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My Demon protector.
But then I also couldn’t help but think back to what else she had done after stabbing me with that needle. Because taking me hadn’t been the only thing she had been prepared for, as I remembered her now opening a window and using the sheets as a makeshift rope. At first, I had thought she had needed this to try and get me out of it. But then it hit me that it had nothing to do with her escaping. But everything to do with making it look like mine.
“Fuck,” I hissed, remembering the last thing Ryker had told me. Admitting to me what he was. And now, well he would open that door and think only one thing again.
He would think that I had done another runner.
That I had run from him.
Which was when I ran to the door and hammered my fist against it, now screaming for Ryker. Screaming for him to come and save me, despite knowing in my heart how little good it would do me. Because now only one question remained. What would he do this time?
Would he hunt me down like always?
Or would he…
Finally let me go?
19
A TIME FOR LOVE AND A TIME TO KILL
RYKER
“This doesn’t make sense,” Van stated, mirroring where my own mind was at.
“My thoughts exactly,” I agreed as I looked at all the mercenaries now on the floor and begging for their lives. Of course, they had been easy to subdue, despite none of my men, me included, having the ability to control their minds. Just like it had been at the train station. But whoever was pulling the strings of these puppets surely would know that even without this ability, they would have been no match for the power of my men. And as for the mercenaries themselves, it was quite fucking obvious that they had no clue just what they were walking into.
“Something isn’t right here, why go to the trouble of casting a spell over these men and using them like pawns… for what gain?” Van asked again, only this time, my mind was trying to calculate all the possible reasons this happened.
“I don’t know but it was almost like it was… a fucking decoy!” I snarled the moment one of my men pulled back on the sleeve of one of the dead soldiers, and I saw the symbol for the Lega Nera tattooed on his arm. It was known as a Daemonis Caduceus, which was Latin for A Demon’s Herald Wand. A different version of the staff that was typically carried by Hermes, the Olympian deity known in ancient Greek religion and considered the herald of the Gods.
Of course, a Herald was essentially a messenger for a higher power, being either a King or the Gods themselves. Hermes was known as not only being one himself but also for being the protector over other Herald’s as well. And not so unlike the Scepter of Dagobert, or should I say, the Scepter of Psychopompós and one I had been searching for, it had the same abilities.
Because Hermes also was known as a psychopomp or in our world, the more adeptly named, ‘soul guide’, who fundamentally is a conductor of souls, leading them into their Afterlife.
But as for this tattoo, it wasn’t the typical symbol of Caduceus, being a short staff that was entwined by two serpents, surmounted by angelic wings. No, this Demonic version was a sword, with hissing snakes baring their fangs at one another at the top of the sword’s hilt and with leathery, claw-tipped wings either side. It symbolized secrecy in all dealings when it came to the Lega Nera, with its messengers bound by their soul to take such a vow.
I quickly looked back at the house and snapped,
“They wanted the fucking scepter piece!”
“Well lucky for us, you had it taken to your vault.” I released a deep breath knowing this was true, and that no fucker but myself could get into that… not without my blood.
“Have them all questioned, casting or not, they will not withstand one of your interrogations.” Van grinned and the ones that were closer enough to overhear started visibly shaking, with one going so far as to actually piss himself.
“Start with that one,” I growled, making Van swear,
“Fuck but I hate the smelly ones.”
I scoffed at that and started to make my way back to the house, just as Van was ordering his men to have them taken back to the bunker. One used solely as a prison and usually reserved only for my own kind. After all, every Enforcer needed one, as keeping the peace in our sectors was the main part of the job. One right now, that made me grit my teeth as I had far more important matters to be attending to.
Like my Siren.
Ever since I left her, I questioned why the fuck I had chosen that moment to tell her what I was. Of course, part of me knew, and it was something I didn’t think I possessed.
It was cowardice.
I hadn’t wanted to bear witness to her reaction to it, but instead hoped that time would have aided me. That it would have awarded me with a calmer situation to follow such a conversation. Because, in truth, I didn’t know how I would have handled her rejection. How I would have handled the tears and the fear such an admission would warrant in a human?
