Book One: The Girl (The Sanctum) Read online

  “Ma?” Dev quietly called into her parents’ bedroom.

  Getting no response, she continued down the long hallway, checking each room she passed. They were empty but recently used, as evidenced by the slept-in beds, sheets haphazardly tossed aside, pillows strewn across the floor. The entire scene evoked complete panic, sheer terror.

  The hallway opened onto an extraordinarily large living room, where Dev’s parents loved to entertain family and friends. As she neared the room, hundreds of memories flashed before her eyes: meeting her baby brother, getting her first sword, learning the ways of magic, watching her mother heal others, listening to her father train warlocks, playing with her best friend.

  Happiness.

  As she crept closer to the open space, sweat trickling down the small of her back, blades ready to kill, Dev felt anything but joy.

  She leaned against the wall and gathered herself, breathing deeply through her nose, closing her eyes and opening herself to outside forces. Dev’s mind pushed out to the boundaries of her home, feeling along the walls, into the cracks of the foundation, up to the roof and continued along, covering each and every space, taking in the scents and traces of all who had entered. And exited.

  And every sign pointed to The Sanctum. The enforcers of The Code of Ten, divine humans empowered to maintain the order of all magical beings, warriors with a mission to kill those gone rogue. Judge and jury rolled into one, incredibly powerful and morally corrupt. Since their creation, The Sanctum had been led by The Circle of Ten, otherwise known as the ten founding families. However, all who had contact with The Sanctum knew the Breslin family, one of the Circle of Ten, was really running the show. Generations of Sanctum men and women rarely questioned Breslin leadership and those who dared, learned quickly never to cross the family, for the consequences were dire: expulsion, ruin, death. It was the Breslin way.

  Dev suspected her parents had done just that. It was the only explanation for their seeming overnight fall from grace. One day, Philip was Chief Magjistar to The Sanctum, Maya Sole Healer, both having served the Breslins for generations; the next day, the family was hidden under layers upon layers of the most powerful glamours ever conjured, creating a new home along the backwater channels of Kerala, thousands of miles away from Sanctum leadership. In essence, the most powerful warlocks of The Sanctum were on the run.

  “Ma...please,” Dev whispered, hoping for a response. She got none and in an effort to quell the panic starting to course through her system, Dev practiced one of the first exercises she learned from her father: stretching her mind to touch his and hone her skill of reading others’ energy and thoughts. Dev was no longer a little girl, sitting on her father’s lap, struggling to feel his thoughts; she was a heavily trained, highly skilled, eighteen year-old warrior, so it was easy to scan the entire compound for any traces of her family members. In a matter of moments, she was able to ascertain that her family, including her mother, was nowhere on the premises and immediately, some of the tension in her body dissipated.

  Dev replaced Daya on her hip and exchanged her long blade for her favorite short one, finding it a more comfortable fit. Although she knew she was in the house alone, she crept along the wall in silence, not willing to take a chance, finding the whole scene unsettling. She raised her arm to wipe the sweat from her brow and caught sight of herself in her blade: hollow cheeks and haunted eyes. When did she become this girl? she wondered to herself, then quickly pushed the thought aside, psyching herself up to turn the corner and inspect the living room.

  Nothing in this world or any other could prepare her for what awaited.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Wyatt opened the door and walked into The Liquor Store, leaving the bright sunshine of 15th street for the dimly lit confines of the bar. He didn’t know why he let Ryker talk him into stopping for a drink, but now that they were here, he figured he might as well grab one.

  The boys pulled up seats at the far corner of the bar and waited for the bartender to make it to their side. They weren’t in a rush, nor were they worried about being served. No one ever questioned their age—they were both so tall and battle-worn, most people would never guess they were only eighteen years old.

  “Call your sister and tell her to meet us here.”

  Wyatt raised an eyebrow and shot Ryker a look that was anything but agreeable.

  “You want to hang with Jools so badly, you call her.”

  It wasn’t that Wyatt didn’t like his sister, but lately she was so competitive with him about everything, it was starting to drive him crazy. He could not spend ten minutes with her without being quizzed on every demon, werewolf or fairy that crossed his path. She wanted details on all his kills and seemed annoyed when his blood-thirst didn’t run as deep as hers.

  Jools Clayworth was seventeen, tough as nails and drop dead gorgeous. The spitting image of her brother, she was all dark hair and green eyes, tall, lean and one hundred percent muscle. Unlike her brother, she was outspoken, difficult and needed to be the center of attention at all times. She went into every situation believing guys only wanted to get into her pants and girls only wanted to get rid of her. To say she walked around with a chip on her shoulder was a bit of an understatement.

  For the life of him, Wyatt could not figure out how or when Jools became so hardcore, but it was the only word that properly described his sister. Initially he assumed Jools would enter The Academy and take the easy way out, getting by on her looks and the fact that their parents ran the place. Up to that point in time, that’s exactly what she had been doing so it never crossed Wyatt’s mind anything would change when she walked through the training doors. Boy had he been wrong.

  Jools took The Academy by storm, ferociously battling opponents, outwitting any tests and attacking anyone who dared make note of her physical appearance or her last name. And god forbid anyone said anything about Wyatt. Academy members, students and instructors alike, quickly learned to stay out of her way and make nice at all times. Wyatt secretly loved the fact that his sister seemed to wield more authority--or was it fear?--around the Academy than even their parents. But all the admiration in the world didn’t mean Wyatt wanted to spend what remained of his afternoon with Jools.

  “Stop being a baby and call her.” Ryker instructed Wyatt as he ordered drinks for the boys.

  Ignoring him, Wyatt pulled out his small quadrant map of the park and reviewed the day’s sweep. As much as he hated to admit it, Ryker was right. The assignment was garbage and beneath the boys, a complete waste of their talent. They were natural-born fighters, meant to hunt and kill rogue Magicals, not spend their days sweeping parks for violations that did not exist. He could not figure out what they had done to deserve a demotion, all he knew was that it came down prior to the European meeting of The Circle of Ten. His mom presented it as some “down time” for the boys, a chance to gather themselves and relax a little before their final exams. But Wyatt and Ryker never needed to relax and the idea of needing to “gather themselves” before finals was simply insulting. Wyatt and Ryker were the best Class A Warriors The Sanctum had seen in generations. They were unmatched and currently wasting away on some crap assignment. He could only hope his parents’ return to New York would bring an end to this nonsense.

  The bartender set their drinks down in front of them, turning Wyatt’s attention away from the map. He took a long, hard sip from his glass, finishing its contents before setting it down again.

  “You’ve gotta be the only guy I know who sits down in a bar to drink a glass of grapefruit juice,” Ryker laughed then tipped his glass in Wyatt’s direction and took a drink, before pulling out his phone and doing what Wyatt seemed determined not to. Being right around the corner at The Academy, conducting training exercises for new recruits, Jools walked into the bar two seconds later. Wyatt didn’t even have to check the door to know it was her--the looks on everyone’s faces were enough to know his sister had just entered the room.

  “Hey losers,” Jools pulled
up a stool between the boys and kissed both of them.

  Wyatt grimaced and wiped his cheek, unsure if his disgust was being kissed by his little sister or watching every dude in the bar undress her with their eyes. “Have you got to do that every time you see me?”

  Jools ran her fingers through her brother’s short, dark hair and chuckled, knowing he hated public displays of affection.

  “You know I do.”

  Wyatt shot his sister a look of irritation, but remained quiet. Resisting Jools was an exercise in futility.

  Jools reached out and touched the spot between Wyatt’s eyebrows, like she had done a million times before.

  “Wyatt, you keep making those faces at me and this ugly wrinkle you’ve got growing between those pretty eyes of yours is only going to get deeper.”

  Ryker laughed as Wyatt shoved his sister’s hand away from his face.

  “Leave him alone, Jools,” Ryker warned with a joke in his voice, “he’s got his panties in a bunch today.”

  Jools happily turned her attention to Ryker, who, in her humble opinion, was the much more appealing member of the pair.

  “He’s always got his panties in a bunch. It wouldn’t be a complete day for Wyatt without worrying about something he hadn’t done perfectly for The Sanctum,” Jools stated with a wink at Ryker and then ordered a drink.

  Wyatt cast his sister a sideways glance.

  “You did not just order a drink.”

  Jools ignored her brother, knowing full well he was about to lecture her.

  “Chill out, man,” Ryker mumbled.

  Ryker hated getting in the middle of a sibling spat, but he really didn’t see the point. In his mind, if they were old enough to kill, they were old enough to drink.

  “Butt out, Ryker,” Wyatt replied, never taking his eyes off his sister, daring her to defy him.

  “Oh, Wyatt. Relax,” Jools smiled her sweetest smile, “it’s just a drink with friends.”

  “You’re sixteen.”

  “Seventeen, thank you.”

  “It’s underage.”

  With that, Jools could not help but laugh.

  “Says who? The New York City police officer standing on the corner? Because in case you forgot, I’m the trained assassin who keeps his ass safe enough to walk his lame beat around Union Square every day. While he’s chasing those weeded out kids away from McDonald’s, I’m killing rogue vampires and rabid demons. But god forbid, I stop by a bar and relax with my favorite brother and his hot-as-hell best friend.”

  Ryker looked down at his drink, suddenly very focused on its contents, trying to hide his grin from his best friend, knowing the younger sibling had once again won the battle of wills.

  Wyatt ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. Jools was right but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

  “I’m your only brother.”

  Jools took a sip of her drink and wrapped an arm around Wyatt, pulling him close. “Which only makes me love you more. Now please, stop trying to lecture me and just relax. No one from The Sanctum will ever know I was in here. You have nothing to worry about. When it comes to you, big brother, my lips are sealed.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Instead of doing what she wanted and bursting into the living room with blades drawn, ready to kill anything moving, Dev sat back and waited. Something nagged at the back of her mind, causing her to question her initial sense that the house was empty. Again, she opened herself to each and every space in the house and again she felt nothing, but Dev could not shake the sense that all was not as it seemed. Unwilling to leave anything to chance, she silently drew her sword in her right hand, held fast to the short blade in her left, then turned the corner to enter the living room.

  And immediately understood why she could not feel a soul in her home.

  There, right before her very eyes, stood three Sanctum warriors, in kill mode, sheltered like the cowards they were, under a Sanctum Shield of the Gods. The bubble, impenetrable by Magicals, invisible to humans, protected the killers from surprise attack as they carried out their mission. It also prevented Dev from telepathically getting a clear picture of the horror taking place right under her nose.

  Her younger brother lay dead on the floor, sprawled in an awkward position, appearing to have fought valiantly but was no match for the three trained assassins and their many weapons. Arky, her best friend and constant companion, was close by and slowly dying, having been stabbed repeatedly in the chest and throat by what appeared to be poisonous Raven blades, knives used by The Sanctum to burn Magicals from the inside out. She glanced at her mother but could bear no more than that; the woman who had loved Dev endlessly and with tremendous affection lay decapitated, just steps from her brother.

  Had her mother witnessed her brother’s murder or vice versa? Is that why she screamed out with such agony and pain? Tears welled in Dev’s eyes, but she fought them back, refusing to allow those Sanctum monsters to break her.

  And then she caught sight of her father, still alive and standing before the three killers, a proud and determined look on his face. One member of the death squad was yelling something at her father; from the veins popping out of his neck, Dev could ascertain the boy was livid, but being unable to hear a word through the shield, she could not determine why. Then without warning, the boy whipped out his flamethrower and enveloped her father in fireflame, forever extinguishing the very essence of his being.

  "NO!" Dev roared in anguish as the remnants of her father crumbled to the floor. She charged the shield without a thought, some part of her knowing such effort was pointless and yet, not caring. The room became a blur as she raised her sword to the shield, her hand throbbing with Daya’s energy. She swung the sword with a force unknown, fueled by pain and rage and a burning desire to kill. As Daya made contact, a searing pain shot up Dev's arm and through to her very soul but she cared less because as her soul lay aflame so, too, did the Shield of the Gods.

  Burned to the very ground.

  Nothing separated Dev from the three killers. Nothing prevented her from exacting her revenge.

  The Sanctum warriors turned in Dev’s direction with looks of pure shock on their faces. Never had the shield been pierced, much less destroyed. Dev experienced her own moment of shock as she studied each of their faces, realizing they were little more than boys her own age. In another time and place, the four of them might have been friends. But right here and now, they were mortal enemies. Without wasting another second, Dev crossed the room in a flash and sunk her short blade into one boy while her sword pierced the chest of another. She pulled both blades up at once, killing the boys instantly. Not giving them another thought, she turned to face the only living member of the deadly trio. The boy responsible for the death of her father and most likely the one in charge of carrying out the orders to kill her family. The leader. As he turned towards Dev, his face appearing horrified at the death of his companions and then full of hatred for her, their killer, she recognized him right away: Max Breslin, future leader of The Sanctum. Someone her parents taught her to avoid at all costs. The last thing Dev intended to do was heed their warning.

  "Max Breslin, I should have known,” Dev sneered with disgust, “these unjustified and depraved acts have the marks of The Sanctum all over them."

  Without taking her eyes off the boy, Dev replaced her short blade at her hip and raising Daya with both hands, she charged, fully intending to end Max's short life with her first blow. But she was no longer fighting with the element of surprise on her side and Max braced for her attack, parrying her initial blows while getting in a few of his own. Around and around they went like this, both well-trained and strong fighters, neither scared to die. Finally, Dev made a mistake and came around on Max's left while he feigned to the right, pulling her off-balance and striking Dev's side with his raven blade. A look of smug satisfaction came over his face as he watched her back away from him to a far corner of the room, holding her side all the while.

  Believing t
his was his chance, while the venom of the raven blade burned Dev’s insides, Max strode across the room, pulling a sword from its sheath on his back, ready to kill Dev with a final blow. Feigning injury, Dev cowered as his steps grew closer and then attacked with blinding speed and agility. She sprang at Max, stabbing him in the side with her hidden, short blade then sent him flying across the room with a single, powerful kick. He landed against the wall and crumpled to the floor with a sickening thud.

  Dev gave him no time to recover. She crossed the room, grabbed Max and repeatedly slammed him back into the ground, wanting to hear every bone in his body break. The veins in her slim arms popped out as she held Max against the wall, her hands around his neck, choking off his air supply.

  Just as Max seemed ready to faint, Dev released him, watching him fall to a heap at her feet. She kicked his sides until her legs grew weary, then propped him up against the wall, willing him to open his eyes. Daring him to open his eyes. She squatted in front of him, wanting her face to be the first thing Max saw when he regained consciousness, hoping he felt every ounce of hatred flowing through her veins.

  “Enough,” Max whispered through bloody lips.

  Dev bent down and leaned in close to Max, hissing in his ear, “Trust me when I say this: it will never be enough.”

  “How do you,” Max gasped and coughed, “know my name?”

  Dev stood up, all five feet ten inches of her towering over the beaten boy. He looked up, his expression one of haughty arrogance, awaiting an answer to his question. In his current state and circumstances, Max’s behavior was unbelievable. It was the very attitude that enabled members of The Sanctum to run around the world, passing judgment on others and killing them with little more than a thought.