Page 2 of Rekindled Prophecy

The others paused as the man fell to the ground, his head lolling. Crimson blood gushed onto the cobblestones to mix with the putrid liquid run-off from the piles of garbage. Greylyn stood tall … well, as tall as she could for her barely five-foot frame. “Who’s next, boys?”

Look who’s the tough broad now? Me, that’s who.

Spending all day, every day with Jasper, and his sarcastic wit had rubbed off on her. With her confidence reinstated from such a quick first kill, Greylyn’s ego swelled with pride. However, this probably was not the best time to spout off to a demon gang, even if she was tough.

Tall, splotchy, and already sporting a black eye from another encounter, the man on the left advanced. “Such a lovely lassie,” spit flew out between his blackened and rotting teeth, “t’would be a shame to spoil such a lovely lassie as yourself, but …” he shrugged, “that’d be fun, too.” He barreled towards her with a wicked smile. Whoosh! The air escaped her lungs when he slammed into her, tackling her to the ground. No sooner had she blinked away the stars in her eyes, his tremendous weight lifted off her. Greylyn flinched and screwed her eyes shut, waiting for him to punch or kick her, or outright twist her head off her body.

Nothing happened.

“What da bloody …” The goon did not get to finish his sentence. The next thing she heard was him gasping for breath, then the tremendous thud when he collapsed onto the ground. Blood flowed from his mouth and his neck bent at an awkward angle.

Oh, thank heavens! Jasper had arrived to save her sorry butt.

When she looked over, the man smashing the other goon’s face into the rock wall until his skull split open was quite obviouslynotJasper Moreau.

It was the man with the predatory tiger eyes she had encountered inside the tavern. The one that caused her to mess up because the pull to him had been greater than her guardian angel connection to poor, hapless Edward.

Where the hell was Edward anyway?

Lying paralyzed on the ground, Greylyn watched in abject fascination as the handsome man savagely twisted the neck off the last member of the card shark’s hit squad. From this vantage point, she could not make out his expression. His movements were smooth and agile, but also brutal. An exquisite and macabre dance of primal violence.

No more bad guys to fend off, he whipped out a handkerchief from his breast pocket with a flick of his wrist and wiped away the blood and gore splattered on his face and hands. He did it in such a nonchalant manner, as if it were commonplace to violently beat men to death. A chill ran up Greylyn’s spine as he turned to face her.

Do I thank him or run?

In two quick strides, he knelt beside her. One hand came up to brush a tendril of hair out of her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. The angered expression he had worn just seconds before evaporated. His eyes softened. A small smile tugged at his lips.

A wave of heat originated from his touch, spreading out to her entire body. “Everything’s alright now, Gr ...” His voice, smooth yet husky, trailed off but with a slight accent marking him as not English, but from someplace close … someplace familiar.

A chill raced through her veins, freezing her in place as she watched his glowing topaz eyes widened before morphing to a deep crimson hue.

A demon?

No, not exactly. The hint of sulfur was missing. The way pinpricks of pain flashed out when one touched her skin did not happen. Oh, there were pinpricks of something, but not the same sensation. No, he was not a demon, nor was he possessed by one. Of that she was certain, but the realization something was different about this man was enough to jar her back to her senses.

Her fingers coiled tighter around the hilt of her dagger – a weapon bestowed upon her as part of her initiation into the world of guardian angels. The handle, intricately carved with a Celtic symbol interlaced with the sign of infinity and two opals of varying shades embedded in the center, now pressed into the soft skin of her palm. Months of intensive practice, it was now an extension of herself. Its sharp, jagged edges of an unbreakable shimmering blue metal were forged specifically to kill demons, to kill anything not intended for this world. Greylyn prayed it also worked on whatever this man was.

He had not moved. Just stared at her with those freaky eyes of blood. She slashed upward with the blade. He jerked away, but not in time. A gash appeared across his cheek and his hand flew up to his face. Greylyn used his momentary surprise to push herself off the ground to run away. Not two steps later, the man grabbed her upper arm, hauling her backwards into his chest with such momentum she felt, as well as heard, the cracking of her spine from the impact. The small bones of her wrist popped painfully under pressure from his much larger hand, forcing her fist to unclasp and the dagger to fall. His other hand snaked around her waist.

“Going somewhere so soon?” His voice held a gruff edge to it now, no longer velvety smooth.

Every instinct screamed at her not to, but she defiantly craned her neck to stare up at her captor. Big mistake. He whipped her around to face him. Now pressed against his chest, the thumping of her own heart against her ribcage mixed with sound of his own rose to a deafening level, blocking out all other sounds. His lips curled on one side, highlighting a dimple. Perfectly white teeth glinted in the dim moonlight. Warm breath caressed her face, smelling slightly of bourbon.

“Let. Me. Go,” she ground out from clenched teeth. Her body shivered, but she refused to acknowledge the fear. Although it was likely she might not survive her first guardian assignment, Jasper’s mantra that he had drilled into her head over the last year rang in her ears –Never acknowledge the fear. A guardian does not have the luxury of giving in to fear.Greylyn prayed her eyes reflected resolve and courage, not the terror coursing through her veins. Or whatever else was pulsing through her body.

A full grin broke out on the man’s face. The red flames dancing in his eyes smoldered before returning to their topaz hue that had riveted her in place earlier. His entire face relaxed. “Now, love. Why would I do that? There’s so much we have to discuss before …”

Greylyn stomped down on his foot with all her strength. Considering their significant size difference, she did not expect it to work, but it startled her captor enough for him to loosen his grip. She wrenched her arm away while her other fist swung up and slammed into his face. Blood gushed from his nose, flowing down to drip off his chiseled chin.

Instead of an angry shout or a return punch, he glared steadily at her with no other outward show of pain or emotion.

“So much for civility then.” The words were spoken so softly through thinned lips that she almost doubted he had spoken at all until his fist shot out. Excruciating pain blinded her.

The jerk broke my nose!

Strong hands gripped her arms and yanked her with such force her neck snapped as her body sailed across the alleyway. Colliding with the moss-covered stone wall of the tavern, all the air whooshed out of her lungs. A coppery tinge filled her mouth.

Pain and anger boiled up, fueling a surge of adrenaline that brought everything into crystal clear focus. All sound, except for her assailant’s heavy breathing, stopped. She waited.