Beast of Fire -- a Demon Hunting Sexy Romance (12 page)

A sound outside the window set them both on edge, gazes flying to the fire escape. “Meow.” They both let out a breath as a black cat appeared by the window.
 

Kresley pushed to her feet, hand on her chest and Lucan followed. “Good grief,” she said, “I’m on edge. I need to get dressed. I don’t know why I tried to sleep. That was insane. I need to be ready if anything happens."
 

She walked away, leaving him staring after her, his feet planted solidly on the ground. More and more, it was becoming clear that his simple solution to ensuring Kresley’s safety, of trading himself for Kresley with the Guardians, had been no solution at all. She was right. Adrian had manipulated them both. Lucan had been been trying to protect her. Instead, he’d invited her deeper inside the Underworld, deeper into the darkness of a world of evil and manipulation. And this time, he had no idea how to free her.
 

***
 

Lucan held a position in the shadows of the fire escape one floor below Kresley’s apartment, his hand locked on the Knights' sword that Kresley had given him. He ran his hand over the sword handle where a five-pointed star was etched, symbolic of the Knights.
 

A year had passed since he’d touched a sword such as this one; the memories that came with it were a bittersweet pill to swallow. The Knights had given him a reason to keep going; they had provided the purpose that had delivered him from the pain that losing his family had brought. A purpose he’d left behind to secure Kresley’s safety, and because he'd hoped Kresley would do more good in the world than he could.
 

Since then, in the past year, he’d charged into battle, expecting death, wishing it would come. He'd boldly marched into Demon-infested areas and issued challenges, knowing full well he was outnumbered. But in battle, the will inside him to destroy evil always won, and he'd survived each confrontation – the eternal hell of serving the Guardians had just begun.
 

The only thing holding Lucan back from another bold charge this night was Kresley. Now he had her to consider. Endangering himself needlessly was simply not an option until he knew she was free of the Guardians.
 

Nothing was simple any longer. Nothing was easy. It was complicated. Facing his choices and what they had done to Kresley was far more painful than simply accepted the hell of his choice. Facing Kresley had forced him to face himself, rather than those choices. He was not pleased with what he was finding. Not proud one bit. Sad. Lonely. Weak. That was what he saw in himself. Weakness wrapped in the mockery of honor.
   

His gaze shifted as movement on the other fire escape, directly across from him, took a shadowy form. Bingo. Another wolf. He’d been waiting for that one to show himself. He'd counted three wolves so far, sensed this fourth one, but hadn’t placed him until this moment.
 

Lucan squatted, silently inching along the metal frame beneath him, and shifted his weight from one foot to the next as he found the edge of the landing. Cautious to remain silent, he latched a booted foot into the stairwell and began his descent to the pavement three flights below. When he settled on the ground, he stilled, his attention locking on the shadowy figure on the distant fire escape. Suddenly, the shadow appeared to split, becoming two. Someone appeared to be sneaking up on the wolf. Lucan blinked, refocused.
 

Suddenly, the wolf crumpled against the railing; a larger, shadowed figure stood above the wolf for several seconds and then simply vanished.
 

Lucan shook his head, cursed. What the hell just happened? A few select Knights could orb–travel through space in the snap of fingers – but only a few. As far as he knew, no Darkland Beast had such ability beyond the powerful leaders of their kind. Certainly no wolf, or any other Demon he knew of, could orb. Which was a blessing because orbing was a near indefensible weapon that gave the enemy the ability to appear, without warning, and attack.
 

Lucan debated his next action. Go to Kresley and warn her, or push forward and deal with the other wolves? Before he had time to make that decision, a masculine shout cut through the air, short but distinct. Swiftly, Lucan tracked toward the sound, rounding the edge of the building and bringing into view the gap between Kresley’s apartment and another, thankful for a bright moon to light his view.
 

A wolf in human form stood in the open area turning in circles, panic in his jerky movements. He acted as if he’d seen a ghost, as if he expected to be attacked at any moment. But it wasn’t a ghost; his attacker was very much real and suddenly behind him. In a split second, the newcomer grabbed the wolf, yanked him backwards and sliced his throat. The wolf crumpled to the ground, and the attacker turned in Lucan’s direction, light illuminating a face splashed with red and white paint of some sort.
 

Lucan instinctively reached for his sword, though something kept him from drawing it. A sense that whoever this stranger was, he meant Lucan no harm. The stranger offered a barely perceivable bow and then squatted down, touched the wolf, and they both disappeared.
 

Lucan didn’t give himself time to decipher what had just happened. He did a quick sweep of the building, checked for the other two wolves but couldn't find them–no doubt dead like the other two. Then with his heart racing, Lucan climbed back up the fire escape. He couldn’t get back to Kresley’s side soon enough. There were things going on here that reached far beyond the deals they’d made with the Guardians. Just what had they gotten themselves involved in?
 

And was this new stranger, friend or foe?

***

Salvador stood on the ledge of a sixty-story building in the center of Manhattan’s financial district, the wind stroking his long black hair; Ground Zero stretched before him. He could feel the cries of those souls who had been lost there, and their pain. The loss experienced there told of the far-reaching hand of evil, of its connection to humanity. And it told of why someone such as he was necessary, why supernatural proctors and guides must exist in this realm. When he could no longer bear the memories of the dead, he turned away, gave his back to Ground Zero. Facing east, he brought into view a completely different vision, a sight of promise and hope. Reds, oranges, and yellows brushed the charcoal-colored skyline as the sun began to peek over the horizon.
 

For centuries Salvador had been the earthbound messenger to those who served under the Archangel Raphael’s careful watch. He was responsible for choosing the men who became Knights of White; he was the one who gave each of them back the soul that a Demon’s bite had stolen. The one who saw into the souls of men and knew what true potential for greatness they held. But with every being that walked upon earth, himself included, there was the potential for darkness, a vulnerability to evil – there was weakness. The Knights he chose were men who were strong enough to overcome the temptations that felled regular men. The vulnerability of these men was not to the Beast that had once touched their souls, as they often believed, but to their doubts and fears.
 

Awareness rushed through him several seconds before Prince Risen, a brave Fae Warrior, appeared on the ledge beside him, his face painted in red and white, his shoulder-length blond hair braided at his back, falling down his leather-clad shoulders.
 

“It is done,” he stated simply.
 

Earth was the Fae’s realm of existence. He could do whatever was necessary to destroy the evil that lived in his world. Salvador, on the other hand, was forbidden such actions. By calling on the Fae for aid, he had technically broken his code. That he had done so to protect one of his Knights who was still being tested, added to the severity of his transgression. There was a great war that all would face one day, a war that would not be fought in this place, and his Knights had to prove they were worthy to stand with the Army of light.

“Exposure to the Guardians?” he asked.
 

“None,” the Prince confirmed. “But then Lucan has no idea who, or what I am, so I would not register in his mind in a way that would create more than curiosity in the Guardians.” His jaw tensed. “Though, I don’t need to tell you we are treading on dangerous water. Any contact with Lucan while he's possessed by the Guardians could easily go straight back to Adrian.”
 

Salvador inhaled the scent of death lingering within the depths of the air around him, a scent that reminded him of the cost of allowing evil to prevail.
 

“Thank you, my friend,” Salvador said, aware that he had asked a lot of Prince Risen this day. Aware that when he saw his Knight in peril, he should have allowed fate to work its own path. But he’d intervened and asked a lot of the Prince in doing so. He’s asked him to believe Lucan was worth saving, that he could aid their efforts to defeat Adrian despite their lack of ability to communication with him. Despite knowing that Adrian was using Lucan to destroy Cullen Moore – someone prophesied to play a critical role in the future safety of humanity. But Salvador saw what even the Fae could not. Lucan was the vehicle to Cullen’s future. But there were two possible paths, two possible futures. One where Lucan chose right and one where he chose wrong.
 

“Do not thank me, Salvador. I had selfish reasons for saving Lucan this night. He’s killed many a rebel wolf so I didn’t have to. According to you, he will be key in uniting those who must defeat Adrian. I’m trusting you on that, because Adrian will do everything in his power to make sure Lucan kills Cullen Moore. And we both know that must not happen. He must prevail and stand with humanity as the Knights have.” A frustrated sound slid from his lips. “I’d kill the rebel leader myself if it didn’t think better of that choice. For now, I need him to control his pack of rebels.”
 

Salvador turned away from the Prince, and the two of them fell into silence, standing side by side, looking out across the sky. He respected the Prince immensely; the Fae warrior had led his people through much. The Fae were the children of the Fallen Ones, not accepted in heaven or hell. It had been Prince Risen’s desire to overcome this. His extreme devotion to proving his faith had eventually led him, and his kind, to hope for salvation – salvation they earned as Agents of Purgatory, aiding those who walked a line between good and evil, guiding them toward the light rather than the darkness. Most importantly, they acted as emissaries of peace on earth, with zero tolerance for those, like the rebel wolves, who did not support that effort. Salvador could feel the heaviness of the Prince’s thoughts a moment before Prince Risen spoke.
 

“He is barely hanging onto his humanity,” the Prince said, breaking the silence. He cast Salvador a sideways look. The Fae could look into the eyes of another and see their potential for good and evil. “I have every intention of bringing together your Knights of White and the Werewolves in allegiance to the Council. Lucan can help or hurt that process. Adrian will know this. He will try to turn the Knights against the wolves through Lucan. How he responds to the challenge before him could profoundly impact the future of humanity. How confident are you this mate of his can bring him back to us?”
 

“Enough to ask for you for help, regardless of consequences.”

The Prince studied him a moment. “Ah, yes. The consequences. Another century on earth, I suspect. Maybe two? How many thousands will that make?”

“You’ve served this planet at least as long as I have,” Salvador reminded him.
 

“Because I agreed to ten thousand years,” he rebutted. “We both know you have added century after century onto your sentence since taking on the Knights and done so to protect them from their own failures. When will you allow them to stand on their own?”

“Too many Knights were lost because they had no way to remove the stain of their beasts.”

“Sometimes Salvador,” the Prince said, “I believe you don’t want to leave this realm. That you prefer the penalties that have been exacted from you, over the ultimate peace of leaving this world behind. That you are punishing yourself for something no one but you and perhaps God himself understands.”
 

The truth of those words ripped through Salvador’s chest, twisting his heart. But he’d born much pain in his existence and easily buried it beneath a steel shell. His lips quirked in an amused half smile. “Yet you helped me tonight, anyway,” Salvador said wryly.
 

The Prince inclined his head. “Who am I to deny a man the punishment he so wishes for.”

Salvador’s smile widened. “Your graciousness is always astounding.”

“It really is, isn’t it?” the Prince commented dryly, giving the horizon his profile as he turned to Salvador, his mood shifting. “I will protect your Knight as long as is feasible. But I cannot allow him to destroy Cullen Moore.”
 

Grim, but fair, words. “Understood.”

The Prince bowed. “Peace be with you, my friend."

“Peace be with you,” Salvador repeated, knowing those words reached beyond the surface meaning. The Prince faded away, departing.
 

Salvador turned back to Ground Zero, facing the darkness again – because facing the darkness was what he did. It was all he knew. It was the pain of his existence. He relished it for one purpose – destroying it as it had once destroyed him.