Book One: The Girl (The Sanctum) (28 page)

She turned back to him, her exhausted, beautiful warrior and gently pulled him inside.

“Close the door, Wyatt,” she whispered as she leaned against the wall.

Wyatt quietly complied with her request then turned back to find her waiting for him, her eyes bright in the darkness. He slowly approached Dev, unsure of what she expected, uncertain of what she wanted. Stopping in front of her, inches away and close enough to feel her body heat, Wyatt placed his hands against the wall on either side of her head and then hesitated.

“Why is it so dark in here?” Wyatt asked as he looked around, cutting through the tension between them with his random question.

Dev closed her eyes and laughed lightly.

“Seriously, it’s bright outside and dark as hell in here,” he stated in earnest, before asking, “are you really a vampire?”

“Oh my god,” she opened her eyes wide in mock surprise and wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him close, “my secret is out.”

“Don’t worry,” he leaned down and whispered in her ear, his lips grazing her sensitive skin, “I won’t tell a soul.”

“I knew I could trust you,” she gasped.

Wyatt smiled as he felt her body reacting to his touch, pleased to know he affected her as intensely as she did him. He teased her with his lips while he reached under her shirt and placed his palm against her flat stomach.

Dev held her breath and closed her eyes.

“You are the warmest vampire I’ve ever met.”

Dev pushed him away from her and held him at bay.

“You do this with all the vampire girls?”

“I don’t do this with any of the girls.”

Wyatt shoved her hands out of the way, picked her up and carried her towards her bedroom. Dev wrapped her legs around his waist and brought her mouth down on his, urgently and demanding. She could not remember wanting anything as badly as she wanted Wyatt. He fell onto the bed with her, getting lost in her taste and touch, never wanting to be anywhere but next to her.

“I love you, Wyatt,” Dev whispered as she pulled away from him for a second, studying the planes of his face, the soft curve of his full, lower lip.

He smiled and pulled her close, so close they were almost touching.

“I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you,” he replied, “and I will love you until my last breath.”

The abandoned warehouses
along the waterfront in Redhook stared out at the East River, imposing figures with their random broken windows and overall state of neglect and despair. Some of them were in the process of being developed, but plenty were ignored shells of cement and steel. The cold winds from the river swept through the windows and chilled to the bone, keeping even the most hardy of the homeless from choosing the riverfront as a resting place.

Max knew the location was perfect.

As he traveled from room to room, taking a head count and checking weapons, Max sensed he was going to kill her. He felt it in his bones. He knew she was with the Clayworths, probably shacked up somewhere with Ryker--he got all the pretty girls--and tonight would be Max’s chance to right the wrongs she set in motion from the moment she was created.

He texted everyone to head to the mess hall for dinner and final preparations in one hour. He then strode into his room and closed the door.

“Shame on you, Maxwell,” a familiar voice called to him from the dark.

Very few people knew his birth name, and hearing her say it brought a smile to his lips.

“Talk about lousy timing, Lou,” Max leaned against the wall and studied her.

“Talk about lousy behavior, Maxwell,” she rolled onto her stomach and glared at him. “This is your second time in the city in almost as many weeks and it didn’t even cross your mind to give a girl a ring.”

Pissing off a vampire was probably not in his best interest, so Max walked over to the bed and joined her, hoping Lou would find it hard to stay mad at him. He ran his fingers through her short, dark hair, loving the feel of her silk-like tendrils between his fingers. He traced his finger along her neck and lightly kissed her, knowing all of her sweet spots like the back of his hand.

“Maxwell,” she purred softly, “I am still mad at you.”

He leaned back and looked down at her, wondering whether she was serious.

“It’s a joke,” she laughed, “god, you’re so tightly wound. I could probably help you with that.”

Max sat up and lit a cigarette.

“I know that, love,” he inhaled deeply and slowly exhaled a thick puff of smoke, “just not tonight.”

Lou sat up and joined Max at the end of the bed. He handed her a smoke and offered her a light, all the while a million miles away in his head, running through the different ways he hoped to kill that girl when given his chance.

“You know what?” Lou asked as she stood up, towering over him in her four inch heels, “I’m going to catch you when you’re a little more focused. On me.”

Max grabbed her hand and pulled her back to him.

“Sorry, love,” Max apologized.

Lou ran her fingers through his hair as she puffed on her cigarette, then blew a plume of smoke in his face.

“No worries, sweetheart,” she leaned down and kissed him long and deep, “next time.”

Max watched her leave, her narrow hips and perfect behind catching and holding his attention, as they had since the day he met her. But tonight was different and even Lou could not distract him from the task at hand. He would much rather contemplate the many ways he was going to end Dev’s life than roll around in bed with a vampire he had known since he was a kid.

Checking his watch, Max stood up, strapped on his Raven blades and headed for the mess hall. He was a little early, twenty minutes to be exact, but the place was full, the best warriors from around the world lining the tables, eating and laughing as if they had not a care in the world. As if they weren’t about to attack one of the Founding Families of The Sanctum and erase them from the Circle of Ten. Max surveyed the room and quickly noted that Mexico City, Barcelona and Paris sent warriors, but the other Academies did not. Whether this was a matter of timing or choice, Max had no idea, nor did he care. He had at least one hundred Sanctum at his disposal, all ready to wreak havoc.

“Are you ready to do this,
jeune homme
?” Luc slid in beside Max, slick as ever.

“As they like to say on this side of the pond, I was born ready.”

“I never much liked American idioms,” Luc sneered.

“You never much liked Americans,” Max corrected.

“Ah
non
, Max. Not Americans, just that wench Winthrop. The remainder of the lot are not so bad. They serve their purpose.”

“Speaking of Miss Winthrop, it seems she is up and about,” Max raised an eyebrow in surprise, “s’pose that wench is a wee bit mightier than you expected.”

Luc had to sit for a minute with that information. He shook his head in disbelief.

“Non, non, you are mistaken, my friend. That is simply impossible,” Luc insisted.

“That I am not,” Max retorted, not appreciating being doubted by the vampire, “I saw her myself and she is up and about and cute as ever. Not a scar in sight.”

Luc shot out of his seat and began pacing angrily, back and forth, in front of Max, briefly catching the attention of those sitting nearby. Max waved off the looks from the other Sanctum, knowing they would not take well to a misbehaving vampire, no matter how closely aligned Luc might be to the Breslins.

“Sit down and control yourself, Monsieur Arsenault, before one of my warriors rips your head right off your shoulders,” Max snarled.

His tone caught Luc’s attention right away and the vampire could not help but snicker.

“
Tel père, tel fils
,” Luc laughed.

“Shut up, Luc,” Max hissed, “the day I act anything like Carter is the day you should drain me dry.”

“You Breslins, always hating the father and loving the mother. One day you will wake up and see the mother is just as twisted as the father,” Luc warned.

Max lit a cigarette and sucked on it angrily, anything to keep him from wringing Luc’s neck. He checked his watch, shot Luc a withering glance and headed to the front of the room, his Raven blade thumping his thigh with each irate step he took.

From the back of the room, Luc chuckled to himself, noting the amusement he had experienced over the centuries at the expense of the Breslin men. They were such an emotional lot, he thought to himself as he exited the room and departed the warehouse for the empty streets of the Brooklyn waterfront. He was hungry and had done more than enough to further this fight of the family, now they were on their own.

Stepping to the makeshift dais set up in the front of the mess hall, Max tossed his smoke and smothered it with his boot, cleared his throat and waited for the room to settle. Those witnessing the moment would come to recall a young Ava Breslin rallying the troops and how much Max was like her, but that would be years from now when his story became part of the historical fabric of The Sanctum. Presently, he was merely hoping the men and women filling the room, the best of the best of the warrior classes, would take him seriously as a leader. Unlike his father, there were no thoughts of grandeur filling Max’s head as he looked out at his audience.

“I would open with our traditional greeting, but I highly doubt the New York Academy welcomes us this evening,” Max began, eliciting a few laughs from his audience. The gesture stroked Max’s ego and emboldened his budding confidence. It was going to be a good night, he thought to himself as he looked around the room.

“First and foremost, I thank you for joining me in the task at hand. I am certain your decision to undertake our current course of action has not been arrived at easily and involved much soul-searching and debate, for what we are about to do is unprecedented. Never before has a Founding Family, members of the Circle of Ten, been eradicated from The Sanctum.

“However, Josiah and Sam Clayworth have committed numerous crimes against us and must now face the consequences of their actions. They have an extensive and varied history of undermining Sanctum decisions; many of you have probably witnessed first-hand their subversive behavior at meetings of the Founding Families. It is a known fact they harbor Magicals within the walls of their Academy and now we know they have been helping the girl we’ve been hunting for months.

“Without the assistance of the New York Academy and the Clayworth family in particular, there is little doubt this girl, this hybrid, would have survived her foray into the wilds of Manhattan. We are gathered here tonight to bring an end to generations of Clayworth blasphemy and revolt, to bring about the destruction of the hybrid and most importantly, to restore the balance and power of The Sanctum. Our Sanctum.”

As soon as those words escaped Max’s mouth, the crowd roared. Sanctum rose to their feet, stomped, cheered and bellowed their appreciation, their enthusiasm. Max took a step back and relished the moment, understanding it was special, wondering whether he was stealing the mantle from his father, hoping he was.

“You all know your positions tonight. You understand what is expected of you and how important it is that we are in and out before anyone really even understands what has happened. When we part ways in a few hours, I won’t see you again until we rendezvous in London, but know I have the utmost faith in each and every one of you. We will accomplish our mission.

“We are Sanctum!” Max called to the crowd.

“Regere!” they responded in unison.

“We are Sanctum!”

“Honora!”

“We are Sanctum!”

“Pacem!”

The crisp night
air sent a chill down Jools’ spine as she pulled her scarf a little tighter around her neck and buttoned her jacket. She glanced behind her as she turned the corner and headed down Fifth Avenue, unable to escape the sense she was being followed. Jools caught a flicker of pale skin and dark hair on her left and with lightning speed, too fast for the human eye to witness, Jools grabbed the vampire and pulled her into a darkened doorway.

“Why are you following me?” she hissed and then recognizing her captive, released the girl.

“Lou! What the hell?”

“Dammit, Jools,” Lou rubbed her neck, “when did you get so freaking fast?”

“When did you start thinking it was a good idea to stalk Sanctum?” Jools asked in reply.

“I’m sorry, I just need to be careful. I didn’t want anyone to see me.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Jools asked, her defenses suddenly heightened and on alert.

“Ease up, girlfriend. I’m not going to drain you or anything,” Lou joked, much to Jools’ discomfort.

“What is it with you vamps and the all the drain jokes?” Jools asked irritatedly.

Lou laughed quietly and then turned quite serious.

“Have you been getting any weird sensations lately?” she asked, “any strange vibes?”

Jools leaned away from her and studied Lou suspiciously, never answering the vampire’s question.

“Come on, Jools. We all know you have some weird sixth sense,” she whispered.

Jools still didn’t say a word and Lou realized the girl would never admit her capabilities. At least not right now and not to her.

“Whatever,” Lou rolled her eyes, “your silence speaks volumes, little girl. I bet you sense something and I’m telling you, run back to that Academy of yours and sound the alarm. Maxwell Breslin and his troops are amassed along the Brooklyn waterfront and they’re headed straight for you.”

“No way,” Jools replied.

“It’s true, sweets,” Lou responded, “saw it with my own eyes.”

Jools stared at Lou for all of two seconds and then without a word, sped down Fifth Avenue, headed for home.

“You need to start trusting your insights, Jools!” Lou called after her, but she was already gone, banging her hand against the Academy door and slipping inside to warn the others.

Jools raced down the hallway, headed straight for the war room where she knew she would find her parents and possibly Wyatt, Ryker and Dev. She cursed herself for not listening to the voice inside her head this morning, telling her the balance of The Sanctum was off and the energy in New York was shifting in a dangerous direction. She considered saying something to Ryker, but at the last minute changed her mind and instead, pretended all was as it should be.

She burst through the doors, startling her dad and Ryker, both huddled over a laptop, studying some map of the abandoned tunnels under the city.

“They’re here,” she gasped, “and they’re coming.”

“Who’s here?” Ryker asked.

“Breslin and a host of warriors,” Jools explained, “and they’re planning an attack. Where is everyone?”

“Jools, slow down,” Ryker suggested as he pulled out a chair for her.

“I don’t need to sit down, Ryker!” she shouted at him as she headed for the door. “Dad, I hope whatever you and mom spent all day doing worked because you’ve got to get everyone down here. Now.”

Ryker followed Jools out the door and watched her run down the hallway.

“Where are you going?” he called after her.

“I’ve got to find Dev,” she yelled back as she headed for the West Wing of the Academy, “help my parents gather everyone.”

Jools raced down the halls, wishing once again the Academy was just a tad bit smaller. She reached the West Wing and made a beeline for Dev’s suite, hoping the girl was actually on the premises.

Since learning of Sam and Josiah’s role in her creation, Dev had been polite towards them and present at each and every strategy meeting, taking an active leadership role, working one-on-one with various Sanctum and making sure she introduced herself to members of the New York Academy, but she no longer smiled and there was a shroud of sadness surrounding her. The only person that could really get through to her, make her laugh and seem alive was Wyatt.

Jools stood in front of Dev’s door and knocked.

Wyatt answered, his brow furrowed in a frown.

“Why am I not surprised?” he asked in greeting.

“Now’s not the time, jerk,” Jools stated, unable to avoid jabbing her brother, “it’s happening.”

“What’s happening,” Dev came up behind Wyatt, all sleepy-faced and pretty, “what’s wrong?”

“The Breslins are happening, that’s what’s wrong,” she stated. “Max has arrived with a battalion of Sanctum and they’re planning an attack on the Academy.”

“Who said?” Wyatt asked.

“I did,” Jools retorted.

Wyatt laughed and prepared to close the door in her face but Dev stopped him, her expression suddenly alert and anxious.

“You sensed it?” Dev asked.

Jools hesitated.

“Jools?” Dev asked.

“I did,” she admitted, “this morning. Actually, late last night it started, then tonight my suspicions were affirmed by a Magical with inside information. Someone I trust.”

“Where is everyone?” Wyatt asked.

“Ryker’s helping mom and dad get folks back here,” Jools replied.

“You should get Coco and have everyone weapon-up,” Wyatt suggested, “we’ll meet you in the war room.”

“Sounds good,” Jools replied as she moved to depart but not before turning back and smirking at the two of them.

“What?” Wyatt asked.

“You guys don’t waste any time, do you?” she laughed as she headed down the hall. “I told mom not to let Dev have that suite.”

“Shut up, Jools,” Wyatt called after her.

“No, you shut up, Wyatt,” she laughed and ran off towards Coco’s weapons lab.

Wyatt closed the door and turned to head back into the suite, only to come face-to-face with Dev, fully dressed and ready for battle.

“Turn around and let’s go,” she ordered as she tightened the holster around her hips.

“God you’re sexy when you’re geared up for a fight,” he laughed as he turned and opened the door to head to his suite.

“Shut up and get dressed,” she pushed him out the door and headed for the weapons room.

“Hey,” Wyatt called to her as she strode down the hall, sensing Dev was upset by the sudden turn of events.

Dev looked back at him and paused, momentarily caught off-guard and rendered speechless by his utter perfection.

“It’s going to be fine,” he assured her.

She smiled tightly, not quite sharing Wyatt’s optimism.

“I promise,” he called as he turned back into his suite to suit up.

She remained planted in the hallway, listening to Wyatt shuffle around in his suite, opening drawers, kicking his chest, pulling out all kinds of blades and swords, tossing weapons everywhere. She walked back to his room and quietly watched him from the doorway as he buttoned his jeans, pulled a t-shirt over his head, strapped Odara around his hips and a smaller blade around his calf. He pulled out his boots and sat on his bed to lace them up and triple knot them, a habit he developed years ago. Dev approached silently, coming to a stop in front of Wyatt just as he tied the final knot on his right boot.

He looked up at her and she ran her fingers through his too-long, short hair, staring at him long and hard and serious. She sat on his lap, her knees on either side of him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Promise me you won’t go out there and get hurt,” she begged of him. “I can’t do what we’re about to do and worry about you, too.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” Wyatt smiled up at her, “nothing at all. I’m a highly trained, specialized killing machine. I am one of the best at what I do and I never get hurt.”

“Don’t say that,” she frowned as she traced a scar on his neck, “I know that’s not true.”

“It is true,” he insisted.

“Because I can’t watch over you all the time,” she continued, ignoring his promises, wanting him to hear what she had to say, “and I need to know you won’t do anything stupid or try and be some hero. Just promise me that.”

He laughed and then kissed her.

“I won’t try to be a hero, I swear. And you don’t have to watch over me, that’s Ryker’s job,” he joked.

She knew he was trying to make her relax by exuding an air of breezy confidence and nonchalance, but Dev needed him to be serious, even if just for a moment.

“Wyatt, please do not take what I am saying so lightly. I’ve lost almost everything that matters to me in the blink of an eye. I cannot bear to lose you as well.”

Wyatt gently removed Dev’s arms from around his neck and leaned away from her, wanting to make sure she could see just how serious he was about anything concerning her.

“Dev, there is nothing about you I take lightly. I’m sorry if my relative ease comes across as foolhardy but you’ve got to trust that I know what I’m doing. What we’re about to undertake, this is the stuff I handle with my eyes closed. Your mother and father, they weren’t warriors; I am. I am a different breed altogether. You cannot compare me to them so believe me when I say this: you are not going to lose me. And definitely not at the hands of some rogue Sanctum.

“Face it, you’re stuck with me,” Wyatt searched her face, hopeful she was listening to him, believing him.

“Promise?” she asked, needing to hear him say it one more time.

“Swear.”

Dev stood up and grabbed one of Wyatt’s swords off the bed, testing its heft, waving it around like a trained professional, bringing the blade to rest against his cheek.

“I’m going to hold you to that promise, Mr. Clayworth.”

“I would expect nothing less,” he replied with a smile as he pushed the blade away, grabbed his own sword off the wall and held out his hand to her, “shall we?”

Dev tossed his sword back on the bed and grabbing his hand, they headed down the hall to join the others.

The "war room", as the amphitheatre had been crowned, was filled beyond capacity with Sanctum and Magicals alike, both sides willing to set aside petty differences to combat a common evil. This gathering had been no easy feat and was the product of much cajoling and a few well-placed threats, but once the parties realized what was at stake, how their very existence was in peril, all came together with ease.

Sam caught sight of Wyatt and Dev as they stood in the doorway surveying the room. She easily discerned Dev's nerves, the tight line of her lips, her taut arm muscles as she rested her hand on her blades, her wary expression, all were dead giveaways. Contrastingly, Wyatt was the picture of calm, with his quick smile and easy laugh, the way he pulled Dev close and kissed her forehead, this was easy for him. Sam knew she shouldn't be surprised seeing him so confident and sure of himself, but she could not help being amazed every time she witnessed the warrior inside her child, for he was a ferocious, winner-take-all beast, quite unlike her thoughtful, quiet, serious boy.

As she approached the couple, Sam had to admit to herself, even with her endless years of training, she felt more akin to Dev right now than she did Wyatt. These moments always elevated her blood pressure.

“Hi Dev,” Sam called out as she neared.

“Sam,” Dev replied without a smile.

“Mom,” Wyatt politely acknowledged Sam, still grappling with his feelings towards his parents.

Sam smiled warmly, ignoring the strain in her son’s voice, and placed her hand affectionately on his arm.

“Carter Breslin would have my head if he knew I allowed you to call me ‘mom’ in front of other Sanctum,” she joked.

“Carter Breslin is going to have your head for quite a few other reasons as well,” Wyatt replied as he scanned the room.

Sam chuckled heartily.

"Ah yes," she agreed, "this little shindig will not win me any points for good behavior."

Josiah approached the trio, his laptop tucked under his arm while he pushed his glasses back up his nose. Despite his dislike of battle, he was armed and ready with a Raven blade on his hip and another, smaller knife strapped to his thigh. Dev could not help but smile, he was a study of contrasts.

"Dev," he greeted her with a solemn nod of his head.

"Josiah," she returned the formality, not quite ready to forgive him yet fully aware Josiah and Sam were unfairly bearing the brunt of her anger.

"Everyone is here," he stated, "perhaps you would like to address the crowd?"

Dev blanched at the suggestion. These were not her people. She barely knew the Clayworths, much less the other members of their Academy.

"Dad," Wyatt interceded on her behalf, "I don't think that's necessary. This is just as much our battle as it is Dev's. I can speak to the group."

A flicker of disappointment flashed across Josiah's face, but he relented.

"Of course," Josiah agreed, "by all means, be my guest."

Wyatt squeezed Dev’s hand and then headed for the front of the room. Ryker caught up to him midway and the two boys fell into step with one another.

“You ready?” Wyatt asked, already knowing the answer.

“To kill every Breslin in sight?” Ryker laughed, “need you ask?”

Wyatt stopped walking and shot his best friend a serious look.

“Not every Sanctum out there is a Breslin, you know?”

“Maybe not,” Ryker agreed, “but they’re aligned with them and that’s enough for me.”

“It’s still tough. That first time.”

Ryker shook his head in disagreement.

“That’s the difference between us, Wyatt. You hold onto some sentimental ideal of The Sanctum which makes all of this rather devastating for you. I don’t. Tearing down this monstrosity is going to be my pleasure. And killing these rogue idiots is going to be the highlight of my career.”

“You are insane,” Wyatt pulled Ryker into a tight embrace, laughing all the while, “and I love you.”

“Hey,” Ryker pointed towards the stage as he escaped Wyatt’s embrace, “check out your girl.”

Wyatt watched as Dev stepped onto the stage, somewhat unsure of herself, but determined nonetheless. She looked out over the crowd, amazed everyone came together so quickly, uncertain they would be enough but thankful for their support, their belief in her. Her eyes came to rest on Wyatt and she smiled sadly, her eyes full of tears. Wyatt made a move towards her but Ryker stopped him.