King of the Damned (League of Guardians 2)

He nodded. Good. She was going to need all the spunk she could handle in order to make it through the next few hours.

“Something’s not right.” Nico stared into the darkness ahead, and they gasped as the mist evaporated, and the craggy shoreline of the asylum island came into view. Huge swells of water rushed against the rock, spilling massive fists of foamy water into the air, threatening to crush anything that came close.

But it wasn’t the near-impossible landing that grabbed everyone’s attention.

“Holy fuck.” Hannah’s tortured whisper pretty much said it all.

A lighthouse perched overtop the edge of the island was in darkness, its shape only discernible because behind it, all the buildings that made up the asylum were in flames.

Like the turning of a page, reality bled through the charms that hid the island from human view. Chaos reigned, and shouts of pain and anger colored the night sky.

“Hurry,” Azaiel barked. He glanced at Priest. “Is he here?” And cursed his need to ask. As Seraphim, he should know if the demon lord Mallick was close. He hated that he’d been blinded in this way . . . that he could sense something dark but had no clue what it was.

“No,” Rowan answered bitterly. “He’s still hiding, but it’s obvious he knows my mother is here.”

Priest’s terse nod confirmed her answer, and he breathed a bit easier. If the demon lord had decided to come on this raid personally, that would open up the whole can of worms regarding Rowan’s need to live. Or die.

Azaiel wasn’t ready to deal with that just yet.

“We need to get to her before they do,” Rowan said quietly. He nodded and turned.

We will.

Scar guided his boat around the top end of the island and brought them in alongside several boats already moored in place at a large, rickety dock. Frank and Priest jumped onto the platform and tied up the boat while Rowan, Azaiel, Hannah, and Nico followed them onto the dock.

“Well, now, at least we can thank these dumb bastards for one thing.” Frank adjusted his rifle and waved his Glock toward the asylum.

“What’s that?” Priest asked, his eyes trained on the chaos before them.

“They pretty much took care of security. There’s no one here.”

Rowan exhaled. “We stick to the same game plan and use the craziness up there to our advantage. As soon as we locate my mother, signal the rest of the teams and fall back. Hannah and Nico take the left side, Priest and Frank the right. Azaiel and I will take the center.” She glanced at each and every one of them, and it struck Azaiel how easy it was for the woman to take command and be a leader. “Remember, we’re cloaked under a powerful invisibility charm, but I have no idea how long it will last. We need to make this quick.”

Azaiel nodded. “We all set?” he asked. The jaguar was still, his eyes narrowed as he studied the terrain before them.

“Nico?”

“Sure.” Nico smiled harshly. “Hundreds of crazy-ass otherworlders on the loose, a pack of who the hell knows what waiting for us . . . we’re outgunned and outnumbered . . .” The shifter grinned, his eyes lit with an unholy fire. “What the hell are we waiting for?” Nico pushed Hannah forward. “Let’s go.”

The two of them disappeared from sight as they scrambled up the steep steps that led to the top of the island. Frank and Priest followed suit. Azaiel looked down into Rowan’s tense features. He knew how hard this was for her. It wasn’t just

another mission to run. This wasn’t just another target to retrieve. It was her mother.

“Ready?” he asked softly.

Rowan nodded, eye focused on the steps. “More than ready, but the question is”—she arched a brow and smiled, a bit of crazy lighting her features—“are you?” Rowan took off at a run, leaving him to follow in her tracks as she followed the others. Once they cleared the steps that led from the shoreline up the cliff, he was greeted by a sight that was sobering to say the least. It looked as if the entire world was on fire.

Bodies littered the immediate area—some demon, but most were guards. Nico was right. The outer security detail had been decimated.

Cries of anguish ripped through the night, followed by screams of pain and bellows of rage. “Hurry!” Rowan shouted, and she was off running full tilt for the largest building in the center of everything. Its shell consisted of large slabs of slate stone, but the roof was awash with flame, and through the windows, more of the same was visible, with the added bonus of billowing black clouds of smoke.

Azaiel followed on Rowan’s heels, his large sword unsheathed and held in his right hand, while a deadly modified Glock in his left pointed ahead. The bullets were freshly charmed and would rip apart anything—human or otherwise.

They zipped past an intense battle between a pack of blood demons—the aggressive creatures seemed to be Mallick’s demon of choice—and a security detail of mixed otherworld creatures, including magicks, vampires, and a couple of gargoyles. The blood demons were ferocious creatures, and he understood why Mallick cultivated their loyalty. Death was the only thing that stopped the damn things.

The large door to the building was open, barely hanging from its hinges, and thick smoke continued to erupt from inside. Rowan dove in without pause, Azaiel inches behind.

Fear was as thick as the smoke that clogged his throat, and Azaiel stared into eyes half-crazed from the weight of it. A female werewolf, howling in pain because her body was caught in half shift—her bottom half lupine while the top still human—stumbled past him and disappeared into the chaos outside.