21
Arabella
Brodie wasn’t kiddingwhen he said he was going to break every speed limit known to man. We barreled down the freeway at crazy speeds, weaving in and out of traffic with the dexterity and skill of a racecar driver. My life flashed before my eyes so many times that I eventually just closed them and leaned my head back against the seat. If we were going to die, then we were going to die. I might as well try to sleep through some of it.
“Lass,” Brodie said, his voice tight with nerves. “We’re getting off at Gower Street now, just like you said.”
I opened my eyes just in time to see Brodie zooming onto the off ramp at one-hundred and twenty miles an hour. Holding back a scream, I gripped the armrests tight enough to gouge into the upholstery as we flew down the steep incline. Thankfully, the light was green, and Brodie braked hard, turning left at the last moment. I swore the tires lifted off the ground for a split second before we completed the turn and straightened out.
“Turn on Franklin,” I said, letting out a ragged breath. “And try not to kill us along the way.”
Now that we were on residential streets, Brodie coaxed the car into a slightly more reasonable speed. It was still way faster than he should have been going, and I couldn’t believe we hadn’t been pulled over yet. Maybe his earth goddess was somehow shielding us against the men in blue? I didn’t know how that was possible, but I was grateful. Brodie told me that the enchanted sleep wouldn’t last more than a few hours, so we needed to get Jax help as soon as possible.
Using Jax’s memories, I guided Brodie toward a sandstone-colored mansion tucked into the heart of LA’s trendy Los Feliz neighborhood. It looked a lot more like a castle than a home, with towers, turrets, and an iron-wrought fence edging manicured gardens. But since it was flanked by a Grecian-style mansion and a Spanish villa, it didn’t look out of place. All the homes lining this street were grandiose, custom-built monuments to wealth and luxury, and probably belonged to hotshot film directors.
Brodie accelerated up the steep driveway, then stopped directly in front of the gate. A wave of invisible energy rippled out from the wrought iron and through the car, making the hairs on my arms rise, and I shivered. It was a kind of security spell, meant to check that there was a Sentinel inside, and that no demons or Demonkin were present. I let out a breath of relief as the gates swung open—obviously Jax’s presence was enough to gain us admission, even though her heart was stopped.
Or maybe they opened because of me. I was a Sentinel, after all.
We drove through the gates and past the gardens, pulling the car into the roundabout located in front of the castle entrance. Guards dressed in black uniforms with silver wings on their lapels rushed forward with guns drawn, and I wished, not for the first time, that I had my own with me. I was really uncomfortable about going into this place armed with nothing but a hunting knife.
“Step out of the car slowly!” one of the guards shouted as he circled around to the driver’s side, eyes trained on Brodie. He was about thirty-five, with disheveled, dirty-blond hair, and two gold hoops in his left year. The second guard was already on my side, suspicion all over his lean face—he didn’t recognize me, though he could tell I was a Sentinel. They could also sense that Brodie wasn’t one of us, and they weren’t willing to accept him at face value just because he wasn’t a Demonkin.
“Don’t shoot!” I cried as Brodie and I complied, exiting with our hands held up. “We’re not here to cause trouble. We brought one of your own back to you. She’s badly hurt, and needs medical attention.”
“We’ll see about that,” the guard on Brodie’s side said sternly. He motioned to the two other guards who were hanging back. “Check the vehicle.”
Brodie and I stood stock-still, our hands in the air, as the Sentinels walked around us and opened the back doors. “Mother of Jesus,” one of them gasped. “It’s Jax! What the hell happened?”
“She has no pulse,” the other man growled.
“No pulse?” the guard on Brodie’s side demanded. His eyes burned with rage, and he clicked off his safety. “I thought you said she was alive!”
“She is, ye blithering idiot!” Brodie shouted. “I simply put her in stasis, so that she wouldn’t die before we got here! She was bitten by a demon, and needs immediate medical attention.”
“Get down on your knees,” the guard snapped, “and put your hands behind your head.”
“There’s no time for this nonsense!” Brodie barked back, even as he got down on his knees and folded his hands behind his head. “We have to get her to the infirmary before the spell wears off!”
The guard paused, considering. Then, one of the guards behind me said, “Hey! You look familiar. Turn around.”
Slowly, I did as he asked. A shock of recognition hit me as I got a good look at the guard in question—he had long black hair pulled into a low ponytail, and a handsome face marred by a jagged scar that sliced straight across his nose. I knew that scar, and could remember, thanks to Jax, the exact day he’d gotten it.
“Mack,” I said slowly, the name coming to my lips without conscious thought. I knew the names of the other guards too, thanks to Jax, but they were before my time. This one, however, was here when I was. He and Jax had dated on and off, and, like her, he’d never approved of my relationship with Lucas.
“Palladino!” All the blood drained from his face, and he pointed a shaking finger at me. Rage blazed in his pale green eyes, and my stomach plummeted straight into my heels. “Don’t be fooled, guys—this bitch isn’t one of us. She’s a traitor!”
22
Brodie
There wasno argument after that accusation. Arabella and I were blindfolded and cuffed, then hauled away. The guards wouldn’t listen to our pleas about Jax—as far as they were concerned, we were the enemy and not to be trusted. Close-minded bastards. Didn’t they understand we were here to help?
Gaia save me from these self-righteous pricks, I snarled to myself. Put a little bit of angel blood in someone’s veins, and, all of a sudden, they thought they were God’s mouthpiece.
“Don’t do this,” Arabella begged, and my heart clenched at the tears in her voice. “Please, we’re not here to hurt anyone. We’ve brought Jax here to save her.”
“Yeah, like I’d believe a word coming out of your filthy mouth,” Mack, the guard Arabella had so obviously recognized, spat. “Don’t waste your breath, Palladino. We’ll bring a truth-sayer in to determine your story. Until then, we’re locking you both up.”
