Betrayed (30 page)

Bran stiffened. “She’s injured.”

Just like that the mood of the reunion changed.

Izzy rushed over. “Where?”

“Her ribs, right arm, and her ankle,” Bran said.

“The dagger is healing her, but we don’t know how fast.”

Ankle? I looked down and moved my foot while Izzy checked my arm. Not even a pinch.

“Bran is injured too,” I said out loud and received a glare from Bran. I gave him a toothy grin.

“Of course, he won’t admit it.”

Izzy chuckled. “Mr. Tough Guy, huh? Don’t worry, I’l deal with him. Your arm is almost al healed.

I’l take a look at your ribs when we get inside. I’m assuming we’re stil visiting Old Jethro.” assuming we’re stil visiting Old Jethro.”

“I don’t know,” I replied then raised my voice to add, “are we visiting Jethro or going home, Cardinal?”

Bran’s eyes narrowed. Instead of answering me, he focused on the others. “How did you guys end up blocks from here?”

“We have no idea,” Remy answered.

“Someone bent the telegate or something. Probably nature-benders.” His eyes ran over me and Bran and he laughed. “Looks like you guys met demons, too.” By the time Bran finished explaining, everyone stared at me.

“Valafar’s men came to your rescue?” Izzy whispered, her eyes round, arms crossed as though she was chil ed.

“Interfered with our battle,” Bran corrected.

“We didn’t need rescuing.”

I hated their varied expressions, which ranged from amazement to worry. “They ordered me to stay at home, which I’m not going to do. Could we get in there,” I pointed at Jethro’s, “so Izzy can fix me up? We stil have to talk to Jethro.” Grins fol owed. Sighing with relief, I turned toward Bran. He didn’t look happy. I didn’t need to link with him to know he wanted me home. He’d made that crystal clear.

Sykes slapped him on the back. “Lead the way, Llyr. Let’s meet this Old Jethro.” Bran’s gaze didn’t leave mine, concern in his eyes. “Are you sure about this?”

I wasn’t, but having my friends walk on eggshel s around me because they were worried about my safety wasn’t an option. Being the wielder of the Kris Dagger meant being strong, showing them I wasn’t afraid to stand up to any demon, including Valafar and his men. Bran would always be protective of me. I accepted that, but he and everyone else, demons included, needed to see me as a force to be reckoned with, not someone to be protected.

“Yes,” I said. “Let’s do this.”

The others grinned with approval.

Bran moved to my side. “We’l do this your way on one condition. You do not let go of the dagger until you are healed,” he whispered through clenched teeth, stressing his words. “If we’re attacked again, you head home.”

Bul y. My grip tightened around the hilt of the Kris, as I glared at him. “Yes, Cardinal. Anything else? Maybe shackle me to a wal once I get home?” Something flickered in his eyes—regret or anger, I couldn’t tel —then he turned and looked at the others. “Okay. Let’s go.”

“Not so fast.” Kim blocked his path. “I’m not going in there looking and smel ing like I just swam through the sewer.” Bran opened his mouth, probably to argue, but she shushed him. “We’re Guardians, Bran. We’re supposed to look invincible, not like drowned rats.”

“Especial y after we smoked those demons and left them begging for mercy,” Izzy added.

Sykes chuckled gleeful y, obviously enjoying Bran’s predicament.

Bran shot Sykes a cold glance then turned to Remy.

“Got it covered,” Remy said, turned and placed a hand on Izzy’s shoulder. Mud rol ed out of her hair and skin and floated away like dust in the wind. The fabric of her coat shifted as each thread rearranged and realigned. When he stepped back, her curly ponytail was as glossy as when we left home, her face free of mud, her coat and boots pristine. The ability to control solids had its perks.

“Me next,” Kim said, pushing Sykes out of the way.

Another sigh escaped Bran when it was his turn, but he stood stil .

“Happy?” he asked Kim after everyone got a turn.

“Very.” Kim saluted him and gave him a cheeky smile.

I laughed. Kil ing demons definitely became her and the others. They were al in high spirits tonight.

***

Bran pushed the door with his booted foot and led the way into Jethro’s. The place crawled with Nephilim, the glamour, if he used it, didn’t work on us. The ones in human form wore leather, tattoos on arms or creeping up necks from under jacket col ars.

Horns jutted out of hair or scaly foreheads of some Werenephils; while others were so hairy al I saw were canine teeth and yel ow eyes. It wasn’t often we say demons in their true form. It was weird. At a table to our left, a gorgeous woman with cat-like ears and to our left, a gorgeous woman with cat-like ears and slit eyes watched us warily, nails sharp and pointed like talons tapping rhythmical y on her slender arms. I almost stepped on someone’s tail, broke eye contact with her and stared ahead. Pitchers with and without beer floated to and from the tables. Several bartenders sat behind the long counter seeing to things, but none of them fitted Bran’s description of Jethro.

The interior was surprisingly wel lit and clean

—wooden floor, old car plates covering every inch of the wal s and part of the concave mirrored ceiling.

TV screens showing a basketbal game lined the wal behind the bar while nice brown leather stools lined the front. More colorful chairs and booths around wooden tables ran the ful length of the room.

My stomach growled at the aroma of fried food.

Some of the customers munched on onions rings, and one sang karaoke on the stage at the end of the bar.

The occupants of the table closest to the door noticed us first and stopped talking. Silence spread to the back fast. The singer stood speechless behind the mike, his wings closing protectively around him. Pool players left their games and approached the doorway that separated the bar from the game room.

Our glowing amulets identified us, but it also indicated the presence of demons in the bar. My grip tightened around the hilt of the dagger. I real y didn’t feel like fighting until I was healed.

“What are you staring at, you bunch of no-good Hermonite rejects,” a cranky voice bel owed from way down behind the stage.

I craned my neck to find him. People moved out of the way as an emaciated old man stepped into the aisle between booths and dining tables lined with chairs. The tap-tap-tap of his walking stick on the wooden floor echoed around the silent rectangular room. Tal like most Guardians, his hair was long and white, skin tan and leathery. He could be Haziel’s twin.

“There is no need for an introduction,” the old man continued, his teeth startlingly white against his skin. “Most of you would stil be slaving away for Coronis if it were not for these brave young men and women.”

I liked him already. He stopped before us and offered me his hand. I shifted the dagger to my left hand and shook his hand, grinning. He was tal , topped me by at least a foot.

“Ah, little one,” he said. “What an honor to final y meet you.”

“We need to talk, Jethro,” Bran said in a low tone. “Stop posturing and lead us to your office.”

“Arrogant pup,” Jethro murmured and smacked Bran on the leg with his walking stick then shook the hands of my friends, taking his time, studying them as though memorizing their faces.

Done, he turned and faced the staring customers, some of who rushed forward to shake our hands.

“Not now. Shoo. Can you not see they are here on Guardian business? Go on. Back to your tables.” When everyone resumed their seats, he added,

“Brethrens, I want you to show these young Cardinal Guardians they wil
always
be welcome here.” The clapping started in sputters then picked up

momentum

until

a

deafening

rah-rah

accompanied by metal mugs pounding on wooden tables fil ed the room. Beer splashed on tables then dripped down chins as the customers guzzled their drinks.

Jethro waved his stick, and the room fel silent. “Next round of drinks are on the house.” He turned to Bran and smacked his leg with the cane again. “Fol ow me.”

Bran winced. I hid a grin. I real y liked this old man. A lot. We fol owed his slow gait past the bar and stage, down a hal way that ran alongside the gaming area and into a room with a huge desk, a lumpy plaid sofa, and a side table. Piles of dusty books and magazines hugged the wal s, leaving little room for al of us.

Jethro pointed his stick toward the sofa and nodded at me. “You can use the sofa. Who is the healer among you?”

“Me.” Izzy moved forward, grinning.

Jethro looked her up and down, his brow raised. “Are you the one who controls time, too?” Izzy’s eyes widened as she nodded.

“Funny, most healers control time. Wonder why? Go on. Do not keep the little one waiting. Then you are next,” he added, leveling Bran a look before turning to Remy, Sykes, and Izzy. “As for you three, head to the bar. Drinks are on the house.” Kim, Sykes, and Remy looked at each other Kim, Sykes, and Remy looked at each other then shook their heads. “We prefer to stay here if you don’t mind,” Remy said. The others nodded.

Jethro chuckled. “You do not trust me, do you? I understand. She is a precious one.” I doubted my friends’ thoughts were on me as much as they were on how we were separated earlier tonight. They wouldn’t chance it again.

I made eye contact with them. “Guys, we’l be fine. Just give us a moment.”

One by one, they filed out.

Izzy waited until they left the room then came down on her knees beside me and started removing my boot. Bran sat on the arm of the sofa near my feet, his gaze not leaving my face. He studied my ankle, which was neither swol en nor pinkish. When I let go of the dagger, there was a little pinch of pain on my ankle and arm, and more throbbing from my side. Izzy held my foot in one hand and let the other hover above it. Sparkling light leaped from her palm to my skin. Within seconds, the pain was gone, my ankle healed.

“You fought hard and wel tonight before the nature-benders arrived,” Jethro said, drawing my attention.

I blinked. “You heard us?”

“No, I heard them. Their screams,” he clarified.

“And chose to do nothing as usual,” Bran said in a censoring tone. “You real y should be ashamed of yourself, old man.”

“I do not apologize for my choices, pup,” Jethro retorted. “And you need to watch your mouth.

It was not long ago you were sleeping on this sofa and eating my food for free.”

“You worked me like a mule, you self-righteous old goat,” Bran griped.

Jethro threw his head back and laughed. “I did, didn’t I? Happy to see you settled down though.” It was obvious their back and forth snipes were al in fun.

Jethro continued. “When we heard the screams, we assumed the minion gangs were going after each other over stupid old feuds. They have been doing that a lot since Coronis died. Usual y, we stay out of their way and let them slaughter each other.”

Bran squinted at him. “You don’t happen to know which ones dress like Ninjas and are led by a woman with an annoyingly screechy voice.” Jethro chuckled. “I do. Let’s talk after your healer is done with both of you. That looks bad.” He nodded at my side, which Izzy just exposed along with my bra when she finished unbuttoning my shirt.

I pul ed my shirt
and
coat together to cover myself, my face burning.

“I can’t check your wound when you’re being modest,” Izzy said and nudged me sideways, so I faced the back of the sofa. It smel ed of smoke and mothbal s. “I may need to remove your bra,” she added.

“No.” I’d never removed my bra in Bran’s presence. There was no way I could do it now with Jethro watching either. He might be ancient, but he was a stranger.

“I wil leave. Cal me when you are ready to talk.” The tap of Jethro’s cane on the floor echoed his movements across the room, then the door opened. “Oh, keeping guard,” I heard him say. “The offer for free drinks is stil open. What are your powers, pretty Guardian?” The door closed on his question.

Bran changed positions and sat by my head. I glanced over my shoulder to glare at him. “You, too.

Leave.”

“I’ve seen you in less,” Bran said, laughter in his words.

My whole body grew hot. “A swim suit. I mean it. Go.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said stubbornly.

“Are you tel ing me you two have never…?” Izzy left the suggestive sentence dangling.

I closed my eyes, wanting to die. This was the most humiliating moment ever.

“None of your business, Izzy. I’l turned around,” Bran added. When I checked, he was facing the door.

With some maneuvering, I helped Izzy remove my shirt and trench coat. She unhooked my bra and lifted my hand above my head to get better access to the patch of skin that stil looked pink. Hanging on to the front of my bra for dear life, I braced yourself.

Heat swel ed around the wound as the energy sealed the torn vessels, bones and skin, then it was gone. I moved and smiled. No pain.

I sat up to re-hook my bra and button my shirt.

I sat up to re-hook my bra and button my shirt.

Usual y, Izzy couldn’t heal my wounds completely because of my demonic blood. Just one more thing Bran and I shared. But the dagger had done its share. Bran wouldn’t be so lucky. Served him right for refusing to blend our energies.

“Done,” I said, lacing up my boot. “Your turn.” Bran turned and studied me intently then nodded. “Okay. Move over. No, get up and turn around,” he growled.

I rol ed my eyes and got up. I thought he was joking about turning around until he swirled his finger, indicating I turn.

Grinding my teeth, I did.

Izzy laughed.

***

We al sat or stood around the cluttered room and watched Jethro sip beer from a bottle. Everyone had returned to his dingy office, and Bran just finished explaining about the List and the problems we encountered with Zedekiah.

“Do you know anything?” I asked.

Jethro put the bottle on the side table. He sat on the other end of the sofa, his cane resting between his legs. We al stood in whatever little space we could find. Remy and Sykes stayed by the door.