Book One: The Girl (The Sanctum) (16 page)

"And finally, Josiah, the why. Damned if I know. But I'll tell you this: the two of them have this bizarre connection to one another. I don't get it, I don't think Wyatt gets it and from my observations of her...excuse me, Dev, I don't think she gets it either. But my guess as to 'why' is because it's supposed to happen that way.

"Which is freaking scary, if you ask me."

Ryker leaned back in his chair and let his words sink in and take effect, knowing Josiah would have a million questions to ask, preparing himself for a long, most likely sleepless night.

"Is she the hybrid?" Josiah asked Wyatt.

"I don't know."

"Don't give me that garbage, Wyatt. You are a premier Class A Warrior of The Sanctum. You always know exactly what you're hunting, so I want you to tell me, right now, if she is the hybrid."

"What difference does it make?" Wyatt asked, unwilling to answer his dad.

Josiah realized he was getting nowhere with his line of questioning. For one, he had always been a horrible interrogator, never having the necessary nastiness to go in really hard on someone to elicit an answer and for another, his son was a superior warrior, born with an innate ability to avoid exactly what Josiah was currently attempting to accomplish.

It was time to go about this in a completely different way.

"What difference does it make?" Josiah began. "It makes a huge difference. On a scale you cannot begin to fathom.”

“I made a promise to your mom, years ago, when we realized you and Ryker were going to be some kind of Sanctum superheroes, that I would never speak of this to you, for fear of what it would do to your career. Your life.

"And I’m not going to break that promise to her now. But trust me when I say this: your friend being the hybrid makes an enormous difference. Not just to you or Ryker or me but to everyone. Everyone, Wyatt. Sanctum and Magicals alike. And I’ve got to find her before anyone else does.”

Dev knew they
were coming, she could feel the blood pumping through their veins, hear their heavy breathing as they trailed her closely. She pulled Wyatt's hoodie down further over her eyes and took off through the streets as fast as she could, slipping into the subway station and then hitting the tunnels far below. They curved under the city in every direction and she chose random routes, moving at lightning speed, hopeful she had, for the time being, lost her pursuers.

From their gold armbands, Dev knew they were Sanctum, but these two were a long way from home, all the way across the pond from the London headquarters. Did that mean Wyatt had turned her over to his dad who called in help from headquarters? Or did it mean the Clayworth's New York Academy could not be trusted to bring her in? She had no idea, nor did she have the time to contemplate the possibilities. All Dev had time to do was run.

Hours later, exhausted and filthy, Dev lay down between the tracks to rest. No Magicals would bother her here since this was a live track and they preferred the abandoned tunnels. From what she could pick up as she projected herself outward, touching as many souls as possible, no Sanctum were nearby. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, calming herself, preparing for battle.

For she knew it was coming. Nothing epic, but a definite fight. And she would be forced to kill the two pursuing her or die herself. She felt the blade at her side, Wyatt’s short blade, the one she stole from Jools. It was by no means Daya, but with her skill, Dev knew it would more than suffice. It was amazingly sharp and light, making it easy to wield despite the fact it was designed for a man. She fingered the hilt and briefly thought of Wyatt, but only for a moment as she noticed something moving slowly towards her, cautiously.

Picking up no vital signs or life force, Dev immediately knew she was sharing the tunnel with a vampire. She shuddered at the thought. More than any other being, Dev could not abide the bloodsuckers. Their intense beauty, deathlike pallor, cold skin, feeding habits. None of it sat well with her.

Her mother had always loved vampires; she fondly called them her “children of the night,” but Dev never warmed to them, wanting to be nowhere near the house when they came over, slipping out in the middle of the night when they visited. And now she had to share this dark, smelly space with one. Somewhere she knew her mother was chuckling.

“She’s here...I can feel her.”

Dev forgot the vampire and cocked her head to the side, listening closely, shutting everything out in an effort to pinpoint the speaker. It was a woman, headed in Dev’s direction, moving fast. And then, ever so slightly, a vibration. A low rumble. The train. At the bottom of the island, but headed uptown. Plus the vampire, who was now lingering in Dev’s vicinity, neither attacking nor fleeing, simply waiting. For what, Dev had no idea and no longer cared.

“Go around and come from the uptown side,” the woman directed, “I’ll come from down here, we’ll converge and attack.”

“What about the trains,” her male partner inquired, “these tracks are live.”

“Forget the trains. It’s the middle of the night. They’re barely running.”

Then they split apart and made their way towards Dev.

She didn’t move, except to arm herself. And then she waited.

The man approached first, completely oblivious to her lying between the tracks. He passed her on the left, stopping for a second, as if he heard something, then continued on. Dev rose, followed him a few steps then grabbed him from behind and slit his throat. He dropped to the tracks without making a sound, dead before he hit the ground. She cleaned her knife on her pants and looking behind her, spotted the glow of the vampire’s eyes. They briefly locked stares before hearing the blare of the train headed their way. Dev pressed herself against the side of the tunnel and held her breath.

Moments later, the female warrior came flying out of the tunnel, the train mere seconds behind her. Mimicking Dev, she, too, pressed herself against the side of the tunnel, waiting for the train to pass. As the train came to a stop, Dev leapt on top, spotted the woman and slid down to the other side. The warrior sensed her presence immediately and drew her Raven blade, ready to attack. Fighting her with a short blade was going to be a challenge, but relying on her speed, strength and agility, Dev believed she still held the advantage.

As the train pulled away, Dev made her move, flying in at the woman waist-high, knives drawn, hoping to land some initial body wounds. Instead, the warrior flew up at the last minute and came back down on Dev’s back, her sword slicing into Dev’s shoulder. She pulled her sword out and came back hard, slicing at Dev right and left, with unearthly speed and precision. With no time to switch her blade to her uninjured arm, all Dev could do was defend herself, avoiding the deadly blows the best she could. Further into the tunnel she was pushed, the warrior sensing her advantage and pressing forward fast, hoping to land the perfect blow and finish the kill. Again Dev was caught by the Raven blade, this time a gash to her left rib cage, breaking the bone and puncturing her lung.

With her last bit of energy, Dev swung around and kicked the woman in the side of the face, then brought her blade down hard and fast, slicing through her neck, killing her with one blow. Dev fell to the ground in a bloody heap, finding herself once again, between the tracks, too injured and weak to move herself to safety. She only hoped her body would heal itself before the next train roared into the station. As she faded in and out of consciousness, Dev felt cold hands wrap themselves around her and gently move her from the tracks. She wanted to shout out in fear and revulsion, convinced the vampire was going to feed on her, terrified she would awaken to find herself reborn a child of the night.

Instead, Dev rose hours later fully healed and well hidden from any passersby, wondering why the vampire had helped her but so thankful he had done so. She checked her body for bite marks and finding none, started walking uptown towards Central Park, hoping to find the portal that brought her here and could possibly take her back home.

Wyatt waited, still as stone, glamoured to the hilt. He did not want anyone to see him, including Dev. He needed to find her, but only had so much time before his dad, Ryker and Jools joined the hunt. He was confident he could persuade her to trust him much easier than they could. Plus, he honestly had no idea how Dev would react to his dad, Ryker or Jools; she could very easily kill them before they had a chance to explain themselves to her. Wyatt was not willing to take that chance.

He heard her approach before he saw her. Dev quietly stepped along the path leading to the hiding place Wyatt had found for her the first time he left her in the park. She kept her hand on the handle of the blade at her waist, ready for anything at any time, looking over her shoulder every time she heard a noise.

Wyatt waited, unsure how Dev would react when she saw him, figuring she would either run or attack. He was prepared for both. What he wasn't prepared for was seeing her covered, head to toe, in blood, her clothing sliced apart and her face, neck and hands covered in dirt.

"Jesus!"

Dev caught sight of Wyatt, waiting for her, and without thinking, collapsed in his arms, not from exhaustion or pain, but relief. Wyatt began frantically examining her entire body, worried she was mortally wounded, wondering who did this to her, determined to kill them.

“Wyatt,” she whispered into his chest.

Wyatt ignored her as he helped her sit down on the ground and checked her ribs and shoulder.

“Wyatt.”

He told himself to calm down, that Dev apparently was not injured, or if she had been, had completely healed, but he could not. All he could think about was finding who had done this to her and making them pay.

“WYATT!” she yelled, annoyed he was not listening to her.

Wyatt met Dev’s eyes, but he looked right through her. She leaned forward on her knees and grabbed him, shaking him hard, determined to make him see her, hear her.

He covered her hands with his and looked down at her, finally seeing past her horrific appearance.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, “you just look like...”

“I know what I look like,” she interrupted him. “You would look the same if you spent the last twelve hours being hunted and attacked in the subway tunnels by a tracker and warrior from your beloved Sanctum.”

She pushed him away from her and sat back down on the ground, leaning her head back and inhaling deeply. Wyatt started towards her but stopped when she held up a warning hand.

“You just collapsed in my arms,” Wyatt defended himself, “what was I supposed to think?”

“I was relieved to see you,” she explained, her voice tinged with lingering irritation, “not hurt.”

Wyatt laughed, but he wasn’t amused.

“How the hell was I supposed to know that? You’re covered in blood and dirt, your clothes are sliced up and you smell like god-only-knows.”

Dev sat up and stared hard at Wyatt, feeling so angry and frustrated.

“How the hell were you supposed to know that?” she threw his question back at him, “because you just watched my entire body regenerate itself. Because none of your foolish weapons and torture tools can kill me. Because I am immortal! Dammit, Wyatt. Do I have to spell it out for you?”

“I am a trained killer, far more fearsome and skilled than you and your friends. I am a sorcerer, a tracker, an angel and demon combined. I am your Sanctum’s worst nightmare and just in case you didn’t pick up on this fact, I have every intention of bringing that nightmare to fruition. They might have been able to kill my family, but they will never kill me.”

Wyatt watched her quietly, not sure how to handle her outburst, understanding for the first time the full extent of crimes The Sanctum had committed against her.

“I don’t need you coming around, wanting to take care of me. I do not need anyone to take care of me. This is what I’ve been preparing for my entire life, so trust me when I say this, the last thing I need is you panicking every time you see me covered in a little blood. Because if I have it my way, blood red is going to be my color of choice.”

She stabbed her blade into the ground in irritation and they both remained silent for a while, each lost in thought. Dev crossed her legs and closed her eyes, meditating quietly, focusing on anything but her current situation. Wyatt watched her for a while and then closed his eyes as well, escaping into his own thoughts, trying to get a handle on his many conflicting emotions.

“Are you going to continue using stolen blades to effect this blood bath?” Wyatt finally asked, breaking the long silence between the two.

Dev didn’t answer him but she did open her eyes and take note of the hilt of the weapon sticking out of the ground. Wyatt’s blade stared back at her. Two of his other blades were strapped around her legs and his sister’s holster draped her hips. And Dev still had on his hoodie, or at least what was left of it. She was one big, borrowed mess.

Wyatt braved her temper and crawled over to Dev, pulling his blade out of the ground. It was beautiful and he loved it; Coco made it for him for his thirteenth birthday. The blade was an upswept point with a swage that could be sharpened or unsharpened. The spine of the weapon was the thickest, strongest part of the knife while the belly of the blade was its most convex and devastatingly sharp. She designed a handle with a highlighted heel drop, making the knife not only easy to wield but also comfortable to hold. It was a thing of beauty and Wyatt had used it often with deadly precision.
²

“Jools has coveted this blade since the day I got it,” Wyatt explained as he studied the weapon, “which is probably why she’s made it one of her missions to learn how to open my trunk and get at my stuff. I have a trunk under my bed that contains all of my weapons and things I need when Ryker and I get sent out on missions. Anyway, I know Jools thinks I don’t know that she’s done this, but I do. I just don’t say anything because I love her and there’s really nothing I wouldn’t do for her.

“If she just once asked me for this blade, I would have given it to her. But she wanted to go about it her own way, and being Jools, that meant snooping through my things. I noticed she had it on her hip that day I got attacked by the wolf, but I never got a chance to mention it. And now you have it, which means you got it off her, and knowing both of you, I can only assume that entailed a fight.

“So now that this beauty has made it back to her rightful owner, that being me, I’m going to give her to you and say thank you for not killing my sister, who drives me nuts and makes me crazy, but I love desperately. Thank you.”

Wyatt gently set the knife in Dev’s lap. She fingered the handle lovingly, fully appreciating Wyatt’s peace offering.

“I ruined your hoodie,” she mentioned as she continued studying her new knife.

Wyatt sat back on his knees and studied Dev, fully aware she wouldn’t make eye contact with him, wondering if she was still upset.

“I can plainly see that.”

“Sorry.”

“You should be,” he replied, “since you snagged my favorite one before escaping into the night.”

“Are you mad?” she asked.

Wyatt knew she was asking more about her disappearance than the state of his clothing.

“Never,” he replied.

“Why not?” she asked, a hint of irritation in her voice.

“I just figure you have your reasons, for whatever it is you decide to do. There is always a reason. I might not know it, but I assume it exists and that’s enough for me. And I’m sorry this irks you, but I don’t know what else to tell you, unless you want me to lie.”

Dev shook her head.

“So then you just have to accept it for what it is. I don’t know why I am this way with you, so accepting of everything about you, willing to abide your every whim. And if it annoys you, how do you think I feel? I am a highly trained, well-respected Class A Warrior from a long line of warriors. I am a descendant of one of the Founding Families of The Sanctum. I am a brilliant tracker, precise hunter and brutal killer. I am not a guy who sits back and lets someone walk all over them.