Shadows of Fate (Shadow Born) (2 page)

She let her power surge and kneed him in the crotch. Sparks flew as her spell sent him flying against the van. Keeping him in place with a holding spell, her fingers found the rune carved on his hip. She ripped away the denim as she tried to control the squirming demon.

“A little help?” she called out. She had pulled back the spell. Her full body weight was pressed against the demon, but he was starting to get free. Her magic had to be focused on breaking the possession; she couldn’t waste it restraining Casanova.

She released the demon as Xavier stepped from the shadows and slammed it against the van again. Subdued, the creature glared at them, its red eyes filled with hatred. Another hard slam dazed the creature, but only for a moment.

A flick of her hand and the back of the van opened. Xavier shoved Zed inside. As soon as he was strapped into the harness, Brenna ripped off his jeans. His hips now bare, she was able to see the rune carving, fresh as she had hoped.

Her ceremonial blade pulsed in her hand as she charged it with her energy.

Zed spit at her. The saliva sizzled across the corset, burning a hole in the leather.

Damn. That had been one of her favorites.

“Stuff something in its mouth. I need to concentrate.”

“Deal with it. Even in the harness this thing is a bitch to restrain.” White lines creased Xavier’s eyes, and Brenna worried his injuries were more severe than he let on.

Zed’s fingers began to work the trappings of the harness, but Xavier pulled him back, one arm around his scaly neck. In an explosion of power, Zed pulled free, knocking Xavier into the side of the van. Saliva dripping from his fangs, Zed growled at Brenna, and snapped the other wrist free. Jumping across the van, he pinned Brenna beneath him. Spittle fell from his lips, scorching its way across her skin. She pressed her palm against his face and pushed with all her strength, ignoring her burning flesh. Then, suddenly, he was gone.

Getting to her feet, she saw Xavier had strapped the beast back into the restraints.

“You got it?” Once she started, she wouldn’t be able to help him anymore. All of her energy would go into the exorcism.

“Yeah. Hurry.”

A sharp giggle jarred Brenna’s attention. Looking up, she caught Hilda peering through the glass from the front seat. “If he passes out, I can help.”

“This isn’t a game.”

Zed slammed against his restraints. “I like ghosts. They burn like whiskey going down.”

“Shut up,” Xavier growled.

Tuning them out, Brenna let the words of the exorcism spell spill from her lips. Her hand pressed against the rune on the demon’s hip. The carving glowed and the green light grew until it filled the van.

Zed fought against the restraints. Obscenities, the kind only a demon would know or understand, ricocheted throughout the vehicle.

Xavier stuck a thick leather strap in the demon’s mouth, cutting off his tirade.

Brenna gathered her magic. It pooled through her and into the athame as she sliced the silver blade into the center of the rune. Blood seeped from the wound, spilling over the green light. It exploded with power, slamming Brenna against the van. Xavier fared better, still wrapped around the demon. He was surrounded by a musty green steam that reeked of brimstone.

Continuing the chant, Brenna pulled a pouch of blessed sand from the crevice between her breasts. Throwing a pinch onto the rune, she banished the demon back behind the Veil. Golden steam rose from the wound. It twined around Brenna thick and dense, but she continued to chant even as its foulness tried to seep inside her mouth.

Darkness teased the edges of her vision for a few moments, then the warmth of Xavier’s power wrapped around her body like a shield, pushing out the demonic essence. Time stood still as the final words filled the air. Then, in a flash, the beast was gone.

Brenna leaned against the wall of the van, clean air filling her lungs as she reined her magic back in. Xavier sprawled on the floor of the van, his breath shaky, sweat glistening on his brow. “You ok?” she asked, pushing onto her knees.

“Been better.” With a grimace, he looked down at the blood staining his once white shirt. “I ripped my stitches, but I’ll live.”

“How about him?” She gestured to the human. Naked but for a torn pair of boxers, he lay still, baby blue eyes blinking rapidly at the ceiling. “He’s in shock.”

Xavier shrugged, blond hair falling across his brow. “Wouldn’t you be?” Crouching over the man, he offered a hand. “You okay, brother?”

The man who had once been Zed stumbled to his feet. His glazed gaze settled on Brenna. “I remember you, I think.” A puzzled look danced across his face as he looked around. “What happened?”

“It’s a long story, and you need a doctor.” Xavier helped him out of the van. When their feet hit the ground, he threw a set of keys to Brenna. “I’ll take him to detox if you’ll take the van back to headquarters.”

The keys landed in her palm. “I’ll see you there.” Silent, she watched Xavier lead the freed host into the shadows toward another vehicle. As they disappeared, she turned to Hilda. “Thanks for hanging back. I don’t think that kid could have taken any more.”

With a low laugh, the ghost moved to stand beside Brenna. “Poor bastard. At least it was fresh.”

“Yeah.” Brenna slipped her tangled hair back into a quick bun. “He’ll probably be okay.” She turned to Hilda, an eyebrow cocked. “Still want to be a hunter?”

Blond curls bouncing, Hilda shook her head. “Nope. I just like to watch.” She blew a kiss and began to disappear. “I’ll see you at home.”

Brenna sighed, turning back to the van. The assignment had gone easier than she had anticipated though it had left her drained. Sliding into the gray leather seat, she flipped the ignition and let the van run for a few moments as she chose a radio station. She let the soft classical music flow around her and the adrenaline slip away.

Ninety years of fighting demons took its toll on anyone. She pressed her head against the steering wheel. But it gave her something worthwhile to do. Even after she served her penance, she could never return home. This was her life now. There was no going back. Still, there were days when the thought of doing it another second left her feeling empty.

Once her heartbeat returned to normal and her breathing slowed, she pulled the van onto the road. Seraph would be waiting for a report and with another assignment. The cycle of work never stopped lately. Demon activity was on the rise.

Brenna drove out of Denver proper, across what had once been Interstate 70 but was now a mess of broken concrete and refuse. Knuckles white against the steering wheel, she tried to avoid the wandering coyotes that raced across the jagged road in search of food. Scavengers were the only type of animal life that had thrived after the Fall.

The Fall was a war unlike any mankind could have anticipated. New experimental warheads had not only rendered the surface world unlivable for decades, they had worn away at the Veil separating the planes of existence. Eventually, the Veil began to rip. Each tear was like a black hole, pulling in everything around it until this boundary between worlds was stabilized by its Guardians. But there had been a price. Humanity was forced to come to terms with a new reality, one where their worst nightmares turned out to be true. Creatures of myth and legend now lived among them.

The inhospitable environment forced the survivors, both human and the nonhuman creatures humans called deviants, to build cities underground. Once the atmosphere became livable, they returned to the surface to rebuild. These once crowded underground structures now housed the offices for the newly restored governments, law enforcement agencies, and prisons. The headquarters for the Interspecies Relations Taskforce, or IRT, was west of Denver, underneath the remains of the Justice Center that had once been affectionately called the Taj Mahal by locals.

During the Rise, as the survivors began to rebuild, each region pieced together a government system to maintain a semblance of peace. Communication between the states had been impossible, which had put an end to nationalized government. Each state was broken into districts. Those districts were responsible for policing their own, and the laws were often brutally enforced. The IRT was in charge of keeping the peace between the species in the Rocky Mountain District. This had been Brenna’s reality for the last ninety years.

A half hour later, Brenna pulled into the makeshift parking lot on the upper level of the tunnels. Jumping onto the dirt, she secured the van with a simple charm. She shook her shoulders to release the tension in her neck then pulled her pass out of her back pocket. With a quick charge she pressed it against the innocuous metal rectangle on one dirt wall. Dust settled from the ceiling as the room shifted to reveal the entrance to a narrow set of tunnels.

She moved into the darkness and hit the switch to close the chamber. In recent years, as local power stations came back online, they had managed to pipe electricity into the underground, so a chain of Christmas lights lit the passageway. The red, green and blue bulbs strung against the dirt walls gave the path a surreal look. Brenna wasn’t sure what a Christmas tree was, because such things predated her time on Earth, but it must have been spectacular.

When she reached the end of the tunnel, she freed the athame from her back and slit open her palm. She waited for enough blood to well up, and pressed her hand against the glass doorway. The enchantment recognized her blood and opened. It was primitive and messy, but it worked, and suited Brenna’s style of magic. The lights blinked as the spell unwound. It was a different world inside. Hospital-like with glaring white tile and white washed walls, at first it hurt your eyes.

She waved to the receptionist incased in a circle of spell-proof glass. Lucy flipped her off, then went back to typing. Barely five foot, she looked like a mix between a Cheshire cat and pink hippo. Well, aside from the furry pink wings folded against her back.

“Love you too, sweetie,” Brenna said, blowing a kiss. Thankfully Lucy considered her a friend. Brenna had no desire to be on the gargoyle’s bad side.

“Seraph wants you.” Lucy looked up for a moment, humor in her piercing blue eyes. “He’s got someone with him.”

“Thanks.” Brenna stepped forward, motioning for her to open up the security window. When Lucy shook her head, she added, “I got you something.” She pulled a chocolate moon pie she had pilfered from the underground market from her duster’s pocket and waved it against the window.

The partition
shifted and the pie was snatched from her fingers. By the time Brenna looked back, only crumbs were left on Lucy’s face. The gargoyle belched, and went back to typing.

Laughing, Brenna walked inside. Cameras lined the narrow hallway as she made her way to her office. The halls were filled with a menagerie of creatures forced into an uneasy truce, due to their contracts with the IRT. Species that were sworn enemies often shared offices.

When the void between worlds had been bridged during the Fall, all manner of creatures had spilled onto this plane, some drawn to the blood and chaos, others simply ripped away from their homes. Now, trapped here indefinitely, they waited for a chance to return home. It could be a week or a thousand years, there was no way to know. In these unstable times, the Guardians let none approach the portals unchallenged, and left few alive. All they could do was to make the best of it.

It didn’t make for a stress-free working environment. About once a day, it got bloody. Sometimes worse.

She was halfway to her office when she sensed it. Magic. Not your normal everyday run of the mill magic, but Shadow Bearer magic.

Brenna froze, pulse racing. There were very few from her home world who would voluntarily cross over to the earthly plane. They had their own civil war to worry about. This plane was used solely for banishment. Her defenses flared, and she cloaked herself in protective magic. She would be surprised if her father had sent an assassin after so many years, but she wouldn’t put it past him.

She moved closer, blade clutched in hand.

The shadows from her office light danced across the glistening white floor, allowing her to see the outline of two figures inside.

“Quit screwing around and get in here.” Seraph’s gruff voice echoed in the hall. “I don’t have time to wait.”

Defenses sliding away, she rolled her eyes. She was the most dedicated employee Seraph had. It wouldn’t kill him to show some patience. Her red flag still at half mast, she stepped into the office.

And panicked.

Praying it didn’t show on her face, she glared at the man sitting behind her desk. Magic poured off him. Magic so powerful it was unmistakable. He was one of her kind, perhaps even her clan.

Heart pounding, she took him in. Seated behind her desk, on
her
chair, his leather boots propped on the metal top, he seemed to fill the entire room. She put him at six-and-a-half feet. His shoulder length black hair was pulled back with a strap of leather, but a few tendrils had escaped and draped across his violet eyes. There was a virility about him that was frightening—and breathtaking. He was the epitome of what she both loved and loathed about the men of her world. But it was more than that, her body immediately responded to his presence. She burned to touch him, to remind herself of what she had left behind, and it appalled her.