Book One: The Girl (The Sanctum) Read online

  “Where are you going?” Ryker called after her.

  “Away from y’all. All that bitching and moaning has killed my buzz.”

  Ryker watched Darby’s slight figure walk up Fifth Avenue, weaving among the pedestrian traffic, tense and annoyed. He knew exactly what she was about to do and prayed that the poor soul who fell victim to her deadly beauty had a guardian angel watching over them.

  “Seen my phone?”

  Wyatt’s voice shook Ryker from his reverie. He watched Wyatt go through his bag, looking for his phone and could not help himself.

  “I used it to call your mama.”

  That simple, silly statement released some of the tension enveloping the group and Ryker found himself chuckling at his own joke. He wasn’t quite sure whether he was ready to forgive Jools for her outburst--she was lingering on the periphery, waiting for her chance to come up and somehow touch him affectionately, her version of an apology without ever having to say she was sorry--but he knew he was ready to move past it.

  “I set myself up for that,” Wyatt grinned as he searched his pockets for his phone, “but seriously, where is my phone?”

  Ryker grabbed his bag off the ground and prepared to leave. If he didn’t see 15th street for another month, it wouldn’t be too soon.

  “I seem to recall you stubbornly refusing to use it at the bar, so my guess is it’s sitting in one of those damn quadrants in the park.”

  “Damn.”

  “Come on,” Ryker started walking towards Fifth Avenue to head uptown, “I’ll help you find it.”

  Wyatt glanced at his sister and considered telling her to go back to the Academy but realized he didn’t really want to talk to Jools at all. Instead, he turned without saying a word and caught up to Ryker.

  “Go home, Jools,” Ryker turned and said what Wyatt could not, “just leave us alone.”

  “Ryker!” Jools yelled.

  The insistence in Jools’ voice irked Ryker. She was so used to shouting his name and him jumping that the thought of him simply walking away from her never crossed her mind. That just wasn’t part of Jools’ reality.

  Ryker continued walking a couple of steps and then against his better judgment, stopped and turned around. He looked Jools dead on and although he told himself he wouldn’t give in, the minute he saw her big, sad eyes he felt his resolve slowly melting away. Why did this happen every damn time Jools messed up? When would he learn to just say no to her?

  Ryker started to say something then stopped, feeling Wyatt’s hand on his shoulder. Wyatt turned his friend around, away from Jools and headed uptown.

  “Go. Home,” Wyatt hissed at his sister. “NOW!”

  FROM:

  CARTER BRESLIN

  Head of The Sanctum, Leader of The Circle of Ten

  Distinctive Member of the Founding Families

  TO:

  ALL ACADEMY HEADS

  Sanctum Members

  RE: HYBRID DEMON UPDATE

  Our initial intelligence was correct and the Hybrid was located in the south Indian state of Kerala.

  It proved deadlier than expected, managing to kill two of our Class A Warriors and severely injuring the third before escaping via secret portal.

  As explained before, this being presents itself as a young woman: five feet ten inches tall, brown skin, black hair, strange markings on her arms. Do not be fooled, this being is neither human nor Magical. It is an abomination, incapable of developing familial ties, expressing emotion or understanding reason.

  It is immune to our raven blades and capable of destroying our Shields of the Gods.

  This being is a killing machine. Nothing more, nothing less.

  Any member of The Sanctum who comes into contact with this thing is hereby granted the authority to kill it on the spot and has a duty do so. Each and every one of us has a responsibility to our Sanctum brethren and human and magical beings of this world to eradicate this deadly menace. Nothing less will be tolerated.

  In good health,

  Carter Breslin

  CHAPTER NINE

  The endless black tunnel surrounding Dev as she sped through the ether played with her senses. She experienced a vertigo like no other and since her experience with portal travel was limited, she struggled to control it. Before she knew it, the imbalance took control and Dev passed out, spinning madly through time and space. And then, BAM!

  The portal opened and she landed on the hard ground with such force that every bone in her body shattered. She lay broken and unconscious in the dead of night in the middle of god-knows-where. Her left arm snapped at her shoulder and was pinned under her. Her right knee completely dislocated and turned almost backwards, leaving her right leg turned in an impossible direction. It was amazing her body didn't snap in half. And yet, the damage wasn't fatal.

  Dev's mind was totally unaware of the whir of activity going on inside her body as it immediately began the necessary process of repair. Every bone slowly began regenerating itself, quietly putting the broken girl back together. Bit by bit, Dev became Dev again, beginning with her head and moving down her body, inch by inch.

  "I took quadrants 12 through 35, so let's split them and search." Wyatt pointed down at his map, showing Ryker where he could start.

  The boys stood under a street lamp in Central Park, studying their earlier sweep, trying to retrace Wyatt's steps. The quadrants of the park were incredibly dark at this time of night, but with their heightened vision, lighting made no difference. The pools of light from the lamps scattered here and there were more than enough for the boys to easily see into the night.

  Ryker could not help but laugh.

  "You basically covered our entire sweep today."

  "You say that with such surprise," Wyatt replied.

  "It's one thing to let you do most of the work, it's a whole other beast to see it on paper.”

  "Read it and weep. I basically own your ass. If I add up all the assignments I cover for you," Wyatt shook his head in amusement, "I can't even imagine the demands I could make."

  "You wouldn't."

  Wyatt stopped and considered.

  "Oh, but I would."

  Ryker smirked, "But then who would deal with Jools?"

  "You say that as if you would ever let anyone else deal with my sister," Wyatt grinned like the Cheshire Cat. "Can't fool me, Ryker Morrison. I don't care how slick you are or how many girls you've got. You're forgetting I can see right through you. Have been able to since we first met. So I know Jools--bratty, pain-in-the-ass, self-centered, righteous, jealous, completely irritating Jools--is your Achilles heel."

  "You done with the lecture?" Ryker asked, changing the subject as he turned and headed for his side of the park, "because we should do this if we want to get out of here before sunrise."

  "Nice one," Wyatt called after Ryker's departing figure, "but this conversation is hardly finished."

  Ryker turned before disappearing into the woods of quadrant twelve. He smiled a very un-Ryker like smile, looking more sad than happy.

  "It's over before it even started. Trust me."

  Wyatt watched as the woods swallowed Ryker, wondering how he could have missed his best friend's growing attachment to his sister. But if he was being honest with himself, Wyatt had seen the hints of something a long time ago, he just chose to ignore it. He assumed one of them would eventually tire of the other. Isn’t that what painfully beautiful types like his sister and best friend did? Wasn’t it always all about the chase? And yet, Jools and Ryker seemed more drawn to each other than ever before. Go figure.

  Wyatt shrugged his shoulders and headed into the woods. Not his problem, he told himself as he stepped over a fallen tree.

  Odd.

  Wyatt stopped in his tracks. There were no fallen trees earlier today when he swept the area. Wyatt pulled his blade from his hip and began tracking a subtle path of broken foliage thirty or so feet deeper into the woods. This far in, there was little light and even less sound. Not wanting to use e
ven the smallest of his fire flares to light his way, Wyatt was completely dependent on his heightened, well-trained senses.

  In the distance, Ryker whistled in the boys secret code, letting Wyatt know he was moving on to the next quadrant. Although Wyatt didn’t want to call attention to himself, he also didn’t want to worry Ryker, so he whistled the usual response, knowing that upon hearing it, Ryker would return to his search. Then Wyatt stood perfectly still and waited. For what, he didn’t know.

  As the seconds ticked by, Wyatt listened to the sounds of the park. The insects and small animals were background noise to the random footsteps, murmurs and sighs he picked up all around him. Normal nocturnal sounds for a city park. Folks out enjoying the warm night. Nothing to concern himself with so Wyatt moved along, cautiously taking a few steps forward, blades upright in both hands, then waited again. There was something. Just underneath all the other noise. A certain vibration that almost hummed, as if calling to him.

  “Please.”

  A hand reached out from nowhere and grabbed Wyatt’s ankle with desperate force.

  Wyatt violently shook his leg free and brought his blade down with lightning speed. As quickly as he moved to attack, he sprang back in shock. A girl. His blade pressed against her brown skin. In the sliver of moonlight coming down through the trees, Wyatt saw where he left a trail of blood across her slim neck. The girl’s body was pinned under a tree, her arms and legs strewn askew at painful angles, and yet her eyes did not betray a trace of physical pain. How someone could suffer such bodily harm and survive was outside Wyatt’s realm of understanding.

  The girl reached for him again as he easily stepped outside of her grasp. Whether it was fear or training, he knew he didn’t want her touching him again. Wyatt noted that aside from her head, only one of her arms moved; the rest of her appeared paralyzed, or dead. Instinct told him to make sure before getting any closer. Wyatt circled her prone body, prodding her here and there with his boot, getting no reaction whatsoever.

  Satisfied that she wasn’t going to suddenly spring up and attack, Wyatt removed the tree pinning her to the ground and bent low to get a better look at her. She was long, lean and stunningly beautiful, but that wasn’t what caught Wyatt’s attention. It was her haunted eyes that gripped his very soul. Without realizing what he was doing, Wyatt reached over and gently moved her hair out of her face.

  Her eyes desperately searched his, frantically seeking something from him. Solace? Help? He had no idea.

  Wherever she was from, she had been through a brutal attack. Her face was bruised and cut all over and as he slowly inspected the rest of her body, he noted a deep cut underneath her shoulder. The edges of the wound betrayed the tell-tale signs of a Raven blade: burnt skin and a pale glow where the poison infected the body. However, in the girl’s case, the poison appeared almost frozen. It wasn’t spreading through her body as it should but rather remained only where the raven blade came in contact with her.

  So bizarre.

  He could not recall a case of surviving a Raven blade wound without treatment, much less halting the spread of the poison unassisted. But it appeared this girl had done both.

  And then he knew.

  The hybrid demon.

  This girl was the evil they were hunting.

  She reached for him again but this time, for some reason, Wyatt didn’t move. She wrapped her long fingers around his, lay her head back down and closed her eyes. Her long lashes fanned across her face. Her breathing settled into an even, unhurried pace as she relaxed into the ground, making Wyatt wonder whether she was succumbing to her wounds. A tear escaped one of her eyes and slowly rolled down her hollow cheek, getting lost in her thick, dark hair. He held his breath, watching her in wonder.

  He should have killed her.

  That was his mission as a warrior of The Sanctum. He knew full well his only goal was to kill this thing.

  This girl.

  Instead, his hand was wrapped in hers, his blades remained holstered. He didn’t move a muscle. He simply watched her.

  Suddenly, her eyes flew open in sheer panic and she gripped his hand with such force Wyatt thought his bones would be crushed.

  “Please,” she again pleaded, “you are one of them. Please, kill me.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Please.”

  She wouldn’t stop begging.

  And Wyatt wouldn’t oblige. He simply held her hand and watched her in silence. Slowly her body was coming back to life, bit by bit. She was regenerating right before his eyes and still, he wouldn’t move for his blades. For one, he doubted they would be effective and two, he doubted his orders.

  Never in his life had Wyatt questioned an order, no matter the task. Being a member of one of the founding families of The Sanctum, he knew nothing but The Sanctum: their Code of Ten, their rules and their orders. And he followed everything to a tee.

  But the fact remained that contrary to Carter Breslin’s latest directive, the girl lying on the ground before him could most definitely express emotion and understand reason. And why did it matter that she wasn’t human? Darby wasn’t human. None of the Magicals The Sanctum dealt with on a daily basis was human. And yes, he understood that based upon an interpretation of the Book of Prophecy, The Sanctum had killed hybrid demons for centuries, but that didn’t mean he was willing to kill her.

  “Please.”

  Wyatt ignored her hundredth plea for death.

  "Aren’t you curious where you are? Or who I am?" Wyatt asked her, trying to turn her attention to something less morbid.

  She studied him for a moment and then turned away, a determined expression crossing her face. Her only response to his inquiry was to release his hand and begin trying to sit up.

  Wyatt moved towards her, intending to help but stopped when she shot him a murderous glare, fully understanding she did not want him touching her. Instead, he moved away and continued quietly watching her.

  Even in the girl’s current state, her deep, brown skin was luminous, giving off a beautiful glow. Her black hair was a thick mass of curls, full of leaves and twigs and who knows what else, all evidence of her apparent crash-landing in the park. She had intricate tattoos on both of her shoulders that continued down to her elbows, one circling her left wrist and another running along her right ring finger. Wyatt had never seen designs like them and wondered as to their meaning.

  He tried not to stare at her for too long, but found himself unable to look away. Her large, dark eyes reminded him of the women in Ash paintings, with their impossibly thick, long lashes and soulful expressions. Her cheekbones were high and prominent; her mouth was wide and framed by the most perfect, full lips he had ever seen. Wyatt found himself wondering what she looked like when she smiled, then became so flustered by his train of thought that he immediately stood up, turned away from her and started fiddling with the blade at his hip. Anything to distract him from studying her further.

  “Okay then. You speak even less than I do, so now I feel forced to say something. Which is significant since I hate pointless verbiage. But in a gallant effort to make some chitchat, I’ll give it a go. My name is Wyatt Clayworth,” he began, hoping she might come around and do the same, and he might be able to focus on something besides her bewitching face. “I’m eighteen and a Class A Warrior for The Sanctum, which I believe you already know. I was born in New York City, which is where we are right now, in case you’re wondering. But you’re not, because the only thing you’re really curious about is whether or not I’m willing to kill you. I can’t imagine how you wouldn’t want to know where you are. If I were in your shoes, that’d probably be my first question. But maybe that’s just me being a product of my training.

  “Anyway, you’re in Central Park. Actually, quadrant 24 of Central Park, if I’m really being exact, but that means nothing to you since you’re not Sanctum and don’t have to sweep quadrants of the park as part of your asinine job.”

  Wyatt snuck a look at the girl out of the corner of
his eye, just to see if she was paying any attention to him. He knew he was rambling, but it prevented her from asking him to kill her.

  “I grew up in the City, within the confines of The Academy since my family runs the one in New York. Academies are Sanctum centers that house training facilities, libraries, laboratories, weapons centers, professors, trainers, cadets and warriors. Each Academy is run by one of the ten founding families of The Sanctum. As Sanctum, when you turn ten you enter The Academy as a cadet to train for a specialty, although I didn’t enter per se since I grew up in The Academy, but I digress. So we all train for a specialty, such as mine, which is warrior. They say I’m one of the best warriors The Sanctum has ever seen, a Class A to outshine all Class As, but I think that’s just people blowing smoke up my ass. Hoping if they gas me up, I’ll keep doing their bidding.”

  While Wyatt babbled away, the girl continued and finally succeeded in her efforts to get herself into a seated position. She leaned back against a tree in complete exhaustion, closed her eyes and breathed deeply. She was sitting in an awkward position, suggesting to Wyatt that only her upper torso had regenerated.

  “I’m just going to touch various pressure points to see what is and isn’t working.”

  He squatted next to her, and felt her legs, all the while watching her closely for any reaction. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t even bother opening her eyes, so Wyatt continued his examination. He worked up her legs and lower torso, finally getting a reaction around her shoulders. She had either been thoroughly destroyed or her body’s regeneration process took forever. Either way, it was going to be a while before her legs were working again and she could walk herself out of the park to somewhere safe.

  He studied her for another moment and then did the most sensible thing he could think of: he released a long, slow, piercing whistle.