King of the Damned (League of Guardians 2)

“Jesus, Kellen. What the he

ll happened to you down there?”

He winced and shifted again, then slid onto the edge of the bed. “What didn’t happen?” He ran his free hand through the tangled hair on top of his head and hissed as he settled onto the mattress. “That place is . . .” His eyes met Priest’s.

“I know.” The Knight Templar nodded.

Rowan’s chest tightened, and her hand reached for him—her brother, this man she’d lost. She wanted him to hug her, to pull her close to his chest and tell her that everything was going to be all right.

“Kellen,” she whispered, voice heavy with emotion.

She wanted his forgiveness.

Her brother’s blue eyes—so much like her own—stared up at her, and there was an understanding in their depths she’d not seen before.

“It’s okay, Rowan. I know.” He held out his free hand, and she grasped it tight within her own. His pupils widened, and for the first time she was aware of an answering surge of energy. A bolt of power she’d never felt before.

Carefully he disengaged his hand and glanced toward Priest. “I’ve never seen anything like him before. It was incredible.”

“Who?” Rowan looked from Priest to Kellen.

“The Seraphim,” Priest answered.

“Azaiel?” She arched a brow at her brother.

Kellen nodded. “I’d just lifted the grimoire from its case and the walls . . .” He closed his eyes and rubbed the skin at his temple. “The walls liquefied. I can’t explain it any other way. They melted into nothing but smoke or mist. And then the smoke solidified into these things . . . these massive eight-foot-tall monsters with arms like sledgehammers. Their faces were rotting with maggots and flesh that . . . I’ve never seen anything like them before, and the smell . . .” Kellen’s eyes flew open. “I would have died down there. Several times . . . if not for Azaiel.”

Rowan didn’t know what to say. She knew her brother prided himself on being strong and smart and fierce. So to admit that someone he didn’t care all that much for had saved his life told her that whatever the heck had gone down in District One must have been pretty bad.

“He was relentless, and I owe him my life.” Respect echoed in her brother’s words, and a lump formed in the back of her throat. She had to work hard to clear it.

“How did you . . . what happened?”

Kellen exhaled. “What didn’t happen. We were outnumbered and outgunned, but somehow we made it out of the treasury, and that’s when the real fun started. The place was alive, crawling with spiders the size of cars and these beast things, these hellhounds.” He shook his head, his eyes glazing with the memory. “I thought my ass was toast. By the time we made it back to the portal I was dizzy from blood loss, and Azaiel, he tossed my butt inside and went back into that mess.”

“What?” Rowan glanced toward Priest. “Why would he do that?”

Kellen frowned. “There was a woman who helped us, Toniella.”

“The betrayer,” Priest murmured.

Kellen nodded. “She was in trouble, and he went back for her—which kinda surprised me because I got the impression he didn’t much care for her.”

“That would be an understatement,” Priest acknowledged.

Rowan felt something unfamiliar clutch at her heart. Who the hell was this woman?

“I honestly thought he was done. Before the portal sucked me the hell out of there, I saw him and Toniella pinned against a wall by a pack of hellhounds and those fucking maggot shitheads. I have no idea how he made it out of there.”

Rowan’s chest beat hard as she stared at her brother. “What about that . . . woman?”

Kellen shrugged. “Azaiel didn’t say much other than she’s alive, but then he also said that nothing ever dies down there.” Her brother smiled then, a tremulous smile. “The grimoire is incredible, Ro. As soon as I touched it I knew it belonged to us. To me. I heard it whisper.” He shook his head and glanced toward Priest. “I don’t know how else to explain it.”

“What did it whisper?” Priest asked quietly.

Kellen paused, and when his eyes settled on Rowan goose bumps erupted across her flesh. “I heard it say . . . retribution.”

Rowan turned, but Priest was already there, the grimoire held out. His dark eyes were intent and for a second she hesitated and she wasn’t even sure why. “It’s yours, Rowan. Your legacy . . . your power.” He glanced behind her to Kellen. “Your retribution.”