Dark Light of Mine (15 page)

"Of course.  Why would she not?"

Our conversation reminded me of the unpleasant news I needed to tell her.  "I'm afraid a lot of your friends died.  I pulled several bodies from the rubble."

More tears rolled down her cheeks.  I wanted to hug and comfort her, but my lack of energy and the size of the car made it difficult.  "We need to bury them.  They do not deserve to be left out as food for crows."

"We'll need help to clear them from the rubble," Ryland said.  "And there's no time for that now."

Stacey glared at him.  "As if you care a bloody whit about them, wolf.  I'm sure you're content to let them rot."

"Stacey, that's not fair," I said.  "He helped me dig through the rubble.  He killed one of those hounds.  Why the hate?"

Ryland gave Stacey a sideways glance.  "I'll help you bury your dead, sugah."

"I don't want your filthy paws anywhere near them!"

At that point, I was certain I should have let Stacey meet us at Trader Mike's.  This was like the time when a friend's dog had tried to make buddies with a cat, only to have his nose clawed every time he got too close.  I wasn't sure if the cat was scared of the dog or simply hated it.  If ever there were two types made to hate each other, it had to be lycans and felycans, although I'd hoped their human sides would have won out at some point thanks to, oh, I don't know—brains, maybe?

"Are you certain you're not a female dog?" Ryland said.

"How dare you even insinuate I'm one of those filthy things?  I do not eat my own feces."

"Good lord, people!" I said, trying to throw my hands into the air but only managing a shrug in my weakened state.  "Apparently it was a horrible mistake on my part to think two mostly human people could put aside their differences long enough to help me out."  I felt like sniffing in disdain, but was too tired to try.  "Ryland, why don't you just go back to Thomas?  I'm well away from his property now and obviously not an immediate threat to his daughter."

"I told him I would see you home and I intend to do just that."

"Yeah, except my home was overrun by hellhounds earlier today.  I don't have a home right now."

"I also need to return Meghan's car at some point—"

"Then return it.  I'll catch a cab."

"I'd be happy to carry you, my lamb," Stacey purred.

"And there is that," I conceded despite the indignity of it all.

Ryland sighed and pulled over, parking next to the curb in front of a row of small shops.  "We're here," he said.

I glanced out the window and spotted Trader Mike's two stores down from us.  We were near Grant Park, just a little way from East Atlanta Village and not far from where two of my friends, Ash and Nyte lived, although I'd never actually been to their homes.  Thinking of them reminded me of school.  It also reminded me of football practice and the reason I had to be there.  The principal, vice principal, head coach, and probably half the school staff were members of the Quarterback Club which, in my opinion, was the mafia of my high school, Edenfield High.  If I didn't want anything to happen to me or my friends, I had to win games for our football team.  Otherwise, Principal Perkins had warned me unpleasant things might happen to my "devil-worshipping friends."  Apparently, that's what Goths were in his eyes.

In less than an hour and a half, school would be starting.  I didn't see how I was going to make it in time.  Maybe I could just show up for practice.  Not that I'd be able to do much except lay around and groan pitifully.

"I'd like to get to the bottom of this mystery," Ryland was saying.  "I can help you."

I didn't answer right away because I wasn't sure what exactly
was
the best thing to do.  True, I needed help, and Ryland was a Templar.  But I didn't want to suffer through him and Stacey going for each other's throats.  On the other hand, I didn't want to make Stacey leave.  I considered her a friend and felt obligated to help her recover and bury her dead.

"A wolf is bad enough, Justin," Stacey said.  "But a Templar wolf is even worse.  How could you trust him?"

"As if he could trust a felycan," Ryland growled.

"You two are going to drive me insane," I said.  "I get it, okay?  I totally understand the cats versus dogs thing, but I don't have the luxury of watching the train wreck happen.  I need steady support I can depend on until I recover, and that means one of you has to go."  I looked at Stacey and opened my mouth to speak.

"Surely you can't mean me!" she said.  "How could you?"

"I was about to tell you to stay, for crying out loud.  Can't you give me two seconds to talk?"

"But you were looking at me after you said—"

I waved away her concerns, or rather flopped my arms around a little bit as I tried.  "You're my friend.  I know you and, despite your oddities, I trust you."  I turned to Ryland.  "You, on the other hand, work for Elyssa's dad, a man who obviously wishes I did not exist."

"My loyalty is with the Templars, not one man."

"And I think you're a good person, from the little I know of you.  Maybe we can become friends someday."  I shrugged.  "Stranger things have happened, believe me.  But right now I can't have you two getting into pissing matches all the time.  I need to know we're on the same page."

"I can tolerate her if she agrees to behave," Ryland said, a lopsided grin on his face.

"So wolfy wishes to play," Stacey said, her eyes narrowing to amber slits, lips sliding up into a playful smirk.  "I can ignore his jibes, Justin.  If that will help you."

"This is worse," I said.  "Now you're both gonna go all passive-aggressive instead."

"I swear to help, not hinder," Ryland said.

"And I will not let his body odor affect my judgment," Stacey said with a sniff.

I had a sudden sense of déjà vu all over again.  The universe had a decidedly wicked sense of humor.

And my life depended on it.

Chapter 14

Elyssa

Elyssa turned the Harley down the twisting maze of alleys and backstreets until her GPS told her she was in the right vicinity.  Few working street lamps lit the place but her night vision negated the issue.  The real problem was she'd been so hungry and tired when she and Justin had left earlier she wasn't sure which of the doors in this wretched foul-smelling alley was the one to Shelton's hidden lair.  The GPS on her phone wasn't pinpoint accurate and the tall downtown buildings made getting an exact lock on her position even more difficult.  She parked the Harley behind a nearby dumpster and surveyed the line of similar doors before setting out to find the correct one.

She felt like an idiot for losing her focus.  Normally she'd memorize an area and be able to find it again, but this time she'd missed crucial details.  She almost smacked herself on the forehead the same way Justin did to himself every so often.  The way he did it was adorable.

"Good god, did I really just think that?" she said aloud as she dodged trash cans and cardboard boxes, some with bums sleeping inside, and tested each of the metal doors in the back of the old building.  This was no good.  She pulled out her phone and called Justin.  She'd wanted to surprise him but that little plan was down the tubes.  The phone went to voicemail after a couple of rings.

She hit redial and got the same result.  Worry gripped her chest.  Had something happened?  Was he okay?  Then again, Shelton's hideout was underground.  Maybe the signal down there was bad.  She had only a couple of bars of reception herself, again, thanks to the tall buildings.  The logic still didn't allay her fears so she picked up the pace, jogging and jerking hard on each door.  Some opened but revealed completely different interiors than the one she remembered, namely the nasty mattress in the corner. 

One of the doors opened in the alleyway across the road from the one she was in.  Shelton stepped out followed by David, Justin's dad, their faces visible beneath a dim street light.  Relief numbed the worry and she took a deep breath.  They closed the door behind them.  She wondered if Justin had stayed inside, or if he might already have gone to meet Mr. Smith.  The clock on her phone indicated she still had another hour before the store opened but it would make sense to get there early.  In any case, it would be a good idea to check in with Shelton and David just to make sure.

Just as she took a breath to call out to them, a shadow detached itself from the mouth of the alley opposite her.  She focused her eyes on the figure and realized it was a man dressed in black.  A mugger maybe?  She wouldn't be surprised.  He was in for a shock if he tried to mess with those two.  Elyssa tagged along behind, waiting for him to make a move.  She slid a silver starlet from her knapsack and pressed her thumb against the power trigger should she need to disable the man quickly. 

The starlet looked a great deal like a standard ninja throwing star except for the thick center housing the magic-driven power supply.  The tines were thin and needle-like as opposed to razor sharp blades.  It was meant to disable, not kill, and the spell on the power supply could be adapted on the fly depending on the target.  In this case, a simple electric shock should suffice. 

Justin would probably think he'd died and gone to heaven if he knew she had these things.  She smiled at the thought and smiled even more when she remembered the Kings and Castles tourney.  She'd found herself so caught up in the fun of fighting with foam weapons she'd won the game for his team.  Of course, after celebrating the win she'd almost killed him when he slipped up and revealed he was an incubus—demon spawn.  The smiled faltered and she felt ashamed.  Her parents had trained her to react to danger.  To never question her training.  If she hadn't known Justin at all before discovering he was a spawn, what would she have done?  Would she have killed him?  Apprehended him?

He really was a good man.  A strong person.  But he needed someone with better planning skills to keep him out of trouble and Elyssa was, of course, the proper choice.

The shadowy figure continued to tail Shelton and David for several blocks but never made a move.  She was certain by now they were in no danger of anything so mundane as a mugging.  But a chilling thought occurred to her.  What if the man was following the tracker?  What if he was an assassin?  She picked up her pace and closed the gap.

  The two men reached an Irish pub and stepped inside.  Their shadow followed.  Elyssa was surprised the place was open so early, but noticed a big sign in the window proclaiming the proper Irish breakfast they served each morning.

She pulled her coat tighter around her, hoping no one would notice the night camo underneath.  Even so, they might mistake it for gym attire.  She slipped inside and seated herself per the sign up front, just behind several old men at a round table in the center.  Elyssa assessed the small, dim interior. She noted Shelton and David sitting at a booth in the far back.  The laughing group of elderly men blocked a direct line of sight so she could duck and not be seen if either of her targets turned to look.

A man dressed in dark jeans and a black shirt emerged from the bathroom and approached Shelton's table.  Elyssa adjusted her position so she could see the expressions on the faces of the two men.  She prepared herself to whip out a starlet and fling it should things go south in a hurry.

"What can I get you to drink, honey?" asked an older female waitress with a southern twang as opposed to an Irish lilt.

Elyssa peeled her attention from her targets for a split second.  "Um, a water to start with please?  I'm waiting on someone, so I won't order anything else until they get here."

"Sure thing, sweetie."  The waitress walked away.

David was talking to the third man, his face a mix of emotions.  He didn't look pleased but he didn't look threatened either.  Shelton seemed to be slightly concerned but not to the point of danger.  Elyssa felt with her senses to see if she could detect anything indicating whether the third man was a man at all or something different.  But none of the men at the table gave off vibes suggesting they were anything but normal, and the men at the center table were talking so loud she couldn't filter them out and eavesdrop on the conversation at David and Shelton's table.  Just because she couldn't sense anything supernatural about them meant nothing.  Nearly every super had a way of masking their presence when they didn't want to be noticed.

A nearby seat creaked.  Elyssa jerked from her focus and almost flipped her own chair over backwards with shock.  A figure wearing a dark hoodie sat in the chair right next to her.  She must really be slipping tonight to let someone sneak up on her.

"I'm sorry, that chair is taken," she said.

"Yes, it is," a sensuous female voice replied.

Elyssa glanced down at the woman's attire—tennis shoes, designer jeans, and the nondescript hoodie.  The clothing did not fit her voice.  "Who are you?"  She tried to see inside the hood, but it was drawn down low and shadow covered the features.

Elegant hands with smooth young skin and an amazing manicure reached for the hood and eased it back.  Golden hair the color of summer sunshine spilled out in gentle waves.  Rich hazel eyes warmed the gaze of the fair-skinned woman and made Elyssa feel distinctly ugly by comparison.  But there was something familiar to this face.  To the eyes.  The conclusion had her reaching for a sword that wasn't in its usual place.

"I see you know what I am, if not who," the woman said, her voice soothing and smooth as warm honey.

"You're spawn."

"We prefer the term Daemos."

"And a member of House Slade."

"Very good.  Bonus points if you know my name."  She smiled and cute dimples formed alongside her rosebud lips.

"Yeah, no extra credit for me today," Elyssa said, readying a starlet under the table and wishing she had a sword or even a knife handy.  She'd been in such a hurry to get out of the house she hadn't retrieved proper weapons.

"I am Daemas Anae-Vallaena Slade," she said flashing her dimples again.  "But everyone just calls me Vallaena."  Her accent was complicated, roughly Italian, perhaps, and she rolled her r's.  Then again, entities that lived for centuries or more often changed quite a lot from their original state.