“And the second?”
“Symmetry.”
Aleka threw her hands up in frustration. “Even when Dad isn’t here, he’s here.”
“I’m sure he’d love to know you actually pay attention to his lessons—” Scotty broke off at the sensation of her comms vibrating on her wrist. A heartbeat later, a message from Kynan popped up.
Yes! Looked like there’d be some real battles in her future, not just lame sparring lessons with her sister.
“You’re going to have to get another sparring partner,” she said. “I gotta go.”
“Duty calls?”
“Yep.” Scotty made her summoned sword disappear. “Want me to ask Rath to spar with you?”
Aleka racked her mace. “He’s on guard duty.”
Rath, their adopted older brother,livedfor guard duty. He’d grown up with Aleka and Scotty, but he’d joined his Ramreel demon herd several years ago, becoming part of Ares’s island security team. The warrior race excelled at battle, and their size and vigilance made them natural, formidable sentries.
Scotty returned the practice sword to the rack just as their father entered through the main archway. The living glyph on his forearm, his trusty warhorse, Battle, stomped its hoof as Ares stepped out of the shadows. The high sun made the red highlights in his hair glitter, bestowing him with a coppery crown that only added to the kingly air he bore like a mantle. A warrior nearly as old as time itself, he feared nothing.
Nothing except losing a family member. Which was why Scotty, Aleka, and Rath had been training to fight since they could walk.
“Sorry, Pops.” Scotty moved to meet him, planting a kiss on his grizzled cheek. Apparently, their mother liked him with a five-o’clock shadow. “I have to go to work. But Aleka tells me she’ssuperexcited totrain.” She shot her sister an impish wink, and Aleka shot her the finger.
“Be safe,” he said, hauling her back in a one-armed bear hug.
“Hey,” Aleka called out. “How come whenever I cancel a session, you make me reschedule?” She flung her arm at Scotty. “But she just gets to walk away?”
“Scotty constantly practices,” he said, his deep voice rumbling off the arena walls. “You constantly avoid it.”
Scotty laughed and waggled her fingers at her sister. “Toodles. Have fun!”
That earned her another flip of the finger and a glare that promised retribution. Aleka would probably guilt Scotty into a shopping trip—or worse, Scotty would have to help her dig through musty museum crates.
But what Aleka didn’t know was that Scotty didn’t always mind spending time with her sister. They had so little in common that they struggled to find stuff to talk about, so when Aleka asked for a favor, Scotty usually agreed. Maybe they couldn’t bond over deep conversation, but they could share experiences now and then. They regularly got a laugh out of the time Scotty got stung by a petrified demonic scorpion when she’d stupidly reached inside a three-thousand-year-old crate. Scotty preferred the story about Aleka spilling coffee all over a hot firefighter in a bookstore café she’d dragged Scotty to, though. While she stammered out an apology, she spilled the rest on his buddy.
Scotty chuckled as she jogged toward the island’s Harrowgate. She loved her sister, but sometimes, the woman needed to loosen up. Or lose herself in a bloody battle. Or steamy sex.
Not that Scotty was experienced with steamy sex. But Mace and Blade swore that it was the best way to relieve stress. Even better than battle.
Scotty wasn’t so sure about that, but if she had her way, she’d find out in the next two weeks.
Kynan Morgan loved his damned job.
Who would have ever guessed that he’d go from dedicating his life to killing demons…to marrying oneandrunning an agency thatemployed them.
Yeah, his young, dumb, demon-hating, thirty-year-old self wouldn’t recognize his sixty-three-year-old self, even though he didn’t look a day older than he had back then. If anything, gaining immortality had shaved off a few years. He looked twenty-seven, tops. And thanks to the amulet around his neck—a literal, tiny piece of Heaven itself that had been charmed by angels—he’d live forever…as long as he didn’t do something stupid, like get his head chopped off by a fallen angel.
Reflexively, he reached up and brushed his fingers over the thick scars across his throat, a reminder that hehadalmost lost his head once. His first encounter with a demon back in his military days had left him with a damaged voice and a new career path.
Kynan glanced to his right at Tayla, his half-demon sister-in-law and DART’s Special Investigative Unit Director, before addressing the trio sitting across the table from him in the building’s main briefing room.
Scotty, Blade, and Mace lounged in their chairs, looking deceptively chill, but Ky estimated that between the three of them, they were in possession of at least a dozen knives, nine feet of garrote wire, a couple of shock sticks, and too many supernatural weapons to count. They were the best of the best, freakishly in sync, and his most capable and trusted team across scores of DART locations around the world. If they couldn’t handle a situation, no one could. At least, no one on his payroll.
Tay slid mission packets toward the three special forces operators, who snatched them up like kids scrambling for cupcakes.
He’d seen them do that before too. A couple of weeks ago, in fact. They’d scarfed down two dozen cupcakes between them.
