Vin cocked his head. “They wanted the twins, specifically? Not Wren or Raphael?”
“Yeah, not that they wouldn’t have taken the adults, too, given the opportunity. One of the attackers was very talkative while Lark worked him over.” The Guardian’s nose wrinkled. “The humans were all hired mercenaries with millions promised to whoever delivered the twins alive. Lark didn’t get the name of the rich fucker in charge before the human had a heart attack.”
“Lawrence. Has to be,” Jett said “Are any of the mer-cenaries still alive?”
“Two fled. Lark insisted we let them go—with our best available tracker on their tails.”
Vin thanked the Guardian and waved Jett back to the SUV. Lexine stood by the open door to the backseat, speaking quiet reassurances to Bryce.
“I need to assess the damage to the colony.” Vin got in the car. Lexine got behind the wheel. “Lex, you should get Bryce home or wherever your parents are staying if their residence got hit. Jett…”
Jett settled next to Bryce. “I need to see the archangels.”
“You’ll have to take that up with Lark. And you might want to wait until he’s in a better mood.”
“I have no intention of waiting.”
“Suit yourself. I warned you.”
The last stretch of the trip dragged out. The haze of smoke in the air thickened the closer they got to the colony’s village. Finally, the stone-and-log building that functioned as Sanctuary’s epicenter—the town hall—came into view. A black, smoldering, gaping hole sat where the southern corner of the second floor used to be.
Guardians and civilians labored back and forth between the building and a growing pile of wet debris. Lexine parked. The demons from the other two SUVs scattered, and after a few parting words with Lexine and Bryce, Vin headed for the building.
A female demon burst out of the town hall doors and ran straight at the SUV, her cropped hair the same unusual dark color as Lexine’s. She reached them and scooped up Bryce, tears streaming down her face.
Bryce laughed as she twirled them in circles. They came to a dizzy stop and Lexine joined the embrace.
The female glanced up and met Jett’s gaze. “Thank you.”
Seeing Bryce’s mother and her relief over her son’s safety brought a burden, which he usually kept buried in the deepest recesses of his mind, to the surface like a fresh knife cut across the chest. Jett nodded at the female and turned away, a heavy weight on his shoulders.
Had his own mother really abandoned him, leaving him for the humans to save herself, as Lawrence had alleged? Lawrence had lied about everything else, which opened a vein of hope. But, the few facts that Jett had gathered supported Lawrence’s assertion. Perhaps, in this one instance, the human had given Jett the truth. The question had to be asked soon. He needed to know what really happened the day of his abduction. But, like a coward, he delayed, avoiding the truth that could forever dash the little flicker of hope.
For the first time since returning to Sanctuary after his childhood abduction, he set foot on the colony’s system of groomed, shaded trails. In the eleven months since his return, he had never ventured this close, always watching from a distance. He headed toward the archangel house, setting his personal burden aside and focusing on the need to see for himself that the archangels hadn’t been harmed.
After walking halfway around the lake, the granite-and-glass house came into view, basking in the afternoon sun. Nothing moved and no sound, not even the chirp of birds, reached Jett’s ears. A presence thickened the air with menace. Jett stopped and waited, his arms loose at his sides, the tiny hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. “I’m not here for a fight, Guardian.”
A demon stepped out of the trees, dressed in black, blades gripped in each hand. He blocked the path to the house, his narrowed gaze behind his light shades intense and unblinking. The sunlight that filtered through the canopy accented his close-cut red hair and glinted off small, gold markings on his collar: a cursive G on the left and a pair of wings on the right.
Jett suppressed a growl. Lark, Raphael’s primary Guardian, remained a bitter reminder of the years Jett and Raphael spent under Thornton Bailey’s thumb. But Lark, who had been possessed by Thornton’s vengeful spirit, had been every bit as much a prisoner as Jett and the archangel. This is not my enemy.
“Lark, I’m here to speak with Raphael.” Jett held the other demon’s gaze.
A long pause followed. The threat radiating off Lark remained steady.
“Now is not the best time for a social call, Jett,” the Guar-dian said, his voice flat.
“I have information about the human who organized today’s attack.”
“Then it’s me you need to talk to.”
“I need to see Raphael. Now.” Jett cocked his head and studied the tiny, golden wings on the right of Lark’s collar. All the Guardians wore the golden G to the left of their throats, but only Lark wore the wings, a symbol of his esteemed station as personal bodyguard for Raphael and his family. The cool voice of logic told Jett he had no reason to worry over the archangels’ safety with a predator like Lark on duty.
Raphael doesn’t need me.
But Jett’s need to verify the archangels’ safety remained. Logic be damned. Shoulders squared, he held the Guardian’s gaze, daring him to say no, preparing to fight if need be.
Still gripping the long daggers, Lark lifted one hand and his gaze wandered away. He scanned the trees, looking for all the world like he could see through them and pick out any enemy that dared approach. That gaze resettled on Jett, but Jett didn’t flinch.
“Raphael trusts you, so I’ll bring you inside, if he agrees to see you. But I don’t have the luxury of trusting anyone, even you, right now. Your weapons.” Lark pointed with a blade to the base of a nearby tree.
Jett unhooked the leather belt at his waist that held his daggers and the guns the Guardians had given him, and dropped them between the tree’s roots. “That’s all I have.”
“We’ll see. Jacket. Boots.”
Jett cursed and stripped down to just his jeans and long-sleeved shirt.
“Arms out.” Lark sheathed his blades.
“Why?”
“Just hold still.”
“Fuck you.” Jett backed away.
Lark shrugged. “Fine. Town hall’s that way. See you around.”
Oh, hell. Clenching his teeth, Jett extended his arms and held still as Lark frisked him. He breathed in Lark’s scent and relaxed just a bit. When Thornton had been in possession of Lark’s body, the human’s scent had been noticeable. At the time, Jett had thought Lark some sort of half-breed, but no trace of Thornton’s stench remained.
Still. He fucking hated being touched. Whenever the damned humans had touched him, he’d bled, bruised, or been restrained as a result.
The Guardian straightened and nodded. “This way.”
They approached the house. Lark pressed a button by the door and spoke. “Raphael. Jett is here to see you. It’s about the poachers’ employer.”
“Show him in,” Raphael responded.
Jett waited as Lark entered a series of codes in a keypad mounted into the stone wall. Heavy locks released and the Guardian held the door open. The system reminded Jett of Raphael’s former prison and his skin crawled.
Lark met his gaze and the edge left his tone. “They’re never locked in. They prefer to use the flight decks on the upper floors to come and go. This door is only for those of us who are flight challenged, and it needs to be kept secure in case poachers ever get this far.”