“Sure you are…” Týr laughed as he smashed the ball against the wooden edges and scored a goal. Blaéz didn’t respond. Týr looked up. “Shit, Celt—” He broke off and stared at him, then nodded. “Right. Of course… You know the Arc’s going to flip about this?”
Michael would. Blaéz shrugged. He blocked the ball coming at his goalie. As long as he did his job, he didn’t see a problem with where he stayed. He needed to be with Darci. It had been too long since he’d seen her, touched her. He wished he could feel the gut-churning emotions he’d experienced, that heart-pounding need that had tore through him. But the images in his mind played out like watching a movie on mute.
Týr smashed the ball and scored again. “And the Harley is back!” he crowed.
Blaéz brought his attention back to the game. Imagine that, he’d lost. He cocked a brow. “Is that why you brought Darci up?”
“No, but hell, I had no idea she was so effective—”
“You only get one shot at that. Enjoy your win.” Blaéz headed for the wet bar. He poured a shot of whiskey. Leaning against the counter, he switched on the flat screen. Taking a sip of his sensation-giving liquor, he watched a taped Mets game. With his mind elsewhere these days, he barely got time to watch his team play.
Thunder cracked over the estate, pulling his gaze outside. Rain-swollen clouds rolled in from the sea.
“We’re in for another storm,” Týr said, making his way to the bar. He snagged a Red Bull and headed back to play a solo game of pool.
The darkening skies reminded Blaéz too much of what was happening to him.
He wanted to pretend all was normal in his life, instead of one so messed up. Sometimes it was a struggle to see straight. Truth was, his thoughts grew darker, and him harder as the days passed. Without Darci, he realized it would only be a matter of time before he took that path of no return.
Raindrops fell onto the paved pathway in a light scatter. Setting his glass on the counter, he took off in a run—cut through the gardens and headed towards the cliff, stopping moments later, precariously close to the edge. The rocks below beckoned him…so easy to jump, to ease the chaos in his head, to feel again. Any other time he would have, but he needed to be whole when he saw Darci later.
He removed himself from temptation, stopping some distance away. He pulled off his tee, kicked off his sneakers, and dove into the roiling Atlantic. As he powered through the furious waves, his mind drifted back to his first time on this realm. It had rained then, too…
After Maloch had stolen his soul, the cavern had rumbled again as if struck by a quake. A dark swirl of air formed and they’d all been sucked in and spewed out into the mortal realm—somewhere deep in the forest surrounding the Tatra Mountains in Eastern Europe.
Trekking through the jungle, they’d stumbled into a human settlement, and into absolute carnage…
Impassively, Blaéz took in the bodieson the ground, drained. Several demoniis turned toward them, eyes glowing red in the night
At the massacre surrounding him, only one thought filled his mind: retribution.
Grabbing a broken branch, Blaéz used it as a stake and rammed it in the demonii’s stomach.
A malevolent grin spread across the scourge’s face—fangs extended from his mouth smeared with blood. He held out his hand to the earth, a fiery hellfire bolt forming in his hand. “Now you die.”
He didn’t escape Tartarus to be killed by this shithead. Blaéz swiped a human’s fallen dagger, spun back and slit the fucker across the carotid. Black blood sprayed. With a shocked gurgle, the demonii fell to his knees, deflating and turning to ash when everything around them stilled.
Prepared to annihilate whoever or whatever it was, Blaéz wheeled around.
A female unlike any he’d seen before emerged from the trees. Tall as him, she had hair like sunlight; rich, brown skin, and deep green eyes—the color reflected in the glowing markings that swirled along her eyebrow and down her cheeks. She reminded him of this place, the trees, earth, and sun.
Her sheer power had him and the others lowering to a knee in reverence to the ancient goddess not many immortals saw.
Mother Earth. Gaia.
She glanced at Michael. “You have no need to linger, archangel.”
“I will remain.”
A slight incline of her head, she accepted Michael’s edict. “Very well. Arise, fallen warriors from the godly realm.”
Blaéz and the others pushed to their feet.
“You’ve encountered evil that has taken to destroying my realm and, in your almost mortal state, you have defeated them.” Those glowing green eyes embraced them. “Become the realm’s Guardians and I will give you purpose. You will recover all powers and never lack again. In time, you will find what you seek…”
A crack of thunder pulled Blaéz back to the present, made him aware he’d swam out too far. The island coastline had long disappeared from sight. His arm muscles burning at the strain of powering against the tide, he headed back for shore.
Gaia had drafted him and took his allegiance as a Guardian, committing him to the task of annihilating those bastards. She’d then gifted them back their original god powers, along with telepathy and an irreplaceable weapon inked on their body, as well as an obsidian dagger that could never be stolen. Unfortunately, she couldn’t give him back the one thing he needed.
