Rapture (2 page)

The
needle stung as it stuck into his skin. He shifted and kicked out just as Ferox
lifted him bodily off of him, sending his uncle flying as fire-hot liquid
spread through his veins.

He
flashed to his feet, yanking the syringe free and charging before Damion had
even landed. He was only two steps away from the fucker when something struck
his forearm. Draven yelled, looking down to see a dagger sticking out of his
skin. Everyone went silent, watching as he yanked the blade from his flesh. His
vision started to swim, and he tried to blink it away.

A
single high-pitched beep sounded, and he faced the direction it had come from.
A female with hair the blackest of blacks stared at him as a huge bubble of gum
burst in front of her face. She snapped it back into her mouth, giving him a
wry smile as she peered at the watch around her wrist. “Let the countdown
begin.”

He
stared at her, confused.

“Let
him go,” another demon hissed from behind her.

There
was now an entire grouping of demons standing just inside the library. They had
weapons at the ready, some with blades or throwing stars, others with guns. A
few had bows and arrows pointed straight at his head.

“How
in the fuck did you get in here?” Raider growled.

Damion
laughed again. “I let them in here, you idiot.”

“Let
him up,” Raine said. “Let the coward hide behind his men.”

Someone
apparently did help Damion to his feet, but Draven refused to turn his back on
the bigger threat. His vision was worsening, his body weakening with every
second that passed. For now, he could still focus on their enemies. His uncle
passed him with a laugh and turned toward the Guardians. “Isn’t that exactly
what my brother is doing?”

It
was the wrong thing to say. Every Guardian, every warrior in the room responded
and soon Draven no longer stood alone. He looked over just as Ferox stepped
past with Raine by his side. Draven flanked him, standing shoulder-to-shoulder
with his brothers. Damion’s Collectives did the same. There were more of them,
but Damion had failed to account for one thing.

His
demons weren’t the Guardians.

“You
know,” Damion said, eyes focused on Ferox. “One does wonder exactly how you’re
alive. I had been informed that the fire destroyed what was left of your body.”
This last part was said with a flick at Q, Damion’s right-hand demon.

Q
barely showed any reaction, and though Draven’s vision was getting poorer and
poorer, he could have sworn he saw a second’s worth of panic.

“You
tried to kill me,” Ferox said. He didn’t know if it was said more as a
question, or as a statement. At this point it hardly mattered.

“I
did kill you,” he growled.

He
felt a hand grip his arm, and he looked over his left shoulder at Ethan.

“You
alright?” his brother whispered.

Draven
blinked and returned his gaze to the enemy just as one of the demons rushed
toward his father. His hand shot out, and he caught the bastard by one
shoulder, noticing as his dad caught the other. They shoved at the same time,
sending the demon to the floor with a loud
thud,
followed by a
squeak
as he slid
on the hardwood. Damion’s eyes met his for a brief second. He raised a single
eyebrow and smiled, stepping back to let his men do the dirty work. Draven
would have gone after him, would have left his father to fight, if he’d
remembered who and what he was, and if he himself had the energy to do so. He
would fight as long as he could, would fight through the darkness that tried to
take him under.

He
caught sight of movement and turned to face it, noting that the tiny
black-haired female was by him again, her ruby-red lips turned up into a
sinister smile as she skipped around, giggling to herself. She whipped out a
sword and circled it around just before her gaze met his. Another smile and a
pop of her gum as her eyes lit with excitement. “Why don’t we get
Caalia
here, shall we?”

****

Ally
sat on Skylar’s bed, rocking her brother as he wept into her shoulder. Sadness
had wracked both her brothers and her daily at the loss of their parents. Ever
since she’d learned that her human parents had been merely
created
to keep her hidden, she’d wondered if there was a way to
bring them back. Her real father, Phanes—or, Eros as many of gods knew him to
be—had found a way to bring Trevor and Skylar back from the dead, even before
she knew something like that was possible. Her brothers and human parents had
all been murdered weeks before by a demonic organization called the Collective,
headed up by none other than Draven’s uncle, Damion. They had been in a
centuries’ long search to find Ally, and her family had been an unfortunate,
devastating casualty.

She
was more than grateful for the return of her brothers, but it didn’t change the
fact that she mourned the mom and dad she’d known all her life.

“There,
there,” she said quietly, rocking him on her lap. “It will all be alright.”

“I
mmmisssemmmmb,” Skylar cried.

“I
know, muncher. I do too.” She was crying too as she leaned her cheek on the top
of his head, no doubt soaking his hair with her tears. Not a day went by that
she didn’t think of them constantly, wondering what they would think of Draven,
wondering what they would think of the new house or the fact that Phanes had
finally told her he was her real father and the fact that she now knew that she
was a real, live goddess. What would mom have made for dinner that night? What
would she have so-sneakily hinted that she’d want for Christmas? So many
thoughts of them. She often spoke to Draven about them, letting her emotions
out while in his embrace as he held her in their bed. But her vampire wasn’t
here, a fact that caused a bubble of panic to take up permanent residence in
her until he came back from his missions.

A
knock sounded at the door, and Ally said, “Come in.”

Dellingr
opened the door and strode inside, looking over them with understanding.
Yes
, she thought,
Dellingr would know how it feels
. He had lost his mother when he
was young, and had never known his father. Ally had met the Sun God at Unitas
only weeks before when she’d been whisked away to the temple in an attempt to
keep her safe. She’d witnessed his mother’s death first-hand in a vision of the
past during her transition to godhood, another vision followed shortly after
being one where she saved Draven’s life—both visions having linked her to
Dellingr and Draven forever.

“Carla
has instructed me to bring these to you,” he said, glancing at the two bowls of
ice cream dubiously. “Though why anyone would want to have something frozen when
it looks like
that
,” he gestured to
the window and the snow falling on the other side, “outside is anyone’s guess.”

“Thanks,”
she said, taking one bowl and handing it to Skylar before accepting the other
one.

Dellingr
sat on the bed, shaking his head as they ate their ice cream, which had worked
wonders in stopping them from crying. “We really should get back to our
lesson.”

Ally
nodded and set down her bowl as the last scoop of ice cream rested on her
tongue. As the only other in-house deity, Dellingr had the unfortunate task of
teaching her the ins and outs of tracing. Unfortunate because she didn’t know
what the crap she was doing, and wasn’t getting any better at it.

“Okay,
Obi-Wan, I’m ready.” If anything, it was sure to get Skylar’s mind off their mom
and dad. He got a kick out of watching her try to trace.

Dellingr’s
eyebrows rose in question. “Obi-Wan?”

“Never
mind.” She flapped a hand and turned to Skylar. “Looks like we need to plan a
movie-marathon night.”

Skylar
nodded, a big, toothy smile spreading across his face.

Dellingr
shrugged and stood, facing her with his feet shoulder-width apart, just like
she was doing. “All you need to do is think about where you want to be. That’s
all there is to it.”

She
shook her head, wondering how many times she’d heard him tell her that. “No, it
isn’t. I’m always thinking about places I’d like to be, and look, here I am.”

“You
know what I mean. You have to really want it.”

“No,
actually, I don’t know what you mean.”

Dellingr
released a slow, loud breath through his nose. “You did it earlier. How did you
do it then?”

“I
don’t know.” She had traced earlier, and it had been an accident. She’d just
gotten some shopping done for her friends that live on the streets. She and
Dellingr had reached her Outlander and she’d been getting ready to toss the
bags into the back when suddenly there hadn’t been a back to put them into.
She’d popped right into the street, somehow avoiding being seen by any people
bustling by as they shopped. Dellingr had popped in beside her in the next
instant, also somehow avoiding detection. “I’ve tried to do what I did then,
but it’s just not working.”

He
eyed her. “You’re overthinking it. You can’t force it, or it will never come.”

“Oh,
how do you know?” she said angrily, though still in a playful way. She wouldn’t
get upset with him. It wasn’t his fault she couldn’t do something so basic as
tracing. The truth was, she had a warmth in her heart when she’d thought about
seeing her homeless friends. It had been weeks since she’d stopped by and offered
them food or other necessities, and this time of year, they needed it more than
ever. Thinking of that brought a pang to her heart as she thought of her mother
again.

“Ally?”

She
blinked hard, clearing her mind of her thoughts. “Hmm?”

“I
lost you there for a bit. Everything okay?”

“Yeah,
just…” Something hit her, like a sensation lit her entire body with panic. She
gasped as thoughts of Draven filled her mind. Within an instant, she was no
longer in her own home, seeing Dellingr’s worried expression. Instead, she was
in the Guardians’ mansion standing beside Draven. Everyone in the room was
battling hand-to-hand or weapon-to-weapon. Her vampire was exhausted and
bleeding. He saw her in that instant, his eyes widening in shock.
“Ally!”

“What’s
happening?” she asked, panicked. As she turned to view the carnage, a long
sword slid through her stomach, followed by the maniacal laughter of a woman
with raven-black hair and bright red lips.

“Right
on time,” the woman said, laughing.

Ally
fell to the ground, gasping as she gripped the hilt of the sword.

Chapter Three

Raine
swiped out with her hand, connecting with a demon’s face. He—or at least she
thought it was a he—roared in pain as she raked her nails over his skin. Dear
Goddess, she needed better weapons. The most she’d been able to get in hand was
a poker from the fireplace. It had proved a worthy weapon for a time, until one
of the more
sturdy
demons came up to
the plate. The poker had bent and eventually snapped in two, leaving her
weaponless. She was strong, a good fighter, but with so many to contend with,
she needed a farther reach. Blaze suddenly careened into Raine’s demon, sending
them both crashing the ground. Blaze shook his head and scowled at the poor
bastard that had thrown him and sprang to his feet with the demon’s head in his
hands. With a quick twist, the demon’s body fell limp, and Blaze bounded
forward, crashing into his opponent. Raine picked up the pointy end of what was
left of the poker and stabbed it through the demon’s chest, piercing its heart.

One
couldn’t be too careful.

That
being done, she whirled on her heels and rushed toward the stairs. She knew
exactly what she wanted, the weapon that would make her feel indestructible
against so many. She rushed up the stairs, taking them two at a time until she
reached the landing at the top. Pumping her arms and legs, she reached her
bedroom door and shouldered her way through, skidding to a stop at the sight of
two demons inside. She rushed forward, bending low and spinning with her foot
out, tripping one as he charged her. The other one, a female, surged in, trying
to get her as she was down, but Raine shot to her feet, connecting her wrist
with the bitch’s nose. Both opponents temporarily indisposed, she rushed toward
the fireplace, using her speed to propel her feet up the rock. Reaching up, she
extracted the hilt of her Valkyrian sword that remained hidden behind the décor
that adorned the hearth and landed on her feet facing the two demons.

It
looked no more than a decorated piece of wood when not held by a Valkyrie, but
as soon as the hilt was in hand, the blade shot out. And hers did so now. It
gleamed in the firelight, silvers and golds glimmered back at her as the demons
charged. She swung out, decapitating one with a single swipe and slicing an arm
off the other. The female’s headless body fell in a pile, and she stabbed the
male in the chest. She breathed a mental sigh of relief at seeing her Hjörr, at
feeling the weight of it in her palm. Why had she gone so long without holding
her sword?