Chapter 4
Týr left the rec room,so sure he’d just been put through the wringer in hand-to-hand combat with a cyborg masquerading as Fluff.
Exhaling roughly, he rubbed the spot on his chest where she’d playfully touched him, trying to ignore his body’s heated response to her.
What was he thinking, threatening her over a few sweets? But that acerbic mouth of hers was asking for trouble—and those damn dimples should be banned.
Why was he surprised that she actually cared about those homeless kids? Hadn’t she jumped through a portal into Hell with him and Blaéz to try and save Echo?
A smile started. He’d seen the temper she tried to control as she threw out shit about them being dirty vagrants to evade revealing the truth. The brilliant shades of crimson and green weaving through her hair like the rainbow said otherwise— His smile dropped.
He wanted to punch the Celt-bastard for tagging her with the damnrainbowlabel.
But Blaéz’s taunting premonitions of seeing Týr in some freakin’ storm where a rainbow flickered, hurtled through his already crammed skull. As if he needed any more shit in there.
He headed for the foyer, opened the massive front door and stepped outside.
It was just past three in the morning. During winter, the nights were longer. It should give him enough time to check whether the boy had turned up at The Shelter before he knocked off patrol.
He mind-linked with Dagan. The warrior’s capabilities were unprecedented in picking up past happenings.We might have a little problem. Gonna need your help.
Sure. Where?
Downtown. The Shelter.
Týr dematerialized and, moments later, reformed in the dark street. This time of the morning, everything appeared quiet, and the faded brick building stood worn and tired like an aging sentinel. The sounds of snoring and hoarse coughing drifted to him from somewhere inside the two-story place.
The Shelter’s dimly lit wall bulbs casting insipid pools of light along the length of the building did little to brighten the drabness. Týr cut around to the back, evading a tottering stack of cardboard boxes and reeking trash bags that lined the dank wall, and scanned inside the place for the boy. Nothing.
Hands on his hips, he glanced down the alley. A couple of vagrants huddled over a crackling fire in a sawed-off drum. A scrawny mutt slunk past them. All appeared calm.
An eerie feeling prickled his skin. His focus sharpening, Týr tracked the vibe, then looked up to the rooftops of the looming warehouses. Heavy, dark clouds hung low in the night sky. The sensation grew, scouring his psyche like gravel. No tinge of sulfur burned his nose despite the malicious intent. So, not demoniis.
In his peripheral vision, something moved in the narrow, pitch-black thoroughfare opposite him. His gaze lowered and became ensnared by a pair of glowing, amber orbs staring down at him.
You can’t escape me,the guttural voice ricocheted in the dead quiet. A tone that had the rustling in his skull hiking. Shades of Tartarus swept through Týr. The jeering laughter, the taunts…rip him apart,kill him. The echoes jabbed his mind like knives.
A dark rage erupting, Týr moved through the thoroughfare with preternatural speed. A low, vicious growl resonated off the walls.Soon…
The malevolent presence vanished just as fast as it had appeared.
Breathing hard, Týr skidded to a halt. Gut-deep, his instinct warned that whoever it was still watched him. Okay, asshole! Jaw hardening, he shut his eyes, fully opened his psychic mind and… After several seconds of scanning the supernatural plane—nothing! Not even a damn hint of a psychic vibe!
He clamped his lips into a thin line and headed back to The Shelter where his fellow Guardian loomed in the shadows like a crypt-keeper.
Dagan strode over, long trench coat flying behind him in the light breeze, his dark hair fastened in several warrior braids. “What’s going on?”
“Not sure yet. A boy from there”—Týr nodded at The Shelter—“ran off. Kira’s worried. She also mentioned that kids are disappearing from here, too.”
“Kira?” Dagan cocked a brow, his yellow eyes glinting like the damn sun. “I thought you two didn’t…talk.”
“Don’t fucking start,” Týr muttered, holding onto his fraying temper.
“Wouldn’t even dare.” Dagan smirked, the tips of his fangs flashing briefly. “You found anything yet?”
“No. Tonight’s incident could just be an anomaly. Maybe the kid wants to get back to what’s familiar to him…” He shoved his hands into his jacket pocket, his fingers snagging the M&M’s pack. Then he recalled what Kira had done and what he’d threatened to do afterwards. His thought instantly drifted to that lush mouth…on his. Dammit. He ignored his sweets and dropped his hand.
“But you don’t believe that?”
