by Sonia Harper
"No," she quickly clarified. "Well, at least, I don't think so," she frowned to herself, but quickly continued when she caught sight of Donovan's pained expression. "Um, I might have, well," she fumbled over the words as she tried to spit them out in logical order. "I blew up their incubator," she finally blurted out the words, heart pounding. It suddenly crossed her mind that she may have made a mistake, that blowing up those eggs might have created a bigger problem than the one they faced. Would the Council send every single guardian they had to the Manor in retribution? Had she instigated an all-out war?
"You what?" Pytho's face screwed up in confusion as silence settled over the room.
Swallowing, she hesitantly told them about how she had sabotaged the boilers on the factory floor and how half of the factory had been caught up in the explosion.
"I'm pretty sure that all of those eggs were destroyed. From what I could see in the mirror, there was a lot of damage to the building," her eyes darting from face to face, looking for some kind of reassurance that what she had done was the right thing to do.
She received none. Derion and Pytho were staring at her with wide eyes. They exchanged long glances between them as if they didn't quite believe what they had heard. Donovan's only response was to cough and groan in pain, eyes squeezing shut as his head dropped down to his chest.
Her fears were allayed as Cain's frown slowly gave way to an odd expression that she could only describe as giddy. He grinned, teeth flashing as his hand reached back and gripped the leg of the overturned dining room table. She could see that his body was starting to shake with the tiniest of tremors, and had she not seen the clarity in his eyes, she would have thought that he was about to lose control.
Gripping the leg tightly, he leaned forward in anticipation. "Tell me," he ordered, eyes bright with excitement.
She did as he asked, explaining everything in detail, from the revolting masses of growing flesh that bobbed inside their milky containers to the details of her escape and the damage to the steam boilers. As she described the state of the factory from her rear-view mirror, she noticed that they were all hanging on her every word.
Derion finally spoke after several minutes of uncomfortable silence. "You've killed," he began. "Hundreds, possibly thousands of guardians, in minutes, and without a single weapon available to you?"
Adelyn's mouth fell open as she tried to formulate an answer. "I guess," she finally offered, uncomfortable under the onslaught of intense stares from everyone in the room. Was he praising her? Rebuking her?
With the exception of Cain, who kept his gaze steadily on her, the other daemons began exchanging long, silent looks with one another. Even Donovan had lifted his head up from his chest, clammy sweat dripping off his chin, to turn and watch for Cain's reaction. She crossed her arms defensively over her chest as an uncomfortable silence settled over the group.
"It was the right thing to do, wasn't it?" She asked hesitantly. "I mean, I didn't have a choice, really. It was going to come down to kill or be killed eventually," she insisted, bewildered as to why they were acting so solemn.
When she hadn't received a response, she turned her pleading eyes to Cain, throwing her hands up in askance. He said nothing and remained relatively still amid his body tremors and stared at her with an odd expression on his face, his grin slowly fading into something else.
"I've done something wrong, haven't I?" She asked in a whisper, gripping her arms tight across her chest once more. She had created a bigger problem, hadn't she? She should have left the eggs alone and just returned to the manor. They had only asked her to dig for information, but in her foolish mind, she thought that she was capable of doing more for them, of protecting them from harm.
"I'm sorry," she finally offered to the room with a helpless shrug. "I shouldn't have done that. I've only made things worse for you-," she was cut off as Derion suddenly frowned and stared at her as if she were crazy.
"Have you lost your senses?" he asked her slowly. "Don't you dare apologise to us," he insisted firmly. "You've done today what no other daemon has been able to achieve," he continued, stepping forward slowly. "You risked your life to help us, to help our world, and you barely know who we are," he reached forward and gently uncrossed her arms, clasping her hands in his and shaking them for emphasis as he spoke.
"There are no words that can express my gratitude," he recited as if the words were a translated expression from another language. He bent his head, turned her wrists up, and kissed each one before bringing his forehead to her open palms and resting there a moment.
Confused, she watched as he raised himself back up and stepped away as Pytho came up behind him, arm still supporting Donovan. He repeated the words and the gesture, holding her two wrists together in his only available hand.
Donovan, unable to support himself, managed to reached forward limply with one hand and brought one of her arms up, kissing her wrist and barely touching her palm to his forehead before his body seemed to deplete itself of energy and his arm dropped away.
Overwhelmed with the expressions of gratitude and relieved that she made the right decision, Adelyn felt a small lump form in her throat. Pressing her lips together tightly and blinking as her eyes started to burn with an onset of tears, she reached up and pushed Donovan's silky long hair away from his face and tucked it behind his ear.
"Can you please help him now?" She asked, turning her attention to Pytho as Donovan's eyes slid shut. "I've told you everything, I promise," she added as Donovan's mouth started to open in protest.
"Yeah," Pytho nodded in agreement, concern in his eyes once more. "You're going whether you like it or not," Pytho told the man at his shoulder. "Adelyn did our job, but we still have to clean up the mess," he winked at Adelyn as he turned and half-guided, half-carried Donovan out of the room. "And you, my friend, are going to learn what the expression 'wipe the floor with your ass' means if a guardian ever finds you in this condition."
"I'll be there in a moment," Derion called out to Pytho as the other two daemons made their way out of the dining-room door. He turned to face Cain. "What now?" He asked gently. Cain's tremors hadn't escaped his notice, it seemed.
Cain shook his head as if to brush off Derion's question. His eyes burned into Adelyn, and she could see that his jaw was now clenched and his shoulders were tensing up underneath his shirt. He was still gripping the leg from the table, and she was surprised that he hadn't managed to snap it in half.
"Should we leave?" Adelyn whispered to Derion but kept her gaze locked on Cain. He looked as if he was struggling to control himself, and she was concerned that their presence was only aggravating his senses.
She could see Derion eyeing Cain out of the corner of her eye. "I think it might be best if you returned to the basemen-," Derion was quickly cut off.
"Come here," Cain ordered softly, eyes still locked on Adelyn. He pressed his lips together tightly as she turned to Derion, confused. Narrowing his eyes, Cain raised his free hand and crooked a finger at her.
Adelyn frowned as she stepped forward, approaching him with an ease that she had never experienced before. After her encounter with the guardians, Cain no longer truly scared her. At first, she had thought that Cain was just a violent daemon, and his outbursts were completely voluntary.
She had since come to appreciate the struggle that he was constantly engaged in to control his own actions. After all, he didn't have to struggle on a daily basis. He could have just let go and allowed his powers to get the best of him. But he didn't. And that meant that, deep down, he was trying to protect those around him.
He released a long, ragged breath from his nose, and Adelyn felt it brush a stray curl away from her temple. Staring at him openly, she wondered why he wanted her to stand so close to him.
His jaw clenched tightly as he quickly slid his free hand into his pants pocket. She watched the action warily, confused.
"Hold out your wrists," he finally spoke, his voice surprisingly soft and gentle desp
ite the fact that he spoke around clenched teeth.
"Why?" The question flew out of her mouth automatically as her frown deepened.
Cain inhaled sharply and the muscles in his arm spasmed. He looked furious that she had questioned his order, but she kept herself rooted to the ground and met his gaze steadily as his eyes narrowed.
He exhaled shakily and angrily bit his words out in a low rumble. "Because if I have to lift your arms right now, I might just twist them right off," he ended with a furious whisper, leaning forward for emphasis.
Adelyn's arms seemed to raise themselves up automatically. "Okay," she replied quickly. "Good reason."
Cain glared at her, then glanced down at her proffered wrists and narrowed his eyes.
"Are you sure that you won't try to bite my hands off?" She asked, raising an eyebrow at him.
She saw the tiniest quirk in the corner of his mouth, and although he could have easily denied the grin, there was no denying the teasing lilt in his voice when he bent down and pressed a warm kiss to each wrist.
“No promises,” he replied as he bumped his sweaty forehead briefly to her open palms.
Chapter Sixteen
Derion ushered Adelyn out of the dining room, guiding her easily with one hand flat against her shoulder blade. He shut the door just as a loud crack echoed in the room. Cain must have finally snapped the table leg off. There wasn't an accompanying shout, which was a good sign. That meant that Cain was just preemptively blowing off some steam as opposed to being in the throes of an uncontrollable meltdown.
Guiding Adelyn quickly down the hallway toward his office, Derion glanced down and saw that she was carefully rubbing one of her wrists with a thumb. A small frown deepened across her forehead.
Derion had been surprised when Cain decided to join the others and bestow gratitude on Adelyn. He'd never seen Cain bestow gratitude on anybody before, so when he heard Cain order Adelyn to hold her wrists out, Derion couldn't help but stare.
When Cain had bent down to kiss her wrists, Derion's view had been blocked by Cain's body. When Adelyn had jumped suddenly and glanced down wide-eyed at her wrists, Derion had almost leapt forward to drag her away from Cain. The lack of blood on her wrists stilled his body, though, and Derion had watched quietly as Cain completed the gesture, hurriedly bumping his forehead against her open palms and straightening back up to his full height.
What Cain did next was no surprise. He ordered Derion to immediately return to his office to heal Donovan and to examine the healing serums that Adelyn had managed to steal. He also ordered Pytho to stand as surveillance, a task which would have normally fallen to Gideon.
"I want to know the minute those fuckers step foot within five miles of here," Cain had snarled as Derion gestured for Adelyn to quickly join him at a safe distance away from Cain. Derion had seen that the shaking in Cain's body had returned and knew it was best to remove her from the situation.
Derion held the box of syringes closer to his chest. As much as he wanted to examine the box's contents right away, healing Donovan was a priority if an attack was imminent. Adelyn had mentioned that Erik wouldn't allow the guardians to be seen during daylight hours for fear of discovery.
However, Derion thought as he glanced down at the woman by his side, depending on how badly he would want revenge for what Adelyn had done...
Derion's cheek flexed as he clamped his jaw shut. Yes, Donovan was a priority. The serums would have to wait, he resolved with a pang of disappointment. He had been itching to examine the serum as soon as Adelyn had explained what it was. All kinds of discoveries and possibilities floated around inside his head. What was in the serum? How did it work? Could he counter the serum with a concoction of his own? Could it be altered to work on daemons? Were the effects temporary or permanent?
A thrill of excitement ran down his spine. He only hoped that he would have enough time to work with the serum after he healed Donovan.
Just as Derion and Adelyn were about to turn into Derion's office, Gregory suddenly appeared in the hallway from his small room down the hall. He approached them quickly, waving a hand in the air to halt their progress. Derion stopped just inside the doorway to his office and turned to face him, impeding Adelyn's access as well.
Gregory looked nervous as hell and paler than usual, Derion noted. It was the first time Derion had ever seen any sort of fear on Gregory's face, and it unnerved him.
"What if they arrive before sundown?" Gregory asked hurriedly, his hands alternating between nervously smoothing his shirt against his chest and tugging on his long sleeves. "Without Gideon-," Gregory began.
"We'll have to manage as best as we can until sundown," Derion replied firmly, extending a hand and clapping Gregory firmly on the shoulder. He gently shook Gregory's shoulder to try and shake some of the nervous energy out of the man. "Don't worry about it; it's not your fault," he reassured Gregory.
"Gideon is the daemon tied to you?" Adelyn asked, and Derion could see that her eyes were widened in surprise.
Gregory's mouth opened, but he couldn't seem to process a response. Instead, he shook his head in frustration and turned back to Derion. "Isn't there anything you can try?" He pleaded, shaking off Derion's grasp on his shoulder.
Derion knew what Gregory was implying, and he responded with a sharp glare.
"Derion, I may be able to hold my own against one of these monsters, but it sounds as if there may be an army on its way," Gregory warned. "Without Gideon, you're all at a disadvantage. You must have inherited your mother's gift. This was her curse," he insisted, gesturing to his body as if the curse was visible upon it. "Surely there's something you can do to alter it, if only for a few hours."
The thought of his mother and her magic made Derion's blood run cold. "My mother's magic got her killed," he reminded Gregory as he unconsciously gripped the cardboard box tighter in his grasp. "Her 'gift', as you people refer to it, was what put her, and myself, in danger every single day," his voice was calm and even despite the tumultuous emotions that raged underneath. "Her magic was envied and coveted by nearly every other daemon in the court. Her powers were so well-known that she was forced to hide inside the palace. She wasn't even allowed to leave her room for fear that someone else would discover her and remove her from our ruler's grasp. I," he emphasized, "was barely allowed to leave the room for fear that I would be taken away and used as an incentive to force my mother to comply. Her powers didn't just make her a target, they made everyone around her a target, and they eventually got her killed."
Derion leaned in closer to Gregory, his voice so low that it sounded like a fierce whisper. "So what makes you think I want to even try to follow in her footsteps?"
Gregory met Derion's glare steadily, his nervous energy forgotten as his hands fell from his shirt down to his sides. "She must have bestowed her gift on you for a reason."
Derion shook his head, annoyed. He didn't want to discuss the matter any further. He knew that his mother had transferred her powers to him in the few precious seconds before her life was taken away. He remembered sitting next to her bloody and broken body, crying and begging her to get up off of the floor. Her glowing silver eyes had caught his gaze, and she had weakly lifted one hand to his chest.
Rubbing his hand over his chest instinctively, Derion pushed aside the memory of the warm energy transfer that had taken place.
No, he thought. There was no reason why she had given him her powers. Gregory was wrong. Had anybody else been with her in her final moments, she would have bestowed her powers on them. It was simply a selfish desire to keep her beloved magic alive and nothing more.
Adelyn's voice shook him out of his memories. "Without Gideon, do we stand a chance of surviving another attack?"
Derion glanced down at her and shrugged numbly, but he knew the answer. Gideon was a self-taught warrior, but there was no denying the fact that he had the strength of two grown daemons. Without him, and without Donovan...
Derion shook his head and swif
tly entered his office. Pytho had settled Donovan on one of his surgical tables. Approaching the other daemon, he carefully placed the box of syringes on his desk as he passed it.
"How are you feeling?" Derion asked Donovan, his eyes brushing over the blood-soaked bandages and clammy skin. He quickly set to work on removing the bandage to replace it.
"Taking all my energy," Donovan exhaled, his eyes closed in concentration.
Daemons didn't have their own healing serum, but they did have the ability to sacrifice some of their energy to shorten healing times. Derion knew that Donovan was trying his best to heal as quickly as possible.
"Don't do too much or it will leave you weak and useless," Derion warned, cleaning around Donovan's exposed wound. The guardian had cut Donovan deep by dragging its claws through his abdomen over and over again. A cut here and there wouldn't be enough to slow any of them down, but Donovan's injury was far worse. Without diverting any energy, Donovan would have needed several days to recover.
"Derion," Adelyn's hesitant voice reached his ears, and Derion turned his head just as she and Gregory stepped into the room.
Derion sighed, then began to gently spread some ointment on a few shallow cuts near the large gash on Donovan's abdomen.
"Without Gideon," Adelyn tried again, trailing off.
Derion saw Donovan's frown as he leaned over to collect fresh bandages off of a shelf.
"What?" Donovan breathed, the rest of his question dangling in the air.
"Nothing," Derion muttered quietly so that only Donovan would be able to hear. "Gregory wants me to try to bring Gideon out early," he carefully measured the length of the bandage and snipped away the extra gauze with some scissors.
"And?"
Derion frowned at Donovan and carefully placed his scissors back on the shelf. The other daemon had cracked his eyes open and stared at him weakly underneath heavy lids.
"And what?" Derion repeated, placing the bandage over Donovan's wound. "Am I just supposed to wave my hands over Gregory? Will that work? I've never had the slightest interest in using my mother's powers, and you know that." He glanced up and caught Donovan's slight nod. "Even if I wanted to try, I haven't the first clue how to start."
