Amira Santiago studied the face of her mentor, guardian and friend in the dim light of the seedy hotel room on the south side of Washington, DC. The room was dark, except for the red glow of the flashlight Scott held to illuminate his hands. Born deaf, Amira relied on him to hear their pursuers and to tell her via sign language what was going on.
Her eyes went to his hands, which shook. He was weak and growing weaker, despite the heat radiating off him. He was a spirit guide, a medium of exceptional power, capable of tapping into the energy of the universe that flowed around people. Assigned to protect her and her secrets, he had been with her as long as she could remember.
“Why aren’t you healing?” She signed the question to him.
He shifted forward, and blood dropped from one of his many wounds onto the lens of the flashlight. He wiped it free before responding with his hands.
“Saving my energy to fight. Can’t do both,” he replied.
“I don’t understand what’s happening,” she said.
“Me neither.” His hands dropped from sight for a moment. They reappeared, holding a familiar velvet dice bag. He handed it to her. “You’re going to have to make a run for it, Amira.”
Her eyes stung with tears. She shook her head.
He leaned forward to squeeze her arm and pushed the pouch into one palm. Wiping her eyes, she focused on the message his hands were delivering.
“You remember where I told you to go?” Scott asked.
“Rosewood Center. Regional safe place,” she replied.
He flipped the light off suddenly, and she sucked in a breath, gaze going to the door. Four shadows passed the window, paused, then continued. It was too much of a coincidence for them to be any other than those who were tracking them.
Scott had moved her from place-to-place for a week, stopping to sleep during the day and moving mainly at night. This was the third time they’d found her, and she had a feeling Scott wasn’t going to make it through another confrontation.
Amira squeezed the dice bag in one hand, feeling the lumpy shapes of the stones it held within. Most of them were warm, radiating tiny bursts of energy that made her fingers tingle. One, however, was cold, sucking away her body heat. They’d come to life a day before the four pursuers first found them, an omen of what was to come, one Amira hadn’t understood how to interpret until it was too late.
Scott took her hand and helped her up. He led her to the tiny bathroom in a corner of the room, tugged her inside, then closed the door. Flipping on the light, he set down the flashlight.
Amira regarded his bloodied body with a mixture of horror and sorrow, unable to understand how quickly their lives had changed. She lived nineteen years in peace, and in one day, the entire world around her imploded.
In his mid-thirties, Scott was around her height of six feet, thick and muscular, in the way of most spirit guides. The ultra-tough mediums were accustomed to dealing with supernatural messes and cleaning them up, when it was too late for intervention. They were the elite corps of gifted humans immortalized for the sake of helping those in the human world who needed it.
He withdrew a smooth moonstone and handed it to her. Her gaze dropped to his mouth when he began speaking, so she could read his lips.
“This won’t help you against Zyra and those with her, but it’ll protect you from anything else that might be coming,” he reminded her. “Keep it with you, okay?” His eyes drifted automatically to the velvet bag clenched in her other hand.
Neither spoke about the stones or how the four people chasing them were a minor nuisance compared to the evil that would follow. Scott was charged with protecting her, and she was charged with guarding the secrets of the stones. Dormant since the Creation of the universe, the stones in the velvet pouch had been hibernating since. Until now.
Amira took the blood-streaked moonstone from him. Scott’s clothing was soaked with blood, but he stood solidly on his feet, armed with a few knives and at least one handgun.
“Car’s out back. Keys,” he said, holding them up. “I’m going to try to finish this here and now. You go out back and drive away. Don’t look back.”
“After picking you up,” she said hopefully, searching his face. “Right?”
The hard planes of Scott’s face softened. He cupped her cheek with one hand and gave her a chaste kiss on the forehead.
“I’m not coming with you,” he said. “Amira, I’m dying. The only thing I’m good for now is distracting them long enough for you to escape.”
Hot tears trickled down her cheeks. “No, Scott!” Amira’s whole body shook at the thought of losing him.
“Stay calm,” he told her. “We’ve planned for this our whole lives, just in case. What’s your mission?”
“P…protect the stones at all costs,” she said. It was getting hard to talk. Her throat hurt. She switched to sign language, struggling not to cry. “Stay alive. Stop the four archdemons from finding the stones.”
“Good girl,” he said. “Easy, right?”
She shook her head.
“One more mission,” he said. “Walk away from me tonight. Make it to the Rosewood Center.”
The tears were falling faster. She didn’t want to acknowledge his words.
“Okay?” he asked, taking her arms. “Stay alive. Keep the stones safe. Walk away.”
Amira flung her arms around him, not caring if his blood soaked her, too. They’d been in this together since she was tiny. The idea of leaving him to die was unbearable, even if she knew that the stones could never fall into the hands of another without bringing great evil.
Scott held her close for a moment before pushing her away. He placed a finger to his lips and motioned to the room outside the bathroom.
Unable to hear if their pursuers had found them, Amira held her breath.
Scott tucked the keys to the car into her pocket and she did the same with the stones. He withdrew a knife and a gun and nudged her behind him, taking up position in front of the bathroom door.
He twisted his upper body enough to see her.
“On the count of three, run. Got it?” he said.
She swallowed hard and nodded.
Scott was collecting energy from their surroundings, and she sensed him connect with the Other Side, the dimension within a dimension where the spirits of the dead and supernatural creatures existed. It was also where the energy of the universe originated, and Scott was pulling in so much of it, he glowed.
It would kill him, she knew, but he had already accepted his death. She wanted to crawl into the tub, curl up and sob.
Stay alive. Keep the stones safe. Walk away. Scott was right. Her mission was far more important than the lives of the two of them, no matter how much she loved him like a gruff but gentle big brother that raised her.
Facing the door, Scott held up one finger.
Adrenaline surged through her.
He opened the door, his muscular shape too thick for her to see if anyone awaited them in the room beyond.
Scott held up two fingers and stepped into the hotel room, his body radiating too much heat for her to stand close.
The door to the room opened, and Scott’s body jerked as bullets hit him. Amira froze. He returned fire and dropped to one knee.
Heat rolled over her, hot enough that she struggled to breathe.
Scott held up three fingers.
Sensing he was getting ready to explode and level the top floor of the hotel, the people crowding the doorway scattered.
Scott pushed her, and Amira ran, darting through the doorway. The four pursuers were scrambling to get down the stairs on either side of the second floor, and she raced after them, the heat of Scott’s impending explosion singeing the hair on her arms.
The explosion sent her flying over the railing into the murky pool below. Amira plunged into the lukewarm water. She kicked herself up to the surface, recalling briefly how disgusting the greenish water had been when they passed it initially. Swimming to the side, she hauled herself out and looked around for pursuers. One flailed around the other end of the pool while another appeared to have landed on the top of a car. The other two weren’t visible.
The four would heal, the same way Scott could and she could, but it would take them time.
Amira flung water from her arms and ran, racing through the common area in front of the building. She reached the other end and stopped to look back at the room where she’d left Scott.
Her breath caught, and tears blurred her vision once more. The top floor of the hotel was gutted where the explosion occurred. The building around the crater was burning around it, the scent of fire in the air. She half expected to see Scott emerge and wave at her to tell her he was okay.
He didn’t, but another form did, a shadowy, muscular man that stood at the railing in front of the room. She stared, grappling with who – or what – he was. There was no floor at the railing, and he seemed unaffected by the fires around him.
As if sensing her, he turned his head towards her, and she stifled a scream.
He had no face.
“Are you ready to feel the fires of Hell, keeper of the stones?” His voice was in her head, a dark, grating hiss that scared her. “Shadowman is here for you.”
It’s not possible. And yet, there he was, the first of four archdemons who would do whatever it took to steal her secrets.
Amira turned and fled. Her heart broke for Scott, but she had to protect the stones no matter what.