Rage and Ruin

Those years of training were wrong.

And listening to them had been my greatest weakness. Not my vision. Not my feelings or my fear. I shouldn’t ever allow things to escalate to the last resort. I should never be in a position like this when I could’ve prevented it.

Terror gave way to rage, turning that slush in my veins to fire. My grace roared to life, and I tapped into it. The corners of my eyes flared with golden-white light.

Whoever this bastard was, he was about to get the surprise of his life.

The grip on my wrists shifted until one hand bit into my bone. The other gripped me by the neck, pulling me forward while holding me back. Muscles stretched to the point of tearing.

“It’s a little late to use your grace.” The voice was distinctively Southern, a deep twang that would’ve been charming in any other situation. It wasn’t at all lost on me that he knew what I was. “That should’ve been the first thing you used, darlin’.”

“Did you seriously just call me darling?” I growled, feeling the intense heat power up my arm.

“What should I call you? Trueborn?”

“How about your worst nightmare?”

“How about no? Because that would be a lie, darlin’. In reality, I’m your worst nightmare.”

I was suddenly released, and I staggered forward before catching myself. My grace flared from my palm, the handle forming as my fingers curled around the weight. Flames licked down the length of the blade, spilling a golden glow into the tunnel.

I saw enough of him.

Standing across from me, dressed in all black, hair so blond it appeared white and skin an alabaster shade that was near translucent. There was just a glimpse of his face, but I saw that his features were all perfect angles, although the sardonic twist to his lips turned the asymmetric beauty into something far too cruel and cold, like a young man carved from ice and snow.

The Sword of Michael spit fire as I lifted it high, more than prepared to end his life without hesitation.

“Cool toy,” he quipped, extending his right arm. “I got one myself.”

The shock of what I saw caused me to lose control of my grace. It pulsed brightly and then exploded into sparking ash.

“Impossible,” I whispered.

Golden light tinged in blue had powered down his arm, taking the shape of a long, narrow spear of fire.

Grace. He had a grace.

“Does this look impossible to you?” he asked, his tone almost teasing. “You thought you were the only one, didn’t you? Your shock is damn near palpable.” He made that tsking sound again, and then his grace retracted, throwing the tunnel into darkness once more. “Darlin’, there’s a lot you don’t know.”

The rush of air was the only warning before his hands clapped down on either side of my head. “But you’ll learn soon enough.”

There was no time to brace or prepare. Shocking pain exploded along the back of my skull as my head slammed into the wall, and then there was nothing.

Nothing at all.

* * *

A soft, warm touch to my cheek led me out of the darkness. I came to, gasping for air in a brightly lit room that hurt my eyes. I started to sit up, blinking the burn from my eyes until buttery-yellow walls with dark molding came into view.

“Trin.” Zayne was suddenly there, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. “You need to lie still. Jasmine will be back soon.”

I went to speak, but my tongue felt heavy and woolly as he eased me back down on a thick pad or pillow.

“Please just keep still,” he said.

Zayne’s features were a little blurry as my eyes worked to adjust to the brightness. Damp strands of hair clung to pale cheeks, and the shirt he’d worn was shredded and hanging from his shoulders. He’d shifted at some point into his true form and his pupils were still stretched vertically.

“Where...?” The back of my head throbbed, causing me to draw in a shallow breath. “Where am I?”

Zayne’s pale eyes flickered over my face. “You’re at the compound.” He sat next to me on the bed. “When I found you, you wouldn’t...you wouldn’t wake up, and you were bleeding from the head. Bad.” A muscle tensed along his jaw. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay.” I started to reach for said head, but Zayne was fast, gently capturing my hand. “I think.”

“You think?” He gave a small shake of his head and then added quietly, “Your wrists.”

My gaze followed his to bluish and deeper violet marks along my inner wrists. Everything that had happened started to come together. Several emotions spiked—fear and anger churned together, quickly followed by disbelief.

Zayne’s gaze flew to mine. “They look like finger marks.”

Because they were. I stared at them, thoughts still fuzzy. “I fell through the ground into some kind of tunnel.”

“I felt you—through the bond.” He laid my hand on my lap, his fingers lingering on mine for a few seconds. “Panic and anger. I got out of the school as fast as I could, but I didn’t see you. The bond,” he said, placing his hand to his chest. “It led me to you, but it took me too long to find you.”

“I fell into some sort of tunnel,” I told him. “Was I alone when you found me?”

“You were when I reached you.” He rose, voice hardening. “What happened, Trin? The injury to the head could’ve happened in the fall, but not the other bruises.”

I looked down at myself. Holy crap. There were streaks of dried blood on my arms and chest. My shirt was dark and felt damp in areas, either from rain or more blood. How badly was my head injured?

That didn’t matter right now.

I shifted my gaze up, tracking Zayne as he passed beside the bed. As the fuzz cleared from my head and my body, I could feel his anger through the bond, and it was as hot as the sun. “There’s another Trueborn.”

Zayne stopped and then slowly faced me. “What?”

“That’s what was in the tunnel with me. He’s a Trueborn, like me, and I think he’s been what I’ve been feeling. That weird coldness and feeling of being watched? I think it’s him.” My focus shifted to my wrists. “A Trueborn is the Harbinger.”

Shock splashed over his face and through the bond. “You’re the only one.”

I laughed and then winced as that made my head hurt. “Yeah, apparently I’m not.”

Zayne was immediately at my side, concern pinching his features. It was strange to see him so concerned after days of being standoffish or annoyed with me.

“It makes sense,” I said once my head stopped feeling like a cracked egg. “It explains why the Harbinger hasn’t been sensed by Wardens, and a Trueborn can take out a Warden or an Upper Level demon. It doesn’t explain the video feed interference, but I saw his grace. He has a spear like my sword, and he was fast.” I paused. “And he sounded like he was from the South.”

“Did he say anything?”

“Nothing of real value.” I closed my eyes. “You didn’t see him?”

“I didn’t hear or see anyone but you.” A moment later I felt his fingers graze my cheek. He scooped up a strand of my hair, brushing it back from my face. “And you were gone maybe twenty minutes.”

“I think he... I don’t know. He could’ve killed me after he knocked me out, but he didn’t. If you didn’t run him off, then...”

“Then this was a message. He was finally showing himself.”

I opened my eyes and saw that Zayne’s expression was downright murderous. What I was about to say wasn’t going to help. “He was at the school, watching us. I saw him on the lawn. I didn’t know what he was when I started toward him, and then the ground just gave out.”

“I’m sure that wasn’t a coincidence.” Zayne’s gaze met mine. “He wanted you down there, alone.”

That couldn’t be argued. “We need to get back there. Like now. There were things written on those walls, and he could still be there—”

“We’re not going anywhere right now.”

“I’m fine. Look.” I lifted my arms. “I’m okay.”

“Trin, you have been unconscious for nearly an hour—”

My eyes widened. That did seem like a long time. “But I’m awake and perfectly functional.”

He stared at me like I was trying to walk around on a broken leg. “I don’t think you realize how badly injured you are.”

“I think I can tell if I’m hurt or not.”

His eyes flared an intense pale blue as he leaned over me, planting his hands on either side of my shoulders. “I think you, of all people, can’t tell that. You were knocked unconscious. There are bruises all over you, and I know there are, because I was here when Jasmine checked you out. You bled enough to soak what is left of my shirt.”

When he said that, I realized there were rusty-colored smudges all over his chest, peeking out of the torn clothing.

“You’ve also bled through the pillow and the towels we placed under your head.” He stayed close, caging me in like he planned on keeping me in the bed. “Jasmine thinks that the back of your head is split open, and she’s gathering up stuff right now to work on you, so no, we’re not running off to check out a damn tunnel or even a movie. You’re staying right here.”

“But what if I want to see a movie, Zayne?” I snapped, even though my stomach dropped. My head could be split open? Were they going to have to shave off my hair?

Okay, that was, like, the last thing I needed to worry about.

His lips twitched and some of the heat went out of his eyes. “Well, you’re out of luck. Even if I did let you out of this bed, all the theaters are closed. It’s almost two.”

I crossed my arms, knowing that my expression was about as sullen as it could get. Just because a blow had knocked me out didn’t mean I was that injured. “We have to go back there.”     PrevNextTip: You can use left and right keyboard keys to browse between pages.

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