Guild Hunter Free Short Stories
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Go here for free short stories from the Psy/Changeling series.
For those of you unfamiliar with the Guild Hunter series, this story features Galen, Weaponsmaster to the Archangel Raphael, and Jessamy, Historian of the angelic race and teacher of their young.
For Guild Hunter fans, this story takes place during Archangel’s Kiss, after Galen has just completed a training session with Elena.
Jessamy followed Galen into the weapons salle after he dismissed Elena for the day. The hunter had walked away from the training ring with more than a few bruises, her wingtips dragging along the earth like one of Jessamy’s young charges—but not before she’d drawn some of Galen’s blood.
“Let me look at the wound,” Jessamy said, closing the door of the weapons salle behind her, her simple gown a whisper of delicate blue around her ankles. When she turned back to the huge space used for indoor training, it was to see Galen putting the training swords on a scarred wooden table, a cleaning cloth already in his hand and a scowl on his face.
“It’s nothing, a scratch.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
The scowl didn’t disappear but her big, heavily muscled lover stood in place, wings folded neatly to his back, as she used a clean handkerchief to wipe away the blood and saw that he was right. The wound was already close to healed, a silent symbol of Galen’s strength. “You were very hard on Elena.” As an angel new-Made, Raphael’s consort would be wearing her bruises for far longer.
Galen returned to the swords, and to the cleaning process he always completed, no matter how tired he was after a session. She knew today hadn’t strained him at all, Elena a novice with long blades—not to mention her lack of experience fighting with the winged body that was now her own.
“She could get Raphael killed,” Galen said, running the cloth along the first blade.
It was an irrefutable truth. Elena was now Raphael’s greatest weakness, a living, breathing piece of his heart, but with none of the brutal strength at the archangel’s own command.
However, that was wasn’t the only truth. “She is good for him.” Jessamy welcomed the subtle changes in Raphael. Before Elena, she had watched him become harder, colder, more remote as the centuries passed—until she could barely see the young archangel who had once told her there would always be room at his Tower for her. “She makes him happy.”
Galen snorted, saying nothing, but she’d been with her barbarian lover for over four hundred years, wasn’t so easily put off. Ducking under his arm to force him to stop the cleaning process, she said, “Just like I make you happy,” his naked upper body warm against her. “And I’m not exactly the strongest person in the Refuge.”
“There is no comparison,” was Galen’s growling response, eyebrows drawn together over eyes of a stunning pale green she found ever more beautiful as the years passed. “You are Teacher and Historian, an integral and irreplaceable part of our people. She is a mortal with wings—what does she contribute?”
Jessamy poked him in the hard ridges of his abdomen. To hear him speak, you’d think he had no heart, when she knew her Galen had the biggest heart in the world—and the most loyal. “You,” she said when he winced, “were once a babe who wobbled when he flew—”
“No,” he interrupted with a thoughtful frown, “I do not think so. According to the weaponsmaster with whom I trained, I came out of the womb with a knife in one hand and a crossbow in the other.”
Lips twitching, Jessamy ran her fingers over the silken inner surface of his right wing, the caress one she knew he’d allow no other. “You must give her a chance to grow, to become who she is meant to be. You know Raphael would not take a weak woman as his consort.”
“Simply because she was a skilled hunter does not make her ready for life at an archangel’s side.”
Galen did not lightly use the word “skilled”. Realization dawning in her veins, Jessamy leaned back against his arm so she could look into his face. “You think she has real potential. That’s why you’re being so tough on her.” When he didn’t answer, she said, “In fact, I think you might even like her a little.”
Another scowl, strong hands on her waist as he set her bodily aside to pick up the sword he hadn’t finished cleaning. “She shot Raphael.”
“I once threw an inkwell at your head.”
Sword cleaned, he slid it away in its bracket on the wall, then did the same with the other weapons on the table. “You missed.”
“So if I had hit you, you would still be carrying a grudge?” she asked, watching his body flex and move as he put the weapons in place.
“Do you believe I am not?”
Laughing, she cupped his face to draw him down into a sweet kiss that rapidly turned wild and hot as Galen took control, his big hands pressing her against his aroused body, his mouth demanding she open her own.
“If that is how you carry a grudge against me,” she said, chest heaving when he finally set her free, “I will have to remind you of the inkwell incident more often.”
His smile was quiet, the glint in his eye very Galen. “Let’s go dancing.”
She knew exactly what he was talking about, and it had nothing to do with the kind of dancing one did on the earth. “I have less than an hour,” she murmured, rising on tiptoe to kiss the hard line of his jaw.
“I can be quick.” He dragged her out of the weapons salle by the hand. “I’ll take care of you tonight. Really, really slowly.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck as, one muscular arm tight around her waist, he rose into the air with a single beat of his powerful wings. “You are a terrible man,” she said, kissing the temptation of his throat as soon as they were high enough up to be private. “You know what it does to me when you say things like that.” Earthy and raw, he had the ability to curl her toes and make her feel a sensual temptress both.
Galen’s responding laugh was wicked, the dive he plunged them into breathtaking. Screaming with the wild pleasure of it, Jessamy tumbled with him into the gorge that cut through the Refuge, rose back up. They passed a flash of distinctive blue on the updraft that had to be Illium…and then they were falling in another steep dive, Galen peeling off into a small fissure that was a fracture emanating from the main gorge, before winging his way to the sky once more, the Refuge lost in the distance.
Her hair whipping across her face and her skirts tangled around her legs as he flew with a power and a confidence that had her holding on with only one arm, certain of her safety, Jessamy ran the knuckles of her free hand down his abdomen. “Where will we dance?” Privacy wasn’t hard to find in these mountains, the behemoths that surrounded the Refuge often shrouded in curtains of thick mist. Below, there was nothing, no sign of civilization, no villages, the mountainous land having belonged to angelkind for an eon.
“Right here,” he said, and they dropped without warning into a massive gorge so dark and deep that no light penetrated in the place where they danced.
Each touch was magnified in the darkness, each whisper a rough caress. Galen was as fast as he’d promised—but he took very good care of her. He always did, her lover who knew her body as well as any weapon in his arsenal. As she knew his.
“Admit it,” she said afterward as they lay in the dark at the very bottom of the gorge, the softest sand beneath their bodies and the nearby sound of water over rocks a quiet music.
One arm wrapped around her as she lay half-on, half-off his body, her left wing brushing his chest , Galen said, “What?”
When he began to caress her wing, she just snuggled in deeper into him. Once, at the dawn of their courtship, she’d been shy of such a touch when it came to her twisted wing, but it was impossible to be shy about anything with Galen; he made no bones about loving her exactly as she was. After four centuries, centuries that had passed in a heartbeat, she knew she could come to him broken in every way, and be certain of his love. Though he would no doubt also yell at her for getting herself hurt.
“That you see potential in Elena,” she said with a smile. It was his protectiveness that had sent that inkwell sailing at his head. Not that the lesson had had any effect.
“She didn’t crumble today. She’s not pathetic,” was the harsh response. “I may be able to beat her into shape as a passable fighter.”
Coming from Galen, that was high praise indeed. “I should warn you, I think Elena and I are going to become friends.”
“Don’t ask me to go easy on her.”
“I won’t.” She understood what so many didn’t, what Elena herself might not yet understand—that Raphael’s consort needed to realize her potential as quickly as she could to survive in the immortal world into which she’d been thrust. “I know you can give her tools that’ll help her live long enough to become who she’s meant to be.”
Sitting up after another caress, and taking her with him, Galen said, “Let me get you back to the aerie so you can change before your class.”
As they landed on the stone pavings in front of their clifftop home, the edges overflowing with flower pots rife with color and scent, he said, “Don’t think I’ve forgotten you missed your defensive training class yesterday. We’ll be doing it tonight.”
Kissing him until his hands slid down to squeeze her lower curves, she murmured, “Let’s skip the lesson tonight.” He was as tough on her as he was on any one of his students; the only difference being that their lessons were always held in private—and she could sometimes distract the weaponsmaster in ways unavailable to others.
“Jess,” he murmured, eyes gleaming, “we’ve been training together for many years. When was the last time you talked me out of a lesson?”
“A decade ago,” she said immediately, “after I met you at the door wearing nothing but one of your feathers on a tie around my neck.”
His body responded to the reminder, but his eyes narrowed. “Don’t even think about it. I want you to keep your skills fresh—the world has always been a dangerous place, but it’s becoming even more so.”
Jessamy, too, had felt the gathering shift. It had been heralded by an angel with a mortal heart and where it would go, no one knew. The only thing of which Jessamy was certain was that whatever the future held, she’d walk into it with her weaponsmaster by her side—and, since he’d made sure she was an expert in it—a crossbow in her hand.
Spoiler Warning: This short story is set after Archangel’s Legion (Guild Hunter #6), and contains spoilers for that book, so if you haven’t yet read it, save this story to read afterward.
“Zoe’s Workshop” is part of my ongoing series of shorts about the everyday lives of my characters, away from the darkness and intensity of the main storylines. I love visiting with them, and I hope you do, too. 🙂
Characters: Sara (former hunter, now Guild Director), Deacon (formerly a hunter charged with bringing down rogue hunters, now weapons-maker to mortals and immortals both), Zoe Elena (Sara and Deacon’s daughter).
Sara stretched awake cocooned in luxuriant warmth. Stretching out her hand toward Deacon’s side of the bed, she found the sheets cold. Her heart skipped a beat, her mind jerking to full consciousness as her lashes snapped open. For a single, terrible second, fear tried to grab hold of her in its ravenous teeth, but she fought the darkness with the practice that came with two weeks of doing the same.
The war was over. Her family was safe, happy, back together in their home.
Heart rate slowing, she took a deep breath…and felt her smile reappear, little bubbles of starlight in her veins. She could smell the bitter, delicious promise of coffee in the air. Below it lingered the buttery scent of the waffles Zoe loved, waffles that Deacon alone could make to Zoe’s satisfaction. Sara had tried once, received a terrible review. Laughing at the memory of their little girl’s face as she took her first bite, Sara pushed off the feather comforter Deacon must’ve pulled over her when he left to take care of Zoe.
Otherwise, the munchkin would’ve jumped on the bed to wake them both.
Sara’s smile widened at the thought of how their baby would often squirm between them for a snuggle, happy to play with her treasured doll while her parents dozed for a few more minutes.
Grabbing the kimono-style robe that Deacon had bought her for their wedding anniversary, she pulled it on over her pajama pants and tank top. The red silk fabric, patterned with cherry blossoms in black, was so liquid soft that she couldn’t resist running her hand over it as she padded into the attached bathroom.
A few minutes later, she walked out of their bedroom and down the stairs.
The wide open space of the lower floor was drenched in the snow-reflected sunlight of early morning, the windows dazzling in their clarity. Running her fingers through her hair, she yawned and kept an ear open for the sounds of Deacon’s and Zoe’s voices. The soundproofing in Deacon’s basement workshop was top notch, but he’d left the door open as he always did in the morning if he woke before her and needed to get some work done.
She smiled at the faint sound of Zoe’s rapid-fire childish patter. Deacon usually only spoke one word to their baby’s hundred, and they both seemed content with that. Pouring herself a cup of coffee from the pot Deacon had left perking, she took a sip as she made her way to the workshop through the internal staircase. She had the day off today, her deputy, Abel, in charge—though of course, she remained on call.
Being Guild Director wasn’t only a position, it was a promise to every hunter under her command.
Zoe’s excited voice grew louder as Sara descended the steps into the well lit space that included the basement areas of the two brownstones they’d merged into one. That lighting was a mix of sunlight—thanks to a number of narrow windows along the top—and the softer overhead bulbs Deacon had put in for when he didn’t need the bright work lights he had directly over his workbench.
He was at that workbench now, dressed in a pair of disreputable jeans with a tear partway down his left thigh and frayed cuffs, the well-washed denim hugging his butt. Sara loved those jeans. On top, he wore an old black T-shirt with Zoe’s handprints in front. Back when Sara and Deacon had been painting their living room after first merging the brownstones, their smart, fast daughter had decided to do some painting of her own.
Sara could still hear Zoe’s mischievous giggles as she ran from them on chubby baby legs, the paint-covered hands that proclaimed her guilt held out in front. She’d run right into her daddy’s ambush, her tiny palms connecting with Deacon’s T-shirt. He’d worn that tee so much in the interim that it was getting to be as disreputable as his jeans, but Sara knew neither one of them would ever throw it out. When the fabric became so thin it threatened to tear, Sara planned to have it framed for him.
The artist behind the treasured piece of clothing was currently hard at work at the miniature workbench that Deacon had built for her at one end of the workshop. Beside her sat their big black dog, Slayer. He woofed a greeting at Sara before going back to his adoration of his favorite human being in the whole wide world.
Banging her small pink toy hammer on a piece of wood Deacon must’ve given her, Zoe said, “Mommy! Look!”
Sara went over and admired the abused piece of wood. “Wow, baby.”
“Yeah, Mommy, wow!” Happy, Zoe went back to her hammering.
Overcome by love, Sara put down her coffee and grabbed Zoe into a snuggle. Her daughter kissed her cheek, then pushed away. “Busy, Mommy. Zoe, busy.”
“In that case,” Sara said, her heart overflowing, “I better go bother your daddy.”
Deacon raised an arm as she reached him. “Hello, sleepyhead.”
Held against the warm, solid strength of him, she sighed, every cell in her body at peace. She was a blooded hunter, could handle any weapon in this workshop, had walked into trouble right by Deacon’s side, but her husband made her feel so safe. It had nothing to do with skill or size, and everything to do with trust. She knew no matter what, Deacon would always be there.
Touching her fingers to his stubbled jaw, she said, “I love you.”
As he bent his head toward her, the dark, dark green of his eyes holding his heart, she felt her body ignite as passionately as it had during their first kiss. No, that was wrong, she thought before he scrambled her brain cells. Everything was deeper now, richer, even sexier.
Zoe’s voice penetrated the air. “Mwah, mwah,” she said, making the kissing noises with unhidden glee.
Sara smiled against Deacon’s mouth. “Where do you think she learned that?”
Her gorgeous, talented husband stroked his hand down to her butt, squeezed as he demanded another kiss. “Nursery school, I bet,” he said afterward. “It’s a hotbed of sin.”
Sara’s shoulders shook. Nibbling on his jaw, the scent of him hot and masculine and addictive, she said, “When do you think she’ll be ready to move on to real tools?” Sara was all for Zoe becoming a weapons-maker. It would keep her out of trouble—unlike if she followed her parents into the Guild.
“Couple of years at most,” Deacon said, both of them turning to look at their daughter. “But she also really likes to shoot her crossbow.”
Sara knew that. She’d been hit by multiple sponge-headed bolts the past week. At once proud of and terrified for her daughter, she slid her hand into one of Deacon’s back pockets. “You know what? I’m not going to worry about it until she’s a teenager at least.”
Deacon just gave her a look. Sara groaned and dropped her head against his chest. “Yeah, as if.”
Kissing the top of her head, Deacon massaged her nape. “At least she won’t have boyfriend troubles. Since I’ll decapitate anyone who lays a finger on her.”
Sara burst out laughing. “God, we’re a pair. Our poor baby.”
“Don’t worry.” Deacon’s eyes glinted. “I have a feeling Zoe Elena is going to grow up plenty tough enough to take on two overprotective parents.”
Zoe hammered once more, then put down her plastic hammer. “Daddy, finish!” Picking up her masterpiece, she brought it over for Deacon to scrutinize.
Sara watched as her big, muscular husband went down on his haunches in front of their tiny girl and took the piece of wood. Examining it seriously, he nodded. “Good work, Zoe.”
Zoe beamed and threw her arms around her daddy’s neck. Cradling her body in one arm, Deacon rose to his feet and walked over to place the piece of wood with Zoe’s other creations on the shelf Zoe and Sara had painted a hot orange and decorated with golden stars.
“You did such a good job, baby.” Sara helped Zoe choose the perfect space on the shelf.
“Waffles?” Deacon asked afterward, having snagged her forgotten coffee for himself.
“I’ll never say no to your waffles.” Taking Zoe when she stretched out her arms toward her, Sara smothered their daughter’s adorable face in kisses, then let her down so she could climb up the stairs in front of them. Deacon was right about Zoe’s strength—because cuddly and snuggly as she was, their baby was also showing signs of a strong independent streak. Hardly surprising, given her parentage.
Tail wagging, Slayer joined Zoe.
Sara went next, Deacon bringing up the rear.
His wolf whistle made her grin. The world might be in chaos, the archangels caught in a battle for supremacy and Manhattan still recovering from the recent violence, but here in this house, life was good and Sara wasn’t going to allow fear of the unknown future to steal the happiness of today. As she’d told Ellie, Zoe’s innocent zest for life had taught her to enjoy the now, to live every moment of the joy. And there was so much joy in her life.
Zoe jumped up the last step into the kitchen and scrambled into the chair that was hers, clearly ready for a second helping of waffles. On the chair next to her sat her doll, while Slayer sprawled hopeful and eager on the floor at her other side. “Mommy, Sley?”
Wise to their daughter’s love for her canine playmate, Sara looked to Deacon to check if he’d fed their pet. “Slayer’s already had his breakfast, Zoe,” he responded, the affection and love in his tone no less powerful for not being showy or ostentatious.
Zoe sighed and turned to solemnly shake her head at Slayer. “You can have half my waffle,” she whispered after ducking under the table.
Hiding a laugh behind her hand, Sara met Deacon’s eyes. The deep green was lit with the same humor. Walking over to wrap her arms around his waist, she rose on tiptoe and just smiled at him. He smiled back at her, as in the background, their daughter carried on an animated conversation with her doll and Slayer.
It was the perfect start to the day.
A Sip of Eternity
This short story began life as a scene in an early draft of Archangel’s Shadows. It focuses on Dmitri & Honor, so there are no spoilers for the Archangel’s Shadows storyline (however, if you haven’t yet read Archangel’s Blade (Honor and Dmitri’s story), then save this to read later). I hope you enjoy!
After Janvier left, shutting the door behind himself, Honor turned into Dmitri’s arms, her eyes on his face. Though he was handling a grim incident, he didn’t look strained or stressed. “You like the challenge, don’t you?” she said.
“Eternity is a long time to be bored.” Warmth in his eyes, he tipped up her chin with a finger under her jaw. “That, however, is no longer an issue.”
Honor went to joke about him getting tired of her, but something made her stop. Perhaps it was the knowledge that the wound was still fresh. He’d lived a thousand years without her, and he had loved her through all of it. Rising on tiptoe, she claimed his lips, the kiss a luscious pleasure, the taste of him making her heart beat.
Hand curved around her throat, he nipped very lightly at her lower lip with his fangs.
Honor sucked in a breath.
“You need to feed,” he murmured, and nudged her toward his neck and the open collar of his white shirt.
“So do you.” She slipped another button out of its hole, luxuriated in the dark tan glow of his skin. “You are so beautiful.”
He wove his hand through her hair and drew her closer to the living beat of his pulse. “I don’t need to feed as often as you.” It was a purr against the side of her face.
Nipples tight, and skin hot, Honor rose on her toes and sucked the skin over his pulse. He shuddered, his fingers tightening on her skull. “Orange juice.”
She laughed softly. That was what he’d said the first time he’d coaxed her to feed after she woke as a vampire. She’d needed to do it, felt the pounding, erotic urge, but she’d hesitated. He’d told her it felt just like drinking orange juice. She’d laughed then, too, her nerves easing. And then she’d tasted him, the shock of ecstasy a hit to her system that had almost thrown her into unconsciousness.
“Wow,” she’d whispered when she could speak again. “Is it always like this?”
“It will be for you.” It had been a darkly sensual promise.
Honor had come to realize that he was so potent for two reasons. The first was that she loved him until she couldn’t breathe. The second was that he was a thousand years old and powerful with it. Even now, she only needed a sip to give her enough energy to last the entire day. Sometimes, she took more, but it left her a little drunk.
Piercing his skin, she took her sip, felt her head spin and her cells jumpstart, then forced herself to stop. “I want to drink,” she complained as she licked over the mark. He didn’t really need it, was more than strong enough that the fang bite would’ve closed over in a single minute or less, but she liked giving him that small pleasure to erase the erotic hurt. “I want to gulp you down.”
Hard as rock, he pressed against her. “It’ll take time,” he said, his voice rough. “The older you get, the more you’ll be able to drink without the power going to your head.”
Time, in the immortal sense, Honor had learned, didn’t mean years. It could be decades or centuries. “What a tough life I have,” she said, kissing his throat and the dip formed by his collarbones. “Sipping on you for eternity.” Another kiss, a suck of that sensitive spot above the pulse in his neck, her fingers brushing his neck.
Groaning, he lifted her up and put her on the desk, moving to stand between her legs. “I think a certain hunter is trying to seduce her husband.” He dropped his head to her throat and nipped sharply.
She hissed out a breath and gripped at his hair, but he didn’t sink his fangs into her. Dmitri was very careful with how much he allowed himself to take from her—young as she was, her body couldn’t replenish all of what he needed. Since she hated the idea of him feeding from anyone else, and he didn’t have any inclination to touch another as intimately, they had bottled blood in the fridge upstairs.
Curious, she’d tried it once, realized exactly how delicious Dmitri was; the bottled stuff was serviceable but flat. “Taste me,” she coaxed. “You haven’t for two days.” Stroking his hair, she ran her hands down over his shoulders and his chest. “Or maybe we can work out the tension another way.”
He gripped her wrists right before she would’ve reached her goal. “I have a meeting with Raphael in fifteen minutes.”
Waggling her eyebrows, she grinned. “Race you to the finish line.”
It was fast and hot and wild and it wrecked her. “You’re lethal,” she whispered, lying on her back on his desk, his papers and pens scattered on the carpet.
Pressing a kiss to her bare abdomen, her shirt gaping on either side of her, her dangerously sexy husband rose and zipped up his pants. God, the sound of the metal against metal. It made her toes curl. He had himself set to rights in about thirty seconds, while she lay there hotly ruined.
When he sat down in his chair and pulled her forward, she blushed, suddenly aware of how exposed she was to him. There was nothing she wouldn’t do with him, but sometimes, his carnality still sent a flush through her. Now, she held her breath as he rubbed his jaw against her thigh and finally gave in to his own blood hunger.
But not before he looked up, held her eyes, said, “It was always you. It will always be you.”
Her chest squeezed, her eyes burned, and her heart fell once more into the hands of the beautiful, deadly, and violently loyal man who was her eternity.
A Small Fairy Tale
For GH series readers, this story is set after Archangel’s Shadows and contains some spoilers for earlier books in the series.
Talu couldn’t believe it when she saw the tiny metal fairy standing peering out of a small nook in the side wall of an old brownstone. She was wedged into a spot with a missing brick, as if someone had left her there for safekeeping… but there was no one around here and Talu saw no signs that anyone used this little space between two identical brownstones as a home.
The brownstones were both in a section of the street that had red “Demolition Zone” signs plastered on the houses as well as on the fence she’d climbed to get inside. The houses were all empty, with smashed windows and nothing of value left inside. She’d looked in each one, hopeful of finding a small forgotten something she could maybe sell to get food. But whoever had cleaned out those places had taken everything, even cables and wires from inside the walls and the lights from the ceilings.
Tired to the bone after her fruitless searching, she’d thought about squatting for the night in one of the brownstones but they didn’t look very stable… and they were so empty, so broken.
She’d decided she’d rather be outside, had been about to crawl into this protected little space between the two brownstones when she saw the fairy. Again, she looked around to make sure it didn’t belong to anyone. She wouldn’t take it if someone needed it—but again, all she saw was emptiness.
Rubbish lay along the entire space—crushed cans, yellowing newspapers, long petrified and moldy orange peels—along with piles of dead leaves and debris the wind must’ve blown in off the street.
How could someone have abandoned the fairy? She was so beautiful.
Talu had heard of the fairy tree up on the High Line, but it had been empty by the time she made it to the park. All the fairies had flown away in people’s hands, leaving only a tree with its dark branches stark against the snow. She’d gone back day after day, snuck in night after night, in the hope that someone would return a fairy, but no one had.
Winter had melted into a cool spring and finally, as the tree began to bud with green, she’d given up hope.
Her hand trembled as she reached out to pick up the fairy stuck inside the brick. She gasped when the last rays of the fading sun caught on the fairy, revealing that she wasn’t silver as Talu had assumed. No, she was brown. Like Talu. She even had masses of curly hair. And she was smiling with such a big mouth that her smile seemed to fill up her whole face.
It was as if the fairy had been modeled on Talu.
Crying, she used a clean part of her T-shirt, which she wore below a dirty camouflage jacket, to wipe away some dust that had become stuck to the fairy. “I’ll keep you safe,” she whispered and tucked the fairy inside her jacket, in a secret pocket where mostly no one thought to look when they tried to rob her and take her stuff.
And though she was so hungry her stomach felt as if it was gnawing on itself, she didn’t go out onto the street to find someone who’d buy the fairy. It was a keep-thing, one of the very few that she had. The other was a photo of her with her mom before the cancer took her mom away. She also had a beaded necklace that had been her mom’s, and a little diary in which she wrote her study notes.
Those were all the keep-things she had in the little backpack she carried. No one wanted the photo or the diary and she’d hidden her mom’s necklace in a pocket she’d sewn into the bottom of the backpack weeks before she ran away from her aunt’s house. She would’ve stayed if her aunt had just beat her, but her mother’s sister took drugs then allowed male vampires to feed from her, so the vamps could get high. The men had started to grab at Talu, too. Talu had overheard a thin one who liked to strangle her aunt when he fed, offering her money if she’d let him feed on Talu.
Her aunt had agreed but asked for money upfront, which the vampire had gone to get. Talu had run out through the fire escape before he returned, even though she had nowhere to go. She had no one now that her mom was gone.
“We’ll sleep here,” she whispered to her fairy, then tucked herself in that little spot between the two houses that were to be demolished. There was a cold wind that night but, tired, Talu pulled her jacket around herself and curled up tight and she slept.
Waking at the first crack of dawn, she rubbed at her face before getting up and running as fast as she could to the public restrooms she knew would be open and where no one would chase her out. She did her business, washed her face in the basin and tried to clean up as much as she could. Her mom would be so disappointed to see her so dirty, but it was hard to stay clean when sleeping on the streets. At least she had a clean T-shirt to change into; she put her used one in a plastic bag to wash later, then stuffed it in her pack.
Body as clean as it could get and T-shirt on, she wet her knotted up hair and used the old hair ties she had around her wrists to pull it into a kind of a bun that at least looked neat.
Hoping she didn’t smell, she triple checked that her fairy was still safely in her pocket, then ran all the way to the nearest junior high school. Her mom had always told her school was important. Even when she was working three jobs, Talu’s mom had made sure Talu got to school and that she had a bagged lunch.
Talu rubbed at her eyes to wipe away tears. “I’m going to school, Mom,” she promised.
She truly loved school, loved learning, but she couldn’t go like the other students anymore. She didn’t have papers and if she went and tried to enroll, they’d make her go back to her aunt—who could somehow fool everyone she was sober and a good guardian. Her meanness only came out on the drugs. Talu knew she was safer on the street.
But, she’d figured out that if she arrived at the school early enough, she could climb up into the ceiling through an opening the repair people must use to get at wires. You could hear everything the teachers said from up there and no one ever noticed her if she moved from class to class while the students were thundering through the hallways between lessons.
Finding her spot just in time, before the custodian did his morning rounds, she settled in to wait for lessons to begin. “Here.” Safe, she took out the fairy and stood her on a beam beside herself. “You should have a name.”
She thought about it, knew what it would be. “Sina,” she whispered, her eyes stinging. “Your name is Sina.”
Her mom had always said she’d watch over Talu from heaven. Having Sina with her would remind her of that every day. Swallowing her tears, she tried not to feel the hurt in her heart.
Her stomach hurt, too, but it didn’t growl. It was easier being hungry after a while. The body kind of forgot and mostly she forgot, too, especially when she was learning.
She liked English and History, but Algebra wasn’t too bad and Chemistry was amazing.
Listening hard to the teacher since she couldn’t see the blackboard, she finally stopped writing when he stopped speaking to hand out a pop quiz. The other students moaned but Talu wished she could do the quiz, could be down there with them. Since she couldn’t be, she decided she’d go to the library in the weekend.
She mostly couldn’t go on school days because she had to wait until all the corridors were empty before she could sneak out, and by then, she had to hunt for food. She tried not to beg because her mom would be so sad about that, but when she couldn’t find abandoned things in the dumpsters to sell, she sometimes had to. She still tried to give people something. She couldn’t sing but she’d found a book in the library about magic tricks and learned a few that people liked—a woman in a suit had given her five dollars once!
On the weekends, however, she didn’t do her magic tricks or search the dumpsters. She tried to go to the library as much as possible. No one minded if she went inside, since she stayed quiet and just read textbooks.
One of the librarians was nice and had given Talu two T-shirts a month ago. “They’re just extras from the recent charity drive,” she’d said. “I thought I’d offer them to my favorite bookworm before anyone else.”
“Thank you so much.” Talu had meant every word.
The T-shirts weren’t keep-things, things she’d fight to hold onto if attacked, but they were important because they let her have clean clothes. She’d wear the one she’d changed into this morning for two days. She could only wash in the weekends because she had to stay with her clothes while they dried.
She’d had more clothes when she first ran away, but back then, she hadn’t known how much people stole when they had nothing—or when they’d become so hard by being on the street that they didn’t know how to be a person anymore. A vampire had stolen her backpack the first night she’d been on the streets. She’d followed him for a week before he lowered his guard and she could steal it back. By then, he’d ripped apart most of her clothes.
He hadn’t found the photo or the necklace, though.
Talu couldn’t understand why there were vampires on the streets. Everyone knew if you signed up to be a vampire, you served your angel for a hundred years, then they gave you money to build a new life. Talu had thought about asking to become a vampire when she was old enough but she wanted to meet her mom again one day and vampires were nearly immortal.
But even though the ones on the street were at least a hundred years older than her, they weren’t very smart. Maybe they’d been like her aunt and spent all their angel money on drugs. She’d seen street vampires gambling, too, then having their limbs broken when they couldn’t pay up. She bet the vampires who worked in Archangel Tower weren’t stupid.
As she walked through the darkening streets after getting out of the school, she tilted back her head and kept the Tower in her line of sight. Right now, it was glowing red-orange from the sunset, but soon, it would be a blaze of white light, a beacon slicing up into the sky. So pure, so bright.
Talu always tried to find a spot to sleep from where she could see the Tower, but she didn’t always succeed. It depended who else was in the area. Some of the other street people weren’t bad, and she could sleep around them, but a lot were dangerous. Talu didn’t want to run drugs or walk the streets or shoplift—or do what her aunt did for the kind of vampires who wanted ugly things they had to pay for because even most vampire groupies wouldn’t agree to it.
Talu just wanted to finish school and get a proper job.
The others on the street laughed at her when she said that, but she was determined.
Wings passed overhead, close enough that she could almost reach out and touch them. Gasping, she froze and watched the angel with wings of white tipped by brown sweep up and toward the Tower.
This was why Talu could never leave New York. There was magic here; even if you were on the street and didn’t have anything, you could look up and see the most beautiful angels flying across the sky. Yesterday, she’d seen the pretty one with blue and silver wings and blue-tipped black hair. He’d flown so high.
A feather drifted to her feet at that instant. Snatching it up before anyone else could, she felt her eyes widen. It sparkled like each filament was coated with crushed mirrors… or diamonds. Talu had never seen a feather so stunning, though she’d caught glimpses of an angel who seemed to be made of shattered light. This must be his feather.
She wished desperately that she could keep it, but she knew people who paid for feathers and this one was a very rare one. She could sell it for enough money to eat for two weeks if she was careful.
Tucking the feather in the same secret inner pocket as Sina, she began to make her way toward Hell’s Kitchen and the small restaurant run by the most avid collector she knew. A nice older homeless person had told her about the collector who always paid if he wanted a feather and who didn’t cheat on price. In return, Talu gave the other street person food when she sold a feather to that collector. Fair was fair.
Full darkness descended an hour later, but the streets remained busy with New Yorkers talking to each other, yelling on their phones, or just going about their business. Happy to be surrounded by so much life, Talu wasn’t paying as much attention as she should have—and when she was dragged off the street and into a narrow passage between two shops that housed their dumpsters, it was done so quickly that the people around her probably thought it was just two teens rough-housing.
“Let go!” she yelled… or tried to.
Throwing her against the opposite wall, her attacker knocked all the air out of her. Her cheek stung as if the flesh had been scraped off by the concrete and liquid dripped out of her nose. She tasted blood.
“Where’s the feather?” asked the man who’d taken her, the sound of a switchblade flicking open loud in the night darkness. “I’ll cut you if you scream. Give it to me.”
Talu had long ago figured out what was important and what wasn’t. The feather was precious, but she couldn’t eat if she wasn’t alive. And this man sounded strung out. He’d gut her without compunction if she so much as blinked wrong. “I’ll get it for you.” She kept her voice non-confrontational though she could feel blood continuing to drip out of her nose.
She hoped it wasn’t fractured.
Raising her hands really slowly, so as not to set him off, she said, “I have to reach inside my jacket.”
He jabbed at her hard enough that she felt the point of the blade penetrate her jacket and T-shirt to nick her back. “Don’t try anything,” he said, then pulled her backpack off and began to tear her jacket off her, his clawing hands hitting her hair and causing it to explode around her head.
Talu almost let it go… but without a jacket she’d freeze at night. Even then, it wasn’t worth her life. But Sina was. “No!” She screamed as loud as she could and kicked backward like she’d seen one of the guild hunters do when the lethal woman had taken down a rogue vampire in the street.
She caught her attacker in the knee hard enough to push him off balance. Spinning around as the skinny man with pasty skin and dishwater brown hair staggered back, she went to run but he grabbed her jacket. “Help!” she yelled, even though she had no hope of that help ever arriving. People didn’t like to get involved in fights between homeless junkies. That’s what they’d think this was if they even bothered to look.
Just two junkies fighting over a hit.
“No!” she yelled again and twisting, tried to punch her attacker. A blast of wind pushed her jacket against her back at that instant, making her hair halo out at the same time.
The junkie attacking her uttered an ugly sound and raised the hand holding the knife, clearly intending to stab her. She went to grab his hand, stop him… but she was too late. A crossbow bolt went through the palm of his hand, the force of it spinning him around and to the ground. Screaming, he writhed there, saying, “Get it off! Get it off!”
Talu swallowed and turned very carefully to face the angel who stood at the mouth of the narrow passage. She couldn’t see the angel’s face with the lights from the street behind the other woman, but that didn’t matter. She could see the black boots, the crossbow, the gleam of leather pants like those worn by hunters and some angelic fighters.
She raised her hands, palms up. “I didn’t steal it,” she said, because it seemed the safest thing to say.
“Come here, Curls.”
Talu had taken her chances against a knife-wielding junkie but she wasn’t about to take her chances against an angel with a crossbow. She made her way quickly to the woman… and immediately recognized that face with the silvery-gray eyes against skin of dark gold, the near-white hair that was pulled up into a tight ponytail.
Elena Deveraux, consort to the Archangel Raphael and the only angel in the Guild.
Elena gripped her chin, tilted her face to the light. Her eyes narrowed. “You have a spare cloth?”
Talu gestured to her backpack, lying just beyond the junkie.
“Come.” Stalking over to the mewling junkie, Elena stepped on his wrist with one booted foot. Talu quickly got her bag and returned to where she’d been, while Elena strapped her crossbow to her thigh, then pulled out the crossbow bolt embedded in the junkie’s hand.
Talu, her dirty T-shirt held to her nose to mop up the blood, winced as the junkie screamed.
“Be quiet. It’s not a killing wound,” Elena told the junkie before wiping the bolt clean on his pants. She slotted it away as she strode back to Talu. “How’s the nose?”
“I think the bleeding’s stopped.” She pulled away the T-shirt, smiled in relief to see she was right.
“Good.” Elena took out her phone.
As Talu listened, the guild hunter angel made a call to what seemed to be the cops.
“So,” Elena said after hanging up, “while we wait for this piece of human waste to be collected, tell me what you didn’t steal.”
Wanting to cry because she’d have to give Sina up now, Talu shoved her ruined T-shirt into the pack, then reached inside her jacket and pulled out her two treasures. Lying seemed a very bad idea and she couldn’t fight Elena and win. She couldn’t run away either. She wasn’t fast enough to evade an angel in the air.
The feather sparkled even in the dull light spilling over from the street but it was the fairy that captured Elena’s attention.
Her smile lit up her whole face. “Look at that. I never saw her before.”
“Her name’s Sina,” Talu said, holding out the feather but keeping Sina close.
“Pretty. It suits her.” Elena angled her head as a siren neared. “That’ll be this asshole’s ride.”
Two cops joined them seconds later and were soon hauling away the junkie. Elena nodded at Talu’s treasures afterward. “Important enough to die for?”
The guild hunter’s startling eyes held hers, the rim of silver around her irises seeming to burn. “Name?”
Talu’s hand tightened around Sina. “Dead.”
“Nearly fourteen,” she said automatically before suddenly realizing what day it was. “No, Iam fourteen. Today’s my birthday.”
“You on the streets?”
Talu began to surreptitiously sneak Sina back inside her jacket. Maybe Elena would forget about the fairy. “Yes,” she admitted, then began to shake her head as her brain finally woke up. Elena was one of the good guys. If she knew Talu was on the street, she’d want to help and help would inevitably mean being sent back to her aunt. “No, I’m not—”
“Too late, Curls.” Elena plucked Sina right out of her hand without ever breaking eye contact with Talu. “Follow me if you want her back.”
It was no real choice.
Walking out onto the sidewalk beside the guild hunter, she found herself dazzled by the long sweep of Elena’s wings. They were so many colors. Black as night at the top, then indigo and so many other shades including that color Talu had heard a teacher describe as dawn. One of Elena’s feathers was as prized as the sparkling feather Talu had put back into her secret pocket.
Other people on the street whispered and moved out of their way but mostly, Elena got quick nods and deep smiles. She was a New Yorker and they were proud of her. Talu was proud of her, too. “Is it nice?” she dared to ask. “Living in the Tower?”
Elena smiled. “I actually live in the Enclave across the river, but the Tower is very nice. A lot of my friends live there.”
Talu couldn’t imagine what it might be like to live in that stunning tower of light. All she knew of it came from the outside, from the ground looking up.
Stopping by a hotdog cart, Elena handed over some money to the beaming owner and said, “Two, with extra everything.” She gave both to Talu. “Eat.”
Talu ate, but she never took her eyes off the fairy in Elena’s hand.
“So you don’t want to go back to wherever it is social services would put you?”
Talu nodded, since Elena had already caught her. “My aunt was going to let her skeezy vampire boyfriends feed from me.” She’d known it’d never be a one-time thing. “I want to go to school.”
Shooting her a hard glance that made Talu freeze, Elena said, “What’s your aunt’s name?” It was a soft question.
Talu numbly shook her head. Her aunt was still her mom’s sister even if she was a junkie who would’ve sold out her niece.
Shaking her own head at Talu’s silence, but not getting angry at her, Elena stopped by a cab. “I’m going to pay this cabbie to take you somewhere. Make sure you don’t get out partway.”
Talu was still gulping down the second hotdog, managed to stuff the rest into her mouth then catch the bottle of water Elena threw to her, having had it strapped to her other thigh. “Until then, Sina stays with me.”
Talu’s stomach was full for the first time in days as she got into the cab.
She stared out the window as Elena strode off down the street rather than taking off into the sky as Talu had expected. But the hunter was waiting in front of the Tower when the cab pulled up.
Talu’s heart thundered. She’d never been so close to the place from which Raphael ruled the city, had never dared. Angels flew in and out from the upper floors and balconies, their wings dark silhouettes against the night sky. She’d never seen so many at one time. But even they couldn’t hold her attention. She looked at Elena’s hand, felt the knots inside her chest finally vanish when she saw Sina safe and sound.
“Here.” Expression softening, Elena put the fairy in Talu’s hands. “They’re sparks of laughter you know. That’s what Aodhan calls them.”
Talu shook her head; she knew she shouldn’t be arguing with the guild hunter angel but she was unable to stop herself. “She’s a dream.”
A smile from Elena. “Yes, I think so, too.” She walked Talu inside the Tower and through an intimidatingly huge and expensive looking lobby. The entire area was watched over by vampires so dangerous that the hairs rose on her arms. No, the street vamps definitely had nothing in common with these lethal eyed men and women.
She didn’t really breathe until she was in the elevator. Looking at Elena, she whispered, “How can you hunt vampires? They’re so scary.”
Elena snorted. “These guys are scary, but the ones that cut and run before their hundred years are over? Mostly, they’re just idiots.”
Talu laughed at the echo of her own thoughts about street vamps, slapping a hand over her mouth too late to stifle the sound. But Elena was grinning anyway and then the elevator doors opened.
Elena led Talu down a corridor painted in a pale gray and carpeted in a luxurious dark gray. It could’ve felt so cold, but there were vases full of wildflowers at several points that made the whole area look cheerful and welcoming.
Reaching half-way down the corridor, Elena poked her head into a room. “I’ve brought you a stray for your project, Honor. Her name’s Talu and she has a hell of a kick.”
She nudged at Talu to go inside.
Talu resisted despite the pounding of her heart, the dryness in her throat. “What project?”
“Nothing nefarious, Curls, though I do salute your sense of distrust.” Eyes holding Talu’s, Elena touched her hand to Talu’s shoulder. “Honor’s set up a program with two other hunter friends of ours to help kids get off the streets—and it doesn’t involve forcing you back into the situation you ran to the streets to avoid.”
Elena’s expression hardened again, but this time, Talu knew the guild hunter’s anger wasn’t directed at her. “All you have to do is go to school and not do drugs or alcohol, and they’ll find you a safe place to stay, make sure you have what you need.”
Talu’s eyes stung. Blinking rapidly, she stared at Elena. “Really?”
“Yes, really,” said a clear voice from the room. It was followed by a woman with deep green eyes, black hair and a gentle expression that didn’t hide the way she moved—like a hunter. “Come in so we can talk about it.” She turned to include Elena in her smile. “Can you stay, Ellie?”
“No, I’ve got a hunt to complete, but Talu has Sina for company.” The hunter began to walk backward down the corridor. “Curls—I’ll give you some self-defense lessons once you’ve settled in. Agreed?”
Talu didn’t want Elena to go, grabbed at the possibility of further contact. “Agreed,” she said and watched Elena until the hunter disappeared into another room.
“She’ll take off from a balcony there,” Honor said. “Want to see?”
Nodding eagerly, Talu followed Honor to her own balcony, which had a railing. She was just in time to see Elena sweep off the railingless balcony next door in a glory of color made even more brilliant by the lights of the Tower; the guild hunter rode the air currents for a long distance before she began to use her wings to maneuver around the skyscrapers lower down.
“I really don’t have to go back onto the streets?” she whispered to Honor once she could no longer see Elena in the sky.
The dark haired woman nodded, her smile so warm that Talu couldn’t help but smile back. “Let’s go figure out where you go from here.”
“Okay.” Despite her words, Talu deliberately lagged behind. Just long enough to bring Sina out from the pocket where she’d tucked her and whisper, “Thanks.”
The fairy on her hand didn’t answer, just continued to smile that mischievous smile, but something made Talu glance back over her shoulder… to catch sight of a falling star streaking across the night sky.