Rapture (6 page)

Even
now, he lay in the soft bed, staring up at the ceiling. The blinds were still
drawn tight, but he hadn’t needed to see that to know it was still daytime. The
nervous thrum of his blood told him that.

How
could he have forgotten who he was?
What
he was? How he had come back
into consciousness believing himself human when he’d never known the life of
one? From what he’d witnessed last night, his family protected humans’ lives,
and kept them in the dark about their very existence. Had he been that way
before as well? Did he live among them, hiding what he truly was? He thought
maybe he did.

The
scents of cooking food had him rolling out of bed, his stomach driving him to
it without thought. He donned his pants, which were still grimed and dirty, and
walked out the door into the bright-lit hallway. He passed the stairs that led
up to the third level and reached the large, curved staircase that would take
him to the main floor. About halfway down sat the Guardian with black and blue
spiked hair—Blaze, he recalled—and a small, brown-haired child who he didn’t
think he’d met before. Probably one of Ally’s brothers, she’d mentioned them a
time or two the night before. Both were slumped forward, sitting identically
with their elbows on their knees. He would have passed them by, almost
desperate to see what was frying in the kitchen, but their hushed conversation
made him pause.

“No,”
Blaze said, answering a question the boy had asked. “I haven’t heard from him
since he left.”

“Ally
said he went to
Alaska
.”

The
Guardian nodded. “She’s right. He went there to help some people in trouble.”

“Like a
super hero?”

“Exactly
like that.”

“But he
didn’t take his cape,” the boy added, deflating a little more.

“His
cape?” Blaze asked, confused. His eyes widened in understanding and he smiled.
“Ah, his cape. Well, I know why he left it. He didn’t want it to get dirty, and
he knew you’d keep it safe. Thrash would only trust his very best friend to
guard his things.”

The boy
turned toward him and smiled. “His
best friend
?
”

“Absolutely.
He told me himself.”

The boy
preened, and Ferox smiled, stepping down onto the staircase.

Blaze
turned toward him then and inclined his head. “Did you sleep well, my king?”

That
stopped him short and he waved a hand dismissively. “You don’t have to ... I
mean, don’t call me...” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, which caused
a wry smile to come from the Guardian. “Just call me Ferox.”

“You
got it, boss man.” Blaze regarded him as Ferox took a few more steps downward.
“Still no memory?”

“No.”
He shook his head. “I don’t remember any of you. From before.”

Blaze
nodded once, as if in understanding. “Well, you’re still in there. You still
fight like a son of a bitch.” He started, and glanced at the boy. “Don’t tell
your sister I said that, or she’ll hand me my ass.” He pinched his nose,
laughing to himself as the boy erupted in laughter. “You won’t say anything,
right?”

“Nope.”
The boy smiled, his eyes gleaming with laughter.

Ferox
laughed as well and continued on down the staircase, leaving the boys to their
previous conversation. He found Raine, Draven, and Ally downstairs in the
living room, the latter two appearing to have recovered fully from the previous
night’s injuries.

Ally
spotted him first, waving her hand in greeting and gesturing him over. “How did
you sleep?”

“Fine,
I think.”

She
nodded and dropped her voice. “Is Blaze keeping Skye and Trev distracted?”

He
glanced at Raine and then back at Ally. “He’s talking to a little boy on the
stairs.”

“Okay.”
She sighed gratefully. “Trev must still be upstairs.” She sat down on the couch
and set a large box on the table, then proceeded to wrap it in Christmas paper.

He
realized then that the room was even more decorated than it had been only hours
before, and presents bulged out from under the Christmas tree, and were even
stacked high on both sides. As he gawked at the mountains of shimmery
paper-wrapped boxes of all shapes and sizes, Ally’s servant bustled in with a
tower of her own, hastily setting them down on the floor and fitting them into
the chaos. “What is all this?”

Ally
looped her hair behind her ear, though she didn’t look away from the present she
was wrapping. “Christmas. With everything that happened last night, I think
everyone deserves it.”

“Isn’t
Christmas tomorrow?”

“Mmm-hmmm.”
She nodded. “But I told the boys that we celebrate it on Christmas Eve night
now, instead of Christmas morning.”

“She
told them Santa delivers presents for the Guardians during the day so they can
open presents when they wake up at night.” Draven smiled at the blonde
adoringly.

Ferox
gaped. “All this is for them?”

“Umm,
no.” Ally blushed. “I sort of went crazy shopping for everyone. I had to go all
over to find places that were even open.”

“What
she means is that Dellingr had to trace her all over the globe since there were
hardly any places nearby that are even open on Christmas Eve.” Draven snorted.
“He’s still sleeping it off.”

Oh, he
was sure Draven loved that. From what he’d gathered last night, Draven and
Dellingr were in something of a war over Ally. Yes, Ally most definitely loved
Draven and he her, but there was some connection there that brought Dellingr
into the mix, and he’d yet to figure out what that was. Ferox shook his head
and peered at Raine. “How can we worry about Christmas with everything that
happened last night? Your home? Your son? The humans and demons, and—”

She
stepped toward him, gripping his hands in hers. “It’s because of all of that
that we’re doing Christmas. Everyone here has lost so much lately. Ally and the
boys, all of the Guardians.... It might be nice to have a little bit of normal
right now, even if we’re all breaking inside.”

He nodded
silently and glanced at Draven and then at Ally, who had tears sliding down her
cheeks. Raine was right. There was a lot of pain here, shared by everyone
within this tightly knit family. “Okay. What can I do to help?”

****

Opening
presents had taken hours. Ally had explained numerous times that it was her
family’s tradition to open presents one at a time so everyone could see what
they got. Considering there were over a dozen people there and hundreds of
presents, it shouldn’t have surprised him that it took so long.

For
some reason he actually thought she’d give in and let them all go nuts ripping
into the paper. And now, after it was all said and done, he was actually
grateful for the little chit’s persistence. He had gotten to see what every one
of his brothers and their mates received, and had been grateful for the center
stage when he opened a pair of driving gloves with flames on them—which matched
the interior of his Jeep—a new pair of daggers, new holsters for his weapons, a
pair of blue penguin pajama pants that he’d never wear but seemed to make Ally
burst out laughing, new pants—both jeans and leathers—and shirts, a new jar of
his favorite hair gel, and not one, but six gift cards to CornDog King, which
he would be using tonight if they weren’t closed for Christmas Eve.

After
everyone had finished opening their presents, discussions turned to business as
usual. As he’d done the night before, Blaze assured them that every human who’d
been at the mansion last night had been scrubbed—had even waited and scrubbed
others that arrived who’d been called onto the scene. Cleanup had been a bitch,
but the hard work had been worth it to keep the Guardians—and all Lore, for
that matter—under the radar. As far as he was aware, not one human had died
last night, despite multiple attempts by Collectives. It was only the speed and
agility of his brothers and the Valkyries that had halted further fatalities.

No,
there was one human lost.
 
Gregory. That
had been one loss too great for him to think about. He would say his goodbye in
the coming hours before dawn, along with the rest of the Guardians.

He
was now back at the mansion, along with a few others who had returned to help
clean out the place. There were books, weapons, and even computer systems that
all hinted to the Lore’s existence, and that was something none of them could
afford.

“Need
any help with that?” he asked as Raider walked by, hauling one of the computers
from the deck.

He
shook his head. “No, I’ve got it.”

Blaze
turned back to the wall of books and grabbed another stack, setting it into the
box at his feet. He stood to his full height again, reaching up for another
stack, when a creak upstairs caught his attention. He extracted a dagger from
the sheath at his waist and quietly left the library, taking the stairs as
silently as he could. Much of the second floor was missing, just like the main
one, so investigating what caused the floorboards to groan wouldn’t take long.
He reached the first door on the left and turned the knob, then gently pushed it
open. It was the wrong room to check. Gregory’s scent hit his nose, and he
swallowed down the sadness that formed a rock from his throat to the bottom of
his stomach. The room was dark, and he listened for any hint of someone inside.
He couldn’t sense anyone, but did a thorough scan anyway, allowing himself to
look at the old man’s things that would never be used again. He’d never
actually been inside Gregory’s room, and was surprised to find pictures of each
of them carefully framed and set on every surface. He came upon one with
Gregory and Thrash. Of course the wolf wasn’t smiling, but Blaze recognized
that look in his eyes. The male could somehow smile without actually smiling,
and there was proof of it, right there in a picture with the old man. He picked
up another, a picture of himself, where he had his arm wrapped around Gregory’s
shoulder, the two of them with huge smiles on their faces. He hadn’t remembered
the old man smiling, but he must have as soon as the camera flashed.

Blaze
ran his finger over the frame and turned away to investigate whatever had made
the sound up here. He’d have to remember to get these things from the room. No
doubt everyone would cherish them as much as he would. The bathroom, closet,
and under the bed were all clear, so he moved on, shutting the door behind him.
He stealthily snuck through the first door on the right, and again, sensed no
one inside. Another creak and he was down the hall, turning the knob to his own
room and pushing the door in. He stepped inside and scanned the area, his eyes
going to the curtains flowing next to the open window.

Blaze’s
eyes narrowed and he walked toward it. He picked up on a heart beating rapidly
an instant too late as something struck his head. Growling, he grabbed the side
of his head in reflex, finding a small amount of blood as he pulled his hand
away.

That
was fucking
it
. He’d had enough bull
shit over the last few weeks. His friends being constantly injured, enemies
infiltrating their home and coming at them from every which way, Gregory’s
death….

He
turned, baring his fangs as another growl bubbled up from his chest. The fucker
was about to die.

Chapter Six

Raine
stood between Ferox and Draven, looking down at Gregory’s shrouded body. The
room was lit by candlelight. There were around one hundred small, white candles
flickering with flames, filling the room with a beautiful orange glow. Blaze
had littered the area with photos of each of them with Gregory, explaining that
he’d found them in his room while he’d been at the mansion. He hadn’t said
anything other than that though, and it was plain to see that something was on
the Guardian’s mind.

And
now, everyone was silent, paying respects to their dear old friend. A man who
had devoted his life to serving the Guardians. A man who had such a kind heart
and loving soul. A man who couldn’t be replaced in any of their hearts. Gregory
was so much more than a servant. He’d been their friend, their confidant, and
at times, a man who had offered fatherly advice despite the fact that nearly
everyone here was older than he had been. She smiled a little at the thought
and stepped forward, a single red rose in her hand.

Raine
hadn’t been the first to step up and say goodbye. She’d chosen to be the last.
Chester
’s had been the
shortest, though she thought maybe that was because he was still in shock.

“Gregory,”
she whispered, tears welling in her eyes as she swallowed back a lump in her
throat. “I am so sorry. I only wish I could have protected you. That I could
have made it home in time before he…” she closed her eyes, finding it hard to
say the words, “murdered you. May the gods always protect your soul, the way
you have watched over and protected us.” She bent down and pressed her lips to
his shrouded forehead and stepped back, taking her place between her mate and
eldest son. Ferox’s hand wrapped around hers, and she squeezed it in response.