clay’s house. “We need to talk.”

  I sighed. “I really don’t want to be lectured right now. I know you mean well, but—”

  “How did you knock him out of a window?” he asked, cutting me off.

  A frown pulled at my lips as I stared up at Misha’s shadowy face. “I pushed him and then I... Well, I kicked him.”

  Letting go of my hand, he placed his own on my shoulders. “How did you manage to kick him out the window, Trin?”

  “Well, you see, I lifted my leg, like I’ve been trained—”

  “That’s not what I meant, you little smart-ass.” Misha cut me off. “You’re getting stronger. Way stronger.”

  A shiver curled down my spine and danced over my skin. I was getting stronger, but I imagined that with each passing year, that would continue to happen for the both of us until...

  Until what?

  For some reason I’d always thought that when I turned eighteen, something would change, but my birthday passed over a month ago, and we were still here, secreted away and well hidden, just waiting for the time when I was summoned by my father to fight.

  I wasn’t living.

  Neither was Misha.

  The all-too-familiar feeling of discontent started to settle over me like a too-heavy blanket, but I pushed it aside.

  Now wasn’t the time to think about any of that, because the truth was, I’d been getting stronger for a while now. Faster, too, but I’d been able to hold back when I trained with Misha.

  I’d just lost my cool tonight.

  Could’ve been way worse, though.

  “I didn’t mean to kick him through a window exactly, but I’m glad I did,” I said, lowering my gaze to the dark sweater I wore. “He did seem...freaked out by how strong I was.”

  “Of course he did, Trin, because nearly everyone here thinks you’re just a human.”

  But I wasn’t.

  I wasn’t part-Warden, either, and they were like real-life superheroes, hunting down the bad guys, if superheroes were, well, gargoyles.

  Until a little over ten years ago, the beastly looking statues perched on churches and buildings throughout the world were seen only as architectural wonders, but then they went public, exposing to the world that many of those statues were actually living, breathing creatures.

  After an initial period of shock, people realized Wardens were just another species, and they accepted them. Well, most humans did. There were fanatics like the Church of God’s Children who believed Wardens were a sign of the end times or something lame, but most people were okay with Wardens, and while the Wardens did sometimes help law enforcement if they happened upon a human committing crimes, Wardens were mostly gunning for bigger baddies.

  Demons.

  The general public had no idea demons were real or what they looked like or how many different species there actually were. Hell, they had no idea that many demons blended in among them so well that some of them had even been voted into government positions of great power and influence.

  The majority of people believed demons were creatures of biblical myth, because some kind of heavenly rule demanded that mankind was to stay in the dark when it came to demons, centering around the incontrovertible idea of blind faith.

  Man must believe in God and Heaven and their faith must come from a pure place and not from fear of celestial consequence. If man was ever to find out Hell truly existed, things would go south fast for everyone, including the Wardens.

  It was up to the Wardens to dispatch the demons and keep mankind in the dark so that people could live and thrive with their free will and all that jazz.

  At least, that was what we’ve been told, what we believed.

  When I was younger, I didn’t understand it. Like, if mankind knew that demons were real, they could protect themselves. If they knew that, say, killing one another actually did mean they’d get a one-way ticket with no refunds to Hell, they might act right, but those actions might not be of their own free will. Thierry had explained it to me once.

  Humankind must always be in the position of exercising free will without fear of consequence.

  But the Wardens of the Potomac Highlands, the ancestral seat of power for the Mid-Atlantic and Ohio Valley clans, where the warriors were trained to protect the human cities and fight the ever-increasing population of demons, had a purpose that extended beyond training the warriors.

  They were hiding me.

  Most who lived in the community didn’t know that, including Clay and his stupid, floppy hair. He didn’t even know I could see ghosts and spirits, and yes, there was a world of difference between the two. I could count on one hand how many knew the truth. Misha. Thierry and his husband, Matthew. Jada. That was all.

  And that would never change.

  Most Wardens believed I was just an orphaned human that Thierry and Matthew had felt sorry for, but I was far from being just a human.

  The part of me that was human came from my mother. Every time I looked in the mirror, I saw her staring back at me. I got my dark hair and brown eyes from her, as well as the olive skin tone courteous of her Sicilian roots. I also had her face. Big eyes. Maybe a little too big, because I could make myself look bugged out without much effort. I had her high cheekbones and small nose that curved slightly to one side at the end. I also had her wide, often expressive mouth.

  That wasn’t the only thing that came from my mother’s side. I also had her crap family genetics.

  My nonhuman side... Well, I didn’t look like my father.

  At all.

  “A human can’t punch or kick a Warden around, not even an inch,” Misha said, pointing out the obvious. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t have done what you did, but you need to be careful, Trin.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you?” he asked quietly.

  My breath caught as I closed my eyes. I did know. God, did I ever. Clay had deserved what I did and more, but I needed to be careful.

  And while Thierry needed to know what had gone down with Clay, because if he behaved that way with me, it was unlikely I would be the only one, Thierry already had a lot on his plate.

  Ever since the leader of the Warden clan in DC died back in January, things had been
tense here. There’d been a lot of closed-door meetings, more so than normal, and I had overheard—well, eavesdropped on—Thierry talking about escalating attacks and not just on outposts but on communities nearly as large as ours, which was rare.

  Just a couple of weeks ago, demons had come close to our walls. That night...

  That night had been bad.

  “Do you think Clay will say anything?” I asked.

  “If he has two working brain cells to rub together, he won’t.” Misha curled an arm around my shoulders and tugged me forward. I face-planted against his chest. “He’s probably too scared to say anything.”

  “Of me,” I said, and grinned.

  Misha didn’t laugh like I thought he would. Instead, I felt his chin rest atop my head. A long moment passed. “Most of the Wardens here have no idea what they’re hiding. They cannot know what you are.” He said what I knew, what I’ve always known. “They can never know.”

  * * *

  Jerking awake with a gasp, I sat straight up in bed. There were demons outside the compound walls.

  There were no sirens warning the residents to seek shelter, which was what happened when demons neared the wall. The estate was as silent as a tomb, but I knew there were demons nearby. Some kind of internal demon radar system was telling me this.

  The soft, luminous glow of the stars plastered to my ceiling faded as I turned the bedside lamp on and rose swiftly from the bed.

  I quickly pulled on a pair of black sweats and a tank top, because going out and investigating while in undies that had the words Hump Day plastered across the ass wasn’t exactly the best of ideas.

  Going out there at all would probably be considered a bad idea, but I wasn’t giving myself time to think about that.

  I toed on my running sneakers as I snatched the iron daggers from my dresser, an eighteenth birthday present from Jada, and quietly stepped out into the brightly lit hallway. All the lights in the house were left on for me, just in case I got the munchies in the middle of the night. No one wanted me to trip due to lack of depth perception, breaking my neck falling down the steps, so the mansion was like a freaking lighthouse.

  I couldn’t even begin to fathom what the electricity bill was like.

  The cool metal of the daggers warmed against my palm as I deftly made my way from the third to the main floor, hurrying before anyone, namely my ever-present shadow, discovered I was up and about.

  Misha would flip if he caught me, especially after everything that had just gone down with Clay the night before.

  So would Thierry.

  But this was the second time in a month that demons had gotten close to the walls, and last time I’d done what was expected of me. I’d stayed safely ensconced in the fortresslike walls of Thierry’s home, guarded not only by Misha but by an entire clan of Wardens who were willing to lay down their lives for me even if they didn’t know that was what they were doing.

  Two had died that night, disemboweled by the razor-sharp claws of an Upper Level demon. Ripped apart in such a terrible way there was barely anything left of them to bury, let alone to show their loved ones.

  That wasn’t going to happen again.

  Doing what I was told, doing what was expected of me, almost always ended up in someone else paying the price for my inaction.

  For my safety.

  Even my mother.

  I slipped out the back door and into the cool mountain air of early June, then took off in a jog toward the left branch of the wall, the section I knew wouldn’t be monitored as heavily as the front. The faint glow of city lamps and solar lights faded, pitching the cleared grounds into utter darkness. My eyes didn’t adjust. They never would at night, but I knew this path like the back of my hand, having explored nearly every inch of the several mile long and wide community over the years. I didn’t need my crap eyes to guide me through the thick cropping of trees as I picked up my pace. The wind lifted strands of long dark hair from my face. As I cleared the last of the ancient elms, I knew exactly how many feet existed between me and the wall even though I couldn’t see it in the darkness.

  Fifty.

  The wall itself stood at a tremendous size, the height equivalent to a six-story building. The first time I’d tried to jump it, I ended up smacking into the side of it like a bug into a windshield.

  That had hurt.

  Actually, it had taken a couple dozen tries before I cleared the wall, and at least double that before I could do it successfully multiple times.

  I dug in as a burst of power and strength exploded through me. Arms pumping, I shifted the daggers into one hand as I reached twenty feet out from the wall and then I jumped.

  It was like flying.

  The rush of air, the weightlessness and nothing but darkness and faint twinkling lights in the sky. For a few precious seconds, I was free.

  And then I slammed into the wall, near the top. Smacking my hand down on the smooth cement of the top, I caught myself with my free hand before I fell. Muscles in my arm screamed as I hung there for a precarious few seconds and then I curled, swinging myself up onto the top.

  Breathing heavy, I shook out the burning in my left arm and then palmed the daggers in both hands as I strained to hear anything in the darkness, a sign of where the action was going down.

  There.

  My head cocked to the right. I heard the sound of low male voices near the entrance. Wardens. Even though their heightened senses would alert them to the presence of demons, they were unaware. My senses were just more keen, and I knew it would be only a matter of minutes before the Wardens became aware of the demons.

  I had a choice.

  Sound the alarm and send the Wardens into the hilly forest surrounding the community. There was a good chance some would get hurt, maybe even die, but that was what Thierry would demand of me, what Misha was destined to ensure.

  That was what I’d done, time and time before, in different situations, and all them had ended the same way.

  Me without a scratch and someone else dead.

  Or I could change that outcome, take care of the demons before the demons even knew what they were dealing with.

  My mind had already been made up when I’d left the house.

  Jumping from the wall to the ground would result in a broken bone or two for me, and since prior experience had proved that, I carefully worked my way along the narrow ledge to the place where I knew a nearby tree stretched toward the wall even though I couldn’t see it. I stopped twenty feet to my left, took a deep breath, said a little prayer and then crouched. Leg muscles tensed. My hands gripped the daggers.

  One. Two. Three.

  I jumped into the void, lifting the daggers high as I brought my knees up to my stomach. I felt the first whisper-soft brush of leaves, kicked my legs out and then I slammed the daggers down. The wickedly sharp ends dug into the bark, clawing deep as I slid down the tree, stopping when my feet touched a thick branch.

  Exhaling heavily, I pulled the daggers free and then knelt, using my hands to guide my way. I closed my eyes and let instinct take over. Slipping from the branch, I landed in a crouch, silent as I remained there for a heartbeat before rising. I took off toward my left, heading deeper into the forest, letting the increasing pressure along the back of my neck guide my way. About a hundred feet later, I stopped in a clearing cut by a narrow creek and dimly lit by silvery moonlight. The scent of rich soil filled me as I looked around. My heart rate kicked up as the feeling of heavy oppressiveness settled on my shoulders.

  Fingers relaxing and tightening around the handle of the daggers, I scanned the shadows crowding the trees. They seemed to pulse as I squinted, and impulse demanded that I charge forward, but I knew not to trust what my eyes were telling me. I stood perfectly still, waiting—

  Crack.

  A twig snapped behind me. Spinning around, I swung the dagger i
n a high, sweeping arc.

  “Jesus,” a voice grunted, and then a hard, warm hand circled my wrist. “You nearly took my head off, Trin.”

  Misha.

  I squinted, unable to make out his face in the darkness. “What are you doing out here?”

  “Did you seriously just ask that question?” He held on to my arm as the air stirred around us. Misha leaned down, and all I could make out was the vibrant, bright blue eyes of a Warden. “What are you doing outside the walls in the middle of the night with your daggers?”

  No point in lying now. “There are demons here.”

  “What? I don’t sense any demons.”

  “That doesn’t mean they’re not here. I can feel them,” I told him, tugging on my arm. He let go. “They’re close even if you can’t feel them yet.”

  Misha was quiet for a moment. “That’s even more reason why you should be anywhere but out here.” Anger threaded his voice. “You know better than this, Trinity.”

  Irritation prickled over my skin as I turned away from Misha to stare rather pointlessly into the shadows as if I could magically get my eyes to work better for me. “I’m tired of knowing better, Misha. Knowing better gets people killed.”

  “Knowing better keeps you alive, and that is all that matters.”

  “That’s so wrong. That can’t be the only thing that matters.” I almost stomped my foot, but somehow managed to stand still. “And you know that I can fight. I can fight better than any of you.”

  “Try not to be too overconfident, Trin,” he replied, tone as dry as the desert.

  I ignored that. “Something is going on, Misha. This is the second time in a month that demons have gotten close to the wall. In the last six months, how many communities have been attacked? I stopped counting when it hit double digits, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that each community that’s been attacked has been closer and closer to this one, and each time they’d managed to breach the walls in the other communities, it’s clear they’re looking for something. They’re doing sweeps.”

  “How do you know that? Have you’ve been eavesdropping on Thierry again?”