Storm and Fury (The Harbinger 1)

They were a blur of twisting, angry bodies, and then suddenly Zayne was flying backward and slamming into the house. I spun then, launching the dagger at the demon. It caught him in the shoulder and he staggered back as Zayne lifted himself up. I spared him a quick glance. One of his wings was completely blackened, and half of his body—

Oh God, no. No.

I had to get him out of here. I had to—

Aym launched into the air, coming straight for me. The grace stirred alive inside me once more as I stood there, more than ready to end this stupid, mother—

Zayne caught the demon and they fell behind me, sliding across the ground and into the wall. I whirled around, and it was then when I saw the shocked look etched across the demon’s face and Zayne yanking his head back, his horns and claws dripping with gore.

“Damn,” gasped Aym, and a second later Zayne tore into his neck. The head went in one direction, the body in the other. Both erupted into flames before hitting the ground.

And that was... That was impressive.

Gross.

But impressive.

Zayne was on one knee, and I realized he was trying to stand. His wings folded into his back, disappearing into the slits above the shoulder blades and closing over skin that was suddenly pink in some areas and...and reddish black in others.

Oh God.

Lurching forward, I didn’t reach Zayne in time. He fell to the side, against the wall, completely in his human form.

“Zayne!” I shouted, dropping to his side. Horror seized me as I stared down at him. I picked up his hand. “Zayne!”

“I think... I think I’m a little sunburned.”

I choked on a wet-sounding laugh. “A little. Oh God, what were you thinking? I could’ve—”

“His fire...would’ve scarred you...would’ve killed you.”

It would’ve. His Warden skin protected him, but only to a certain degree, because the splotches of white among the charred skin told me he had third-degree burns. Horror exploded into my gut. “Zayne...”

“It’s...okay.” He shuddered, eyes screwed tight. “It’ll be...okay.”

There was no way this would be okay. No way. None. It was horrific and panic clawed at me as exhaustion flooded my every pore. He was badly injured. “I’m going to get you out of here. I’ll call Nicolai or Dez, and I’ll get—”

“Misha,” Zayne moaned.

I shook my head, heart pounding. “We’ll find him later, but you’re the priority now. You—”

“No,” he said, eyes closing and opening, his gaze focusing beyond me. “Misha.”

“It smells like a barbecue in here—a Warden barbecue.”

I stopped.

My heart stopped.

Everything stopped.

Almost like I was moving in a dream, I turned toward the sound of the familiar voice, a voice that didn’t make sense. I scanned the yard and who I saw couldn’t be there. There was no way.

Because I saw Misha standing in the moonlight.

“I knew we could always count on your impulsiveness.”

34

It was Misha—his curly reddish-brown hair dark in the moonlight, his face handsome as ever and his stance familiar, wide legged and shoulders thrown back as if he could challenge someone with just the way he stood.

Misha.

For what felt like an eternity, I was locked up, unable to move as I watched Misha take a step forward, and then elation powered through me so fiercely that I cried out as I started to scramble to my feet—

Zayne’s hand tightened on mine. “Don’t,” he groaned, voice raspy and low. “Something...something isn’t right...”

I swiveled back toward him, confused. “It’s Misha,” I said. “It’s—”

“You should probably listen to him, Trin,” Misha said. “Especially since it doesn’t look like he has much time left.”

Cold air traveled down my spine as I twisted back toward Misha. “What?”

“You look so surprised.” Stopping a few feet from me, Misha ducked his chin. The burning trees cast a reddish glow across his face. He was... He was grinning. “I wish you could see your face right now.”

“I...I don’t understand.” I stayed kneeling beside Zayne as I lifted my other hand, pressing my palm to my chest, fighting the urge to run to Misha—to throw myself at him and to touch him, to hold him, because I...I didn’t understand this. “How did you escape—”

“Escape?” He toed Aym’s ashes with his boot, smirking. “And that’s what he said you’d think.”

“Who? Aym?” Glancing down at Zayne, I saw this his eyes were open. He was silent, his grip looser on my hand, but I knew he was aware of what was happening. I squeezed his hand and then let go, rising on shaky legs.

Misha laughed. “Not that idiot. God, whoever told us that demons were intelligent and conniving obviously hadn’t met half of them.”

Unease spread as I pulled my hand free of Zayne’s. “What’s going on, Misha? Did you escape?” But if that was the case, why hadn’t he helped me or Zayne? “What—?”

“What am I doing here?” he asked, spreading his hands. “I have a better question to ask. Did you really think you were the only special one?”

“What?”

“What?” he mocked, tilting his head. “You did, didn’t you? This whole time, you always believed you were this chosen one—the Trueborn who would someday be called upon, and I was the Protector, your faithful fucking shadow, trailing behind you.”

Stunned, I started toward him but stopped when I grew close enough to see the hatred twisting his features.

I shrank back, my stomach churning. “What are you talking about? What has he done to you?”

“He chose me,” Misha said. “That is what he did. He chose me.”

“Who? Bael? Who are—?”

“God, you should be smarter than this,” he said. “I know you are.”

I stared at him, heart thumping heavily. “Okay. I don’t know what in the Hell is up with you, but we can figure this out. Together. Obviously, the demon did something to you—”

Misha shot forward and his hand snaked out, landing across my face with a stinging blow that knocked me back a step. “He did nothing to me! Bael is just a tool to get to this moment. All I needed was for him to create a distraction. Get in, get me and you, but he messed that up. Just like Aym messed up tonight.”

Tasting blood in my mouth, I slowly turned my head back to him. “Did you seriously just smack me?”

“I will do so much worse.”

I drew in a very deep breath as I met his glare. Something...something terrible had happened to him. Was he possessed? His eyes were normal, a vibrant blue. He looked like the Misha I knew, the Misha I loved, but he sounded nothing like that.

“Did you know that a Protector bond can be broken without the Trueborn’s death?” Misha asked, laughing when he saw the widening of my eyes. “You didn’t, did you? No one taught us that. Then again, your father never really taught us anything.”

Instinct took over, and I backed up, keeping enough space between us so he wasn’t in my blind spots.

“All it takes to break the bond is a Protector killing an innocent,” Misha said. “I’m not going to kill you, Trinity. Not now. But eventually, I’m going to have to break this bond, because you are going to die.”

Ice drenched my veins as horror filled me. “Misha, this isn’t you. You don’t talk about killing innocent people—killing anyone like it’s nothing. This isn’t you.”

“I don’t think it’s nothing,” he admitted, a muscle clenching. “But I have to do it. He showed me the way. He taught me everything when he chose me. He showed me how to keep it hidden, and it worked. I’ve been planning this for years.”

Years?

I shook my head, stunned by what he was saying and terrified that it was the truth, and this was him, and that he was right—I’d never seen it. Because if that was the case, I couldn’t fix this—fix him.

“Who do you think was behind Ryker? He never came to the training rooms before, but he did the one time you decided to show your grace?” He chuckled upon seeing the horror dawning on my face. “Who do you think goaded him into his fear and his anger? Who do think pulled those strings?”

Heart stuttering, I shook my head. “No.”

“Yes.”

“No,” I whispered. “No. You couldn’t have. He killed my mom. He killed her—”

“She had to go,” he spat, and I stiffened at the loathing that dripped from every word he spoke. “She was figuring out that Thierry had made a mistake. You never saw it, but then again, I’m not surprised. It has always been about you—about what life you didn’t have, about how you were bored or how you were lonely and how you’d never find anyone if you stayed in the community. It was always about making sure you were safe and you were protected. It was always about how important you were and what you wanted and needed, and it was never about me!” he roared, shaking the ground.

I flinched at the truthfulness of his words, because that was me. Oh God, that was so me.

“It was never about me until he chose me and showed me the way. And he knows I will succeed because you...you won’t kill me. You can’t.” His chest rose with a deep breath. “So, for once in your life, you’re going to listen to me, and you’re going to come with me. If you don’t, I’ll make you, and you’re not going to like it when I do.”

A strangled sound closed off my throat. “And Clay?”

“Oh, I had nothing to do with that. He was just a jerk who obviously had a bone to pick with you,” he said. “I don’t think he intended to kill you. I think he just wanted to scare you. The mask was a nice touch. I copied that.”

My stomach twisted even further. “Misha, please... You can’t be behind this. Someone has turned you. Someone has—”