Sarah Gilman - Deep in Crimson

But, this male made her heart race and her fingers tremble. Should she give dating another try? Would he be even remotely interested, or would he head back to forest and his hermit ways?

“Hey, Bryce,” Jett said.

Lexine turned to see her little brother rubbing his eyes.

“Hey, Guardian.”

“Call me Jett.” His shoulders visibly stiffened. Lexine sat on the edge of the bed and smoothed Bryce’s hair.

“Vin’s here,” Jett said, staring toward the window.

A black SUV pulled up in front of the motel room and Vin got out of the driver’s seat, a deep frown on his face. Jett went out to meet him. She followed a moment later, holding Bryce’s hand.

“…not a goddamned thing,” Vin was saying to Jett. “No scents, no paper trail. Not even a pencil was left behind in the house. The locals know nothing. It’s like he dropped off the face of the earth.”

Jett swore and shoved a hand through his uneven haircut. He took a deep breath. After a pause, he said, “Okay. So we don’t have a trail. Not an obvious one, anyway.”

Lexine got Bryce settled in the SUV with a pair of sunglasses. She shut the door so he couldn’t hear them talk about the attack.

“Not an obvious one?” Vin echoed.

“Today’s events make no logical sense whatsoever,” Jett said. “They killed three children and an adult and kidnapped a fourth child only to drive him three hours away to kill him, too? At the abandoned lab? What could the humans possibly gain from such a show?”

Lexine shuddered.

“They could have dumped Bryce anywhere,” Vin said. “They meant for us to find him. Here. No wonder they didn’t kill you.”

“Yeah, I’m the only one who knew to come here. But how did Lawrence know I’d be there last night, if my role was so important in his plan? How could he even know I was in Sanctuary? He’s the one who raised me to hate the place.”

Vin’s voice darkened. “I don’t know, but if this is about you, there is something I need you to be very clear about.”

Lexine glanced from one demon to the other, wringing her hands. Shit, Vin wouldn’t kick Jett out, would he?

“And what’s that?” Jett said, his tone dry.

“That we have your back, if you’ll let us.”

Lexine let out a heavy sigh of relief.

Jett paused, glanced at Lexine, then back at Vin. “I…”

“What?”

“Lexine,” Jett said. “Any luck calling the colony?”

“I haven’t tried since I woke up,” she said. “Why?”

Vin pulled out his phone and made a call. He listened for a moment, shook his head, and put the phone away. “Tower’s down, been down for a couple hours…” Vin froze for a long moment and shut his eyes. “ Son of a bitch… ”

“They murder demons and kidnap a child,” Jett said. “The Guardians, of course, send their best to get him back. I lead them to a location three hours away.”

Lexine opened her mouth to ask what he was talking about when the meaning behind his words hit home.

The colony. This was about the colony. Bryce had been merely a means to weaken Sanctuary’s Guardian protection. This whole thing had been a trap.

Raphael perched on a narrow, rocky outcrop that jutted out from the lakeshore, unable, unwilling, to move. The midmorning sun reflected off the still water. All around him, Sanctuary sat in withdrawn silence and stillness, the buildings hidden from sight by the deep green, late-summer foliage of the forest.

The attack in the woods had stopped every resident of the colony in their tracks. Jac and three of the children under his supervision: slaughtered. One five-year-old, Jac’s little brother: kidnapped. Human scents all over the scene. Raphael had rushed to them as soon as he’d sensed the injuries, the energy of his healing talent crawling over his skin in warning, but Jac and the children had died during the precious moments it had taken the Guardians to check the area and for Raphael to arrive. Now, his white wings drooped until his flight feathers rested on the surface of the water.

A dark crack rumbled in the distance, shattering the quiet. He glanced toward the sky. Thunder? The few white clouds didn’t hold much threat of a storm. The smaller feathers along the top of his wings stood on end as foreboding filled his gut. Was the tension getting to him, or were his instincts warning him of real trouble?

The shrill cry of an infant pierced the air. A second joined in.

His grandchildren. Raphael’s lips twitched, warmth competing against the ice for room in his chest. He shifted his gaze to the house. Solar lights edged the flight decks, still glowing faintly under the morning shade of the oak tree. The interior of the granite dwelling sat in stillness except for the new fourth-floor addition—his son’s home. His daughter-in-law’s wingless silhouette passed by the open French doors. Though she was half archangel like his son, Ginger took after her human parent.

With a heavy sigh, he got to his feet and extended his wings, seeking the warmth from the sunlight that beat down. Since finding the bodies in the forest, he’d been unable to shed a deep chill that had risen to the surface, unable to banish the old pain from the time when his mate and his young son had been attacked in the woods. Wren had survived and so much had happened since then, but that sort of horror leaves permanent scars on a person’s soul.

He stayed in that position, trying to clear his mind of everything but the sunlight on his body, until a voice pierced the silence.

“Raphael.”

He folded his wings to his back and turned. A redheaded demon emerged from the woods, the way he moved so subtle and deliberate he seemed to take form from the shadows. Lark, his personal Guardian.

“Humans have taken out the cell tower with an explosive,” Lark said quietly.

Poachers. Raphael turned his gaze to the house. Poachers, coming for his family, coming for him.

Not again. Not again!

“Please go inside,” Lark said. “I’ll take care of this.”

He flicked his wings and focused on his old friend. “Bring yourself back safe, too.”

Lark nodded and disappeared into the woods.

Raphael winged himself to the fourth-floor flight deck. Though the French doors stood open, he wouldn’t have called on his newly mated son unannounced if circumstances had been normal. He tapped his knuckles against the door frame.

Wren stepped into view, dressed only in black jeans. His white wings framed his body, the black markings at the tips of his feathers standing out like spilled ink. He held an infant, its tiny head resting against his collarbone. Miniature down-covered wings of black, gray, and traces of white, like a stormy sky, splayed across his chest. The newborn stared at Raphael sidelong with a wide, blue-green eye. Unlike human children, archangel young opened their eyes and explored their surroundings soon after birth, eager to take in the world.

They had no idea what was coming for them.

“Morning.” With a yawn, Wren stepped back, stretched his wings, and invited Raphael inside.

Across the room, Ginger sat on a chaise, smoothing the second twin’s feathers. She glanced up, gathered the young, and got to her feet, every slow movement yelling exhaustion. It seemed they hadn’t gotten any sleep after the murders and the kidnapping, either.

Wren wrapped his mate in the curve of his wing. “Any news of Bryce?”

“Nothing yet.” Raphael shut the French doors behind him. “There’s something else.”

“What?” Unease filled Wren’s voice.

Part of him wanted to keep the information to himself. Silence wouldn’t protect them, though. “The colony is being attacked.”