Frost Fire (Tortured Elements) Page 2

  Allai quietly waited, knowing there was something else on his mind. She wished he had a normal voice, and that she could just pluck emotions from his words. But finding any emotion in his speech was difficult. His voice was smooth, drawing each syllable of his words into a silky purr. It was the voice of a Charger, so alluring it could make people forget they were facing a Demon with metal wings.

  Shieldak shuffled his wings, and there was more rattling of feathers, and more bristling from Luke. “You’re certain—”

  “I’m fine.” Allai cut him off. She winced the moment she did it, knowing it had been impolite and that she’d get a scolding for it. But she didn’t want to discuss the event or her dreams anymore, not if her theories about Drake would be dismissed so easily.

  Shieldak’s mouth opened the moment she finished speaking, and she waited for a familiar reprimand. But then Shieldak just closed his mouth, cleared his throat, and nodded to Luke. “You may leave, viper.”

  Luke hissed under his breath, and Allai rolled her eyes up toward the ceiling. Shieldak usually started the fights, often by calling Luke derogatory names like ‘viper’ or ‘snake’. But Luke always managed to make things worse. He stood from the bed, his hand slowly clenching into a fist.

  “No,” Allai groaned. “Please, Luke, not tonight.”

  He growled, his lip lifting an inch, and Allai could see that his silver fangs had already snapped into place. They usually rested against the top of his mouth, but now he was ready for a fight, and the fangs pressed against his canine teeth.

  Just one drop of the venom stored in his fangs could have a Demon writhing in agony for days. Or at least that was the best outcome. The other possible outcome was that the Demon was changed into Luke’s own species: A Persequor. They were the most powerful type of Demon, which wasn’t very comforting, considering they were also emotionless. Except for Luke, of course. He seemed to have gone into the opposite spectrum when he changed, having too many emotions.

  Shieldak’s wings flared out into a defensive position. He snarled and faced Luke. Allai huddled closer to the bed, because she knew that snarl was a taunt. And Luke always gave into taunts.

  Then Luke jerked his head toward Allai. He stared at her with his blind eyes, silently considering her. Then he sighed and unclenched his fist. “Sleep tight, Allai-bird,” he snapped. He brushed past Shieldak and exited the room, slamming the door closed.

  The hinges rattled, and Shieldak’s wings joined them for just a moment, his clicking feathers expressing his disproval. “The coward,” Shieldak spat.

  Allai bit her lip to keep from protesting. She wanted to tell him that Luke wasn’t a coward, that he was brave, and that he just didn’t want to fight in front of her. But Allai held her breath until the urge to say all that disappeared. Because her dad just wouldn’t understand any of it.

  Shieldak continued glaring at the door Luke had rushed out. “What’s wrong, Dad?” Allai asked after a few moments. She kept her gaze resting on the spot where Luke had laid a few moments earlier. It’d be better if he were there, even if tensions were always high between him and her dad. She needed a hug.

  “That Persequor is what’s wrong,” he muttered. “I don’t trust him. And I don’t like him being around you.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with Luke. He’s a good guy.”

  “He’s an agent of the French, Allai. And he’s had a bad past.”

  “So have I.”

  Her dad waved away her words. “You were young. You hardly remember whatever happened to you. But that Persequor had a screw knocked loose. He’s dangerous.”

  For not the first time in her life, Allai wished she could be something other than a human. She knew she had some Demon blood in her ancestry; it was the reason she had silver eyes, and the reason Shieldak had accepted her as his daughter. But ‘some’ wasn’t enough. Just for a moment, she wanted to have the metal wings of a Charger to slap her dad with, or the teeth of a Trident to make him hurt a little. But all she could do was give him a very human glare and cross her scrawny human arms over her chest.

  “Luke,” she said. “His name is Luke. And there’s nothing wrong with him. He’s kind of blunt, yeah. But… he’d never do anything to hurt me.” Then she added quietly, “Besides, the French employ him. You know you can’t—”

  “I can’t do anything!” Shieldak snarled. He spun on his heel and began pacing back and forth between the window and the door. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t know that I have absolutely no control over my own people?”

  Allai quietly released a small breath of relief. So then this wasn’t about Luke. Not really. It was just about the French, the people who sent him to ‘keep an eye’ on her dad, as Luke liked to say with a blind wink.

  “You have control.” Allai tried to keep her voice calm, although shock coursed through her as her relief died away. This just wasn’t her father. Her dad never brought his problems up, at least not to her. “You know any Warrior in the Sentinel would die for you.”

  “Of course they would,” Shieldak snapped. “Most of them have been loyal for decades. What I’m worried about is whether or not that loyalty is getting them anywhere.” He stopped pacing and pressed his fist to his forehead. “The French cut funding again.”

  She bit her lip. The French government had funded the Sentinel ever since its beginning. There had always been high numbers of paranormal creatures in France—some legends even said they originated there.

  The French needed some way to take care of dangerous paranormals, and the Sentinel was the answer. Shieldak and his Warriors would rid society of any paranormal that was a threat to humans, keeping the civilized world safe. And the French would fund his efforts, keeping the Warriors well fed and equipped. The French had learned over the years how to keep the Sentinel under their thumb, but overall it was a simple and effective method.

  As long as the French kept up their part of the deal.

  “Oh,” Allai murmured.

  “‘Oh’? That’s all you have to say?” Shieldak glared at her. Allai met it with a glare of her own, and his expression slowly crumbled into one of guilt. He rubbed the back of his neck and muttered, “I’m sorry. It’s not fair of me to take this out on you. I never should have brought it up.”

  “It’s alright.” Her tone was probably a little too curt, and she tried to make up for it by asking, “Will the Sentinel be alright? Without the funding?”

  “We’ll be fine.” But he said it too quickly, and she knew it was a lie. Then Shieldak hesitantly added, “The French ambassadors are coming here in a few days to speak with me. That’s what has been on my mind tonight. They refuse to give me specifics, but they want to talk about the Sentinel’s funding.” He paused for a moment, and then said, “They also wish to speak about you.”

  “What?” That couldn’t be possible; the French didn’t even know she was alive. Shieldak had told everyone she’d died that night Drake attacked. The entire world thought she was dead, except for Luke, Shieldak, and the members of the Sentinel. The lie was for her own safety, and so far it had worked. No one knew she was alive, so no one had been able to make any more threats on her life.

  “Someone must have told them you’re alive,” Shieldak said. “But it will be alright. As long as Rhaize still thinks you’re dead, then you’re safe.”

  Allai nodded. But it still felt weird to know that people knew her secret. “Why do they even want to talk about me?”

  “I’m not sure. But I wouldn’t worry about it. I think this meeting will be more about the budget than you.” His expression darkened again as he mentioned the budget.

  “Who knows,” Allai said, giving him a small smile. “Maybe they’ll bring good news.”

  Shieldak smiled back just a little bit. But they both knew that chance was small, and probably nonexistent. Ambassadors weren’t sent for the happy stuff in life.

  Shieldak nodded to her. “Sleep well, Allai.” He didn’t say anything else before wa
lking out the door, closing it with nearly as much force as Luke had.

  Allai sighed and leaned back in her pillows. She wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon, and if by any chance she did, it wouldn’t be good sleep. She snatched her MP3 player off her nightstand and put in her earbuds. Allai didn’t bother choosing a song, and instead set it on shuffle-mode and let the device do its thing. That was how she liked her music: Completely random. That way every song had a fair chance.

  Music blasted in her ears, and she wondered if she was the only one in the world who would recognize this song, other than the people singing it. The band she was listening to was a tiny indie band she’d stumbled across. She’d found it the way she found most of her music: Holed up in Luke’s room, surfing the internet on his laptop, with the door closed to keep Shieldak from catching her.

  Allai didn’t remember the exact name of this band, but she knew it was really odd and had something in it about vampires and dinosaurs. It always made her smile, because both those things were way extinct.

  Allai sighed and focused on the beat of the music. It was a love song, and that made her want to skip over it, because she had no luck in that area. She was a Nox—a human who lived among Demons. That made her undesirable to Demons, and invisible to normal humans—the Luxs. But she waited until the ending lines of the song before she skipped to the next:

  ‘You whisper a hello and vow against goodbyes,

  Swearing you’ll never let what we have die.’

  Why was she even worrying about any of this stuff? She didn’t have time to think about a relationship, let alone actually have one. She had to worry about the Sentinel, about Rhaize. About Drake.

  She still didn’t know what to think of Drake. Her memories were so vivid, but that one memory of him lowering his claws to her neck was also real.

  She reached up and touched the small scar he’d given her. Why would he have tried to kill her, if he’d protected her for all those years? She sighed and rested her chin on her knees. Maybe Luke was right. Maybe all those other memories of him weren’t real.

  Her gaze found the only window in her room, and she stared at it, alert for danger and for any intruders.

  Alert for him.

  Chapter Two

  Pine trees flashed by, the pattern of their bark blurring in the corner of Allai’s eye. She gulped in air and focused on the ground, trying not to trip as she ran.

  Sometimes she loved living at the headquarters of the Sentinel; it was an aging mansion called the Manor, located deep in rural New York State. It’d been built on an old pine tree plantation, which gave the place a decidedly west-coast feel, despite the east-coast weather.

  And sometimes she hated living here. Like right now. The forest terrain was making her morning running-routine a living nightmare, as always. And nature couldn’t decide if it was late winter or early spring, and had decided on her least favorite type of weather: a foggy drizzle.

  She skirted around boulders and fallen branches that marked her running path. Leap there, dodge here, bound over there. The pattern of the path was ingrained in her mind from years of daily running. But today it felt more challenging, like it was more of an obstacle course than a running path. That was probably because she’d gotten a grand total of four hours of sleep the night before. And the rain wasn’t helping as it drizzled down on her, muddying the path and her Converse shoes.

  She knew she shouldn’t run in Converse, but she looked dorky in running shoes. They always looked way too big on her. Actually, most things looked way too big on her. That was the problem with being four-foot-ten. Of course, her dad wouldn’t care about that; he’d just see the brand new, muddy Converse and launch into a lecture.

  She groaned at the thought, but only got halfway through the complaint before having to pull some air into her lungs. That sent a little sting of surprise to her numb mind. Because she was in better shape than that, after running this course for three years.

  Every morning she woke up, drove to the Manor’s border, and took off running. And, today… Hell, she’d only been running for ten minutes, so she shouldn’t be tired. Maybe her mind was just playing tricks on her; it seemed to love to do that. With a deep breath, she pushed her legs on, forcing them faster down the forest trail.

  Her eyelids felt heavy, and she closed them halfway for a few moments. The forest blurred into hazy images. She vaguely registered a tree, a boulder, a fern.

  A shriek.

  She almost tripped as she stumbled to a halt. Then she spun on her heel and sprinted the other way, back toward her truck. Toward safety.

  She knew that shriek. Harsh, high, rasping. She’d heard it once, and only once, from Luke. It had been the one time she’d seen him angry beyond reason and ready to kill.

  Her spinning mind couldn’t even remember when that time had been, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was that Luke had gone into the city earlier. He wasn’t here. The shriek wasn’t his. And that meant it belonged to another Persequor, one that would only shriek for a single reason.

  It was on the hunt.

  Allai gritted her teeth and then sucked in a breath. “Get away from me!” she shouted into the trees. She heaved in a breath, refilling her lungs, and mentally searched for any information she could remember about Persequor hunting styles. They were cunning. Venomous. Deadly. Overall, they were the ultimate predator; she was pretty sure Luke had even said once that their name meant something like ‘hunter’.

  And there was another thing she remembered Luke saying: each Persequor had their own hunting style. They were emotionless, but far from stupid. So there was no way she could predict how her pursuer would attack.

  And she was screwed.

  She took her eyes away from the ground for just a moment, looking around and searching for the Persequor. It was a moment too long. Her foot struck a fallen branch, yanking her ankle at an angle and tearing a panicked scream from her.

  Searing pain constricted her ankle. Allai did her best to ignore it, running forward and trying not to cry out with each step. She couldn’t hear anything over her pounding heart and heaving breaths. But she screamed again, this time trying to form words that would bring help.

  Guards always patrolled the Manor borders, and they’d been even more vigilant since the event. The guards would hear her. They had to. Unless they were changing shifts…

  Damn it. They were; it’d be the only reason a Persequor would dare attack.

  She stumbled forward faster, and winced as the shriek pierced the air again. It was higher in pitch this time, as if it were more eager. The shriek sounded like it came from her left, but she didn’t take time to pinpoint its location. There was no point. Running was all she could do now, just run and hope the shriek was farther away than it sounded.

  Then she heard wind-chimes. The strange sound almost made her trip, but she just kept running and limping forward along the path.

  An arm wrapped around her from behind. Allai yelled. She had no idea what she said, but tried to make it count by screaming it as loud as possible. She kicked out, tensing as she waited for fangs to cut deep into her neck and paralyze her with venom.

  A hand whipped over her mouth. “Stop,” a deep voice growled in her ear. “Don’t struggle and don’t scream. You’re exciting him.”

  She knew that voice from somewhere. Maybe a guard’s? She wasn’t sure, but it was definitely a Charger’s voice, his tone unnaturally sweet and alluring. And deadly serious.

  Allai stilled. The guard yanked on her arm, pulling her toward the dense trees. She nearly toppled over, but he roughly grabbed her shoulder and steadied her. He didn’t stop the pressure on her arm, and dragged her away from the path and deeper into the forest.

  “Who are you?” Allai demanded, stumbling along after the guard.

  His steps faltered for a moment. Then he snarled, “Shut up.”

  So he was a guard who wasn’t fond of her. That didn’t narrow it down much.

  The shriek came again, even c
loser and louder. The guard froze for a moment, and then shoved Allai against the wide trunk of a pine tree. The rough bark dug into her back and her injured ankle struggled to support her, but she just gritted her teeth and held back another scream.

  Allai steadied herself and looked up. It only took a quick glance around to understood why the guard had dragged her away from the path. Behind her stood a steep hill, and a wide creek bordered that. It left only two sides for the Persequor to come after her.

  Which might be enough.

  She pressed herself closer to the tree, not caring anymore about the bark digging into her. Then she forced in a deep breath, letting the chilly air sting her lungs and calm her shaking nerves.

  A low growl rumbled through the air. Allai whirled toward the sound, but it was just the guard. His wings flared defensively as he paced back and forth a couple yards to her left.

  The feathers of his wings had grown longer and slimmer than the usual Charger Demon’s, and as they clinked together, they sounded just like wind-chimes. It was a strangely relaxing sound, and definitely not fitting for the situation. Allai wanted to scream at him to tuck in his wings and shut up. But she didn’t, partially because he’d told her to be quiet, and mostly because her throat felt too tight to speak.

  Then a man appeared. He seemed to materialize out of nowhere, and stood right in front of a tree only yards away. There was no warning, no rustling of the bushes or pounding footsteps. Just eerie stealth. It had to be the Persequor.

  The Persequor said something. His face remained deadpan, and he stepped toward her. What did he say? She probably should have been listening to him. But all she could hear was her heart pounding and those damned wind-chimes.

  Then a snarl blocked out all the other sounds. But it had a sweet tone, and she realized the snarl belonged to her Charger guard.

  An arm wrapped around her shoulders. She panicked and reached to throw it off. But then she saw that the Persequor still stood three yards away; it wasn’t his arm around her. It was the guard’s.

  The guard pulled her close, pressing her to his chest. The top of her head hit his collarbone, and it struck Allai that he was really tall. She didn’t remember any tall Charger guards working at the Manor. His other arm wrapped around her shoulders, bringing her closer. The guard let out a protective hiss and threw his wing up to shield her from view.