Darkness Awakened (Primal Heat Trilogy #1) (Order of the Blade) (32 page)

Until then? So, there’d be a quick axe to the head once they didn’t need her? All Grace’s good feelings evaporated, jolting right back to what she was used to: being hated for who she was. Now, she wasn’t just an Illusionist, she had the added stigma of being a
sheva.
Yay, good day for the girl. Not.

One step at a time, sweetheart
. Quinn’s voice brushed through her mind.
We must be smart.
Unwavering in their support, Quinn and Gideon kept her clasped hands raised, waiting.

For the longest time, no one moved, and Grace’s last remnants of hope ebbed away. What would happen if someone came after her? If a blade came whistling through the night straight toward her heart? Could Quinn really stop them? Or would everyone die—

There was sudden movement to their right. Grace jumped and quickly looked over as the warrior she had stabbed stood up and began walking toward her. He was moving slowly, as if he were in great pain, which would make sense, you know, given that she’d just stabbed him. “I’m sorry,” she blurted out. “I didn’t mean to.”

He came to a stop in front of her, studying her intently. He was wearing all black with metal rivets on his coat. Metal rivets stained with his blood. A long scar cut down the side of his face, almost hidden under his thick, dark hair. “Never apologize for acting in self-defense,” he said. “It’s the mark of a true warrior to be able to defend yourself.”

Grace was startled by his genuine admiration. “You’re not mad?”

His brown eyes flashed. “If you are going to be on this mission, it’s a damn good thing you can fight.”

Grace blinked at his words, at the rush of victory she felt emanating from Quinn. “I’m going on this mission?”

“Yes.” He lifted his weapon so it was level with her face. It was the same sai that had been headed for her throat such a short time ago. “My name is Zach Roderick, and I accept you on this mission.” He went down on one knee before her with a small grunt of pain and set his sai at her feet. He bowed his head and didn’t move until his weapon shimmered and disappeared into the ground. Then he stood up and walked slowly back to the log he’d been sitting on.

Is that it? Are we good, Quinn?
Grace realized now that everyone had been waiting for Zach. Since she’d stabbed him, he was the one who had to make the first move.

Not yet. There is one more.
No one else moved, and there was a slight rise in tension from both Quinn and Gideon. The attention of the entire team seemed to be centered on one man, someone standing in the shadows.

Finally, he moved and walked into the circle of firelight, the bright flames flickering over his face, illuminating his bruised neck. She realized it was Gabe, the one Quinn had almost killed.

He was wearing jeans and shitkickers, and his black T-shirt was torn around the neckline. His bruises were beginning to fade, but there were still streaks of blood on his skin. He stopped in front of Grace. “Why are you here?”

She lifted her chin at his aggressive stance. “The man who killed Elijah and Dante has my sister. I won’t let her die.” She let her feelings be reflected on her face, let him see the truth that drove her.

“You aren’t here to help us?”

“No.” Grace didn’t hesitate, somehow knowing that a lie, any lie, would condemn her instantly. The truth might as well, but she at least had a chance with it. “My sister’s my life. I’m here to save her.”

Gabe nodded with approval. “Your loyalty is evident. You’ll do what it takes to save her.” He looked over at Gideon, not Quinn. “You’re sure saving the
sheva’s
sister helps us?”

“It’s the same mission,” Gideon said. “Grace has skills to deal with it that none of us possess.”

Gabe returned his attention to her. “I believe you care enough about your sister to fight off the bond until she’s safe. You’re not a danger right now, and we need you, so I’m cool with you joining us. But then—” He raised his hook sword to her face and rotated the blade so the light from the fire caught it, reflecting the glare into her eyes. “It will be my honor and duty to preserve the Order as it was meant to be, and to honor the death of a woman who has the courage and loyalty of a warrior.”

Well…good on that for the compliment, right? Grace swallowed hard, but forced herself to meet the threat, the promise in his gaze. She didn’t even allow herself to blink. She couldn’t think that far ahead. Right now, in this moment, she had to take every opening she could get. “I will save my sister, but I won’t let you kill me.”

Respect flashed in Gabe’s eyes, and he lifted his hook sword until it brushed the tip of her nose. “My name is Gabe Watson, and I accept you on this mission.” He lowered himself to one knee, gave her a final look that promised he would never abandon his commitment to the Order, then bowed his head and set his weapon down. He didn’t move until it vanished into the earth.

Once it was gone, Gabe stood and strode back across the clearing to stand in the shadows of the fire, fastening his dark gaze on her once again.

It’s done
. Gideon’s voice was relieved as he spoke to her and Quinn.
The others will follow now.

And they did.

This is Ian Fitzgerald
, Quinn whispered into her mind as one of the men stepped forward.
Elijah had to kill Ian’s
sheva
last year, and it was rough. I don’t know how he’ll react to you.

Ian’s face was gaunt, his cheeks sunken, his eyes hollow. His blond hair was shaggy and disheveled, his blue eyes tired. His black leather coat and jeans hung off him as if he’d lost a significant amount of weight. Though he still walked with the grace and power of a warrior, there was something missing in his energy. A flatness. A resignation. As if he simply didn’t care anymore.

Ian stopped in front of her, such grief and pain on his face that she wanted to hug him. “I’m so sorry you were brought into this,
sheva
,” he said.

“Quinn didn’t bring me into this. I invited myself,” Grace said. “He explained the risks and I came anyway.”

Ian’s gaze went to Quinn, then back to her. “You two have no concept of what you’ve gotten yourself into.” He raised his hand to her hair, his fingers drifting over the ends. “It’s too late for you both.” Ian took Grace’s hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “My heart bleeds for you,
sheva
.”

Her throat tightened at the bleakness in his voice. “I’m not giving up.”

Ian’s eyes met hers. “There’s no choice left to make. You’re already dead. The only question is whether you take Quinn with you.” He looked at Quinn. “I suggest you go with her when she dies. It’s not worth it to be left behind.”

Foreboding shivered through Grace, but she mustered a smile and stood on her tiptoes to kiss Ian’s cheek, startled at how cold his skin was when her lips brushed it. “Thank you for caring if I die. No else seems to.”

He brushed his knuckles over her jaw. “You are mistaken,
sheva
. Quinn cares. He cares more than either of you have any concept.” The regret on Ian’s face made her knees tremble, but he raised his flange mace on his two palms as an offering. “My name is Ian Fitzgerald, and if this is what you wish, I accept you on this mission. May the angels ease both of your pain when it comes for you.”

Ian knelt before Grace and laid his weapon on the ground, bowing his head as he waited for it to disappear. Ian’s shoulders were hunched and he pressed his hand over his eyes while he waited.

There was such silence around the fire that she could hear the crackling of the sparks and the echo of the night.

After a long moment, Quinn set his hand on Ian’s shoulder. Ian lifted his head and exchanged glances with Quinn. Then he rose to his feet. Quinn dropped his hand as Ian turned and walked back to his seat on the log without another word.

Gideon called out his throwing axe and pointed it toward the sky. “The spirit of Catherine Taylor shall forever be under my protection and that of the Order.”

All the men raised their weapons and repeated those words. Ian sat up straighter, his voice ringing out louder than the rest. When the chant faded into the night, Ian stood up and walked out of the light, disappearing into the woods.

Catherine Taylor was Ian’s
sheva. Quinn’s voice was quiet in her mind.
We honor her for her death.

Grace grimaced.
I’m sure she appreciates such kindness, you know, after you guys killed her.

I won’t let her fate become yours.

She looked at him, Ian’s grief making her believe that he had done everything in his power to save his own
sheva
from his team, and he’d still failed.
No, Quinn.
We
won’t let her fate become mine. I’m fighting it, too.

Quinn nodded.
Good.
Then he looked past Grace.
Thano Savakis is next.

She turned back toward the fire as another warrior approached. He had short dark hair, green eyes that sparkled in the firelight, and the vibrant energy of a man who hadn’t lost his optimism. He grinned at her. “Bunch of depressing old men around here, aren’t there?”

She was surprised by his cheerful tone. “You look the same age as the rest of them.”

“Ah, yes, it looks that way but I really
am
thirty-five. They’ve been mucking about this world for centuries, decrepit, old and bitter.”

Quinn coughed and Thano grinned at him, then pointed his halberd, a long spear with an assortment of hooks and blades on the end, at Gabe. “Unlike my cynical brethren here, I’ll be wearing my short skirt and raising my pompoms, cheering you on until the very last minute when you guys crash and burn.”

Gabe snorted, the marks on his neck from Quinn’s assault almost gone. “You’d look like shit in a short shirt. Your legs suck.”

Thano grinned, then raised his halberd. “My name is Thano Savakis and I accept you on this mission.” He kneeled before her and laid his weapon on the ground, whistling softly as it disappeared. Then he hopped up, sauntered across the clearing and plopped down next to Gabe. Thano was smiling, but there was a shadow in his eyes.

Another warrior stood up and walked over, wearing only a pair of black pants and boots. No shirt covered his torso and Grace gasped as her eyes fell on his chest. He was covered in scars. They were intricate designs, as if someone had taken a knife and dug deep, using him as a canvas for their art. His chest, arms and neck were all decorated, the scars disappearing under the waistband of his pants, as if he was marked on every inch of his body.

His skin glowed in the firelight, making the scars look as if they were alive, dancing. He raised a double spiked flail, clenching the steel bar with the two chains on one end in his hand. The spiked balls on the ends of the chains dangled loosely. “My name is Kane Santiago and I accept you on this mission.”

Kane knelt to lay his weapon at her feet, and she could see the scars across his back, not an inch of skin left unmarked. The design was beautiful and horrific at the same time.
What happened to him?

No one knows. He bares his body in hopes that someone he meets will know what the design means and have answers for him. He’s the only Calydon we know of who can teleport, and he believes it’s somehow connected to his scars.

Really?
She glanced at Quinn as Kane rose to his feet, but Quinn wasn’t watching her. He was focused on the one Order member who hadn’t come forward yet.

The warrior was standing in shadows of the trees. He was wearing all black, as were the rest of them, but the way he wore his clothes was different. More ominous. She couldn’t articulate exactly what was different about him, but when the men all sat up, their instincts on alert, their remaining weapons readied, Grace realized she wasn’t the only one who sensed it.

He shot a disdainful look at all the weapons that had come to life when he moved, then strode arrogantly across the clearing to stand in front of her. Gideon and Quinn adjusted their positions, moving slightly in front of her.

The warrior’s eyes narrowed. They were almost black, brimming with anger and rage. She tensed, expecting him to voice a dark threat to her life, or to whip out his weapon and kill her before she could move.

But he simply raised his machete to her face, ignoring Quinn and Gideon when they moved even closer to her, as if they were fully expecting him to attack. Danger was practically seeping from his pores, and his body vibrated with violence.

She couldn’t keep herself from taking a step back.

A deep bitterness tightened the lines around his eyes at her retreat. “My name is Ryland Samuels,” he snapped out. “I accept you on this mission.” He jammed his machete into the ground and inclined his head in a quick move. Ryland didn’t even wait for his weapon to vanish before stalking back to the shadows, where he folded his arms over his chest and leaned against a tree, alone.

Only when he was back in his spot was there a shift around the campfire, and the weapons lowered.

Gideon stepped in front of Grace. He was wearing the focused expression of a warrior who was making the choice for the good of the mission, and for no other reason. “My name is Gideon Roarke, and I accept you on this mission.”

His throwing axe remained at her feet for far longer than the others had before it disappeared, causing a murmur of approval among the warriors.