Hunted tgl-3 (10 page)

A
yellow police tape wound around Mr. Watts’ broken door and window like a bad bandage dressing. His neighbor eagerly informed us that Mr. Watts had been having a “noisy party last night and was cooking something in the early hours of the morning when an explosion blew out his windows.”

No one spoke after we thanked her. We headed to our next destination. After several more stops, we materialized on the roof of U.S. Bank Tower, the tallest building in California with a rooftop helipad. Lucky for us, it was empty, giving us enough space and privacy to vent.

“We’re so screwed,” Sykes said, pacing.

Shut up, I wanted to yell. He’d been saying that for the last thirty minutes and driving me nuts. My powers and headache were on the upswing again after leveling off at Mrs. Watts’ but I didn’t want to get catty with my teammates. The glances Bran threw my way told me he knew I was close to losing it again.

“So freaking screwed,” Sykes repeated.

“You can say it a gazillion times, Sykes, it won’t make anything better,” Kim snapped. “And it’s not us who’re in trouble, the humans who made the deals and canceled are.”

“But we helped them,” Izzy said.

“No one forced them to sell their souls in the first place,” I cut in.

“Lil!” Izzy scolded me.

“She’s right, Izzy,” Kim said. “No one put a gun to their heads.”

It didn’t matter whether the humans had canceled their contracts or not. All the ones we visited had similar stories—they had no memory of what had happened, yet their homes had broken glass everywhere and an accident had occurred that had reversed their fortunes. Bran made sure I didn’t get anywhere near them.

A man whose daughter sold her soul after he was hit by a car and broke his spine was now brain-dead. He and the daughter were in a head-on collision with a truck yesterday. She was now the one with the broken spine while he was on life support.

A couple who couldn’t have children, and had twins after the husband gave up his soul, was in the hospital with carbon monoxide poisoning.

Their children didn’t make it and the husband, who had done the signing, was in the ICU.

A music mogul’s club caught on fire, killing several people and leaving most of his body with third-degree burns. Lawsuits were already piling up because the doors had been jammed for some reason. Not only was he ruined financially, he was being held liable. By the time the lawyers finished with him, he would be penniless.

“Not only are they losing their ill-gained wealth and fame, they are being punished.” I glanced at Bran. He hadn’t spoken since we left Mrs. Watts, except to choose our next location. He was frustrated and kept forking his fingers through his hair. Even now, he stood near the edge of the roof and stared down at the city, anger surging from him in giant waves.

“The weirdest thing is that these misfortunes started while we were stuck in the valley,” Izzy said.

“Let’s be honest here,” Remy cut in. “They started
after
we sighted the first lightning demon. Mancuso was right and Master Haziel was wrong.”

I shook my head. “Master Haziel is never wrong. Who is Mancuso?”

“David Lee’s manager,” Izzy said. “Mancuso said no one could get away with playing with their soul without consequences. Master Haziel had said nothing would happen.”

“And we haven’t heard anything about David Lee,” Sykes said. “We need to find an Internet café and see how he’s doing.”

Kim gave an unladylike snort. “Enough with the bromance, Sykes. I’m sure David Lee’s voice is gone. It is obvious the demons are targeting the humans to get their souls back. I’ll ask again, why now? Why not four months ago when we started canceling their contracts?”

“Maybe it takes a special kind of demon to harvest souls,” I said.

“Like Reapers?” Remy asked then glanced at Bran. “What do you think, Bran?”

“Reapers don’t hurt humans or exact retribution,” Bran said. “They are Neutrals. The Tribe is made up of something else, and they were summoned to do one thing—stop me from getting my freedom.”

“Why would you think that?” I asked, not liking the certainty in his voice.

“Because I know who is behind the summoning.”

We converge on him, every said asking, “Who?”

“Gavyn,” Bran said.

There was silence, then everyone started talking at once.

“Your brother?

“How do you know?”

“Why would he do this?”

Bran pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “He’s the only person who’d go to extreme lengths to stop me from canceling my contracts. He wants me to take my rightful place as the leader of the demons because I won the battle on Jarvis Island. He asked me about it during Darius’ party at the Brotherhood’s compound.”

“What did you tell him?” Remy asked.

“What do you think?” Bran snapped. “I wasn’t interested and I’m still not. He didn’t stop asking and pushing. The last time I saw him, we had a fight about it and he stormed off.”

That was the Gavyn I knew, throwing tantrums when he didn’t get his way. Every time I thought there was hope for him, he pulled some crap that made me hate him.

“I know how my brother thinks,” Bran continued. “Waiting until my freedom is within my grasp then pulling a fast one is straight out of our mother’s book.” He paused, his gaze locked with mine a moment longer before moving to the others. I knew everything about his past—or, at least, I had known it. “Our mother did exactly the same thing when our father tried to sneak us out of Coronis Island. She knew for months what he’d planned, but waited until the night we attempted an escape. We were in a cave on the way to collect the Kris Dagger when she and her Lazari warriors surrounded us.” He chuckled, though there was no humor on his face. “It’s actually a brilliant strategy if you want to punish someone.”

“Evil and mean-spirited,” I said dismissively. “Gavyn is—”

“My brother,” Bran said and gave me a sad smile. “He’s not thinking straight.”

Oh, he was. Gavyn only ever thought about one person—Gavyn. He was conniving and power-hungry. To think I’d offered to heal him when a demon drained his powers. That was one memory I would have loved to forget.

“Why didn’t you tell us earlier?” Kim asked. “You know, after we visited the fourth or the tenth Damned Human?”

Bran shrugged. “I wasn’t sure. And part of me didn’t want to believe it.”

“Doesn’t what you want count for anything in his stupid plan?” I asked.

Don’t worry, his plan won’t work
, Bran reassured me. “Gavyn doesn’t know that my psi energy is purified despite the Runners’ refusal to cancel. We should do something to help the humans. The Tribe got a head start on this, but we must catch up and stop them. Remember, we only canceled my contracts.”

There was silence, but we were all thinking the same thing—this might be bigger than we’d thought. When Bran won the battle on Jarvis Island, he’d gotten hundreds of thousands of contracts. While we’d focused on canceling his, the other junior and mid-level Cardinal Guardians from the other sectors around the globe had gotten the bulk of the other contracts. If the Tribe was punishing humans for canceling contracts and getting their souls back, their reach might extend beyond our sector.

“Sorry, dude, but your brother is a douchebag,” Sykes said.

“Please, don’t insult douchebags,” Kim said. “Now what?”

“We tell Darius to kick Gavyn out of the Brotherhood compound,” Izzy snarled. “He doesn’t deserve their hospitality if he’s back to his evil ways.”

Bran shook his head. “Gavyn left the Brotherhood the day after the party four months ago, but I know where he stays and works. I’m going to find him and have a long talk.”

“We are all going,” Remy corrected him. “He’s going to tell us how to send the Tribe back to Tartarus or whatever hole they crawled from.”

Bran actually smiled. “He runs a private club at Ritz-Carlton, L.A. Live. Demons only. He also lives there. Follow me.”

The room we appeared in was done in white and black, and had floor to ceiling windows with an amazing view of the city, the mountains, and the ocean in the background. Gavyn wasn’t home, but it was obvious why he had left the Brotherhood, with their homey stucco houses, for his old life. He was living in a lap of luxury, the latest electronic gadgets beside clairvoyant crystals projecting holographic motion images of him, his sister Celeste, and Bran.

“How very domesticated,” Kim said with a sneer.

I wanted to rip the place apart.

“The restaurant is several floors below us.” Bran said and glanced at his watch. “He’s probably there.”

“Just a second. My powers are peaking and I need release.” I pulled out a knife from the sheath inside my boot, walked to the couch and stabbed the edge of the cushion. Slowly, I moved across the white upholstery, from one end to the other, the fiber filling spilling out. I did the same with the back and the arms.

The surprised expressions on the others’ faces when I looked up didn’t bother me. I grinned. “I’m starting to feel better already. Remy, could you change the white walls into green mixed with gray and whatever ugly color you can think of? Too much white makes my headache worse.”

Without batting an eyelid, Remy pressed his hand on the nearest wall and murky green color spread from the point of contact. It spread over the walls.

“Hmm, I’ve an idea,” Sykes said as energy balls appeared above his hands. He dribbled them on the white carpet as one would a basketball, leaving behind blotches of scorched surfaces. Smooth moves. He leaned back and smirked. “How’s that headache, Lil?”

“Getting better by the second.” I cocked my brow at Kim and Izzy.

Laughing, they joined in. Bran chuckled, but he didn’t try to stop us. Izzy helped me remove the down inside the pillows and cushioned stools, while Kim blew them around, along with other knick knacks off the tables and shelves.

Gavyn’s place had three bedrooms, and from the décor and the displayed images, one was supposed to be Celeste’s and the other Bran’s. While Sykes continued to bounce his energy balls from room to room, Remy changed the shapes of anything he could touch, including electronics, which Gavyn appeared to collect. Bran gave up trying to stay uninvolved and turned on water in every bathroom and kitchen, flooding the floors and carpets.

Trashing the place was childish and we knew Gavyn would get the place fixed in seconds, but it felt good. We were all laughing by the time we finished.

The hallways were quiet when we left, no humans or demons, but the demonic energy hung in the air and our amulets warmed. They lit up when we teleported to several floors below us.

‘Hermonite Lodge,’ written in white, looked stark against the dark-gray wall. Underneath them were the words ‘Private Club and Restaurant’. There was a set of double doors to our right. Bran placed his palm against the door and pushed. It didn’t budge.

“Allow me.” Grinning, Remy pressed his hand against the door. The door shimmered and flowed, as though it was alive, until it became a doorway.

Let me do the talking
, guys, Bran telepathed us.
But stay vigilant. If anyone attacks, take them down
.

The others grinned. They were eager to take down demons as payback for the attack on the island. I was more cautious because once again my powers were off and I had the hated headache messing with my head. I dragged my feet as we followed Bran into the club. Remy took the rear and transformed the doorway.

We were in some kind of an entryway with chest-high walls to our left and right. Behind the walls was a sunken floor packed with customers dressed in expensive suits and dresses, their perfect hair nicely groomed. The club looked like any exclusive club for the rich and wealthy—heavy curtains and paneled ceiling, comfortable leather seats and subtle lighting. A wrap-around bar dominated the center of the room, and further on, there was a lounge area facing glass windows and the patio. But the similarity to a human club ended there.

Menus hovered above the table from clairvoyant stones. Drinks floated from the bar to patrons’ hands in an orderly fashion without spilling, but the aroma of food, leather, and wood mingled with demonic scents. And even though the diners used forks and knives like any civilized being, their diet made me want to gag.

Werenephils, who loved their food raw, sliced and chewed on bloody meat. The ones who preferred bugs scooped them by the spoonful or forkful. To our right, two Nosferatus buried their fangs into the necks of two scantily-dressed humans, who didn’t appear to mind. They lifted their heads, dabbed their lips, and went back to sipping wine while their lunch supply got up and disappeared behind a curtained door only to be replaced by two more. Probably dessert.

A demon dressed all in black blocked our path before we entered the main floor of the restaurant. An upper-level demon, going by his psi energy. Behind him stood two security guards, who looked like they could bench-press the Rock of Gibraltar. Their energies weren’t noteworthy.

“Your kind are not allowed in here,” the head honcho demon said.

“And you are?” Bran asked rudely.