Book One: The Girl (The Sanctum) (17 page)

“But you landed in my life and all that changed. Something happened in that park, the first time I saw you and I cannot explain it and it will probably sound crazy to you, but I feel tied to you. Like I’m supposed to be doing all of this. Whatever it is you’re doing, my job is to help you, no matter what.

“And I know when you look at me all you see is this disgusting warrior for The Sanctum, this representative of everything you hate, this killer working for the organization that killed everything you love. But trust me when I say this: the first time I saw you is the last time I considered myself Sanctum.”

Dev’s eyes widened in shock as Wyatt’s words hit her.

“Do not say that, Wyatt.”

“It’s true. For all intents and purposes, I am no longer Sanctum, so please, do not think of me that way.”

Dev moved towards Wyatt, sitting so their knees were touching, took his face in her bloody hands and kissed him softly.

“You are everything that is right about The Sanctum, Wyatt Clayworth. You are a ferocious warrior, a devoted friend, a good man and a just person. There is nothing disgusting about you and when I look at you, all I see is beauty. Blinding beauty of mind, spirit and body. So no, I will not stop thinking of you as Sanctum because you are what I hope The Sanctum will one day return to being. You are my hope.

“My mother and father warned me a time would come when I would have to blaze my trail without their guidance, but that I would not be alone. Now I know they were speaking of you. Since you found me in the park, I have been fighting you. I have been fighting the need for you. The insatiable hunger for you. Because I felt like it’s a sickness. Like needing you was a weakness in me.

“But I realize when I just give into it, like the other night when I went to you, or just now, when I found you here, waiting for me, I’m stronger than when I’m on my own. And I am a beast on my own, let me tell you. But I also know I can’t survive alone.”

Wyatt looked down at her. She was filthy and bloody and smelled like hell, but underneath it all, she was just a girl. A girl needing a little help to abet some kind of bloody apocalypse, but a girl nonetheless.

“Are you going to keep yelling at me?” he asked with a slight smile.

“Are you going to keep freaking out every time I get stabbed?” she asked as she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close.

“You smell disgusting,” he said as he leaned away from her.

Dev laughed and pulled him closer.

“Just one kiss,” she insisted.

“No,” he pushed her away with a smile as he stood up, “no more kisses. Not until this is finished and we’re both okay.”

Wyatt offered her his hand and pulled her off the ground, dusted her off a bit and waited, knowing Dev would have something to say about his proclamation.

“So you’re just going to turn off how you feel about me? Just like that?”

Wyatt took her beautiful, perfect face in his hands and held her for a second. She was stunning and he seriously wondered if he would ever be able to look at her without losing his breath. He doubted it.

“No, I’m not turning anything off because that’s impossible. Every time I look at you, I think about my hands on your body and the way you feel, pressed against me or the way you taste or the soft, purring sound you make when I kiss your neck. Looking at you drives me crazy. But I am certainly going to do my damnedest to stop kissing you or touching you or anything else until this is over. Because I need to be your partner, I need to fight next to you, I need to kill with you and to do that I have to be fully focused and to be one thousand percent focused I have to stop being physically involved with you.”

Dev wrapped her fingers around his and laughed in his face.

“That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard. You are an idiot, Wyatt Clayworth. But go for it,” she said as she started walking away from him with a wicked look in her eye, “if you think you can keep your hands off all of this for even ten seconds, by all means, knock yourself out.”

Sam and Josiah
sat across from each other in their living room, sipping scotch, trying to appear calm.

“Are you sure about all of this?” Sam asked.

“You go sit in our son’s room for two seconds and tell me I’m wrong,” Josiah replied.

Sam didn’t respond and instead, sat swirling her drink, listening to the large ice cube clink against the glass.

“Sam, you and I knew this,” Josiah started to say.

“I know that, Jo,” Sam interrupted him, “it doesn’t make the reality of the fact any easier to swallow.”

“I know you thought it would be Jools going down this road,” he continued.

Sam set her drink down and stared hard at her husband.

“Of course, I thought it would be Jools. Who wouldn’t? She’s fierce and fearless and brash and everything Wyatt is not. He’s a thinker, he contemplates, he cares. This is going to swallow him whole and spit him out and it will all be for naught.”

“Give the boy some credit,” Josiah defended their son.

“Oh Jo, I am giving him credit. He’s everything good in The Sanctum. He is what we used to be. But he’s not the proper tool to get us back there. Jools is. Jools is the Clayworth that can incite the destruction, wreak the havoc. Wyatt is what we aspire to be.”

“You know what that sounds like, right?”

“Like someone using her children to fulfill her own agenda,” Sam replied, “and the only reason I would even think to say something like that is because it’s you and I know you know I would never use my children for anything. At the same time, we each have our roles to play and now we apparently know what Wyatt’s will be.”

Josiah sat down next to Sam and wrapped her in his arms. She rested her head against his chest and cried.

Jools punched the
speed ball bag with unparalleled quickness and precision. She circled around, switched arms, crossed over and back, never once missing a beat. The sweat poured off her in buckets, her muscles strained with the effort, yet on and on she went, around and around, a whirling dervish of energy. She then switched to the jump rope, then push-ups, sit ups and finally a 10 mile run. By the end, she lay down in the middle of the gym, completely spent but her mind still abuzz.

It was three in the morning and she could not sleep, worried that Wyatt wouldn’t find Dev and she would be sent out to hunt the girl. Not that she didn’t think she would be able to find her, but bringing her back to The Academy would be a whole other ballgame. And one Jools knew she would lose, possibly with fatal consequences.

Jools fully believed the next opportunity Dev got, she would kill her. She had made that much clear back in Darby’s house. Jools also knew the only reason she was spared was Wyatt.

Wyatt.

Who would have thought her brother, mister perfect, mister stick-in-the-mud, mister Sanctum, would get himself caught up with some strange girl named Dev.

Earlier that night, Ryker had told her to meet him in the training room and while they sparred, he filled her in on the details of Wyatt’s mysterious encounter with Dev. Ryker could not get his head around how Dev found Wyatt, but Jools knew. She knew her brother and that girl were tied to one another. She knew it the minute Dev grabbed her around the neck and tried to kill her.

Jools could still feel Dev’s fingers around her throat and the anger coursing through them. The girl was full of rage, bitterness and hatred, all of it focused on anything Sanctum. But more than that was the magic running willy-nilly through her, uncontrolled and wild. Jools had never experienced anything like it and knew that it, more than anything else, was going to kill her for she had no way to fight such unchecked power.

As the seconds ticked by that evening, Jools caught flashes of Dev’s memories, what was fueling her: an eerily quiet house, a dead boy, a woman’s bone-chilling scream. And then, after fighting valiantly, she gave in, both to Dev’s anger and her magic. Her last thoughts had been of her brother, and how much she loved him, despite his many flaws. She pictured his face, the wrinkle between his always-serious eyes, his rarely heard, but oh-so magical laugh, his quiet devotion to her.

Those images and feelings, they alone saved Jools. Dev read her mind, Jools had felt her doing so, and it was those last thoughts of Wyatt that made Dev hesitate. And once she hesitated, so began Dev’s internal battle with herself. She hated her desire to do something for Wyatt’s benefit, she raged at herself for not wanting to hurt him, she chastised herself for caring about him. And then she let Jools go. Just like that.

Jools would never forget sitting on that couch across from Dev, so thankful to be alive, so terrified of the strange girl and so overwhelmed by Dev’s unbreakable tie to her brother.

“You love him,” Jools said to Dev that night, so scared of what that meant for her brother.

She remembered Dev’s evil, hollow laugh in response.

“You silly, little girl,” Dev replied, “I could never love such a monster.”

“Don’t you dare,” Jools stated angrily, “my brother is anything but a monster. And you have no right, no right at all.”

“I have every right!” Dev shouted, scaring Jools with her anger, “don’t you dare tell me about monsters. You have no idea the monsters this world conjures. None whatsoever. And yes, your brother is one of them.”

“Then you’re in love with a monster,” Jools retorted angrily, “because from what I can tell, and trust me, I can tell, you are already consumed by him and you don’t even know why. It’s because of him that I’m still alive.”

Dev remained silent.

“What? Cat got your tongue,” Jools continued, “you read my mind, you nasty piece of work. I felt you do it. And then you bumped right into my last thoughts of Wyatt and you hesitated. I felt that, too. I also felt that strange bond you have with him. I don’t know what it is, but it’s already got him acting out of sorts. He’s not himself. Or at least not the Wyatt I’ve lived with the past seventeen years. But let me tell you this: you hurt him and trust me, I don’t care what magic you’ve got flowing through that body of yours, I swear to the gods, I will kill you with my bare hands.”

And then the two girls never spoke to each other again.

Now, thinking back on everything that had happened, Jools always knew. In the deepest part of her consciousness, that portion of her brain that The Sanctum loved to use to their advantage, her wicked sixth sense, Jools knew Dev was coming back for Wyatt. She also knew Wyatt would never let Dev go, the two were fiercely bound to one another forever, in ways no one could understand.

Or destroy.

No matter how perfectly he had served The Sanctum for his eighteen years, in one moment, one meeting, that was history. Wyatt was no longer theirs.

And if she was being honest with herself, a part of Jools was pleased. She knew Sanctum authority viewed Wyatt as nothing more than a means to furthering their hidden agenda. He was no hero to them, no golden boy. He was a Clayworth, through and through. A highly talented, once-in-a-lifetime Clayworth with unparalleled instincts and intelligence, but a Clayworth no less. Breslin planned to use him for as long as he could and then spit him out when Wyatt no longer pleased him.

Ryker understood this truth, it was what fueled so much of his anger, irritation and outright insolence, but if Wyatt did, he certainly did not let on. Wyatt played the role of a Sanctum warrior to perfection. No one throughout the organization did it better, not even Breslin’s own offspring. Jools could only imagine the hell that was going to erupt throughout the ranks when Wyatt’s insubordination was discovered.

She had no idea what it meant, both for her family and The Sanctum. All she knew was that something was headed straight for them, something significant and life-altering and Dev and her brother were the catalysts. The results of their reaction remained to be seen.

Dev and Wyatt
stood inside the foyer of The Academy, bent over, trying to catch their breath. It was fully expected that they would need to make haste back to the protective confines of The Academy, what was not expected was killing seven London-based Sanctum along the way.

Wyatt had never killed his own and the experience, no matter how necessary, was devastating.

“Wyatt,” Dev whispered.

He was bent over, hands on his knees, head down. Wyatt wiped his eyes and looked up at Dev, his face a mask of torment and misery.

“I am so sorry,” she said as she touched his shoulder lightly, hesitantly.

Wyatt considered shying away from her touch, but did not. He considered pushing her out The Academy door, back into the city and a life on her own, but did not. Instead he grasped her hand with his, interlacing their fingers, reinforcing his tie to her.

Dev held onto him and waited quietly, understanding her silence was what he needed right now. He needed a moment to process the fact that everything he had known and loved was suddenly and very violently turned on its head. Unlike Dev, who had grown up fully aware the day would arrive when her life would change overnight, Wyatt did not have the luxury of such forewarning. No one ever told Wyatt there might come a time when he would be forced to kill those he had grown up with, trained with, won battles with.

“I killed seven of my brethren Sanctum,” he whispered hoarsely as he dropped her hand and stood up tall.

Dev looked up at him, unable to catch his eye, aware he wouldn’t look at her. Or could not.

“I killed seven Sanctum,” he repeated, more to himself than her.

Wyatt stared down at Odara, sitting on his hip in her usual place, covered in blood. The blades on his back were similarly sullied as they were used to behead one Sanctum and disembowel another. All over his body, from his clothes to his hair to the treads of his boots, was evidence of the ultra-violent and deadly encounters with his Sanctum brothers and sisters. He had killed each and every one of them, never pausing to contemplate his actions.

Dev moved away from Wyatt, knowing he was no longer aware of her. She watched various emotions play across his face, wanting to take away his pain, at the same time wondering if she made the right decision to join her fate to his. Was it fair to ask him to turn his back on the only life he knew?

And yet, she could not leave him, she would not walk away. Not again. And definitely not this time. Not when he had just given up so much for her.

“Wyatt,” Dev stepped in front of him and took his face in her hands, “look at me.”

He closed his eyes and refused her request, but he did not step away from her, he did not remove her hands from his face. She sensed him trembling slightly, aware he was doing his best to get his head around the evening’s events.

“I killed seven Sanctum,” he whispered. “I killed seven warriors.”

“You did,” she quietly agreed, “but you had no choice.”

A tear escaped his closed eye and he quickly moved away from her to wipe his face, surprised by the display of emotion. Wyatt caught sight of himself in one of the mirrors hanging on the wall and for a brief moment, could not recognize the haunted face staring back at him.

Dev fell back into the shadows, lingering on the periphery of Wyatt’s consciousness. Even with his back to her, he knew exactly where she was and could sense her sadness. And trepidation. He rubbed his face with his bloody, filthy hands, ran his hands over his head repeatedly, and then checked his arms for new markings. Finding none, Wyatt breathed deeply and rested his hand on Odara’s handle.

“Don’t doubt me.”

Dev contemplated Wyatt’s statement, taking her time responding to him, not sure he even expected a response.

“It’s not you I doubt,” she finally replied minutes later before receding further into the dark corner, “it’s me.”

He turned towards Dev, just able to discern her slim figure against the dark wall, nearly hidden among the old, velvet curtains hanging along the back, her eyes shining. Wyatt stared at her for a moment longer, trying to piece it all together so it made sense to him. The reality of killing his own was so much harsher than he ever expected.

“Well, don’t doubt yourself,” he stated, sounding more caustic than intended as he turned and walked down the long hallway, away from her. When he finally realized she was not following him, he stopped and turned back.

“Dev,” he called.

It was the first time Wyatt had spoken her name in what felt like forever and her heart stopped upon hearing it.

“Dev.”

She stepped out from the shadows, feeling exposed and uncertain, despite him telling her not to.

“Wyatt.”

“Please,” he held his hand out to her, a gesture filled with so many layers of meaning she could not begin to count them.

She slowly walked the length of the hallway, wondering all the while if she was making the right decision or if she should head out the door and out of Wyatt’s life for good. By the time she reached him, her thoughts weren’t any clearer, but his seemed to be.

Gone was the tormented body language, the questioning eyes, the despair-filled countenance. In its place was a warrior. One no longer tied to The Sanctum, but a warrior nonetheless.

Dev interlaced her fingers with his; Wyatt pulled her close, needing to feel her energy, her warmth. He wrapped his arms around her and she held him tightly, running her fingers through his hair as he buried his head in her neck. For a moment, they forgot themselves in each other. But only a moment.

Wyatt pulled away from her and smiled sadly. Dev knew the boy she met in the park all those nights ago was long gone, dead. She would never see him again and she privately mourned his loss. She feared Wyatt would always look at her this way:
a mixture of love and despair, his sacrifice for her written all over his body in so many different
shapes and forms
.

"Don't," he said as he searched her eyes.

"I can't help it," she replied, knowing what he didn't want her doing
without him needing to explain further
. She looked down, not wanting him to see the doubt in her eyes.

Wyatt gently caressed her cheek and lifted her chin so she had to see him.

"I made this decision the minute I saw you. And trust me, nothing you did during that
charming
encounter influenced me," he said with a slight smile. "This is my path, I am supposed to be doing this. All of it. And yes, some of it is awful and would break a lesser
person
, but not me. What happened back there, all that blood and mayhem,
the sheer brutality of it,
that only solidified my resolve.

"I don’t know how else to say this or make it any clearer to you: I am bound to you, Dev. Whether you like it or not, I'm yours. What that means for the two of us remains to be seen. But I am going to fight this fight with you, so stop wondering whether you should walk out of my life and disappear.
Please.
”

He paused, hoping his words were hitting their mark, making her believe in him again. Trust him again.

Then he flashed her a smile, a genuine, heartfelt smile that crinkled his eyes and made the wrinkle appear between them.

“It wouldn’t make a difference if you left anyway. I know you’d come back. You can only stay away from me for so long. It’s written all over your face.”

Dev stared at him for a second and then shoved him away from her.

“Shut up, Wyatt,” she laughed as she attempted to step around him in the hallway.

Wyatt grabbed her and pulled her close, not allowing her to escape, wrapping Dev in his embrace while he smiled mischievously. He leaned down close to her, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath as he teased her. She leaned into him and closed her eyes, becoming momentarily lost in him.

This was the Wyatt that drove her to complete sensory overload.

“See,” he whispered against her lips, smiling, “you think I’m going to kiss you right now, you want me to kiss you, badly, but I won’t.”

Dev’s head suddenly cleared as she opened her eyes to find him smirking at her. She leaned as far away from him as possible as Wyatt laughed, holding onto her tighter.

“Ugh!” she squirmed and wiggled, trying to escape his embrace, “let me go, Wyatt Clayworth, or so help me, you are going to regret it.”

He continued laughing at her, thoroughly amused by his own antics.

“You are so dead,” she warned, “I think you’re forgetting who I am and what I could do to you if I really wanted to.”

Wyatt stopped laughing and looked down at her with raised eyebrows.

“You wouldn’t,” he stated.

“Try me,” she replied, hiding the smile she felt.

“How would you do it?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“Easy,” she replied, “I would break both of your arms at the shoulders by popping out my own arms with such speed and force your bones would snap before you even knew what was going on.”

Wyatt immediately dropped his arms.

“That is so sexy.”

Dev tossed her head back and laughed quietly, appreciating the opportunity for some levity. The sound of her laughter surprised Wyatt, floating over and through him like his favorite music. It was beautiful and light and sounded like promise. Dev felt him staring at her and stopped, suddenly very aware of herself.

“Your laugh,” he trailed off.

She smiled.

Wyatt stepped closer to her and touched her face, her lips, her hair. She was filthy and battle-worn and more beautiful than ever. She was his ferocious queen.

“In all seriousness, if you would like to run away with me somewhere and live naked in the woods, I am totally down for it.”

Dev looked up at him, her eyes full of laughter.

“Absolutely not,” she said.

Wyatt’s eyes widened in surprise.

“No?”

“Do you honestly think I’m going to run around naked with some boy who won’t even kiss me?”

She then escaped his embrace and
headed down the hallway, her light laughter bouncing off the walls, mocking him. Wyatt watched her walk away and smiled before jogging to catch up to her at his parents' front door.

"You ready?" he asked, becoming suddenly serious.

Dev picked up on his mood right away: Wyatt was worried about her, about whether she was truly comfortable taking this step, whether this was really what she wanted to do. And she was ready. At least as ready as she could hope, for it wasn't everyday someone like her sought out one of the most powerful Sanctum families in existence for assistance.

"I am," Dev replied.

"Don't forget,” Wyatt leaned his head against the front door, “my mom looks like Jools but doesn't act like her and my dad is somewhat insane so don't let his behavior throw you off. You'll be fine."

Dev placed her hand on Wyatt's arm in an effort to calm him.

"I know I'll be fine," she whispered, "we're here together."

And just like that, Dev did it to him again, taking his breath away by just being herself. He paused and studied her one more time, while she was still his and his alone, before his family and Ryker and anyone else claimed a tiny piece of her. Not that Dev could ever belong to him in an ownership sense, or that he would ever want her to, but their special bond that up until this very moment had been so very private and personal was about to become public domain. Wyatt just wanted one more second alone with her.

“Hey,” she smiled and rapped her knuckles lightly on his head, “what’s going on in there?”

“Nothing,” Wyatt shook off her concern.

Dev shot him a look.

“I just want a second,” he explained, feeling rather ridiculous, but continuing anyway, “where it’s just you and me. Once we cross this threshold, you and me ends and we belong to everyone in that room.”

“Silly boy,” Dev whispered, “you and me never ends.”

She then stood on her tiptoes and kissed him, feather-light and brief, but a kiss all the same. Wyatt pulled her close but Dev stopped him with her beautiful smile and a warning finger.

“Uh-uh, mister. I can kiss you, but you’re not kissing me, remember? Now open that door and let’s do this.”