Sarah Gilman - Deep in Crimson

“It’s okay.” It’s okay? Damn it, he wasn’t kid-savvy or nurturing in the best of circumstances. He ignited a thin layer of demon fire over his body. The one fuzzy recollection he possessed of his father was that fiery, comforting embrace. “You’re okay now.”

The boy’s breathing calmed, his faced pressed into the flames, but he maintained a choking grip on Jett’s neck.

“You’re strong for a… How old are you, little one?”

The child leaned back slowly, wiped at his eyes, and murmured, “I’m not little. I’m five and a half.”

“I’ve never met a stronger five-and-a-half-year-old.”

A ghost of a grin pulled at the corners of the boy’s mouth.

“What’s your name?”

“Bryce.”

“I’m taking you home, Bryce.” Jett stood and tried to maneuver so that the kid didn’t see the two dead humans. It didn’t work. Though the shaking resumed, Bryce craned his neck over Jett’s shoulder and hissed.

“Easy there.”

Bryce hissed again and growled. The sound, not par-ticularly menacing coming from a young boy, lightened Jett’s mood as he headed for the woods.

A strange whistle filled the air and pain exploded in Jett’s lower back. He sprang forward the last couple yards to the cover of the evergreen trees and, supporting Bryce with one arm, pulled a small dart free from his backside. The colorless liquid in the dart could have been anything, but the rapid numbness spreading throughout his limbs told him all he needed to know. His legs gave out and he collapsed to the ground on his side. Bryce scrambled to his feet.

“ Run, Bryce .” Jett slurred the words. Fuck, how had a human snuck up on him?

“Guardian?” Bryce shook Jett’s shoulder, tears reap-pearing.

I’m not a Guardian . Jett stared at the child, unable to do anything else, even blink, the drug’s grip on him complete. Run, damn it .

A new human scent carried on the breeze: Leather. Cigarettes.

Run !

Bryce crouched at Jett’s side. He hissed as a figure emerged through the trees. The human, dressed in jeans, a black sweater, and a skull-tight black cap, walked forward with a dart gun slung over his shoulder. Damn weapon appeared military grade.

Bryce turned his back on the man and hid his face in Jett’s chest. No emotion whatsoever bled into the human’s expression.

Get away, damn you!

The human pulled a dart from a pack at his hip, held it like a throwing dart, and let it fly. The needle landed in Bryce’s shoulder. The child jerked and his grip on Jett tightened. A few seconds later, his body went limp.

The kidnapper gathered Bryce in his arms.

Motherfucker! Jett writhed within his cement-like body. Despicable coward!

The human stared at Jett for a moment with an unreadable expression, turned on his heel without a word, and strode off toward the road. A moment later, the SUV roared to life.

…

Lexine tore through the undergrowth of the forest. Thick, humid air made it hard to breathe as she ran. She strained to see, as blind as a human in the post-midnight darkness. She stumbled over an exposed root and landed in the muddy, rotting leaves on her knees and palms.

Damn my defective eyes!

With a curse, she stood and rubbed her ankle. Her pain trivial compared to her missing brother, she ignited demon fire on her hands and pressed forward in the crimson light.

The loss of her older brother sat in her stomach like a cluster of shrapnel, but she refused to sit and grieve. She needed to act. Losing Bryce, too, wasn’t an option.

The Guardians had long since outpaced her, their attention focused on tracking the humans who’d taken her little brother. They left only the whispers of the forest in their wake. She stopped, shut her eyes, and listened. Leaves rustled. Water dripped. A swollen stream roared after a week of thunderstorms. Faint voices drew her attention ahead and to her left.

She scrambled in the direction of the distant shouts. Branches scraped her arms and ferns snagged her feet, but her crimson fire lit her way. Ahead, one of the many old logging roads in Sanctuary’s vicinity came into view.

Lexine extinguished her fire to avoid being a visible target if any humans remained in the area before stepping out into the open. The moon cast silvery light over the road and the adjacent field. Strong scents of humans, Bryce, and the Guardians filled her nose along with the choking stench of engine exhaust.

“Lex, what the hell are you doing out here?” Moonlight reflected off a pair of eyes to her left. The speaker stepped out of the trees, dark clothing and hair putting his pale skin in stark relief.

“Vin!” She ran up to the Guardians’ leader. “Where’s Bryce?”

He caught her by the shoulders. “He’s not here.”

“But his scent is so strong!”

“The humans took him in a vehicle only minutes before we got here.” The Guardian squeezed her arm in a chaste show of comfort. “I’ve sent trackers after them.”

She held her breath and squeezed her hands into fists. Panicking wouldn’t do anyone any good.

“Jett tried to help your brother.” Vin released her arm. “He had a good head start on us.”

She wiped at her moist eyes with the back of her hand. “What happened?”

“They hit him with some sort of drug. Probably the same one used when they ambushed Jac and the kids.”

“Is Jett…?”

“No, they didn’t kill him. Bizarre, considering he killed two of them. I admit he’s not above suspicion.”

“You think he helped the humans?”

“It’s possible. Jett’s loyalties are highly questionable, given his past and the fact that the humans left him alive. This way.”

Lexine followed Vin toward the evergreens, puzzling. What little the Guardians knew of Jett’s story had long been common knowledge in the colony. Kidnapped himself as a child, he’d been raised in some sort of human research facility. Later, he’d been employed—forcefully—by the poacher who’d held the archangel Raphael captive for years. Jett had revolted, freeing the archangel eleven months ago. Granted, Jett hadn’t embraced the colony or responded to Raphael’s repeated invitations to join the community, but why would he revert his loyalty to the humans?

Beyond the lush branches of the trees, several Guardians knelt near Jett, who lay on his side on the ground in tattered jeans. His black, long-sleeved shirt and jacket set off platinum-blond hair that fell across his face in mismatched angles. He must have hacked it off with a knife. Cuffs bound his hands and ankles.

She arched an eyebrow at Vin.

“We can’t risk him bolting on us when the drug wears off,” Vin said.

Lexine paused and breathed in Jett’s scent: the smoky edge of any demon, plus rich honey and dark tea. She knew it well from the cemetery, which she tended a couple days a week. He’d been visiting the burial ground more and more often, leaving his thick fragrance among the stones.

She’d grown accustomed to his presence in the last couple of months. Though she’d never seen him.

“Do you think he’ll wake up soon?”

A growl drew her gaze to Jett and she stepped back.

“He’s awake,” Vin said. “Just paralyzed. But apparently, he’s coming out of it.”

“He can blink and move his fingers,” another Guardian added. “But mostly he just glares and growls at us.”

“I’d be pissed at you, too.” She folded her arms. “What if he’s done nothing wrong?”

“What if he aided in Bryce’s abduction?”

Lexine scowled at the Guardian and knelt at Jett’s side. Bryce’s scent—light citrus and pine—clung to his shirt. “Jett. I’m Lexine.”