T. Grey: Chains of Frost

Tyrian’s team had been gone for five hours too long. The commander of the Atal

Warriors did not need to check the time to know that his team should be back by now. Just how bad things had gone, he didn’t know.

Unlike some commanders, he did not require constant communication from his men.

Most of the time their jobs required complete and utter silence. He’d seen good, strong warriors die because a cell phone rang in his pocket. Technology had many uses; some of those endangered his men. It was careless. It was unacceptable.

Tyrian counted on his men to be the best and that meant without supervision. After all, they were not children but the best warriors with an even greater job. And he was not a babysitter.

Yet even knowing all that and having created those rules himself, Tyrian for once wished he knew what the hell was taking them so long.

He sent three men from his personal guard—some of the few he trusted not to cut off his head when he turned around. Rayn, Draven, and Henry. Together they were a lethal tornado capable of executing the strongest of enemies. What made them so unique even among his legion of warriors were their other special abilities.

Born not of two vampires, but of vampire and those they fight against, the demons, they alone had a tremendous advantage over their foes. This only made the fact that their mission had gone on for five hours longer than necessary incredibly...irritating.

Again, Tyrian found his eyes looking down at the sheet of paper in his hands. Frank Bellum was not a man one easily forgot, especially when you owed that man a long-due debt.

His eyes narrowed on a choice set of words: My eldest daughter, Chloe Ann Bellum . Was the old man senile before he met his great death?

Frank had died honorably albeit unexpectedly. Though in Tyrian’s long life that was how most life ended—brief and swift. A hot glide of steel into flesh in one moment and then in the next blink your life was gone. He’d seen it too many times to remember each face, each death.

They all rolled together in his mind like one dark pit of black souls.

A hard bang sounded at the door. “Enter.”

The sight of Rayn was not a relief, but some feeling close to it. Tyrian had learned long ago that feeling led to expectations, hopes, pain. His life was that of a warrior. He had zero need in his life for erstwhile pain and useless emotions that clouded a warrior’s mind.

“Commander Tyrian, I bring news.” Rayn dropped briefly to one knee before standing

again. His shorter hair, Tyrian noted, was a disheveled mess like a child had gotten into it and tried to make a bird’s nest out of it. Something long ago forgotten fluttered in his chest. He pushed it back with cold fingers.

“Speak.” Tyrian pulled his arms behind his back and loosely clasped his hands.

“I’m sorry for the delay but we had...complications.” Tyrian’s brow almost furrowed.

How could one female be trouble? Rayn had slaughtered a den of rogue demons by himself in less than ten minutes. His prowess in battle was why he was one of his closest, most trusted guards. That and his ability to teleport anywhere at any time.

“Tell me everything.”

The story that Rayn went on to tell was completely unbelievable, very ridiculous, and absolutely absurd and yet he said it in the same no-nonsense voice he used in battle. What he spoke was truth, he knew because he wouldn’t dare lie to him. Men had died before for daring such. Knowing all of that though did not make his story any easier to absorb.

Six hours ago Rayn, Henry, and Draven teleported to Frank Bellum’s winter home in

Colorado. Finding it vacant, they then checked his other homes in Maine and Florida. They, too, were deserted, not even a light on in the house. Rayn insisted that the female was not hiding or else Draven would have scented her. Though at the house in Colorado they caught a lingering feminine scent. “Like hazelnut or honey, something sweet” he said. Tyrian merely raised an eyebrow and waited for the rest of the story.

“We tracked her via credit card to London. She bought three tickets, one for herself and each of her sisters. And this is where things got weird.”

“How so?” Tyrian felt a dull throbbing pain slam against his right temple. Was there no way to tell this story faster? The dull pain was a crack in his control. He quieted his mind and stilled the pain like an iron fist over the throb. It stopped like a heartbeat.

“First we stopped at the airport to pick up her scent again, then we followed it to a cemetery where we found a hole in the earth.”

Tyrian cocked his head. “What do you mean a hole in the earth?”

Rayn shook his head and stalked over to a side table where he poured a shot of dark amber liquid and gulped it down with a sigh. “Exactly what I said. There was a massive black hole in the ground. Looked like some kind of pit. It was deep, too.”

“Deeper than a grave?”

“Much.”

“What does this have to do with the female?”

“She and the sister’s scents were all over the place. Whatever happened, and none of us has a clue, it was big and bad. We caught a scent of something else there. Demon.”

Even shocked as he was Tyrian managed to look calmly at the warrior. “Impossible. The demonic rift isn’t anywhere near London.”

“I know. We said the same thing. But that’s only the beginning of it. This thing , whatever it was, didn’t smell like the demon’s we fight. It was similar but reeked of death, age, power. As I said before...weird.”

“Are the women witches?”

“I doubt it. Succubi have some magical ability maybe enough to levitate off the ground or push a person into the wall with enough concentration, but not this. Of course I’m not even sure what it was or what happened neither do Draven and Henry.”

Tyrian contemplated that. “But you’ve got the woman.” A simple statement. His men

would not return without the mission completed unless they were dead.

Rayn shook his head as if he couldn’t believe something then tossed back another shot.

“This is where things get complicated.”

Just then the warrior Draven stormed into the study with a grin on his face. He stopped before Tyrian and dropped to a knee. “Commander Tyrian.”

Frustration threatened to creep in like hot pokers to Tyrian’s brain. “Unless you wish to finish the story then I suggest you leave.”

The warrior smiled like he just said something funny. “I’ll let Rayn finish the story; I just wanted to let you know that King Henry’s bringing her in. I think even you may like this one, Commander.”

Tyrian scowled at the warrior then looked at Rayn expectantly. He quickly wiped the smirk off his face and continued his story.

“We tracked the women’s scents to a small hostel, but before we could go inside to find her we met a friend.”

“From beyond the grave,” Draven added in an ominous voice.

Rayn cut him a hard, half-laughing look. “Whatever the demon was we smelled at the

cemetery was there. We tracked it to the side of the building. We saw it. This thing was huge, much bigger than your typical demon. It was dead. Not dead as in not living. I mean its flesh was peeling off its body, dropping all over the ground.”

“That thing really needs some cologne. Stunk to high heaven.”

“Enough, Draven,” Tyrian commanded with ice covering his words.

“It was after her,” Rayn was saying. “It was outside her window. It attacked us and that damn thing nearly killed Henry. It was powerful, unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. Didn’t look anything like the idummi demons we usually fight. Henry took a nasty blow to the stomach, sent him flying a 100 feet into traffic where a car nearly ran him over. So like I said, complicated. This demon was not quiet either. It was loud as a mother—it was loud,