Jordyn (A Daemon Hunter 1)

"Emrys," I repeated, rolling the unfamiliar word off my tongue.

"It means immortal," Haniel said, dragging me quickly across the sand toward the steps that would lead us to the parking lot.

CHAPTER TWO

"I wasn't done talking to him, Haniel, for frick's sake," I griped, keeping pace with the Arch Angel's long effortless strides.

"It was time to go. Why did you not call me when you became aware of the Daemons?" he demanded, glaring over the roof of my Honda.

"I knew I could handle it," I said, throwing myself into the driver's seat. Watching Haniel trying to fold his imposing seven-foot frame into the passenger seat almost made up for how pissed I was—almost. "You know you can just meet me there," I added, knowing he could be at my house in seconds.

"I believe it would be wise of me to accompany you home," Haniel replied dryly.

"Fine," I said, slamming my foot on the accelerator, which earned me "the look" after he had to grab the dash to brace himself, but it was so worth it. I was sick of everyone treating me with kid gloves. I was different, I got that, but seriously folks, let's move on already.

The ten-minute drive home was quiet after that. I had a ton of questions racing through my head about Emrys, but now didn't seem like the time. I had been given a hundred and one lessons on the origins of my family over the last year. Stories of good versus evil and how my family was directly connected to all of it. I came from a long lineage of Guides and Protectors known as Links, or soul mates, I guess you could call them. They were created long ago by The Light to help battle evil on earth. Guides were the female counterpart and were attuned to the feelings and emotions of humans. They used their gifts to cleanse the human soul in order to turn away from evil. Protectors were exactly what they sounded like. They were created to protect their soul mate. Protectors were wickedly strong, but could not live without their Guides. My Uncle Mark's father, Victor, had been a Protector long ago before he turned dark and betrayed the other Guides and Protectors in his Band. He killed them all and split up their offspring, waiting until the kids were older to swoop in and try to harness the power they held. He cherished the power, but hated the idea that the Protectors perished if their Guides died. What he never understood was that the Protectors did not want to live without their Guides. Their Guides held their souls and hearts in their hands. His goal was to kill off the Guides once and for all, thus freeing the Protectors from their bonds. My aunt and uncle had fought him off, suffering through a separation that nearly destroyed them, but in the end, they emerged as the first ever Ascended links. They were no longer a Guide and Protector, but something so much more.

And then there was me. I wasn't a Guide or a Protector. I was something in between. I couldn't feel the emotions of humans or help their souls, but I could sense Daemons, and I was unusually strong, which was the reason Haniel came around so often to train me.

ER ONE

I loved the tickling feeling of the sand eroding from underneath my feet as the ocean waves continued to roll in and then back out to sea. I'd stood in this spot so many times over the past year. It was beautiful here, the way the ocean looked like it went on forever in the distance. Still, as significant as this beach was to my new family, the way their entire existence seemed to gravitate around this spot, it didn't hold any significance for me. I'd never dreamt of this place or met some soul mate hottie in my dreams in this spot. It was just a beach where I hung out with friends and family, nothing more. God, self-pity much? I thought. This wasn't why I'd come to the beach. I came here to think about the anger-filled blowup during dinner earlier. Coming here always helped me chill out, and I had hoped that for once this spot would finally unlock the memories that were lost to me. The fight I'd had earlier with my supposed aunt and uncle, who were practically my age, by the way, was typical. I was over their evasive answers about my past. They didn't seem to understand how frustrating it is to know nothing about who you are, where you come from, or even worse, why you have no memories of anything like any normal person. At times like this, I missed my best friend, Lynn. I needed someone to vent to, but she had left two weeks ago to join her Protector in Utah on an extended mission. It sucked not having her around. Sure, we texted and Facebooked each other twenty-four/seven, but it wasn't the same. Truthfully, I didn't see why Robert couldn't handle the mission on his own. Of course, I knew how the whole "link" thing worked, which made how I was feeling totally irrational, I realized, but I didn't care. I missed my only friend, damn it.

My errant thoughts were interrupted when my pulse quickened and the hair on the back of my neck felt like it was standing on end. I wasn't the only mystical being on the beach tonight.

Sweeping my eyes over the boardwalk behind me, I spotted the source of my "freak alarm"—Daemons. Two of them by the looks of it. They were using human hosts they'd obviously hijacked from the mortuary, judging by the gaping bullet hole in one of them. They both had waxy complexions courtesy of a mortician's hand. The sky around us was dark enough that the other occupants of the boardwalk paid no attention to the Daemons' odd appearances. It showed how oblivious humans could be.

I walked casually toward them, knowing they couldn't sense me. I didn't emit the same vibe that a Guide or Protector or even an Arch Angel would. I was like the shadow you couldn't see until the sun decided to cast its rays. I watched them for a moment, creeping along the shadow from the wall that separated the boardwalk from the beach. I wouldn't be detected until I was ready. Typical Daemons. Steal human hosts and prey on the weak. They're nothing but cowards themselves. I knew I should have called Haniel the moment I'd sensed them, but I was still pissed off enough at the world right now and decided to throw caution to the wind. I could take them out. I may be an anomaly, but at least I was a badass one.

It wasn't until I was within three yards of them that I spotted their source of entertainment. Homeless Joe was leaning back against the wall in a drunken stupor. One of the body snatchers proceeded to pour tequila down Joe's throat while the other held Joe's head in place.

"Two on one seems a little unfair, don't you think?" I asked as they dropped the bottle to the sand in surprise.

"What the hell are you?" the bullet-holed Daemon mumbled, breaking through the wire the mortician had used to sew his lips closed. It was obvious they sensed I wasn't ordinary.

"Are you two dipshits normally this stupid, or did you leave your brains at the mortuary?" I taunted them, placing my hands on my hips. They hesitated to make a move, no doubt thrown off by the fact that they were unable to get a read on me. I rapidly calculated how I would take them out in my head. "Surely you know this area has angelic protection?" I mocked.

"You're no angel," the second Daemon slurred through the dead mouth of his host. He dropped Homeless Joe back to the ground and turned his hulking body toward me.

He was right, but what a dick thing to say. I wasn't an angel, and I never would be. It wasn't in my genetic makeup, but hearing a soul sucker remind me of that fact only pissed me off more.

"Wow, you're a sharp one," I answered, stepping closer. My nose wrinkled from a sudden whiff of embalming fluid the mortician had used on the bodies.

"You're awful cocky for such a small little treat," Bullet Hole taunted, taking a menacing step forward.

His words struck my hilarity button and I burst out laughing, which I could tell confused them both as they studied me like I'd lost my marbles.

"All I can say is talk about being in the wrong place at the wrong time," I said through my laughter. "Let me guess. Your boss has no idea you're here. You thought you'd win brownie points by bringing back a soul, right?"

My knowledge of their origins seemed to unsettle them.

"What are you?" Bullet Hole demanded again.

"Your worst nightmare," I snickered before turning deadly serious. Cheesy, I know, but I heard it in some old movie I'd watched over the weekend.

This time they both laughed, which came across distorted and eerie around the wires that poked out of their lips on both sides.

"You're one crazy little bitch," the Daemon slurred, taking a bounding jump toward me.