Summoner of Storms Read online

  “She asked if I was Géraud. I told her no. She thanked me for saving her. I explained I hunted demons and had no interest in her. She left.”

  “You...” Tiffany appeared taken aback, lips parted but no other words coming out. Then she seemed to remember herself and swallowed. “I never thought...but, counting Gray, we only know of two drakul in North America right now. How many could there ever have been?” Her hands curled on the scorched wood of the table. “I should have considered the odds.”

  “What does it matter?” John asked.

  “Because he’s what started it all. My whole life...” She shook her head. “Never mind. The point is Papillon came back. She wanted to know more. But you had left.”

  “One of the demons had a cane knife,” Gray said. “It forced me to move on.”

  In other words, it fought back and damaged the body to the point it became uninhabitable for Gray. Thankfully, Tiffany didn’t ask for any details.

  “After the incident, Papillon wondered what else was out there,” Tiffany went on. “She knew Greek and Latin, and began to research old books, searching for clues to the drakul and other beneficent spirits. Her protector ‘indulged’ her by buying rare volumes for her as gifts, although of course he knew nothing of her true interest. In time, she drew other like-minded souls to her, people who wanted to make a scientific study of NHEs, without either the trappings of religion or the blindness of fear.” Tiffany glanced at him. “And no matter what you say, Starkweather, SPECTR is still spouting the same line as the Inquisition. They took God out of the equation but left the fear in.”

  “Ward,” Kaniyar said, before John thought of a reply. “Let’s not start another argument if we can avoid it.”

  Tiffany frowned but nodded. “Yeah, okay. Anyway, Papillon and her followers became the Order of the Vigilant. Always watching from the shadows, ready to step in and either protect people from demons, or protect spirits from people, whatever it took. Keeping an eye out for men or governments ready to abuse both to get their way. Working between the cracks and behind the scenes.”

  “Why a moth?” Caleb asked. Apparently, Gray had said all he intended for the moment. “For your symbol, I mean. If her name meant butterfly.”

  Tiffany’s grin held a feral edge. “Papillon was the mask she wore to survive—pretty and sweet and delicate. But with the Vigilant, she became papillon de nuit—a moth, going about its business hidden by the night. She was my ancestor.”

  Had John wondered when the Vigilant recruited Tiffany? She’d been born into it. For a moment, he felt a flash of pity—did she ever have the opportunity to make her own choices? Or had her entire life, from her parents sending her to the state school instead of a private one, to the Academy, to her job as a field agent, all been chosen for her?

  What had she said to Gray? “My whole life...” What would it be like to come face-to-face with the entity whose one act changed everything for her, even to the fact she was born at all?

  “All right,” John said slowly, turning over everything she’d said in his mind. “The Vigilant have been around a while. But from what I’ve seen here, you have some serious funding. And you aren’t afraid to spend it on paramilitary gear. What exactly—”

  “Head’s up,” Caleb said sharply. “I hear cars on the road outside.”

  The Vigilant exchanged glances. “La capitaine,” Tiffany said. “Shit. She’s going to chew my ass out but good. Come on.”

  Tiffany rose to her feet and led the way out of the dining room into the large foyer. As they approached the entrance, the doors flew open, crashing into the walls on either side.

  Men and women boiled in, dressed in body armor and with guns ready. Tiffany froze, her eyes going wide in shock. John swore, but he didn’t even have his athame, let alone his Glock. Behind him, etheric energy bloomed as Gray surged to the surface.

  * * *

  “Keep your drakul on a leash.” A woman entered behind the gunmen. Unlike them, she dressed in an expensive skirt and suit, and carried no obvious weapon. Although her hair had acquired more silver since the last time he’d seen her, John still recognized her immediately.

  “Mrs. Ward?” Shit. Of course. If Tiffany was in the Vigilant because of her ancestry, it only made sense her mother would be as well.

  All the guns trained on Gray, whose growl vibrated in John’s bones. Fucking hell, what was going on?

  “Stand down, drakul,” Renée Ward ordered.

  “It’s okay,” John said, holding up his hands to show he was unarmed. “Gray, calm down. Mrs. Ward, I don’t know if you remember me, but—”

  One of the Vigilant lunged forward. John jerked back automatically, but the man’s fingers fisted in his t-shirt, yanking the material down. “Look!”

  Gray moved faster than John could blink, one moment a short distance behind him, the next with his fingers wrapped around the operative’s arm.

  “Do not touch him!” Gray roared, and the chandelier over their heads shook.

  And oh fuck, things were going south fast. “I’m okay!” John grabbed Gray’s arm in turn, trying to tug him loose from the Vigilant before somebody got scared enough to start shooting. “It’s all right, Gray. I’m fine.”

  Gray released the Vigilant, who stumbled away as fast as humanly possible. But the drakul still growled, a low rumble of threat, which didn’t help anyone’s nerves. “Darling, no.” John put his hands on Gray’s chest, even though he couldn’t hold Gray back if the drakul decided otherwise. “Just back off. Let Caleb handle this for the moment.”

  Lightning sparked in the depths of Gray’s obsidian eyes, like a nighttime storm on the horizon. With a last growl, he folded inwards, energy tucking itself back into Caleb’s slight frame.

  Unfortunately, Caleb looked ready to do some growling himself.

  “Mom, what the hell is going on?” Tiffany demanded. Her eyes were wide and her perfect brows drawn down. “Just calm down and put the guns away! There’s no need for this!” She gestured at Gray. “He’s the one Papillon met. The drakul who saved her.”

  Renée didn’t seem at all appeased. Instead she folded her arms over her chest, returning her daughter’s glare. “Which only makes the situation even more tragic. What in God’s name were you thinking? You were supposed to exorcise the drakul, not let it take the living body permanently. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

  “Forsyth is building an army of demons,” Tiffany said. “He’s hiding them in the tunnels beneath RD and using technology to control them.”

  Utter silence met her pronouncement. Renée’s mocha skin took on a grayish hue. “Damn it,” she said. “It makes sense now.”

  “What does?”

  “Things are worse than I realized.”

  Tiffany gestured in Caleb’s direction. “In that case, we need some major fucking firepower. And this was the only certain way to keep Gray out of Forsyth’s hands.”

  Renée glanced at Caleb. “No. It’s no excuse, Tiffany. You know where this will end up.”

  Tiffany’s fists clenched. “No, Mother, I don’t. No one does! We have guesses and rumors and theories, that’s all. But what I do know is Gray saved my life—on purpose, not by accident like with Papillon. He’s cooperated. I don’t see any reason to think—”

  “Don’t be naïve.” Renée pointed at John. No, at the bruise on the base of his neck, now fully exposed thanks to the asshole trying to rip off his shirt. “It’s already started. How long until the drakul’s lust for blood and power becomes uncontrollable?”

  “Hey!” Caleb exclaimed. “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, lady, but it’s none of your business what two—three—whatever—consenting adults get up to in their spare time.”

  “I thought the Vigilant wanted to work with NHEs,” John said. “Why are you afraid of Gray?”

  For a moment, he didn’t think she’d answer him. Then Renée shook her head slowly. “Because the drakul are gods upon this earth, Mr. Starkweather. And now my
daughter has unleashed one upon us.”

  * * *

  John stared blankly at Renée. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s a long story, Mr. Starkweather, and not one I’m in the mood for now,” she replied. “At the moment, we need to secure the site and decide exactly what our next move will be. Something I will determine, not my impetuous offspring.”

  Tiffany gazed down at her feet, eyes narrowed and cheeks flushed. Caleb stiffened, lip curling to reveal teeth still human for the moment. “What, half a dozen men aren’t enough to keep you safe from the big, scary drakul? Do you really think I got away from Forsyth just to let you put me in a different cage?”

  Renée frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “I can hear the engines.” Caleb nodded toward the driveway outside. “Super vampire senses, remember? Big trucks on a gravel road make a lot of noise.”

  Renée’s eyes widened slightly. “Those don’t belong to us.”

  Caleb cocked his head, clearly listening. “Then we’ve got a problem. Because there are several of them, and they’re coming fast.”

  “Shit!” Tiffany swore. “How did they find us? Were you followed?”

  Renée’s expression turned grim. “We’ll worry about laying blame later. For now, break out the armaments. Snipers upstairs. Everyone else, get ready to hold the lower floors.”

  Gray manifested again in a glorious spill of etheric energy against John’s psychic senses. Ignoring Renée, the drakul strode for the door, coat snapping behind him. The Vigilant in his path looked at each other nervously.

  For a minute, John thought Renée might actually order them to try to hold Gray back. Instead, she said, “Let it through. We might as well see how useful it is.”

  John wanted to run after Gray. Stand by him to confront whatever had come for them. But he didn’t even have an athame, let alone a gun. He could only get in the way.

  Even so, it didn’t make watching Gray disappear out the door any easier.

  Some of the Vigilant made for the rear of the house, while others hit the stairs to the upper floors. Tiffany grabbed John’s arm and tugged him toward the back of the house. “Come on—we’ve got ordinance.”

  At least they didn’t expect him to ride this through without a weapon. He jogged with her, trying to ignore the bands of worry tightening around his chest. “How the hell did they find us?”

  “No idea. Pittman would pick up on a mole if he came face-to-face with them. Unfortunately, that leaves a whole lot of operatives out there who might have turned.” Tiffany slowed as they reached the kitchen. The rear of the pantry stood open, revealing a hidden room. Vigilant already darted in and out, carrying rifles and guns of every description. The ATF would have a field day if they ever found out about this.

  Tiffany passed him a Glock and half a dozen magazines. Although John never thought of himself as someone who relied on a gun, he couldn’t deny the heavy weight in his hand made him feel a little less vulnerable. He wished he had his athame, but it was long gone, confiscated when SPECTR took him into custody...was it just yesterday?

  “Stick with me,” Tiffany ordered. He fell in behind her, and together they hurried back to the front of the building. The sounds of gunshots already came from the front yard, and he sensed the flex and surge of etheric energy. Gray, of course...but a flicker of something less powerful as well, something he wouldn’t have expected to feel at a distance.

  “Therianthropes.” How he sensed them from inside the house he didn’t know, but he’d worry about it later.

  Tiffany swore. Darting into a side room, she ducked beneath a window looking out onto the front lawn. John took up position beside her. His hand shook slightly from adrenaline as he twitched back the gauzy white curtains over the window and risked a peek outside.

  A pair of troop transports sat on the lawn, behind the assortment of sedans and other vehicles belonging to the Vigilant. Men and women dressed in fatigues jumped out of the transport, some of them with distorted faces, the demons in them strong enough to bring on obvious physical changes. All were too fast, too strong, for non-possessed humans.

  And all closed with the slim figure striding to meet them.

  John’s heart stuttered at the sight. Tiffany hissed in frustration. “It’s full speed ahead with that fucker, isn’t it?” she muttered. “At least walking right into friendly fire won’t kill him.”

  Maybe, but there were too many possessed even for Gray to take on. The drakul didn’t seem particularly concerned, however.

  Gray turned back to the house. “John!” he shouted, like the boom of thunder. “May these be killed?”

  John threw the window open and aimed his gun at the possessed soldiers. “Yes!” he shouted. He risked a shot, but the creatures already closed in on Gray, and he didn’t want to hit the drakul instead. “Kill them!”

  Gray smiled.

  Then he spun and charged straight at the oncoming therianthropes.

  Their ranks shattered even before he reached them. A handful broke off and fled in the opposite direction in blind panic, the NHEs inside them sensing the presence of a much bigger predator. Others hesitated, or tried to go around Gray, snarling in fear and fury.

  Gray went for the ones stupid or brave enough to come for him. They collided in a swirl of black leather and mottled fatigues, buzz-cuts and flying hair.

  “Wake up, Starkweather!” Tiffany snapped. “Pick a fucking target and shoot!”

  Shit, he had to stop worrying about Gray and get his act together. He aimed at one of the therianthropes which had avoided Gray and now made for the front door. Silver-jacketed lead impacted with its shoulder, blood pouring from the great artery as it went down. The crack of gunfire came from the rear of the house; some of the possessed soldiers had circled around to try their defenses from all directions.

  Sighting carefully, he fired at another soldier rushing toward the house, her mouth distorted by a forest of teeth, her eyes the fractured amber of a lycanthrope. And ignored the voice screaming in his head she might still have been saved. Her forty days weren’t up. In a circle with candles and athame, he could have torn the NHE out of her.

  But not in the middle of a damn battlefield. Still, it didn’t quiet the innermost voice, which cried out when she crumpled, shredded by a hail of bullets from his gun and three others.

  This was all Forsyth’s fault. For treating people like things, for not caring who or what he hurt. For corrupting SPECTR and putting John in this position in the first place.

  Goddess. She could have been saved.

  The tang of blood clogged his nostrils. He took a deep breath and spat to one side.

  “Damn it, Starkweather! Your boy is in trouble,” Tiffany said.

  His attention snapped to the fore, adrenaline flooding his veins. The therianthropes attacked Gray en masse, a pile of snapping teeth and rending claws. Gray went to the ground, buried underneath camo-clad bodies.

  John surged to his feet. He needed to get to Gray, to save him before the possessed tore him into too many pieces for even a drakul to put back together.

  Tiffany grabbed his arm. “Are you crazy? You’ll get killed!”

  Bodies flew away from Gray like debris from a blast radius, propelled by Caleb’s telekinesis. They smashed into the ground and the side of the nearest transport, the snap of bone and crunch of teeth audible even at a distance. Several let out barks of agony, and one slumped to the ground, its head at a strange angle to its body.

  Gray surged to his feet, covered in blood. He clutched a drained therianthrope in one hand like an empty beer can. Casting it aside, he—no, Caleb—smashed back three other possessed soldiers.

  John’s mouth went dry with a mixture of relief and awe. Even in this scene of death and terror, there was something almost beautiful about the way Gray and Caleb worked together, switching off so fast they seemed more a single, unstoppable force than separate entities.

  Bodies littered the lawn. Between the Vigilant’s fi
repower and Gray, they’d significantly whittled down the assault team. Goddess, they might actually make it out of this without any casualties on their side.

  With a roar of engines, a gunship appeared just over the tree line.

  Chapter 3

  “Holy shit it’s a fucking attack helicopter!”

  Gray drops the latest demon, its body already sagging into decay, the surge of power and ecstasy from its blood still ringing along his nerves. The gunship roars toward the safe house, yet another of these machines mortals have invented solely to vex him.

  There comes a burst of light and smoke, the gunship launching the rockets mounted on its sides. They scream through the air, agonizingly loud against his sensitive hearing. Before he can even blink, the rockets bury themselves in the vulnerable wood of the old plantation house. Fire blooms, part of the building collapsing.

  John is inside.

  He breaks for the house, Caleb’s distress twining with his own. John cannot be hurt, he cannot. Not this soon, not after they have just begun to understand one another.

  Figures flee the house, through doors and windows and new openings torn by the collapse. The other mortal, Tiffany, scrambles through an open window, and John is behind her. Gray stumbles, his knees suddenly, strangely weak at the sight.

  The helicopter opens fire with its machine guns, strafing those fleeing the ruin.

  No. This is not to be allowed. John must be protected.

  Gray adjusts his trajectory and runs faster, toward the part of the safe house still standing. He leaps, claws sinking into wood, scrambling up through clouds of noxious smoke. People within are screaming, the sound pulling on his nerves unpleasantly. He must put a stop to this.

  He pauses for just an instant, at the highest point he can reach. The gunship turns its flank to him, hovering for a moment while it targets those fleeing the back of the house. So he leaps.