WREN LEANED HER FISTS ON THE sink and stared at her reflection in a restroom mirror shaped like a banana leaf. The owners had carried the primordial motif into the bathroom with bamboo stalls, large ferns and more flickering torches.
Coming here was a mistake. I’m supposed to keep him out of trouble, not drag him into it.
“Great,” she said to herself, “Now I have another incident to report. That makes like, what, a hundred in as many days. Stillman must be getting tired of hearing about Dev’s extracurricular activities.”
Wren thought it weird that, when it came to official Knights Elementalis concerns, her brain referred to him as Stillman, Precept of the Knights Elementalis. For the personal stuff, though, or when they were alone, he went by the more exalted title of Father.
She frowned at her reflection.
Ugh. I never could get this make-up thing right.
She snatched a linen towel from the stack on the counter and dabbed at her blotchy mascara. The little black blobs smeared into dark smudges under her eyes. It made her look tired and old.
Oh, what was I thinking? She wet the towel and scrubbed her eyes. That he’s finally going to notice me because I get all dolled up for one night? Silly, girl.
Fresh and clean, Wren tossed the towel in the bin and paused for one last inspection.
“Much better.”
A big man slammed into the restroom door, knocking it off its hinges. He caromed off the wall-mounted vending machine and crashed into the open stall.
Wren crouched and reached for the knife she kept strapped to her hip, but came up empty. She’d left it back in the condo. Duh.
Her heart thumped, shaking her ribcage. It filled the silence left by the missing beat of the music that had died at some point in the past few minutes. Grunts, groans and curses sounded outside the bathroom door.
What in the world?
“Hey, man…,” she looked into the stall, “You okay?”
Eyes wild, skin pale, he pulled himself up and rushed out the door without a word.
When the screams started, Wren bolted from the restroom and dove into a stampede of terrified revelers surging toward the main doors.
Can’t leave that man alone for five minutes. The human tide swept her away from Dev until she ducked low and found a seam. Fighting against the press, she rolled off chests, bounced off hips, and shoved her way through. The pungent air, a fruity perfume mixed with sweat and desperation, made it hard to breathe.
Above the immediate roar, she heard Dev’s bellow, urging everyone out.
She spun around a mountain of a man wearing a wrestler’s luchador mask. Hey, that was El Jefe. I saw him on TV las—. A random punch to the gut set her back and she lost precious ground. Stupid, girl. Focus.
With a final twist and heave, she broke through into the clear and got her first glimpse of the situation. Dev pushed the last of the crowd toward the exit and faced off against an older woman in tight white leather. Curls of fluffy white smoke drifted up from his clothing.
This is so not good.
Four bodies littered the ground, limbs sprawled, skin gray as ash. The woman held a beautiful young starlet in a slinky black dress by the back of her neck. The girl flailed her arms and kicked wildly, but couldn’t break free.
“Let her go!” Dev charged, but didn’t get five feet before he bounced off a wall of shadow that sprang up from the pools of darkness at his feet.
Stunned, Wren watched Dev juke and shift in his attempt to get around the wall, but nothing worked. Shadow blocked his every move.
Wren dove through the opening in the bar to her right and crawled around to a spot about five feet from Dev. She had never seen anything stop him before. Once he charged, he won. Period. Although, she’d never seen him in an actual fight before, only sparring matches against the other Knights.
From the nearby bar prep station, Wren grabbed two small paring knives. Not much of an arsenal, but it would have to do. What she wouldn’t give for her throwing knives.
With her back against the outer curve of black marble, she peeked over the rim.
The woman sneered at Dev over the starlet’s shoulder as the girl’s movements became sluggish and stopped. The color bled from her skin like the unfortunates already on the floor. With a nonchalant flick of her wrist, the woman dropped the body and stepped over the ungainly heap to face Dev.
With the girl’s death, he prowled behind the wall like a caged tiger. Wren saw the signs of his mounting rage—tight jaw, hard eyes, hands alternately clenching and unclenching.
He’s losing it. With a glance toward the front door, she verified that the last of the guests had made it out. Good. No audience.
“How does it feel, Knight of Flame, to know you let these people die?” The woman spoke, her voice a sultry purr.
He would never just let people die.
Dev responded with a murderous stare. He tested the shadow wall with a punch, found it strong, unyielding. Smoke billowed out of his suit jacket.
This close, the woman seemed much younger than Wren originally thought. Long white hair framed beautiful, pale features. The skimpy white leather skirt and vest accentuated her glamorous curves. She could be a porcelain goddess of lust, until you found her jet black eyes.
Wren shivered at the hate that emanated from those twin onyx orbs.
“You are mine, Fire Knight.” The woman raised her hands, palms out, fingers up. Hundreds of misty, translucent forms slithered from the shadows all around. Within their first seconds of quasi-life, they solidified into long, gray snakes.
Wren clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle her scream, grateful for the two feet of rock bar separating her from the summoned serpents. Deep-rooted fear froze her limbs.
Snakes. Why did it have to be snakes?
A multitude of forked tongues flicked in an out, searching for the scent of their prey. They converged on Dev. He continued pacing as the reptile army drew near, paying them no notice, eyes riveted to the woman.
Within striking distance, the first of the attackers reared back—mouths open, dark fangs bared.
Wren couldn’t turn away. She wanted to scream at Dev, urge him to do something, but the words locked in her throat.
Dev frowned and stopped pacing. A wave of orange flame rolled out from his feet and over the snakes. They writhed in the conflagration, flipping and coiling back on themselves until the fire burned them down to crisp black husks.
The flames didn’t reach her, but the scorching temperature of Dev’s pest control washed over Wren, melting her fear and freeing her to move.
The woman in white pulled more darkness from the shadows, gathering it into her hands.
Dev ripped off his smoking jacket and tossed it to the side. His eyes remained glued to the figure before him. Wisps of smoke rose from his shoulders. Most of his shirt had burned away and a dagger hilt, angled down, stuck out of the worn chain harness strapped to his back. His pants smoldered. Patches of Armani wool burst into flame. Charred ends of fabric disintegrated, opening a window to the pink skin underneath.
The heat he gave off was oppressive. Between the bonfire behind her and Dev in front of her, Wren felt like a rotisserie chicken. Sweat rolled down her arms and between her breasts. Despite the swelter, she inched closer, and looked for an opening.
Knees bent, weight on the balls of his feet, Dev twisted his right arm behind his back and grasped the hilt of Cinder, his elemental dagger. As his fingers closed around the ancient weapon, the amber crystal at the base of the blade sparked to life.
The woman unleashed a smile—frigid and fierce. The shadow wall dropped.
Dev ripped Cinder from its sheath and leaped forward, halving the distance in a blur.
The roiling shadow in her hands surged forward, knocked Dev back, and wrapped his arms and legs in murky restraints.
“Dev.” Wren blurted, concern overriding her caution, then ducked back behind the bar.
“Ah, there you are little one.” The statuesque woman spoke, voice calm, untroubled. “I was wondering when you’d come out to play.”
“Run, Wren.” Dev whispered. He strained against the bands that circled his arms and legs. “Get the car. Pick me up out front.”
“But I can help you.”
“By all means, Develor Quinteele, let her stay.” The woman gazed at Wren. “I don’t know your name, child.”
“Never mind her. Just go.” Dev urged. “I’ll handle this.”
All that was left of his pants were a few fast-burning threads that clung to the curve of his butt. Wren couldn’t help but stare at the ripple and play of taut muscles that strained against his constraints. Then she imagined the view from the evil albino witch’s perspective.
That bitch.
Even though Dev was wrapped in shadowy ropes of energy that, for all she knew, would squeeze him into sushi, all she could think about was how that nasty slut had a prime view of her Knight in all his glory.
Wren growled and pinched the tip of the paring knife in her right hand. If I distract her, Dev can get free. Heart thumping, she exploded up, over the edge of the bar. Line of vision clear, she sighted on her target, aimed and threw. Despite the improvised weapon’s awkward balance, the blade speared the corpse-like flesh of the woman’s forehead.
She didn’t even flinch.
In her peripheral vision, Wren caught Dev’s horrified expression.
“What the hell are you doing?” He spat the question out of the side of his mouth.
“Um,” Wren’s eyes grew big, “Rescu—ing you.”
“Nice job.” Dev frowned. “Well done.”
Casually, the woman grabbed the knife stuck in her forehead and drew it out. A tiny spurt of gray dust puffed from the wound, but no blood.
“Gogogo.” Dev urged.
“But…”
“Now, child,” the woman’s patronizing tone a sharp slap to Wren’s ego, “that was not very nice.” With one arm holding the shadow bands tight around Dev, the other clenched into a fist. She punched the air, striking out toward Wren.
The air crackled as it solidified into a large round mass that streaked across the room, gathering size and dark density from the pools of shadow in its path.
“Move!” Dev ordered. A single cut with his diamond-bladed dagger dissolved the shackles. Freed of his bonds, he leaped to intercept the attack, Cinder held before him like a talisman.
Wren ducked behind the bar, scrambled around to the opening she originally came through, and peered around the corner as the shadow struck. It smashed into Dev with the strength and speed of a semi-truck. His brow drew down and in a flash his eyes blazed from dark gray to the deep red of burning coals as he rocked back with the impact. Wisps of steam escaped from his nostrils. Cinder gripped tight, his bloodless knuckles stood out against the rest of his pink skin.
Wren felt the clash, heard him grunt under the strain, and watched the give and take as he struggled against the woman’s will. Body rigid, arms outstretched, eyes focused on her opponent, she stood between Wren and the entrance.
Wren wanted to help, but Dev ordered her to get the car and she wasn’t going to let him down. If anything happened to her Knight, she didn’t know what she would do. Stomach in knots, she ghosted through the shadows, keeping one eye on her path and one eye on her Knight. After every few steps, she reminded herself to breathe.
She circled the combatants and got behind the woman, whose attention focused on the battle. Escape through the main doors lay mere feet away, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave.
He told me to get the car. Wren’s heart fluttered. But I can stop her. I can help him.
Shouts sounded from outside.
Wren whipped around to the door. Two sets of footsteps pounded on the pavement outside. She rushed to the side of the entrance, out of sight, and waited. The first guard burst through, gun immediately centering on Dev.
Wren tripped the second guard, rode him to the ground and rammed his head against the grated floor. She caught Dev’s eye and he nodded, once, reinforcing his order to leave.
“ENOUGH.” Dev roared.
From her perch atop the guard, Wren wiped stinging sweat from her eyes as a thick rope of fire snapped loose from the bonfire and struck Dev in the back.
Knight joined with element in a brilliant flash that incinerated the shadow magic and burned dark spots behind Wren’s eyelids. When her vision cleared, Dev stood unfettered. Corded arms hung ponderous at his side. His chest heaved with each breath. A bright yellow flame flickered and danced over his skin, leaving his head untouched. He glared at his opponent with eyes transformed to the color of the sun.
Magnificent. Powerful. And gloriously naked.
“You, witch, demon, or…whatever,. Dev’s breath washed over the room like a scorched desert wind. “By my honor, I am forced to give you one chance to repent. However, if you refuse this offer, and I hope you do…you’re toast.”
Wren watched the hatred play out in the woman’s features. Prominent ridges appeared across her cheeks with tightened jaw muscles and her eyes scrunched up, small and harsh. The guard at her side trembled, the tip of his semi-automatic pistol wavering like a pennant in the breeze.
Dev stepped onto the oily stain left behind when he obliterated the shadow magic.
“We’ll see.” She raised both arms over her head. “Awake and destroy.” Gray ash gushed from her open mouth, covering the ground and bodies near her in a dense, low-hanging cloud. The corpses twitched and rose gracefully to their feet. They turned, dead eyes clamping onto Dev. As one, they sprang.
Dev’s flame flared and enveloped his head in a blazing helm. His wavy brown hair burned away, filling the air with an acrid aroma.
Wren’s heart threatened to beat out of her chest as she hopped up and sprinted for the door. She had to get the car, had to be ready.
She paused at the wooden doorframe and poked her head out. No guards. Maybe fifty yards to the parking lot.
A surprising number of cars remained in the lot considering the frenzied exodus that emptied the club a short time ago. Their owners clustered in groups, talking and laughing as if the insanity inside had never happened.
Are they crazy?
After a finger-rake through her hair and a dress adjustment, Wren stepped out into a too-bright night. She cursed with each sedate step as the moon shone down on her like a spotlight.
Nothing to see here.
She found the guards interspersed with the criminally stupid patrons in the parking lot.
Are they looking for me? Her eyes darted from side to side and she sipped her breath in tiny morsels as she maintained her slow, maddening pace.
Some…thing flew past overhead, blocking out the moon’s glow for the span of two heartbeats. Goose bumps broke out along her arms and legs and a palpable dread buckled her knees. The sensation vanished quickly, but she couldn’t shake the fear.
Screw this.
Head down, she sprinted to the car.
* * *
A hungry smile stretched across Dev’s face and his fire-laced spirit soared as Wren disappeared through the doorway.
She’s safe. Game on, zombies.
Gray-skinned shapes leaped and charged. To his fire-enhanced perception, their movements seemed slow and ponderous. He dashed between the bodies, stabbed Cinder hilt-deep into the chest of one and caved in the face of another with his burning fist.
The guard opened fire as the rest of the animated corpses pounced. Dev channeled his element, boosting his temperature to the extreme. Waves of blistering heat radiated from his skin and melted the oncoming bullets into tiny bits of slag that bounced harmlessly off his bare chest.
Two zombies, flashy clothes smoldering, charged high and attacked with fingers twisted into claws. The third lunged at Dev’s legs. He slashed Cinder up and across in a sweeping arc, scoring a deep wound across one attacker’s chest and severing the other’s hand. The third he met with a straight-arm to the chest. The fiery contact ignited the shadow-man’s clothes.
Some deep-seated fear of fire must have remained in that decaying brain for, as the flames spread, the attacker flailed, trying to put himself out.
Dev drove Cinder through him, severing his spine, to finish him off.
With the last reanimated corpse down, Dev grinned a promise of sharp edges and crippling pain at the guard. The guard bolted, clearing the doorway before his spent, semi-automatic clattered to the floor.
Dev spun, expecting another attack, but none came. The woman stood frozen in the same position in which she cast her spell. Cautiously, Cinder poised and ready, he closed the distance. Four feet…three feet. No reaction. Her arms stayed above her head and her eyes remained closed. If Dev hadn’t seen her before, he might have mistaken her for a classic sculpture. But he knew better.
Dev cocked his arm back to deliver the coup de grace, but a sense of familiarity stayed his hand. He studied her face.
Where have I seen you before?
A high-pitched wail pierced the night. Dev jerked around and searched for the source of the tortured sound. It came from outside. He thought of Wren, hoped she made it to the car. Another noise, low and faint, whooshed, moving the walls of the tent in and out, like the lungs of a great beast.
“He comes, Knight.” The woman’s cruel lips barely moved to form the words.
“Who co—”
A second wail, like the sound of an air raid siren, cut his question short. Dev estimated its location just above the rear of the tent. Below that, the ceiling bowed until the leather split. Green sparks flared along the rift. The edges curled back and dissolved, expanding the opening until a large section of the roof had been eaten away.
Moonlight sneaked in…so did something else. Cloaked in a dense pocket of midnight, it defied the moon’s pale light and touched down across the club.
Dev felt the vibration as it landed, tried to see through the dark veil, but failed. Something watched him. He could feel it in his bones. If he had any hair left on the back of his neck, it would be at full attention.
Jackpot. The suit of flame coating his body flared. Oh yeah, baby. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and back, adjusting his grip on his elemental blade. Bring it.
From out of the lightless void appeared a man. Dressed in a sharp black business suit, he strolled across the floor to the far side of the bar and rested his hand on the massive bone foot of the mastodon. A shifting patch of shadow shrouded his face.
“Welcome to my club, Knight of Flame.” A powerful voice carried across the distance as if he were no more than two paces away. “I see you have met my daughter, Triessa.”
Dev looked back at the frozen figure. Her limbs trembled.
Is that fear? What could frighten her here?
“You have disappointed me again, my dear.” An overly dramatic sigh leaked from his pursed lips. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
Triessa dropped to the floor as if someone had cut her strings. She struggled to her hands and knees and glared at her father. Her lips parted. Before she got the first word out, a translucent tentacle, big around as Dev, whipped out from the darkness and smashed her to the floor in a cloud of dust.
He killed his own daughter?
The Knight of Flame reeled from the charnel stench of that arm. Old death and rot clogged his nostrils. Breathing through his mouth seemed little better since the desiccated air tasted stale and musty, like it had recently blown through a crypt. That nervous flutter in his gut returned. Glancing to either side, Dev assessed his options. The exit was close, but that tentacle struck like a viper.
Having dispatched his daughter with as much ceremony as ordering take-out, the man turned to Dev and shook his head, “Children. A crippling source of disappointment.” He brushed non-existent lint from his crisp lapel. “Do you have any children, Knight?”
Dev sensed a low hum, below the range of hearing. It would have escaped his notice if he hadn’t been in the full embrace of his element. The undercurrent of subsonic vibration thrummed through the air and assaulted Dev’s equilibrium, leaving him queasy and unsteady.
“Nothing to say? So be it.” He slapped the huge bone leg and shouted, “Shreetok,” in a deep, guttural rumble.
Dark magic washed through the room and over Dev, coating his skin with a noxious film. The filth turned his stomach and blurred his vision. He wanted to attack, to rip this guy to shreds, but for the first time his instincts screamed that he was in over his head.
Above him, bone scraped on bone with nails-against-a-chalkboard intensity.
Dev looked up. You have got to be kidding me.
The enormous mastodon lowered its head. One of the tent peaks came down with its tusks, but snagged on a granite pillar before it fell more than a couple of feet. The creature touched down, shaking the ground with its impact.
Dev gaped at the new obstacle standing between him and freedom. What kind of power did it take to reanimate a dead creature the size and age of this behemoth? He’d dealt with zombies and other flavors of undead, but this was different, colossal, and required power on a scale he’d never faced before.
“Beautiful, isn’t she?” The smug tone jerked Dev back to reality. “And much stronger than when she was alive. Oh, yes. So much stronger.” A thin smile flitted across the man’s predatory features. “But I’ll let you be the judge of that.”
The dead beast’s eye sockets flared green and fixed on Dev. The ground trembled under the weight of its first ponderous step in his direction.
Oh, sure, ‘bring it on’. Dumb ass, now what are you going to do? If he ran for it, either the undead heap of bones or the tentacle would take him out.
In a sudden burst, Dev sprinted for the entrance. A second tentacle struck from the shadows, met him halfway. It swept him up and threw him across the tent where he bounced off the far wall and crashed to the floor.
Unfazed, he popped to his feet, sucking air back into his deflated body.
Nothing broken, a couple of bruises. I’m the Knight of bloody Flame, not the Knight of freakin’ Air.
The short flight landed him closer to the back of the tent, and his well-dressed assailant. The same sense of familiarity he experienced with the daughter tugged at his brain.
On tree trunk-thick legs, the mastodon advanced, blocking Dev’s escape route.
Wait a minute…what am I doing?
Dev called the fire from the closest torches. The flames already licking across the surface of his body intensified, changing from yellow to a deep azure blue. He backed against the leather wall and melted open a new door. The singed edge of the opening expanded quickly as the fire ate the oiled skin.
Once outside, he didn’t have more than a second to check his position and get moving. He had a good idea of where he burned through and, more importantly, where he hoped Wren waited with the car. Heedless of the low scrub and brush snagging his feet, he tore around the curve of the tent. The parking lot and a cluster of clueless lingerers appeared on his right and he cursed Wren again for forcing him to wear that suit instead of his usual Quinsteele-lined leathers.
Being naked wasn’t a problem. Being on fire wasn’t a problem. However, being naked and on fire and running from a giant monster in front of a crowd of people wasn’t his idea of a good night. To top it off, small fires erupted wherever he set his feet and blazed a clear trail for anyone or anything to follow.
The mastodon crunched into the dry brush in pursuit. Its heavy footfalls picked up the pace behind him.
Dev felt the tremors through the soles of his bare feet. He had a big speed advantage. If Wren waited out front with the car, they’d make it. If not...
She’ll be there. By his reckoning, she should be coming into view any second.
Another few yards brought Dev around front. His arrival generated a few catcalls and much finger pointing from the peanut gallery in the parking lot.
“Run!” Dev yelled and waved his arms. “Get out of here.”
A few people in the crowd waved back.
Dev shook his head and hoped the beast followed him, ignoring the clueless crowd.
Wren waited at the curb with the rental. Her anxious eyes lit up and she bounced in her seat to urge him on. When her eyes grew big and terrified screams erupted from the crowd, he knew the beast turned the corner.
The man in the suit emerged from the Club’s entrance, crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. Two tentacles burst out of the doorway in a hail of splintered wood. One swiped at the running Knight while the other streaked toward the idling car.
Dev put on an extra burst of speed. Flame-coated legs churned. A blue tinged comet-trail thinned in his wake. The tentacle swept in low, but he hurtled it easily.
The Jag’s front tires spun, kicking up a cloud of dirt and loose gravel, until they bit and the car accelerated backwards. Wren avoided the onrushing limb by inches, but barreled straight for Dev.
He narrowly avoided the Jaguar-shaped bullet and glimpsed Wren’s terror-masked face as she raced by. He’d help her if he could, but he had his hands full.
The mastodon rammed the back of the car. Aluminum crumpled against bone. The trunk caved in and the car’s momentum stopped dead.
Dev spared a glance for Wren and saw her struggling with the gear shift.
She’s got this.
He dodged to the left as a tentacle hurtled by, but the second one, having abandoned the attack on the car, slammed into his calves and flipped him onto his back. A quick roll to the right took him out of danger as the first tentacle smashed down.
As the tentacles passed close, he scored a few deep gashes with Cinder, but the wounds closed immediately. His effort earned him a few cheers from the audience. Instead of fleeing like they should have, the left-overs watched what they thought was a staged show.
The tentacles attacked mercilessly, chasing Dev every which way. He lost track of Wren and the car. He knew he couldn’t keep this up forever, needed to get to the man controlling these things.
Dev feigned right then jumped left and sprinted for the front of the tent, to the man pulling the strings. Faster. He channeled the dwindling elemental power at his command and boosted his speed.
Just…another…few…feet.
A tentacle hammered into his waist, doubled him over. He coughed and dropped to his knees. His lungs burned with each breath. It had been a long time since he’d pushed himself like this. The life giving energy and rage of his fire sputtered.
He got to his feet in time to duck another swipe. The wind from its passing whipped the flames on his head.
Where’s the oth—
It drove into his side. Ribs shattered. Flames died.
The massive blow knocked him across the gravel drive. He slid through the stones and came to rest face down in a smoking heap. Blood, road dust and small rocks filled his mouth. He groaned, tried to lift his head out of the dirt and stones, but it weighed a ton.
Get up…get up. Can’t stay in one place. MOVE.
His spirit growled and spit and cursed and yelled until the body finally listened. He rolled from stomach to back as a tentacle blasted into the earth where he’d lain, clipping him in the shoulder. His left arm went numb and the side of his body felt like it had been flattened by a steamroller.
Dev closed his eyes against the pain and took a second to catch his breath.
The harsh screech of tortured metal parted the clouds over his brain and his eyes sprang open. He jerked up into a sitting position. The pain of his tortured shoulder and broken ribs made breathing excruciating, but he couldn’t give up, had to keep fighting.
Cinder lay just out of reach. He knew the crushing weight of the next attack would nail him at any second and had to be ready. He dug his right hand into the gravel and pushed. Body screaming in protest, a tidal wave of nausea threatening to drown him, he fought through it, grabbed Cinder, and surged to his feet.
An odd whistle sounded off to his right. Twin midnight missiles streaked toward him.
“I’m sorry, Wren.” Dev braced himself for this final impact.
Gravel popped as the car slid to a halt in front of him and the passenger door flew open.
It took him a second to realize what happened, that Wren was in front of him with what was left of the car and that it sputtered in a heap between him and the tentacles. Hope gave his rubbery legs the strength to propel him into the seat.
Wren punched it. The tentacles slammed into the driver’s side, smashed the back window and lifted the car up onto two wheels. With a curse she eased off on the gas and tweaked the steering wheel to keep them from flipping over.
Once all four wheels touched down, she gunned it. The engine revved like a racecar, but the battered vehicle only limped away to the sound of grinding steel and the smell of burned rubber, carrying them barely far enough to take them out of immediate danger.
Applause and whoops of encouragement from the onlookers turned to howls of terror and pain. Gunshots rang out. Dev glanced in his side-view mirror and watched the guards open fire on the witnesses. He wanted to turn back and help, but he knew there was nothing he could do. Feeling sick and useless he sank into his seat.