I hadn’t seen any spirits lately, because I hadn’t been outside the community in over a year. The few times I had managed to sneak off, I hadn’t made it far enough to run across one.

Restlessness crawled over my skin and dug deep. The feeling of being trapped bit and chewed its way to the surface. How long did they plan to keep me here? Forever? Desperation sprang to life and guilt quickly followed.

Thierry and Matthew were still upset with me, and I hated that they were angry, that they didn’t understand why I couldn’t just sit back any longer.

My stomach churned as I turned my gaze to the statue beside me. I was close enough to make out all the details. The smooth layer of stone and the two fierce, thick horns that could puncture the toughest metal. The deadly claws that could tear through cement were currently relaxed. The face, even as frightening as it could be with its flat nose and wide mouth parted by vicious fangs, was at peace. Resting. Asleep.

Misha hadn’t let me out of his sight since the night of the Ravers. I was surprised he hadn’t tried to camp out on my bedroom floor the last two nights.

I’m not trapped.

This was my home and not my prison. Everything that I needed could be found here. I knew exactly how many homes lined the idyllic streets and parks. Besides Thierry’s house, there were one hundred and thirty-six single-family homes and several dozen duplexes and townhomes for those unmated. The walled community was a small city, complete with its own hospital, shopping center, theater, gym and various restaurants and clubs designed to serve every whim or need. Those who were not trained as warriors worked within the community. Everyone had a purpose here.

Except for me.

Mostly everyone here had accepted my mother and me into their clan when we arrived. Thierry protected us—well, protected me. Not my mother. He’d cared for her. He’d welcomed her and treated her like a queen and me like her princess, but he hadn’t been able to protect her.

Protecting her was never a part of the equation.

However, at the end of the day, I wasn’t a Warden, and I...I was running out of time to get out there, to really see the world beyond the mountains of West Virginia and Maryland.

I was eighteen, and no Warden law surpassed the legality that I was, in fact, an adult and could do as I pleased, but leaving wasn’t simple.

Sighing, I pulled my gaze from the resting gargoyle and focused on the road as cool June air lifted the few loose strands of my dark hair, tossing them around my head.

I must look like Medusa.

Squinting didn’t help me see any better, even with the fading sunlight dipping behind Green Mountain, but I saw the ghost stop and turn toward the road. A second later, he fragmented like smoke in the wind, and he didn’t piece back together.

He’d be back, though, that I knew in my bones. They always came back.

My gaze lifted to the road beyond and the thick crush of tall, ancient elms that crowded the paved road. All of it was a blur of colors—greens, whites and blues. Down below, I heard the doors open, and a heartbeat later, I saw the top of Thierry’s dark head as he stepped out onto the driveway.

I really hoped Thierry didn’t look up.

Granted, I wasn’t grounded or anything. Hell, Thierry had never grounded me. Mom, on the other hand, had been a different story. She’d grounded me about every other five seconds.

Nibbling on my thumbnail, I watched Thierry stare at the empty hedge-lined road. Even from where I was perched, I could sense the tension rolling off him, filling the cool mountain air, flowing with the wind.

A moment later, Matthew joined him. He came to stand beside Thierry, placing his hand on the man’s lower back.

“It’s going to be okay,” Matthew said, and I tensed.

Thierry shook his head. “I don’t like it.”

“We don’t have to, but...they requested our help.” Matthew pressed his lips to Thierry’s temple. “It’ll be okay.”

Thierry didn’t respond. They stood in silence then, as if they were waiting for something or someone.

Minutes passed, and I heard them before I saw them. The crunching of tires on gravel warred with the distant call of birds. I knelt and peered around the slumbering Misha as a large, black SUV came down the road and rolled to a stop below.

Curiosity bubbled to life as my eyes widened. The sound of car doors slamming shut was too hard to ignore. Rising just the slightest bit, I looked over the ledge and saw Matthew and Thierry walking forward to greet...

Holy crap on a cracker the size of Texas, we had visitors, and I was completely unaware that we were going to have visitors. If our clan needed to meet with another, one of the Wardens left to carry out said meeting elsewhere. Rarely, if ever, was a meeting held here at the seat. Young Wardens from the Mid-Atlantic region were brought here only once a year, in September, to be trained by the elder Wardens until they reached maturity, and since it was only June, our visitors couldn’t be here with a young Warden.

I squinted, but all I could make out was that there were three male Wardens in addition to Matthew and Thierry. One had longish brown hair, another had shorter brown hair cropped close to the skull and the other was a blond. No females were with them. That wasn’t at all surprising. Female Wardens rarely traveled outside of their home communities or the outposts, because they were often targeted by demons, just as the children were.

Demons were astonishingly clever and logical. They knew that, if they took out those who could produce the next generation of Wardens, they could level a blow near impossible to recover from.

And it was one of the reasons that, collectively, all the classes of demons outnumbered the Wardens by the millions.

I was kind of like a female Warden, caged here for my safety, but for very, very different reasons.

Thierry greeted each of the visitors, shaking their hands, and I wished I could see their faces. The group turned to walk into the Great Hall.

What in the world was going on?

Reaching over, I rapped my knuckles of the stone shell and was immediately rewarded with a low, rumbling growl of annoyance. I giggled. Misha loved his late-afternoon naps in the fading sun. It’s where he always went after training and classes.

“Go to your room,” came the gruff reply from Misha. “Read a book. Watch a movie. Find a hobby.”

I ignored what Misha said, taking a perverse amount of joy in annoying the utter living crap out of him whenever I could.

“There are Wardens here,” I said, the words coming out in an excited rush.

“There are always Wardens here, Trinity.”

I stared at him, brow wrinkled. “These Wardens don’t live here.”

The statue shifted, the stone becoming slightly less hard and turning from dark gray to a quicksilver as the wings unfurled behind me. Reddish brown hair appeared around the horns, the curls blowing in the wind.

Vibrant blue eyes with thin, vertical pupils met mine. Irritation shone in those eyes. Wardens had weird sleeping patterns. Some stayed up all night and slept in the mornings and late afternoons. Misha’s schedule was based on whatever I was doing. “Trinity...”

Dipping under a wing, I took off as Misha rose from his perch, spinning around. “Dammit!” he shouted.

I knew the roof like the back of my hand, not even needing to really see where I was going. I was already on the other side, hopping up on the ledge, when Misha took flight behind me.

“Don’t let them see you!” he yelled as I jumped. “I swear to God, Trinity, I will lock you in your room!”

No, he wouldn’t.

Hitting the small alcove below, I skidded down the rounded roof. The moment my feet hit nothing but air, I twisted onto my stomach. Gripping the edge of the roof, I swung my body inward, through the window I left open when I first joined Misha on the roof.

I landed in the empty, dimly lit hallway and spun around to close the window behind me and then I locked it just in case Misha tried to follow me through. After shoving my sunglasses into the back pocket of my jeans, I took off down the hall, passing several closed doors to guest rooms and apartments that were almost never in use before throwing open the door to the musty-smelling stairwell. I took the steps three and four at a time and reached the first level in ten seconds.

From there, I slowed my steps and kept close to the wall, slipping past a kitchen that was used only when there were banquets and ceremonies. Activity was bustling for the upcoming Accolade, a massive ceremony held to celebrate Wardens becoming full warriors. It involved a lot of eating, a lot of drinking and whole lot of secret squirrel stuff that went down with the newly ordained Wardens.

Beyond the kitchen, I found the room I was looking for, which was a staging area of sorts and filled to the brim with folding tables and stacked chairs. I was careful not to knock into any of them, which required me to walk extraordinarily slowly.

And that took a lot of effort.

I didn’t do slow.

Voices grew louder as I neared the deep maroon curtains that separated the staging area from the Great Hall.

Stopping in front of the curtains, I carefully curled my fingers around the edge of one and tugged it a few inches aside, revealing the wide, cylinder-shaped hall in all its glory as dust spit into the air.

Good Lord, when was the last time anyone touched this curtain?

My gaze immediately lifted to the ceiling even though I couldn’t see the paintings anymore, no matter how brightly lit the hall was. Angels adorned the ceiling, many of which were battle angels—the Alphas. Those were the angels that oversaw the Wardens and often communicated with them, sometimes even in person, though I’d never seen one in real life. Painted in their armor and wielding righteous swords, they were a fearsome sight to look upon.

“How was the trip here?” Thierry was asking as he walked into my line of sight, and I refocused. The visitors stood on the raised dais, waiting. “I hope uneventful?”

Matthew followed Thierry to the center, toward a seat that wasn’t supposed to be called a throne, according to Thierry, but that, with its oversize seat and a back carved out of granite and shaped into a shield, sure looked like a throne to me.