Darkness Awakened (Primal Heat Trilogy #1) (Order of the Blade) (20 page)

Vaughn spun around and leapt onto Quinn like a wild demon beast, those freaking eyes like windows into hell. Quinn jammed his elbow into Vaughn’s throat, throwing all his strength into the move. Vaughn gagged and grabbed his throat. Quinn threw him off, leapt to his feet and jammed his sword against Vaughn’s neck as the man fought for air. “What the hell was that about?”

There was the thud of feet hitting the asphalt and Drew sprinted up and threw himself between the sword and his uncle. So much for following orders, but Quinn was glad to see the kid had enough loyalty to his uncle to get in there and stand the enemy down. If Quinn were hiring for the Order, that’s the shit he’d be looking for.

“Don’t kill him,” Drew demanded.

Quinn kept his sword where it was. “He’d already be dead if that was my goal. Now move or I’ll go through you to get him.”

Black light flashed, two loud cracks fill the air, and then Drew was holding a polearm in each hand, long staffs with impressive blades on the end. He backed toward his uncle, who was still struggling on the asphalt. “No,” he said. “Sheathe your sword, Quinn.”

“Sheathe
my
sword?” Was the kid serious? Quinn would have grinned at the show of attitude, but he didn’t have time for that crap right now. Vaughn’s breathing was already getting better, and the bastard would be up in two seconds. “Use your head, kid.”

Drew stared at him, and he saw the youth’s brain kick in, trumping the Calydon instinctual reaction of resorting to violence. After a moment, he lowered his weapons. “Dante trusted you.”

“Damn right he did. Now back off.”
Now
he was impressed with the kid. Able to follow orders, but knew when to disregard them to protect his teammate. And then showing the ability to stand down and assess the situation accurately even when his adrenaline was rushing. Good stuff. Great instincts.

Quinn detected Grace’s presence nearby, but he couldn’t see her in the fog. What was with all these people who refused to stay out of the crossfire? He couldn’t concentrate on the situation with Grace out of the truck and vulnerable in the woods. “Grace,” he barked. “Get back in the truck.”

“No.” She walked up, staying out of range but within his sightline.

He glared at her, but the moment he saw her strained face in the glare of the headlights, his hostility vanished. “You okay?”

She nodded, her silver eyes meeting his. “Are you?”

He almost laughed at the question. She was worried about him? “Sweetheart, this is what I do—”

Vaughn shifted, and Quinn jerked his attention back to the fallen man as Vaughn coughed again, his breath wheezing into his lungs. Drew crouched beside his uncle. “Vaughn—”

The older man shoved Drew aside and staggered to his feet, putting himself between the sword and his nephew. Again, impressive. Quinn appreciated the man’s priorities, not letting a boy take a hit for him. His respect for them went up a notch. They had the right values, both of them. Quinn surveyed Vaughn as strength visibly returned to his body. His muscles tensed, his eyes began to simmer again, and energy began to roll off him as he prepared to attack.

Quinn moved into an answering stance, ready to meet the threat. Vaughn would be a formidable opponent, different than the rogue Calydons because his mind was clear and focused. Vaughn was good, whatever he was, and neither of them had time for a battle. But Quinn would do it if he needed to. “Friend or foe? Make the right choice.”

“Vaughn, he’s a friend,” Drew urged. “Let him help us.”

Vaughn’s eyes were still glowing that weird emerald color, and Quinn had a sense of power amassing within him. What the hell was he? Something impressively strong and quick. He’d moved faster than Quinn twice, and that was unheard of. Damned if he didn’t want to sit the guy down with a beer and get to know him.

But things being what they were, he had to content himself with poking the man in the chest with his sword instead.

The green finally began to fade from Vaughn’s eyes, and he seemed to suck the power back into his body. “Instinct,” he said to Quinn. “You knocked me out. I woke up on the offensive.”

“Understood.” Quinn still didn’t sheath his sword. “And now?”

“Drew needs you.” There was acceptance in that statement, an unspoken vow that he’d step back and allow Quinn to help. But Quinn knew the truce would be broken the moment Vaughn thought Drew was in danger from him.

“I don’t think he needs my help,” Quinn said. “Not with you around.”

A smile flashed on Vaughn’s face, then was gone. “Drew needs more protection than I can give him,” he said. “Anyone who can kill Dante can kill me.”

“Now that, I agree with.” Quinn finally lowered his sword, but kept it out and ready.

Grace let out a sigh of relief behind him, and Drew came to stand beside his uncle, his face reflecting the white of the headlights. Fog was drifting through the air between them, a misty gulf separating the two groups.

Quinn studied the man, noting his wide shoulders, and athletic stance. The hard lines of his jaw. Vaughn had been in battles, and he’d seen death. “What are you?”

Vaughn smiled faintly. “This isn’t about me.”

“Sure it is. You, Drew, Dante. It’s about all of you.” There was a rustle in the woods off to his right, and Quinn paused to identify it. Small animal with claws. Not a danger. “I need to know everything you guys know.”

“Now?” Vaughn asked.

“Sure.” Always smarter to move forward with information than to run blind. He looked at Drew. “Tell me about Dante. How’d you meet him? Why do you think he’s dead?”

Drew didn’t hesitate, as if he’d been waiting too long to unburden himself. “A month ago I had my dream. My dad showed up the next day.”

Grace walked over to Quinn, and he instinctively wrapped his fingers around her wrist to settle her in a spot he could defend with the most ease, just off his left side and slightly behind him.

His adrenaline began to settle at their contact, but he didn’t want to think about the implications of the fact that touching her grounded him. Instead he focused on the situation at hand. “Let me see your brand,” he said to Drew.

Drew tugged up his sleeves and held out his arms. On each of his forearms was a dark black brand in the shape of a polearm, with a long staff, a speared metal tip, and sharp spikes circling the base of the tip. The lines were still thin, not fully developed, but there were weapons in there already, fully functional. New brands, not more than a month old.

Grace shifted to peer around him at Drew’s arms. “What dream are you talking about?”

Drew pulled his sleeves back down as Quinn answered. “When a Calydon is eighteen years old, he has a dream that he’s in the middle of a violent battle, but it’s not actually a dream. It’s another world, or another dimension or something. We don’t know exactly what. If he survives the dream battle, he wakes up with his brands. If he doesn’t, he dies in his sleep. Many don’t survive.” He gave Drew an appraising look. “Congratulations.”

Drew flashed him a nervous smile. “Thanks, Sir.”

Yeah, okay, enough touchy feely. “So, tell me about Dante.”

Drew nodded. “He walked into my room an hour after I woke up and said he’d sensed me the minute I’d had my dream. He took me to this fishing shack in the woods, where we’ve been for the last month.” Drew’s chest puffed with teenage pride. “He’s been training me to use my weapons, and he’s been teaching me about the Calydons.”

Quinn had been to Dante’s shack. It was Dante’s personal oasis, open only to Order members on special invite. Dante had taken Quinn there after Quinn had killed his uncle. It was there that Dante had taught Quinn how to suppress his emotions so he could do his job, so he could kill without having it destroy him. Dante had given Quinn the tools to succeed, had stepped in and become Quinn’s mentor after Felix had died. Without Dante there to guide him and to help him direct his rage and guilt at killing his own uncle, Quinn was absolutely certain he would have gone rogue.

If Dante had indeed taken Drew to the fishing shack, it was a significant statement by Dante about how important this kid was.

Vaughn paced behind Drew, his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze warily settled on Quinn.

Quinn ignored him. “What happened at the shack?”

“At first, it was cool, you know? This total bonding thing and all. He’s a brilliant warrior, and a great instructor.” Drew grinned. “I can hit a target on the run from almost twenty yards now.”

Quinn almost smiled, remembering the heady rush of power after he’d had his dream and had first started eviscerating the physical limitations that had bound him as a youth. “Dante,” he reminded Drew.

“Right. So, after a couple weeks, he started to change. Got really quiet and moody. Distracted. He’d take off for days at a time, and he’d come back all silent and angry.”

Moody? Quinn had never known Dante to be moody. Dante was the ultimate warrior, brutal and deadly, killing without remorse, always focused on his goal, never rattled by any situation. Dante brought a sense of control to everyone around him, enabling them to focus and stand down from the intense emotions that were so dangerous to Order members. Moody? Never. Quinn glanced at Vaughn for confirmation of Drew’s story. “Did you see Dante?”

“I stopped by a couple times, and the guy was an ass,” Vaughn said.

Quinn grinned, knowing full well how Dante would have reacted to Vaughn’s interference in Drew’s training. “Well, an ass is different than moody. Which was it?”

“Moody,” Drew said. “Irritated, short with me. Annoyed when I made a mistake.”

Quinn’s smile faded. Dante would never waste time being annoyed at a rookie mistake. He’d simply train them to be better. For him to become irritated with Drew, something extraordinary had to have been bothering him. “Did he tell you what was wrong?”

“The last night, before he disappeared, he said Ezekiel’s prison walls were weakening. He’s getting out.”

“Ezekiel?” Quinn stiffened. Ezekiel was the forbearer who had created their race, a warrior who had bled evil into the land like a demon who had taken over the earth. He was what the Order had been created to contain. He was the doom that haunted them all.

And now he was back?