Book One: The Girl (The Sanctum) (4 page)

It took a
few moments for the meaning of Darby’s statement to sink into Jools’ psyche, but when it finally did, she simply turned and stared at the boy next to her.

“What?” Ryker asked innocently.

Jools leaned against a car, studying Ryker and her brother. Best friends. On a certain level, soul mates. Which made it all the more difficult for Jools to swallow the fact that her brother consistently used his best friend to get ahead in The Sanctum. Darby was simply another example of Wyatt taking one of Ryker’s thoughtful decisions and making it his own. The plain truth of the matter was Wyatt would never consider sparing Darby because he would never consider doing anything except what The Sanctum demanded of him, be it right or wrong.

Jools shot her brother a look of disgust. As desperately as she loved him, sometimes she really could not believe they were related.

“Don’t do that, Jools.”

“Don’t do what, Ryker?”

She was used to this routine: the boys always defended one another. This time would be no different.

“Don’t look at Wyatt like that.”

“Shut up, Ryker,” Jools continued staring at her brother, “I can look at him however I want.”

Darby sauntered over and leaned into Jools, trying to steer her attention away from Wyatt.

“Oh Jools, do grow up, please,” Darby began sweetly enough, “this inability to leave your brother alone is starting to grate my last nerve. I’m sorry you’ve been thinkin’ Wyatt saved my life this whole time, but sweetheart, had you taken five seconds to flesh out that theory, you’da seen the foolhardiness of it a long time ago and we’da been spared all of your carrying on.

“As much as I love watchin’ you get all hot and bothered every time Wyatt wraps those arms of his around me,” Darby shot Wyatt a mischievous grin, “even I’ve reached my limits with this nonsense. Now kindly get over yourself, go give your brother a kiss and let’s get the hell out of here.”

Darby shooed Jools away from her.

Jools pushed off the car and prepared to leave.

“You are all making a big deal of nothing. I have nothing to say to Wyatt that I haven’t already said before. He is a spineless tool of The Sanctum, has been since he exited the womb and will always be, no matter what.

“And you’re right, Darby. Had I taken a few seconds to think about the fact that you’re still walking around instead of burnt to a crisp in some back alley in Brooklyn, I would have known Ryker was the reason. But I didn’t because this one time I just wanted to believe in my brother. I wanted to believe he wasn’t using his best friend as a stepping stone in the furtherance of his career.”

Ryker stepped towards Jools, but she backed away, her eyes suggesting he shouldn’t come any closer.

“Don’t. Just let me be. And certainly spare me whatever excuse you’re going to make for Wyatt this time,” Jools briefly glanced at her brother before turning on her heel, then stopped.

“Don’t you ever get sick of it, Ryker? Always being the crazy one? I mean, everyone knows you’re as talented and smart as Wyatt, but you’re just a little off, no? Reckless and incapable of exercising control? Isn’t that the line you guys tow?”

Jools shook her head sadly at Ryker. She hated admitting it but she loved him, had loved him since she first laid eyes on him, probably would be cursed to love him forever, but would never understand this aspect of his personality. How could he be so damn deferential to someone else? And not even a superior, but his equal. His best friend no less. It drove her to madness. She wished, just this one time, that Ryker had stepped up and claimed Darby as his own.

"Jools, come on, do not look at me like that," Ryker pleaded, "you cannot begin to understand."

"Then for once, explain it to me. Because standing here, right now, this entire scene just looks like more of the same crap. You make a good decision not to follow some set of ridiculous orders and Wyatt takes all the credit.

“Wyatt’s the one who vouched for Darby to The Sanctum, telling them what? That he looked into Darby’s eyes and couldn’t do it, saw some spark of humanity and couldn’t kill her? Ha! You and I both know Wyatt would never do such a thing. Never."

Ryker glanced at Wyatt, sitting on a car, cleaning his short blade. The hunch of his shoulders and the wrinkle between his eyes assured Ryker his friend wasn't paying the least bit of attention to Jools. In fact, Wyatt had completely tuned her out; these were the moments Wyatt found his sister insufferable and downright bratty. She could carry on as much as she liked but the simple fact remained that Jools would never understand the intricacies and intimacies of the boys’ relationship; she would never understand their complete faith and devotion to one another. And neither boy would ever try to enlighten her.

“Of course,” Jools continued, too caught up in her soliloquy to note her brother’s preoccupation or Ryker’s irritation, “Wyatt will tell you he’s covering for you and he’s got your back and he’ll take the blame because no one would ever get mad at Wyatt Clayworth for not following a direct order of The Sanctum, whereas if you take credit for your decision, the same decision that is eventually going to be viewed as the better one to make, you’ll be excoriated and...”

“JOOLS!”

Ryker’s voice echoed off the buildings, startling Wyatt, Darby and Jools to attention. He never yelled. He hated yelling. Ryker rarely even raised his voice. And yes, it seemed so weak and beneath him to do so now, but he didn’t want to hear another word come out of Jools’ mouth. The ensuing silence suggested he achieved his goal.

“Now look what you’ve gone and done, little girl,” Darby drawled, thoroughly disgusted with Jools, “shame on you, making Ryker raise his voice like that, nearly scaring the skin offa me.”

Darby was all smiles and polite words but the boys picked up on her deadly tone right away, shifting their attention to the angry vampire immediately. Both Ryker and Wyatt knew what came next: Darby killing whatever it was that pissed her off. Before Wyatt could make a move, Ryker wrapped his arms around Darby, engulfing her tiny, cold body in his warm embrace. He whispered something in her ear, making her momentarily forget her murderous ire and throw her head back with laughter. Ryker grinned and kissed Darby’s cold neck and cheek, all the while never taking his eyes off Jools, hoping she realized how close she had just come to her own death.

“Jools, you are a very, very lucky little girl,” Darby purred as she wiggled out of Ryker’s arms, “because let me tell you honey, without Ryker around, I woulda killed your ass and drained you dry a long time ago. You might be as pretty as your brother, but you don’t have an iota of charm in that gorgeous body of yours.

“For the life of me, I will never understand why Ryker loves you like he does,” Darby mumbled to herself as she walked away from the trio.

“Where are you going?” Ryker called after her.

“Away from y’all. All that bitching and moaning has killed my buzz.”

Ryker watched Darby’s slight figure walk up Fifth Avenue, weaving among the pedestrian traffic, tense and annoyed. He knew exactly what she was about to do and prayed that the poor soul who fell victim to her deadly beauty had a guardian angel watching over them.

“Seen my phone?”

Wyatt’s voice shook Ryker from his reverie. He watched Wyatt go through his bag, looking for his phone and could not help himself.

“I used it to call your mama.”

That simple, silly statement released some of the tension enveloping the group and Ryker found himself chuckling at his own joke. He wasn’t quite sure whether he was ready to forgive Jools for her outburst--she was lingering on the periphery, waiting for her chance to come up and somehow touch him affectionately, her version of an apology without ever having to say she was sorry--but he knew he was ready to move past it.

“I set myself up for that,” Wyatt grinned as he searched his pockets for his phone, “but seriously, where is my phone?”

Ryker grabbed his bag off the ground and prepared to leave. If he didn’t see 15th street for another month, it wouldn’t be too soon.

“I seem to recall you stubbornly refusing to use it at the bar, so my guess is it’s sitting in one of those damn quadrants in the park.”

“Damn.”

“Come on,” Ryker started walking towards Fifth Avenue to head uptown, “I’ll help you find it.”

Wyatt glanced at his sister and considered telling her to go back to the Academy but realized he didn’t really want to talk to Jools at all. Instead, he turned without saying a word and caught up to Ryker.

“Go home, Jools,” Ryker turned and said what Wyatt could not, “just leave us alone.”

“Ryker!” Jools yelled.

The insistence in Jools’ voice irked Ryker. She was so used to shouting his name and him jumping that the thought of him simply walking away from her never crossed her mind. That just wasn’t part of Jools’ reality.

Ryker continued walking a couple of steps and then against his better judgment, stopped and turned around. He looked Jools dead on and although he told himself he wouldn’t give in, the minute he saw her big, sad eyes he felt his resolve slowly melting away. Why did this happen every damn time Jools messed up? When would he learn to just say no to her?

Ryker started to say something then stopped, feeling Wyatt’s hand on his shoulder. Wyatt turned his friend around, away from Jools and headed uptown.

“Go. Home,” Wyatt hissed at his sister. “NOW!”

CARTER BRESLIN

Head of The Sanctum, Leader of The Circle of Ten

Distinctive Member of the Founding Families

TO:

ALL ACADEMY HEADS

Sanctum Members

RE: HYBRID DEMON UPDATE

Our initial intelligence was correct and the Hybrid was located in the south Indian state of Kerala.

It proved deadlier than expected, managing to kill two of our Class A Warriors and severely injuring the third before escaping via secret portal.

As explained before, this being presents itself as a young woman: five feet ten inches tall, brown skin, black hair, strange markings on her arms. Do not be fooled, this being is neither human nor Magical. It is an abomination, incapable of developing familial ties, expressing emotion or understanding reason.

It is immune to our raven blades and capable of destroying our Shields of the Gods.

This being is a killing machine. Nothing more, nothing less.

Any member of The Sanctum who comes into contact with this thing is hereby granted the authority to kill it on the spot and has a duty do so. Each and every one of us has a responsibility to our Sanctum brethren and human and magical beings of this world to eradicate this deadly menace. Nothing less will be tolerated.

In good health,

Carter Breslin

The endless black
tunnel surrounding Dev as she sped through the ether played with her senses. She experienced a vertigo like no other and since her experience with portal travel was limited, she struggled to control it. Before she knew it, the imbalance took control and Dev passed out, spinning madly through time and space. And then, BAM!

The portal opened and she landed on the hard ground with such force
that every bone in her body shattered. She lay broken and unconscious in the dead of night in the middle of god-knows-where. Her left arm snapped at her shoulder and was pinned under her. Her right knee completely dislocated and turned almost backwards, leaving her right leg turned in an impossible direction. It was amazing her body didn't snap in half. And yet, the damage wasn't fatal.

Dev's mind was totally unaware of the whir of activity going on inside her body as it immediately began the necessary process of repair. Every bone slowly began regenerating itself, quietly putting the broken girl back together. Bit by bit, Dev became Dev again, beginning with her head and moving down her body, inch by inch.

"I took quadrants 12 through 35, so let's split them and search." Wyatt pointed down at his map, showing Ryker where he could start.

The boys stood under a street lamp in Central Park, studying their earlier sweep, trying to retrace Wyatt's steps. The quadrants of the park were incredibly dark at this time of night, but with their heightened vision, lighting made no difference. The pools of light from the lamps scattered here and there were more than enough for the boys to easily see into the night.

Ryker could not help but laugh.

"You basically covered our entire sweep today."

"You say that with such surprise," Wyatt replied.

"It's one thing to let you do most of the work, it's a whole other beast to see it on paper.”

"Read it and weep. I basically own your ass. If I add up all the assignments I cover for you," Wyatt shook his head in amusement, "I can't even imagine the demands I could make."

"You wouldn't."

Wyatt stopped and considered.

"Oh, but I would."

Ryker smirked, "But then who would deal with Jools?"

"You say that as if you would ever let anyone else deal with my sister," Wyatt grinned like the Cheshire Cat. "Can't fool me, Ryker Morrison. I don't care how slick you are or how many girls you've got. You're forgetting I can see right through you. Have been able to since we first met. So I know Jools--bratty, pain-in-the-ass, self-centered, righteous, jealous, completely irritating Jools--is your Achilles heel."

"You done with the lecture?" Ryker asked, changing the subject as he turned and headed for his side of the park, "because we should do this if we want to get out of here before sunrise."

"Nice one," Wyatt called after Ryker's departing figure, "but this conversation is hardly finished."

Ryker turned before disappearing into the woods of quadrant twelve. He smiled a very un-Ryker like smile, looking more sad than happy.

"It's over before it even started. Trust me."

Wyatt watched as the woods swallowed Ryker, wondering how he could have missed his best friend's growing attachment to his sister. But if he was being honest with himself, Wyatt had seen the hints of something a long time ago, he just chose to ignore it. He assumed one of them would eventually tire of the other. Isn’t that what painfully beautiful types like his sister and best friend did? Wasn’t it always all about the chase? And yet, Jools and Ryker seemed more drawn to each other than ever before. Go figure.

Wyatt shrugged his shoulders and headed into the woods. Not his problem, he told himself as he stepped over a fallen tree.

Odd.

Wyatt stopped in his tracks. There were no fallen trees earlier today when he swept the area. Wyatt pulled his blade from his hip and began tracking a subtle path of broken foliage thirty or so feet deeper into the woods. This far in, there was little light and even less sound. Not wanting to use even the smallest of his fire flares to light his way, Wyatt was completely dependent on his heightened, well-trained senses.

In the distance, Ryker whistled in the boys secret code, letting Wyatt know he was moving on to the next quadrant. Although Wyatt didn’t want to call attention to himself, he also didn’t want to worry Ryker, so he whistled the usual response, knowing that upon hearing it, Ryker would return to his search. Then Wyatt stood perfectly still and waited. For what, he didn’t know.

As the seconds ticked by, Wyatt listened to the sounds of the park. The insects and small animals were background noise to the random footsteps, murmurs and sighs he picked up all around him. Normal nocturnal sounds for a city park. Folks out enjoying the warm night. Nothing to concern himself with so Wyatt moved along, cautiously taking a few steps forward, blades upright in both hands, then waited again. There was something. Just underneath all the other noise. A certain vibration that almost hummed, as if calling to him.

“Please.”

A hand reached out from nowhere and grabbed Wyatt’s ankle with desperate force.

Wyatt violently shook his leg free and brought his blade down with lightning speed. As quickly as he moved to attack, he sprang back in shock. A girl. His blade pressed against her brown skin. In the sliver of moonlight coming down through the trees, Wyatt saw where he left a trail of blood across her slim neck. The girl’s body was pinned under a tree, her arms and legs strewn askew at painful angles, and yet her eyes did not betray a trace of physical pain. How someone could suffer such bodily harm and survive was outside Wyatt’s realm of understanding.

The girl reached for him again as he easily stepped outside of her grasp. Whether it was fear or training, he knew he didn’t want her touching him again. Wyatt noted that aside from her head, only one of her arms moved; the rest of her appeared paralyzed, or dead. Instinct told him to make sure before getting any closer. Wyatt circled her prone body, prodding her here and there with his boot, getting no reaction whatsoever.

Satisfied that she wasn’t going to suddenly spring up and attack, Wyatt removed the tree pinning her to the ground and bent low to get a better look at her. She was long, lean and stunningly beautiful, but that wasn’t what caught Wyatt’s attention. It was her haunted eyes that gripped his very soul. Without realizing what he was doing, Wyatt reached over and gently moved her hair out of her face.

Her eyes desperately searched his, frantically seeking something from him. Solace? Help? He had no idea.

Wherever she was from, she had been through a brutal attack. Her face was bruised and cut all over and as he slowly inspected the rest of her body, he noted a deep cut underneath her shoulder. The edges of the wound betrayed the tell-tale signs of a Raven blade: burnt skin and a pale glow where the poison infected the body. However, in the girl’s case, the poison appeared almost frozen. It wasn’t spreading through her body as it should but rather remained only where the raven blade came in contact with her.

So bizarre.

He could not recall a case of surviving a Raven blade wound without treatment, much less halting the spread of the poison unassisted. But it appeared this girl had done both.

And then he knew.

The hybrid demon.

This girl was the evil they were hunting.

She reached for him again but this time, for some reason, Wyatt didn’t move. She wrapped her long fingers around his, lay her head back down and closed her eyes. Her long lashes fanned across her face. Her breathing settled into an even, unhurried pace as she relaxed into the ground, making Wyatt wonder whether she was succumbing to her wounds. A tear escaped one of her eyes and slowly rolled down her hollow cheek, getting lost in her thick, dark hair. He held his breath, watching her in wonder.

He should have killed her.

That was his mission as a warrior of The Sanctum. He knew full well his only goal was to kill this thing.

This girl.

Instead, his hand was wrapped in hers, his blades remained holstered. He didn’t move a muscle. He simply watched her.

Suddenly, her eyes flew open in sheer panic and she gripped his hand with such force Wyatt thought his bones would be crushed.

“Please,” she again pleaded, “you are one of them. Please, kill me.”