King of the Damned (League of Guardians 2)

d happened. She was none of those things.

“We need to go, Marie-Noelle. He’s coming for you, and I won’t let him win.”

For several seconds there was nothing. No noise. No air. No color. No sound. Just the four of them staring at each other.

Marie-Noelle nodded. “I know,” she whispered. “I feel him. But why? He refused me . . .” Pain tightened the woman’s mouth, and she lowered her eyes. “It’s you he wants. Why have you put yourself in his path?” Marie-Noelle’s brows furled, and she took a step toward Rowan. “Why would you risk capture for me?”

Rowan held her mother’s gaze steady. “This has nothing to do with you, Mother.” She ignored the wince and flash of pain that crossed her mother’s face. “For once.”

Mikhail growled a warning, and Rowan turned to him. “You’d best keep it under your hat, Mister. I’m calling the shots.” The temper that simmered beneath the surface flushed her cheeks, and her chest burned with nervous energy.

Azaiel butted in and turned to the gargoyle. “You are a watcher?”

The tall creature moved toward Marie-Noelle, his stance protective as he glared at Azaiel and Rowan. He nodded. “She’s my ward, yes.” He then motioned toward Rowan. “Is this her daughter?”

“I am,” Rowan answered defiantly. “And I’m right here, so don’t talk as if I’m not.” Rowan held her hands up and threw a burst of energy toward the gargoyle. He deftly avoided it, but the stone wall behind him wasn’t so lucky. Large slabs of gray rock crumbled to the ground.

“Holy Mother of . . .” Azaiel turned eyes as black as oil on her. “We’ve no time for childish games.”

Rowan’s temper fizzled and left in a rush. He was right. She glanced at her mother, feeling utterly defeated and not knowing why. “Let’s go.

The woman eyed her for a moment, then whispered, “I’m not leaving without Mikhail.”

Rowan arched a brow at that and shrugged. “Fine by me, but I suggest you keep your little pet on a leash, or, next time, I won’t miss.” She tilted her chin. “And it won’t be his butt-ugly head or shoulders I’ll be aiming for . . .” She nodded to the impressive package between the gargoyle’s legs. “I’ll hurt him where it matters most to the both of you.”

Mikhail took a step toward her and growled.

Here doggie. She wanted him to come at her. She wanted to hurt him.

Marie-Noelle’s eyes widened at the insult—for just a moment—and then she nodded but remained silent.

A tumble of emotion ran riot inside Rowan, and her chest felt as if it were going to burst with the heaviness of it all. She pushed past Azaiel, not really trusting herself with words or actions at the moment.

She felt no different than she had as a child. Confused. Ashamed. Scared.

And how sad was that. Rowan James. Self-appointed executioner of the demon lord Mallick. All twisted up over her crazy mother.

Except her mother didn’t seem crazy at all.

And maybe that was the scariest thing of all.

Chapter 16

Dawn was breaking by the time they neared the outskirts of Salem. Rowan sighed and rested her forehead against the cool glass of the window as they drove down the mostly quiet, mostly deserted streets. The odd group of partiers were still out, weaving along empty sidewalks, their loud, animated conversations echoing into the silence. With Samhain two weeks away, the town was overflowing with tourists.

Halloween decorations blew in the wind, hung from various businesses that lined the streets—witches on broomsticks, bats, skeletons, and vampires. Cobwebs hung from doorframes—eerie wisps of smoke gray silk, while bales of straw and pumpkins were everywhere.

It was a beautiful fall scene straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting—and one that was false. If only the regular folk knew most of what they fantasized about was all wrong—that the monsters, the vampires, and the demons who populated their highly rated television shows and movies really did exist.

And they sure as hell didn’t glitter.

The human population wouldn’t romanticize these creatures if they really knew what hid in the shadows. They’d freaking pack their things and flee.

She settled into her seat as best she could and watched closely as they drove through town. There was nothing dark lurking amongst the shadows that she could see. Seemed as if the filth of the underworld had retired early this night.

Whatever the reason Rowan was grateful. She wasn’t in the mood to bash demon heads. She was bone tired, and a nasty headache had fingered its way up her cranium, squeezing hard until it hurt even to blink her eyes.

Bed was looking pretty good right about now. She glanced at Azaiel, startled to find his golden eyes fixed on her. Immediately her cheeks stung red, and she gulped air, embarrassed at her reaction.