“How do you know that? Have you’ve been eavesdropping on Thierry again?”
I flashed a quick grin. “It doesn’t matter how I know. Something is going down, Misha. You know that. Demons may go after the smaller compounds in the cities, but they aren’t stupid enough to try to raid a place like this—like they did to some of the other communities.”
He was quiet for a moment. “You think...they know about you? That they’re looking for you?” he asked, and a fine shiver curled its way down my spine. “That’s impossible. There’s no way they know you exist.”
Unease festered in the pit of my stomach. “Nothing is impossible,” I reminded him. “I’m living proof of that.”
“And yet again, if what you suspect is true, the last place you should be is out here.”
I rolled my eyes.
“I saw that,” he snapped.
“That’s impossible.” I looked over my shoulder, in the general vicinity of where he was standing. “You’re standing behind me.”
“Thought you just said nothing is impossible?”
“Whatever,” I muttered.
Misha’s sigh could’ve rattled the trees around us. “If your father knew you were out here...”
I snorted, like a little piglet. “As if he’s remotely paying attention to me.”
“You don’t know that he isn’t,” Misha replied. “He could be watching us right now. Hell, he could’ve been watching you with Clay last night—”
“Ew, come on. Don’t say that.”
“I’m just...” He trailed off.
Misha felt it then.
I knew this because he cursed under his breath and the pressure on the nape of my neck gave way to a series of sharp tingles that spread to the space between my shoulder blades.
The demons were here.
“If I tell you to get back to the wall, will you listen?” Misha asked as he stepped into the moonlight. The silvery glow glanced off slate-gray skin and large wings. Two horns curled back from his skull, parting auburn curls.
I snickered. “What do you think?”
Misha sighed. “Don’t get yourself killed, because I’d like to keep living.”
“More like don’t get yourself killed,” I snapped back, scanning the ever-increasing shadows. “Because I really don’t want to end up bonded to some stranger.”
“Yeah, that would totally suck for you,” he muttered, his shoulders straightening as his stance widened. “Meanwhile, I’ll just be dead.”
“Well, if you’re dead, it’s not like you’d care about anything anymore,” I reasoned. “Because, you know, you’d be dead—”
Misha held up one large, clawed hand, silencing me. “Do you hear that?”
At first, I didn’t hear anything other than the distant call of a bird or possibly a chupacabra. We were in the mountains of West Virginia; anything was possible. But then I heard it—a rustling of bushes and broken branches, a series of clicking and chattering. Goose bumps rose all over my arms.
I didn’t think a chupacabra was making that sound.
Floodlights positioned high on the wall flicked on, filling the forest with intense blue-white light, signaling that the Wardens on the walls now sensed the demons.
And I was most likely going to be caught out here and be in big, big trouble.
Too late now.
The rustling grew louder and the shadows between the trees seemed to warp and spread. Every muscle in my body tensed, and then they came, bursting from the shrubs and scurrying across the clearing. Dozens of them.
Raver demons.
2
I’d never seen a Raver demon before; I’d only read about them in class and heard some of the other Wardens talk about them. Nothing they’d ever described did these creatures justice.
They were like rats—giant hairless rats that ran on two legs, had teeth that a great white shark would envy and claws that could cut through even the Warden’s stone-like skin.
“Well, that’s a bucket full of nightmares,” I murmured.
Misha huffed out a laugh.
Ravers were bottom feeders, scavenger demons that prayed on weak humans and corpses of animals and, well, anything dead. They didn’t attack Warden compounds.
“Something’s not right here,” whispered Misha, obviously following the same train of thought as me. “But that doesn’t matter right now.”
No.
It didn’t.
At least six of them went straight for Misha, seeing and sensing that he was a Warden. Me? They pretty much ignored, probably because I smelled like a good ol’ human.
That was their first and last mistake.
Hand-to-hand combat wasn’t exactly easy for me, not when my vision was constricted to a narrow tunnel, so I had to be careful. I had to be smart and keep my distance.
Misha shot forward, spinning in a wide circle. One of his wings caught the closest Raver, knocking the creature back several feet as he jabbed his clawed hand into the center of another Raver’s chest.
The crunchy wet sound turned my stomach.
Another Raver launched into the air, using its powerful legs. It was heading straight for Misha’s back.
I let honed instinct take over. I cocked back my arm, then let the dagger fly.
It struck true, embedding deep in the Raver’s chest. The thing shrieked as it plummeted from the air and landed on its side, already dead.
Misha spun toward me, his mouth slightly agape. “How do you do that?”
“I’m special.” I switched the other dagger to my right hand. “And you have another one right behind you.”
He turned, catching that one and pile-driving the sucker into the hard ground.
My knife throwing had caught the attention of several more Ravers. One broke off, charging me as its chattering sound grew louder. It swiped at me, and I dipped down, feeling the wind of its swing stir my hair. I popped up behind the creature and kicked out, catching it in its back. The Raver hit the ground and rolled, but I didn’t give it time to recover. I brought the iron dagger down, cutting off its squeal of rage.
I spun but didn’t see the tail on the other Raver until it smacked into my leg. I squealed and jumped back, totally feeling its thick, rubbery texture through my sweats.
“Oh God, you have a tail,” I groaned, shuddering. “You all have tails. I’m going to vomit.”
“Can you hold off on that?” Misha asked from somewhere behind me.
“No promises.” Shuddering again, I leaped to the side and spun to shove the dagger into the chest of another Raver. A hot spray of gunky demon blood splattered my chest. “Oh, man, now I’m going to have to shower.”
“God, you’re whiny.”
Grinning, I darted to the right and found the rapidly decomposing body of the Raver that I had taken down with the first blade. Heart thumping, I pulled the blade out of its chest and then scanned the clearing. Six were left. I took a step forward.
“Beside you!” Misha shouted.
A bolt of panic lit up my chest as I twisted at the waist. Leaping back, I narrowly avoided being swiped by those claws. That would have been bad—very bad.
If my blood spilled, the moment it hit the air, they’d sense what I was.
They’d go into a frenzy—a feeding frenzy.
The thing charged me, mouth opening wide. A gust of rancid breath slammed into me as I slammed the dagger into its chest. “What in the Hell have you’ve been eating?”
“You probably don’t want the answer to that,” Misha grunted.
That was true.
I turned, finding another Raver coming for me. One side of my lips kicked up as a surge of adrenaline lit up my veins. That feeling was so much better than kissing. I flipped the daggers in my hands, completely showing off as I took a step forward—
A huge mass landed in front of me, shaking the ground and the elms.
That’s what it looked like to me at first, just a solid mass of pissed-off fury that was so powerful it was a tangible entity in the woods. Six-foot wings spread out, blocking my view of just about everything.
And then my eyes focused. I saw shoulder-length red hair, and my heart sunk. Matthew.
Not only was he Thierry’s husband, he was the second in command here at the ancestral seat, answering only to Thierry.
He looked over his shoulder at me. His features were a blur, but there was no mistaking the anger in his tone. “Please tell me I’m hallucinating and you’re not really standing out here.”
I looked around. “Well...”
“Get her back to the house,” Matthew thundered as several more Wardens landed, causing what felt like a mini earthquake. “If you think you can actually handle that, Misha.”
Oh dear.
Misha dropped a Raver and then seemed to disappear from where he’d been standing.
I opened my mouth to defend Misha and to also point out that I didn’t need to be carted off, but for once in my life, I wisely snapped my mouth shut.
But then Matthew, who was like a third father to me, spoke once again. “You know better than this, Trinity.”
And then I unwisely opened my mouth. “I had it handled. Obviously.”
Matthew spun toward me, and I saw those blue eyes then, burning with barely restrained fury. “You’re so lucky it is me here and not Thierry.”
That was probably true.
Misha was suddenly beside me, and I wasn’t given much of an option. He folded an arm around my waist and then crouched. Whatever else I was about to say was lost in a rush of cool air and night sky.
I was in so, so much trouble.
* * *
Misha wasn’t speaking to me.
He was sitting in the living room, long legs kicked up on the couch, arms folded across his chest. His entire body took up all three cushions. He was watching an info commercial on some kind of magic frying pan like it was the most interesting thing ever committed to screen.
I was pacing behind the couch, nerves stretched thin. I could’ve hidden away in my bedroom, pretended that I was asleep, but that would’ve made me a coward. And there was no point in delaying the massive lecture that was coming my way.