Storm and Fury (The Harbinger 1)

My wild gaze bounced around the garden, from Zayne to the statue and all the shadowy recesses around us.

Demons.

Demons were near.

My breath caught in surprise as Zayne’s hand curled around my arm. A jolt of electricity danced from his fingers to my skin and traveled up my arm, followed by an odd sense of acute awareness, but the feeling was quick and then I wasn’t thinking about it anymore.

One second I was standing by the statue, talking about ghosts and spirits, and the next I was spinning through the air as he thrust me behind him and held me there, off the ground by a good six inches.

Something...something happened—happened to Zayne. The arm around my waist was like a steel band and the back my chest was plastered to became as hard as stone and as hot as basking in the sun. There was a ripping sound, a tearing of cloth, and then a rapid stirring of air that lifted the strands of hair around my face as Zayne’s wings unfurled.

Zayne was shifting.

I drew in a shuddering breath as the air around us seemed to explode.

16

A startled scream lodged in my throat as Zayne doubled over, taking me to the ground, to my knees.

What in the holy Hell was happening?

My brain couldn’t process the shouts coming from every direction, the roar of the sirens going off and the sound of glass shattering, and the screaming—the high-pitched screams of terror. We’d gone from talking about spirits to the entire world exploding all around us. No amount of training could’ve prepared me for this, to react as fast as I needed to.

Something slammed into the ground near us, pinging off the marble and embedding deep into the soil.

Bullets.

There were bullets, and that made no sense. Demons didn’t use guns.

Cement chipped and tiny rocks flew upward, pelting the sides of my face and arms. I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood, squeezing my eyes shut. No matter how awesome I was, my body was part-human. Bullets were not my friend, and they were raining down around us.

Inside me, the buzzing, powerful warmth of my grace stirred to life.

Zayne’s arm tightened around my waist and I felt the next breath he took as if it were my own. “Stay down.”

I didn’t get a chance to respond. A second later, his arm slid from my waist and his hand planted on the center of my back. Pushed flat to the ground, I felt my fingers splay against the broken asphalt. Then the weight and the warmth left my body in a rush of wind and the sound of wings beating the air.

Some kind of inane, primal instinct took over, silencing the voice of common sense that told me to keep my head down. My chin lifted. I blinked and then squinted, trying to see through the strands of hair that already obscured most of my already less than stellar vision.

I saw...legs—legs coming toward me.

Zayne landed in front of me in a crouch that rattled the ground. My heart leaped as I rose onto an elbow, pushed the hair out of my face and saw him.

Saw Zayne for who he really was.

As he rose to his full height, he was the same shape and size that he’d been moments ago, but now the white tunic shirt hung in torn strips from his waist. Muscles tensed along his bare back, moving under deep slate-gray skin, and his...

Holy crap on a cracker the size of Texas, his wings were spread out on either side of him, a span of at least eight feet, maybe ten? Parting his blond hair, two fierce horns curled back.

I’d always though Misha was large for a Warden, but he had nothing on Zayne.

He shot forward, and there was a sharp yelp of pain. Something fell to the ground. A moment later I realized it was some sort of rifle. The next thing that hit the ground was a body, its neck falling in an odd, twisted angle. My stomach churned as Zayne spun to the right, lifting off the ground and coming down again. There was a fleshy smack, a sound of skin and muscle giving away. The sound of more gunshots rang out as my fingers dug in the ground.

I didn’t understand this—any of this. Demons didn’t use guns, and the bullets were virtually useless against Wardens. Once they shifted, their skin couldn’t be pierced by a bullet.

Mine could, so I stayed low and turned my head to the right, toward the Great Hall. The rapid fire sounded like it was coming from everywhere at once, and Jada was in there. So were Misha and Matthew and everyone.

I couldn’t just lie here. Pushing up with my arms, I—

A loud boom pierced my ears, and then there was no sound. Night suddenly turned to day in a flash of ultrabright, orange-white light. A blast of hot, scorching air followed with a force that kicked me back down, knocking the air from my lungs. Stunned, I was frozen for a moment, and then debris started to hit the ground. Large chucks of cement crashed all around me. Throwing my arms over my head, I grunted as the world seemed to fall apart.

Then the world stopped ending.

Sound came back in a rushing force, and screams—all I heard was screams and people calling out names.

Arms and legs shaking, I pushed up to my knees and saw a thick white cloud billowing out from the side of the building. Where a wall used to be, there was now a gaping hole with wires hanging free. Floodlights turned on with a series of clunking noises, and bright light poured into the garden, cutting through the smoke. The smell of burned metal and plastic and something that reminded me of a...a barbecue surrounded me as I reached out to steady myself. Whatever I gripped broke off as I rose to my feet. I looked down, seeing that I was holding the sword from the statue, and a near-hysterical giggle rose in my throat.

Struggling to breathe as the cloud of heavy, white dust flowed into the garden, I stumbled over debris and tried to find shelter. I didn’t see Zayne or anyone. The blast had been close, and I had no idea what kind of damage it could do to a Warden or how close he’d been to it.

“Zayne?” I called out, wincing at the dryness in my throat. I tried again.

Panic dug in with razor-sharp claws as I tried to see through the thick smoke. I clutched the iron arm as I called out. “Zayne?”

I didn’t think anyone could hear me over the shouting and the wailing of the sirens that alerted everyone in the community there had been a breach and to shelter in a safe place.

The cloud of white smoke stirred in front of me, spreading and clearing. I saw a man—a man in a tuxedo and a white mask. Another of those creepy, porcelain-like doll masks with the pink circles painted on the cheeks and the bright red smile.

The same one Clay had been wearing.

“What the Hell?” I whispered.

My gaze dropped. He was holding something, and my body reacted before my brain caught up with what I saw.

Swinging the stone sword as hard I could, I brought it down on his arm, knocking the thing—the rifle—from his hands. There was a yelp of pain that briefly reminded me of a noise an animal would make. I didn’t stop there. I brought the arm back up, catching the masked man under the chin, knocking his head back. He dropped to the ground, twitching.

Letting go of the stone sword, I snapped forward and straddled the attacker. I didn’t think as I gripped the creature’s head and twisted sharply. It shuddered under me before going still. Folding my fingers under the mask, I pulled until the strap that held it in place snapped free. I found myself staring down into the face of a...

“Human.” I rocked back, stunned. This man... He was a human. I slowly shook my head as I rose to my feet and backed away.

Realization rose. I sensed demons, but this man wasn’t a demon, and it suddenly made sense. I could feel demons sometimes minutes before Wardens could. I hadn’t felt the men in the garden, or heard them like Zayne had. Demons weren’t here.

Yet.

A hand landed on my shoulder, and I gasped. Spinning around, I came face-to-face with Zayne in his Warden form.

It was his face, but it wasn’t. The cheekbones were still high, but the forehead was broader, the nose flatter and jaw wider.

He was beautiful in the most primitive way possible.

“What did I tell you?” Zayne demanded in a deeper, rougher voice. I saw two white fangs. “I know you can fight, but they have guns. I told you to stay down.”

“They’re human,” I said, taking deep breaths. “They’re human and I...I killed one of them.”

The line of his jaw appeared to soften, but his voice was gruff as his gaze flickered to the man behind me, on the ground. “It’s okay. You did what you had to do.”

I opened my mouth to agree, to say that yes, he deserved it if he was part of what was happening here, but I’d killed a human, and I’d never killed a human before.

“Are you okay?” he asked, those odd eyes searching my face and then, as he stepped back, looking over the rest of me. “Are you hurt? Trinity?”

I pulled it together. “I’m fine. You?”

“I’m okay.”

“Are...?” I looked around, beyond the dead man to the doors I’d walked out of earlier. There were... There were shapes on the floor, on the ground. “Are they—?”

“Don’t.” His other hand curled around the back of my head, turning my gaze back to his. “Don’t look.”

My heart lodged in my throat. “They’re more humans, aren’t they? There’s more of them—”

“Trinity! Are you out here? Trinity!”

Recognizing the sound of Misha’s voice, I tore free from Zayne’s grasp. I searched the fading smoke desperately, needing to see him, to know that he was okay even though I already knew, because I would’ve felt it through the bond if something horrific had happened, but I still needed that reassurance.

I saw him. Finally. He was striding through the hole in the side of the building, shoving the wires aside.

“Misha!” I shouted, starting toward him. He was too far for me to see if he was hurt. “Misha!”

Zayne hooked me with his arm before I made it a foot. I grabbed his arm, his skin hard and hot under my fingers.

“Let go,” I said, and he tugged me back. “Let go of me!”

“I can’t do that.”

“What?” I shrieked, pulling against his hold. “I need to go—”