Chapter 1
Three…two…one!
Bells tolled midnight, their dissonance ringing in the New Year as snowflakes floated down. Distant cheers resonated from central New York, miles away to where Nik roamed a dank alley in the Fish Market area.
For the denizens of this world, it represented a time for renewed resolutions, expectation, and optimism, a shining future to look forward to.
Him? Same shit, different year.
Sulfur. Hunt. Kill.
But with most of the festive mortals congregating in Time Square, demoniis were a no-show in the alleyways. The soul suckers were probably hibernating for the night, given the lack of prey in these passageways.
Uninterested in hanging around and listening to the humans’ merriment, Nik headed deeper into the slushy alley. But having to fit in with humans togged to their eyeballs, he retrieved his skullcap from his coat pocket and pulled it over his buzzed hair.
An eerie sensation slid over his already iced-up psyche. Nik slowed. The chilly night air tasted acrid…sulfur. Demons. Perfect.
Nik dematerialized and followed the strain, taking form in the industrial area and near a war zone. Shrieks from humans and demons fighting ricocheted off the brick buildings and blasted his ears. The dark energy residing within him stirred in anticipation. He stood there for a second, watching some of his fellow Guardians wading through the ruckus like bare-knuckled boxers, unable to use their mystical weapons or powers with humans about, to kill the supernatural shits.
Good thing they still had fists, and Nik relished in getting up close and personal.
With preternatural speed, he blurred and dove between two scuffling figures. He sent the human stumbling away with a mind-shove and rammed his fist into the demon’s face.
What’s all this about? he telepathed Týr.
Who the hell knows with these dumb shits? “Fucking hate this time of the year!” the Norse growled out loud. “You think they would simply enjoy the New fuckin’ Year and chill since they chose to live on this realm, but no, the dickheads just have to stir up shit—”
“Fuck you, too,” the Otium demon snarled. “No one gets in on our turf and swings their dicks here.”
“Oh, motherfucka,” Týr taunted, an evil grin spreading. “Bring it on.”
His danger radar buzzing, Nik spun around with an airborne kick, sending the demon hurtling at him face-first into the brick wall.
Gang wars were the bane of the city’s slums, and these Otium idiots always ended up dragging the Guardians into their territorial fracas with the humans. He scanned for Dagan. Where the fuck was he?
Nik telepathed him. Need to clean up this shitfest and do a mind sweep of humans fast before the local authorities wind up here. He ducked a knife flung at him. Or we’re in a fuckload of trouble—
Dagan appeared, moving through the chaos faster than a speeding bullet, his bronze features molded in stone.
The humans instantly detached themselves from the fight and strolled off as if without a care. Yeah, Dag was ace in mass-clearing the memories of idiotic mortals who had no clue as to what they went up against in these battles.
But the demons remained, seeking vengeance.
Grunts and thuds ricocheted in the frigid backstreet as the fight continued. A sinister hiss sounded, Nik pivoted and ducked a hellfire bolt flying past him, inches from demolishing half his skull. Growling, he flashed and grabbed the demon’s arm, twisting the appendage behind the idiot’s back. “Really?”
The scourge’s thin face darkened, lips twisting, eyes streaked red. “As long as you’re dead, I don’t care.”
“You wanna test that theory?” Nik bent the arm harder, and the demon shrieked. “Here’s the thing. Unlike my fellow Guardians, I don’t give a fuck who sees me destroying you. Unfortunately for you. I. Cannot. Die.”
In the gloomy alley, Nik let his corporeal self morph into a gray, misty shape, becoming one with the darkness. One of his weird-ass abilities—to take on a smoky serpentine shape—courtesy of his mātā’s protection spell as an infant. Wispy tentacles slithered around the demon, trapping him.
“Try to leave…” Nik’s voice lowered, indistinct amidst the uproar. “I dare you. And I’ll show you how easily I can sssuck the life out of you fuckersss,” His sibilant tone became eerier in this form, his amorphous hold constricting the demon like a smoky boa.
“No, no…” His teeth clacked. “Let go…”
“Just so you know, dark sssouls are my delicacy,” Nik lied. “Enlighten me as to why you’d bring notice to yourself in thisss realm?”
“It’s over t-territory,” the demon whimpered. “They accuse us of trespassing on their turf.”
“Usss?”
“Hade’s Disciples.”
“With a name like that, can you blame them?” Nik grunted, reforming once more. “Now, the real reason. Lie, and I will snuff out your pathetic life.”
Terror leached the color from the demon’s face. “Their women have gone missing. The Vipers claim we took ‘em.”
Nik pinned the demon with a bored stare, running his tongue piercing against the roof of his mouth. Truth.
He let him go, and the skatá took off like the wind. Nik was aware of homeless kids being abducted, but not females.
Thwack! The dull sound of a gunshot, one muffled with a silencer, echoed.
Seriously? Gun wounds weren’t lethal to Guardians or demon-kind, merely irritants, but to humans, they could be fatal.
A female moaned in pain, distracting him. His gaze snapped toward the cry just as a swish sounded. Nik jerked back, barely avoiding the dagger swinging inches from his carotid. He flung out his hand, releasing an ice spear, nailing the pest in the torso.
The demon stumbled and glanced at the lance sticking out of his chest. Snorting, he grabbed the ice, broke off the end, and laughed. “Is that all you have, Guardian? This useless ability? At least it’s not the Detonator or the one with the Blitz.”
So, the idiot knew of Blaéz, and Aethan. That didn’t surprise him. The former killed with a thought, and the latter leveled everything to ashes in seconds with his power of whitefire.
“I have a casualty—” Týr’s clipped voice drifted from afar. “I’m getting her outta here.”
Nik’s focus remained on the smirking demon. “Then you should have wished it was one of them who got you. Me…” He shrugged, watching the piece of ice sticking out of the demon’s chest burrowed into him like a worm. “I like the time it takes to die.”
After all, he’d died many times, each one slow and agonizing.
The demon’s brow scrunched. A spasm of coughing broke free. Terror twisted his face. He scratched at his throat, struggling for breath. Nik watched impassively as the demon slowly froze into an icy statue, crimson-streaked dark eyes taking on the cloudy hue of death.
Nik walked up close, and with a flick of his finger, the statue shattered. A dark, churning fog slid out of the ice-crushed demon, hovered—shit. Nik hastily leaped out of the way, but the soul slammed straight into him instead of being pulled down into Purgatory.
Fuuuuck, he grunted, lurching back, panting like he’d run the planet a million times over as the rest of the fragmented ice, mixed with gore and plasma, began to dissipate into the ground.