Wicked Road to Hel (League of Guardians 1)

Declan had his chance and turned back to the door. His hand gripped the handle tightly and he pushed it open.

Inside it was dark—pitch black—as if a blanket of midnight had been thrown over everything. He quickly called forth an illumination charm and held his hand aloft, a soft glow falling from the tips of his fingers. He arced his hand slowly, watching the shadows recede and leaving bare to his eyes the old, tired wallpaper that adorned the walls. It was yellowed, a rose pattern, and brought to mind an era long gone.

A grand staircase dominated the foyer. The stairs looked worn, well used, and several of the spindles in the railing were missing.

He ran forward taking them two at a time and paused at the top to turn in a full circle. All the doors were open except the two at the front.

Good. That made things simple.

A god-awful screech ricocheted in the air outside, sliding in through the cracks of the windows, kick-starting his heart something fierce.

He moved with the stealth of a predator and opened the door on his right first. Empty.

He closed the door carefully and crossed over to the remaining room but before he could touch the handle, it was wrenched open.

“What the—”

Surprise furled his eyebrows and he felt a deflation of sorts as he realized almost immediately that this was not his target. It couldn’t be. The person in front of him was not a man at all but a teenager.

“Who the hell are you?” The kid’s tone was belligerent.

Declan sighed. A smart-ass, no less.

The boy’s dark eyes narrowed. “How did you get in?” The teenager tried to see around him. “You shouldn’t have been able to get in.” The boy took a step forward and met his gaze boldly. “If you hurt her I’ll kill you.”

The air around the teenager shimmered and Declan took a step backward, not out of fear, but surprise. He frowned.

The young man was full of magick, deep, powerful magick that was on the cusp of maturing. And yet there was something else entirely different about him. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“What are you?” His thoughts were whispered. It had been so long since he’d been truly puzzled.

The young boy smiled, tilted his head to the right. “I’m the dude who’s going to kick your ass all over the place.”

The kid’s brash arrogance and cocky attitude totally needed adjusting.

Declan squared his shoulders. As much as he’d like to solve the mystery, he just didn’t have the time.

He opened his mouth, a sarcastic retort on his tongue when the large stained-glass window behind him exploded, showering them both with shards of glass.

Declan’s first instinct was to protect and he reached for the teenager, but the young man slid past him, his movements fast and graceful.

A ghoul had managed to climb to the upper level and though it was missing an arm, its eyes burned a fierce red. It slid forward. Behind it was another. The second monster lunged forward immediately, its dark, toothless grin dripping black gunk onto the faded wood floor.

“I don’t think so, asshole!” the boy shouted, not fearing at all for his safety. He pushed forward, his intent clear, and Declan swore as he followed suit. He pulled up the power that lay in his gut, relishing the sharpness of it as he did so.

The boy leapt over the stairs like an acrobat, landing on the other side in a quick move, and Declan knew in that instant that the teenager could hold his own. His slight frame hummed with energy.

The armless ghoul rushed Declan, black crap spewing out of its stump, and he barely had a chance to move away from the acrid spray. He turned quickly and sent a blast of energy into its chest, again jumping out of the way as it imploded, spilling the stench of death into the air.

The screech that fell from its mouth faded almost immediately as it disintegrated into nothing but a mess of liquid at his feet. Shouts, snarls, and mayhem crept up from below, echoing on the breeze that now flew in through the broken window.

“Ana!” the boy shouted, and hopped the railing before Declan could react.

A chill ran along Declan’s skull and down his back. He faltered. Ana?

“What the—?” he growled. He turned and followed the boy’s lead, flying down the stairs and running hard to catch up. The little bastard had skills, he’d give him that.

Declan burst out into the cool night air, and the sight that greeted him was unreal at best—a macabre banquet of black goop and body parts strung into the trees, the shrubs, and all over the road.