Guardians (Chosen Trilogy Book 2) (15 page)

As the battle continued
, even the vampires showed signs of being overwhelmed. Ken saw Felicia locked in mortal combat with Dementia, the two mighty combatants so tightly matched and so wild that anyone trying to get in their way had more chance of dying than coming out of it in one piece.

Ken inched forward. All he needed was a millisecond, a faint opening. Then he could kill Dementia and they could both go help the vamps. All he needed was
. . .

Eliza and Milo went down with resounding cries. The demons swarmed over them, securing their arms and legs in any way possible. Sitting atop them. Striking at their necks and faces, but not killing them. Not yet.

Ken’s heart sank like a boulder in the ocean. Dozens of demons were now running up the slope to Dementia’s aid. Mindless and driven they came, dedicated to one thing only—the capture of the infiltrators.

Dementia fought with wild abandon. Truth be told, Felicia outmatched her, but Dementia’s grief at losing her brother fired her every move. Felicia struck and struck, almost ending the
demon-bitch’s life time and time again, but Dementia hung on. Ken saw the end of the battle approaching quickly, and the outcome didn’t look good.

Agony weighed on his heart. This was it. The end. All was lost.
Goodbye ‘Frisco, sorry I’ll never see you again. No more to ride the waves. No more to grace the bars.

His eyes fell on Rapatutu’s body and
locked on the one item that looked totally out of place. The tattered book that had fallen from the demon’s robes and now lay on the ground next to the cooling body. The brown-leafed, flea-bitten volume that lay open, pages fluttering, so that Ken could easily see it was an old copy of the Bible.

The artefacts
are everything. Risk it all!

He lunged, picked up the book and ran back to Lilith whilst the demons stormed the top of the hill. With a last desperate look of looming disaster and doom he handed it over to her.

“Please take this. Take it to Miami. Search out Aegis and give it to them. It holds the key to our survival.”

Lilith stared at him as if he’d grown elf ears. “Me? I’m
. . . I’m the . . .”

“Please
,” Ken said, already turning to meet his fate.

“I haven’t know you long, Ken, but this
. . . this doesn’t seem like you.”

“Everything changes
,” he said. “If the change feels right, embrace it. The best future is the one that isn’t written in stone.”

“Take a chance?”

“Take a chance.”

Lilith wasted no more time, turning and haring away with the artefact, vanishing into the dark. Ken hefted his sword, knowing that this girl they
’d met in hell, this young girl, held the future of the human race in her hands. But what else could he do? Life was chance. He’d just taken one.

The demons drove toward him. Feeling rebellious, Ken saw a chance to even his odds and ran hard at Dementia, intending to break the pair up and free Felicia to help him.
Sword swinging, he waded in. Dementia disengaged and dived away. Ken faced the wolf and saw the storm of regret and hopelessness swirling in her eyes.

“Fight til
l we die,” Ken said. “We’ll fight till we die.”

Felicia snarled in his face. In that instant Ken saw what lay on the floor between them.

Dementia’s artefact. The demon-bitch had dropped it in the tussle—a rolled up length of material, held together with ancient twine. Possibly a priest’s robe, a cassock. It lay within easy reach, and once he’d scooped it up, Felicia moved to stand between him and the onrushing demons.

She snarled again.

The command was clear.
Go. Get away. The artefact is everything.

“No.”

Felicia lunged, the wolf’s big skull colliding with his midriff. The force, the impact, was much harder than he could have imagined. Ken found himself pin-wheeling backward, arms flung out, unable to stop himself as he was propelled backwards from the top of the hill. After that, gravity took hold and he fell over, tumbling down just as the vampires had, falling away from the battle and his precious Felicia with every painful scrape and bounce.

Into the darkness
of hell.

Felicia’s scream split the air.

*

Beyond light, beyond the freedom of movement and fresh warm air, beyond even the assumed expectations of choice and option, is the one place a wild thing hopes never to find itself. For Felicia, the
wolf, freedom and space was everything. It was her world, and the everlasting sense of it gave her the will to live. Life was not easy for a Lycan. Outcast, considered inferior, hunted by some, most lived in constant fear.

Some, like Felicia, rose above.

But life still hurt. The transformation from human to Lycan hurt—bones were broken. The change back hurt. The next few days after were a blur of aching and sharp jabs. But then every single moment away from the wild hurt.

And now?

The agony consumed her. The demons had brought along several cages, barely big enough to fit Felicia and Eliza inside, let alone Milo. Felicia, having switched back to the human state when the influx of enemies overwhelmed her, found herself practically folded into a steel cage. Her head pressed hard up against a set of bars, her face squashed, her arms hanging through because they simply would not fit. Her feet poked out the back, her rear mashed by the bars back there. Not an inch of movement was afforded her. The demons carried the cage over their heads, and every time it jiggled the pain in her constricted bones and flesh grew worse.

She screamed
without let up.

Her eyes dulled and became blank. Her world was at an end.

Lucy has become a
shade. A thrall.

Lysette shuddered deep down as she thought about
Ethan’s words and what the sixteen-year-old had done. Lost Girl had sought out a new family, and embraced it with all her heart.

With no thought for her dad whatsoever.

Lysette had seen this struggle within the girl. She had seen it as far back as that night when Logan and she had wandered the gardens of the house of Aegis, years ago it seemed now, on the night of the attack. She had warned Logan. But what on earth was the man supposed to do? Battling demons, both imaginary and frighteningly real. Battling a god. Coping with the emergence of a strange new power that already seemed to be heralding a new development in the human race.

The species had evolved, it seemed.
Of course
, she thought,
Stan Lee’s genius was never in doubt. It was always going to evolve.

But this?

Too personal. Too close to home. A girl’s life had been ruined. Lysette wondered if, even now, there might be a way out. Lucy couldn’t go out like this, a stuttering light quenched by the dark, just another vampire’s shade lost to the night. There
had
to be a way.

Funny thing was, she almost trusted Ceriden. Still. So it was him that she sought out, and believed when he stared at her in surprise.

“Lucy?” he gasped. “Already? Oh, dear, that’s going to be an issue.”

“I’ll say. Not only is she the daughter of your most powerful weapon,
she
is also Chosen and an elemental. Now a shade. You’re messing with things you don’t even know how to control.”

“I never wanted this
. I never courted her. It is Ethan, one of Strahovski’s hot-headed lot. They are impulsive. Rash. Damn the Viennese. I tried to fill her mind with fantastic fashion. Gucci and Armani. But,” the vampire king sighed, “they just aren’t so popular anymore. The heathens now have Superdry and Duck and bloody Cover. Mercedes Benz instead of Lancia. Bugatti instead of Maserati.” Ceriden fairly swooned. “Oh, the depths to which we have fallen.”

Lysette tapped his shoulder. “Jeez, try to focus
, big guy. Besides, didn’t Lancia pretty much rust themselves to death?”

Ceriden flinched as if struck. “Reel in your flapping tongue, hillbilly!” After a second he seemed to collect himself.

“Really?” he asked. “She has truly become a shade at this time?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, dear. Logan was warned, you know.”

“I do know that. But
look at what the man has had to put up with. Look at what he did, for God’s sake! Helped save the world.”

“Yes. The poor man deserved more. Does he like
soccer? Or models? I can offer introductions, you know.”

Lysette stared hard into the vampire’s eyes. There were no obvious signs of subterfuge and his mind was clear, serene. She believed that this was a being
that lived in a particular, defined world, a bit like a politician, and had no real idea of what people went through outside his specific sphere of influence. “Tell me. Is there anything we can do?”

“For Logan? Well, aside from the introductions
—”

“No. I meant for Lucy.”

Ceriden frowned. “I’m not following.”

“To help her, you damn fool. To make her right again. To give her father a chance.”

Ceriden’s eyes flashed and anger crept to the forefront of his brain. Lysette saw an evil will and black things slide forth, and instantly reviewed her opinion of Ceriden.

“We are her family now. She has crossed over. Lucy has joined
us,
and we will fight tooth and nail for her.”

“But
. . . what of Logan?”

“He will deal
,” Ceriden rasped. “Or he will find the entire vampire race set against him. Lucy is ours now.”

Lysette backed away, hands up. In the midst of all this warfare, this unceasing battle, she had hoped to find an ally in Ceriden. He seemed to understand the stakes and the uncertainties of what was going on. But she had only found prejudice, jealousy and small-mindedness. There were no visionar
ies anymore, just charismatic people with agendas.

She le
ft the room hurriedly and sought out Lucy. She, for one, would not let this lie. Not this night.

*

Outside the door that led to Lucy’s room, she paused. Voices came from within. The soft, lilting girl’s voice interposed with the still light but deeper boy’s. Her tones were happy, her laughter quick and genuine. His was reflexive and cheerful.

Then something hit her. There was no subterfuge going on here. The feelings these two were experiencing were genuine. Who was she to jump in the middle?

Damn it, it’s the girl. I see myself fifteen years ago. I see The Bastard and how he was going to kill me. I see . . . innocence lost before its time. Broken. Not allowed a chance. I see . . . a future of promise dashed on the rocks.

And the rocks were the dark wills of evil men.

Lysette Cohen had wanted a baby. It was her purpose, her reason. It was a deep devotion that existed in her belly, in her heart and mind. The best that she could ever be. That dream had been torn from her when she’d started running—the very power that had saved her life then forced her to sift through the minds of others.

Could she ever risk her child with even the most gentle of the men she met? Deep down, everyone seemed to harbor some kind of demon.

So now she fought them for real, every chance she got. Ethan was a demon. Ceriden was a demon. Lucy would not live to regret such a bad decision.

Lysette walked into the room.

The scene stunned her to the spot. Lucy sat on the low bed, legs crossed and her hair pulled away from one entire side of her face. Her lips were curled in laughter, her eyes happy. Ethan bent over her, fangs poised just above the skin between ear and neck.

Blood dripped from their points, spattering the bed. Small, angry red holes pulsed near the nape of Lucy’s neck. Lysette gasped.

The two turned to her. Lucy scooted across the bed, hiding her neck with her jacket. “What the hell are you
doing
in here?”

“Come with me
,” Lysette managed, stepping forward. “Come with me and I will protect you.”

Ethan blocked her path, fangs still protruding and gradually turning into a snarl. “Stand back.”

“Out of my way, Fangoria,” she said. “I’ve chastised bigger toddlers than you.”

But Lucy didn’t want saving. “No
, wait,” she said. “You can’t take me. I don’t want to go.”

“It’s for your own good.” Lysette sidestepped Ethan, trying not to look at the blood coagulating along his gums.

“This is my decision. I made it.”

“Your father’s not here.
You
shouldn’t be here. But you had nowhere else to go. It’s bad luck, but we can fix it.”

“
No, you can’t fix me. I’m broken forever. I . . . I—”

“Come with me, Lucy. Please.” Lysette held out a hand.

“Stop trying to be my mother.
I don’t have a mother!
She left and then Dad left and now . . . now . . .” Lucy took an enormous breath, pushed her shoulders out and fixed Lysette with blazing eyes.

“Leave me alone. I don’t want your help.”

Lysette hesitated.

“Can you read my mind?”
Lucy all but taunted her. “Can you?”

Lysette did. She saw hatred
—for her, and she saw love and acceptance—for Ethan and his race. She saw disgust—for her father, and she saw belief—in the vampire family.

She saw a girl turned
around. A girl lost.

Feeling like she herself was stumbling in the wilderness, Lysette instantly turned and ran for the door. The tears that streamed down her face were not self-seeking. Not egotistical.

They were for someone else.