“Sounds like a nightmare.”
They all groan at my bad joke.
CHAPTER
TWENTY
IDRIS
The southern enclave just called in and reported a hunter attack in their territory. More than a dozen vampires killed by psychotic zealots during a cowardly ambush. Slaughtered in cold blood.
I close my eyes and grit my teeth. It’s a terrible death for any supernatural.
The enclaves don’t work together often, but we do share information on known hunter movements—the common enemy that continues to threaten our existence.
This time is different.
These victims weren’t supernaturals in the wrong place at the wrong time. This was a coordinated extermination of a hidden halfway house. From what I’ve been told, it was for newly turned vampires worried about taming their thirst. They were there to learn how to avoid hurting anyone. Now, they’re dead.
These kinds of facilities are becoming more common as we assimilate further into this world, but all it takes to ruin the progress and stoke up hatred is bloodthirsty and brainwashedhumans. This cult may think they’re protecting their kind, but all they’re actually doing is breeding fear and promoting an endless cycle of violence.
Once a path is painted with blood, it can’t be easily reversed.
I came to this realm as a refugee ten long years ago with nothing but the sword on my back. I limped through that portal, bloodied, beaten, and so tired of battle I could not fathom facing another fight. To my complete and utter shock, many of the folk followed me. Hungry for stability, they sacrificed near immortality in a realm ravaged by war for a chance at peace with me here.
I cannot fail them. Hatred is the harbinger of eternal battle lines, and war is hell. I won’t let my people be sucked into another never-ending conflict.
Grabbing my notebook from the desk, I leave the constant banging of the construction behind. My desire to write things down in my own hand is a habit from another time. I know it dates me, but some things I refuse to leave behind.
While it is possible to walk from my wing of the compound to the shifter quarters and remain completely indoors for the duration, it is quicker to go directly through the central courtyard. It also gives me just a few blessed extra minutes away from the modern, artificial lights.
While I’m cutting across the open space, I see the djinn walking—no,stumbling—away from the training ground. She leans heavily on the tall shifter. My eyes narrow as I track their progress. Those fools don’t have what it takes to keep her safe.
With their slow progress, delayed further by their incessantly childish levity, I catch up to the group quickly. All three males stare at me with suspicion.
“Hello, Idris.” Sheena greets me with a tired smile on her face.
“Little djinn.” I casually take her measure, noticing her normally vibrant green eyes are dull and glassy. “Working on your mental walls?” She nods, pride creeping into her expression. “I presume it went better than last time.”
My comment is innocent enough, but I’m immediately the target of three glares and a sheepish look from Sheena.
“Much better this time,” she says, standing a little straighter. “What brings you here?”
“There’s been a hunter attack.” I let my anger bleed into my tone. At everyone’s concerned look, I clarify, “Not here. In the southern enclave’s territory.”
“Dimitri is out, but dad is here,” Gideon offers. I already know that, but I congratulate myself on my self-control when I don’t immediately tell him so.
“Lunch first. Work later,” the nightmare demon complains, lurching into Gideon’s unoccupied side. “Dude, you’re huge. Give a guy a lift, would you?”
Gideon shoves the blonde away. “Knock it off, Ciprian.”
“If you’re too tired from all the humping, consider being on the bottom for a change.” The nightmare sniffs dramatically.
“He lets me be on top,” Sheena says, freezing when everyone stops to look at her. A blush spreads across her cheeks and neck like wildfire. “Don’t look at me like that.”
She tugs free from Gideon’s arms and opens the door herself, strutting into the shifter wing with her head held high.
“Of course he does. He’s not a fucking idiot,” the incubus mutters, eyes heated as he watches her disappear down the hall.
