Celestial Bound

Prologue

The figure cloaked in black velvet approached his throne. It was made of obsidian, carved with markings and commanding attention to this room.

The hem of the figure's cloak swept and disturbed the dust under his feet. The familiar whooshing sound is the only sound accompanying his clacking footsteps. A wolf as dark as the night padded along silently at the silhouette's side. Dark and menacing, the wolf pleased the man.

“Master, there is word on a... special one. She’s a Celestial and a Fae,” his wolf spoke in the figure’s head. The man spun around in anger. “What? How can there be a Celestial still alive? I’m the only one.” His voice echoed off the spacious area of his lair. Lair. Like something out of a child’s fantasy book. How quaint. The wolf skipped a stride ever so slightly. The wolf could sense the anger that radiated off his master.

The form remembered something. Something that obliterated his earlier outburst. “Azurizs, it’s time. Finally, a Celestial. Even if she’s only a half. I wasn’t planning on this before, but this will be perfect,” the figure’s step was a little lighter and he was bouncing off the balls of his feet. He laughed in exultation. Finally reaching the throne, he sat upon it and looked out upon his empty court room. His fingers tapped idly on the arm rests. Black obsidian made up most of his room. Torches lit with green fire lined the floor. On one side of the wall were carvings of the ancient dead language of the Hunters. Across the wall, on the other side were carvings depicting horrible creatures rising from the depths of the earth. Creatures with pincers, grotesque heads, crawling bodies. Dæmons and monsters. This particular side of the room was the his favorite. The man watched with impassive interest.

And anyone looking at this menacing figure on his throne with his midnight wolf at his side would tremble with fear. For this king was the one who was power hungry and thirsty for blood. Hungry for revenge and drenched in the blood of a thousand worlds. This king kept his face hidden from the torchlights by a hood and concealed beneath his swaths of fabric was a sun pendant necklace. Shining even in the dark, it was a reminder of the figure’s true self.

Azurizs made a deep obeisance in front of his master. The wolf bent his front legs and touched his nose to the cold floor. “Noire?” Azurizs asked quietly. Noire ignored Azurizs and breathed in the sense of victory that was blooming in his chest. He took out his knife from his cloak. The black obsidian blade glittered in the green light and the golden hilt fitted perfectly in Noire’s gnarled fingers. “What is this Celestial and Angel hybrid’s name?” he asked.

“Cara Fath,” Azurizs replied. “She is a 15 year old girl. Brunette, 5’5”. She has a pale white moon mark on her neck.” Noire rubbed the spot on his neck where a sun mark stood out white on his skin. “How is she 15 year old? Who has shielded her from us?”

“Probably her mother. Diana Fath,” the name was whispered cautiously out of Azurizs. Noire stormed towards his wolf in anger. The green flames flickered, reflecting Noire’s sizzling anger. “Don’t you dare utter that name in my presence. I will take her daughter if it’s the last thing I do. Then the Circle will pay for what they did to me.” Azurizs shrank down to the ground in fear. His ears were pinned down flat on his head, and his tail was tucked under his legs.

“This is war. We need the dagger. Cara belongs to me now, she is the key to all our problems. We need to drain her,” Noire paced in front of his throne. “The only other Celestial than me in the world. Powerful, no idea who or what she is,” he mused. He pet Azurizs’s soft head, smoothing down his ears and fur. His wolf was nervous, wondering if this was a cover up for his master’s rage. But Noire didn’t seem angry. “We start now,” Noire commanded.

Part I

Hidden In The Shadows

“Life itself is but the shadow of death, and souls departed but the shadows of the living.”

-Thomas Browne

1

“Homework is a pain,” Lillian was saying.

I barely heard her, even though she was right at my side. She was struggling to keep up with my quickened pace. A thought itched at the back of my mind. A consistent itching that I couldn’t cease. I couldn’t quite put a finger on it. A blonde boy with two-tone eyes. One ocean blue, and the other was an icey blue. They boy was wearing all black leather, with two strange looking swords strapped to his back.

“Hello?” Lillian waved her hand in front of my face, “Earth to Cara Fath? Hi, my name is Lillian Keynes and I’m standing right next to you.” Those last couple words were uttered with slight sarcasm. “Huh?” I asked, dumbfounded. Her words broke my reverie. I halted to a stop. Lillian overpaced me but stopped and backpedaled to my side. The string of random thoughts disappeared almost as quickly as they had come. “Sorry, I was just thinking about my job at the cafe,” I lied.

“Do you even like this job?” Lillian asked.

“Not really, but it pays.”

“A painter is a hard job you know,” Lillian continued.

“I know,” I said, “but it’s a dream. Drawing, sketching. Maybe photography.” My voice trailed off. I kept walking through the sidewalks of New York. There was an innumerable amount of cars and people. I had to shout to get the message across to Lillian. “And good thing it’s already July. The only homework we have is summer reading and math,” I added. “Still,” Lillian protested. I laughed at her expression, which was a mix of annoyance and anger. She chortled along with me when I laughed. Lillian was still ranting on the unfairness of the summer homework when I interrupted her.

“Ah crap,” I checked the time, “I have to be home soon.” Lillian looked a bit disappointed. “Sure, Tuesday at the cafe at noon?” she asked.

“You know it,” I waved goodbye and ran towards my apartment. It was only a couple blocks away. I needed to get home soon because my parents would be home soon. Everett, my father, worked as a film director. Diana, my mother, did some volunteering work at the children’s center.

I finally reached the apartment. Getting through the door and getting into the elevator, I tried to grasp that thought I had earlier. With a couple of feeble attempts, I quickly gave up. The thought would come back sooner or later. But why would I be thinking about a boy I had never seen in my life? What was so important about him?

I stared at my reflection in the smoothly polished wall of the elevator. My expression was surprisingly neutral, considering that I was tortured by the thoughts of someone I have never met. The elevator doors slid open with a ding. I reached my door and shoved the key into the lock. Once inside, I sighed and plopped my bag on the couch. The room was familiar, with the plush brown couches, the white curtains covering the majority of sunlight rays, and how neat everything was.

I was about to open the door to my room when something shiny whipped through the air and pinned my hand to the wall. I saw the knife before I felt the excruciating pain. The hilt protruded out of my palm and a steady stream of red pulsed out of my hand. I didn’t have time to scream because a syringe was being plunged into my neck. Five hooded figures appeared out of nowhere. They were a bit taller than I was, and one yanked the knife out of the wall and my hand. I collapsed on the floor, clutching my bleeding hand. Two pulled me roughly by my hair, but I resisted and fell back. I felt the edge of something hard hit the back of my head. Vision blurring, pain piercing my skull, I fell next to the floor. One of the figure’s hood had fallen off in my earlier struggle. The person was a boy, no older than I was. His eyes were glowing red, and I was thinking about how weird that was when someone burst through the apartment door.

It was the boy from my vision. An exact replica, except this one right in front of me had a kill-crazy look in his eyes. His swords were like a whirlwind of light and metal around the figure. His swords looked like they were made entirely of glass, and they were lit with a strange icey blue light. His movements were fluid and languid. The boy cut down the figures like wheat in a field. One nearly ran full bore at him, jumped on his back, and stabbed a small knife in between the boy's ribs. He roared in anger and pain as he flung his attacker on the ground and ended her with a quick slash of his swords. Another held him in an armlock, and the boy strained to get out of his assailant’s grasp. I saw the boy dislocate his shoulder, and the pop was stomach-churning. His attacker had no chance against the boy after that.

The carnage was a truly horrifying sight. Bodies were strewn on the floor, and red stained the wood. Once his rampage was over, the boy stalked towards me. He was wiping the blood off the blades of his swords on his black leather jacket sleeve. The boy sheathed his swords and raked his fingers through his long, blonde hair.

"Vision Boy," was all I could utter before a wave of darkness washed over me.

"This is a really bad idea, even worse than most of your ideas, Gwyn."

"She's worth it. Have you seen her eyes? The power that radiates off her? She's definitely one of us."

"Fine. But it's on you, not us. Don't say I didn't warn you before."

The voice ceased. I felt a slow rocking sensation, like someone was carrying me. My legs hung over and arm, and my head was hanging heavy over another. My arm hung helplessly in the open air.

I felt someone lowering me onto a soft surface. I waited until the footsteps quieted down before I attempted to open my eyes. It was like trying to peel a frozen orange. When I did, the first thing I noticed was the wide expanse of white above me. A ceiling. I was lying on a plush bed. Clean white sheets were under me, squeezing the mattress to death. A clean, soapy smell lingered in the air. With a touch of lemon too. Three sleeping bags were nearly lined on the floor. On the other side was a TV and a couch set next to a small kitchen. I was in a hotel room.

A noise made me jump. My eyes focused on a lone figure sitting on a desk adjacent to me. His back was turned away from me, and he seemed to be working on something. He held the object in the light and frowned. The boy was examining a sharp throwing disk made of metal with a serrated circumference. It glinted wickedly in the light.

"You feeling better?" I heard him ask. His voice was smooth with a slight British accent. I wasn't sure how to reply to this, so I stayed silent. The boy sighed and turned around to face me.

I immediately recognized him. His blonde hair, and his eyes. One was dark blue, and the other one was light. They seemed to glow in the dim light, and they mesmerized me. They were like a cat's full of cunning and sly ability. It was like he was examining me, sizing me up from head to toe. His gaze unnerved me, but his smile was tilted in a cocky way. He was dressed in a black tanktop, and a leather jacket concealed his arms. He was wearing leather pants and had those strange two swords strapped to his back. A white bandage was wrapped around his midsection, and red was already blooming on the bandage. When he stood up, he evinced no sign of pain from his injury.

"Vision Boy," I whispered.

He gave me a quizzical look. "Is that the name you've given me? I would think I would be something like Sword Master. Or Damsel Saver. But I am a vision of I must say so myself."

"I'd prefer if you didn't have to," I said, "and I'm not a damsel."

"Why do you call me that anyway?" he asked.

I sat up on the bed, "this is going to sound crazy, but hear me out. Earlier today, I had a sort of...um...vision. Of you actually." The boy's eyebrows shot yo. "Well that's interesting," he mused.

"But I've never seen you before in my life," I blurted.

“Well, I guess we’ll have to worry about that later,” the boy stood up and held out a hand, “name’s Gwyn Hawking.” I hesitated at his outstretched hand, but took it anyway. “My name is Cara Fath.”

“Oh I know,” was all he said back.

It was completely silent. Gwyn and I had waited for a couple minutes before a group of teenagers came into the hotel room. Gwyn had moved the furniture so the couches made a sort of rough circle. Then he seated the others in the living room. No one had uttered a single word in the whole five minutes we had sat there. Most were eyeing me with obvious distaste.

In return, I scanned their faces and their appearance. Seeing who I was meeting and what they were probably going to say and act like. They were all about my age, except for one girl who looked like she was just 13 years old which surprised me. What was a middle schooler doing with all these hormone storage units? The people were all wearing black leather from head to toe. They looked like weird goth kids without the eyeliner. All of them looked like bikers, except with a lot more knives. I eyed them suspiciously, wondering what I was getting myself into. I was considering getting up and making a run for it when Gwyn cleared his throat. I went back to staring at the figures around me.

One boy had hair as black as a raven’s wing. His eyes were blue and green and he wore a leather vest that boasted his bulging biceps. His arms would have impressed any girl that set eyes on him, but he wasn’t really my type. Too much muscle and robustness. Even his stature was annoying and aggravating, it immediately made me hate him. The way he was leaning his head against the wall behind him with his eyes relaxed eyes blinking slowly, falling asleep. He was twirling a long-bladed knife in his fingers like he did this every time. The knife seemed to float and ride along his fingertips.

Next to him, a girl with long blonde hair pulled back in a tight ponytail sat. She was exceptionally pretty and her glossed lips made her even prettier. Her eyes were purple and green colored. However, she had an assortment of knives strapped to her black leather leggings which toned down her cuteness factor. I saw her eyes look at me, following my movements, but her eyes dropped down to the ground a moment later.

The 13 year old girl the only one who stared at me back. She was the smallest member and her curly brown hair fell around her shoulders. Her blue and brown eyes glittered. She had a small sword strapped to her back that looked way too heavy for her small and fragile frame. But she held herself in a way that I knew she was stronger than she looked

Gwyn started introducing everyone. He cleared his throat, and everyone looked up in surprise. Lae could feel everyone’s eyes on her, judging her and her posture. “Guys, this is Lae Fath. This,” he gestured to the guy in the vest, “is Rome Kasten.” Rome waved his knife as a greeting. Gwyn continued introducing everyone. The blonde one was Meg Kasten who gave me a slight smile. She must be Rome’s sister. The 13 year old was Celine McGrail.

“Let’s get to the point,” Gwyn leaned forward on his elbows, “do you believe in monsters?”

I was taken aback by his question. What was he talking about? “Like the leviathan, bigfoot, that sort of thing? They’re just legends, but their good stories.”

Gwyn shook his head. “No. Not monsters like that. Real monsters and Dæmons. Vile and evil creatures. Ones that come from another dimension.” Megan shook her head vigorously. “Gwyn,” she warned. Gwyn shrugged, “what? She deserves to believe. And she knows too much already.”

“Don’t make it worse,” Rome cut in, “she’s not one of us. Cara’s not our kind.”

“Our kind?” I asked. Maybe this was some sort of club or a crazy gang.

“We hunt Dæmons,” Gwyn said, “other beings in other dimensions, those who do not belong with us-”

“Enough, stop it,” Megan interrupted again.

“Yeah,” Celine said, “we don’t need to hear your ranting Gwyn. We already covered all that stuff about Dæmons in class.”

These people are crazy, I thought. Gwyn reached into his pocket when I finally decided I’ve had enough. I grabbed my phone out of my pocket and held it out to the people in a threat. “Hold on. I’m going to call the police. So you can stop your talk about Dæmons and monsters. You are inexplicable and you people are crazy,” I remonstrated. I stood up and backed away from the circle.

“Damn it,” Rome muttered. Gwyn mimicked my movements and stood up slowly. "Cara please," he begged, giving me a beseeching look. "No! Stay back," I slowly walked to the door. Gwyn froze, and everyone looked at me with an impassive interest. Rome was as taut as a coiled spring. Finally, I whipped around and ran out the door. I heard Gwyn calling after me, but I just ran faster.

I was running in a blind panic, but when I was far away, I forced myself to calm down. I found the service stairwell and escaped through the lobby doors. I burst into the busy sidewalks of New York. I did my best taxicab whistle, and one screeched to a stop at the curb.

Once inside, I have the driver the address to Cafe Lalo. Then he pulled out. In the back of the taxi, I had plenty of time to think. The back of my head still throbbed, giving me a mild migraine. A painful reminder of the fight in my apartment. Should I tell the police? They would probably think I was crazy, spouting facts about about teenage killers, Dæmons and monsters, and strange weapons. As the ride dragged on, I was starting to think I had just imagined it all.

Still, I really didn't want to go back to my apartment. So the cafe seemed like my best option right now. The sights of New York slid by like a slideshow. Tall buildings, ridiculously expensive hotels and restaurants, cars, horses, and of course, people. Lots of them.

A figure standing among the crowd caught my eye. He was like a stationary rock in a current. The person was dressed entirely in black, with a cowl pulled over it's face. Then the figure turned around for a second, and I could swear it was Gwyn. I saw the flash of his weapons under the folds of his clothing.

Then a car passed, momentarily blocking his figure, but when it went by, the spot where Gwyn was standing was empty. I shook my head, thinking I'd just imagined the whole thing. But the memory of him still burned as bright as day in my memories.

"Here alright?" the driver asked. I stopped trying to rack my brain of the image of Gwyn. "Yeah. Just drop me off here." I dug out my last couple bills from my pocket and gave it to the driver. He mumbled a couple words of gratitude as I got out of the taxi.

I stepped out onto the sidewalk. Cafe Lalo stood like a comforting talism in front of me. But a cafe seemed to normal and toned down for the day I’ve had. I skipped the cafe and walked aimlessly through the sidewalks. With no destination, and no proper route. I kept going and after a while, I looked up. My feet had led me into an alley. Old boxes and old junk lined the walls. It smelled like moldy food and all things nasty. It was kind of dark and gloomy, so I tried to contain my fear as I jogged towards the end.

Suddenly, I heard a growling behind me. I stopped, then turned around slowly to face whatever stalked in the alley with me. I came face-to-face with a dinosaur. Beady black eyes, and teeth as sharp as kitchen knives. It had two, long, spindly legs and long claws raked the ground it stood upon. And on it’s back, two limbs ended in a point. It was skinny, like it was dehydrated and drained of blood. The creature was as white as chalk and about seven feet tall.

I didn’t even have time to be surprised because the creature lunged at me. All I saw were a flash of claws, white, and teeth. The monster was on top of me, digging it’s claws into my shoulders. It’s jaws snapped above me, it’s slimy maw just inches from my face. I wriggled like crazy, trying to get out of the monster’s grasp. But it’s claws dug deeper into my skin, and the pain became too excruciating for me to handle. I heard a sickening squishing sound, then the monster exploded into dust. It rained on top of me, blocking my vision and my lungs. I wiped the dust from my eyes and saw Gwyn standing over me, with his sword covered with blood.

My heart was still hammering hard against my ribs. Gwyn took me in an embrace, whispering soothing words in my ear. Instead of pushing Gwyn away, I welcomed him. He pulled me away from the dust pile. I couldn’t look at the spot where the monster had been. With Gwyn steadying me, we staggered away from the damage.

“I look like crap,” I said. I was standing in front of a mirror, trying to comb out the tangles in my ratty brown hair. My skin was as white as a sheet, and I looked like hell. Hollowed out cheeks, and black circles under my eyes. My brown hair was completely askew around my head. My gold and silver eyes were the only beautiful aspects of my reflection. They glowed bright in the dim light. I never wondered why I had those different colored eyes. I was born with them. But every time I would go out, people would give me a weird stare, like I was wearing colored contacts or something. My plaid shirt was ripped to shreds by that thing’s claws. My jeans were completely soaked by the puddles in the alley. I still had a thin layer of dust on my clothes and hair.

A set of rhythmic knocks sounded on the bathroom door. “I got new clothes for you,” Gwyn called, “they’re from Megan.” I opened the door a crack, and a bundle of clothes were shoved through the opening. After closing the door, I stripped down completely and stepped into the shower. I let the hot water run down me. Washing away all my troubles and crap from today. The injuries on my shoulders still hurt really badly. I got out of the shower as quickly as possible, dried off, then put the borrowed clothes back on. Of course, everything was black. The tank top was way too low, making me feel exposed. The leather jacket made it a bit better, covering my bare arms and chest. Tight leather pants and high-heeled boots finished the look.

I came out of the bathroom complaining about my new clothes and carrying my old in my arms. Classical music was playing. Gwyn came out of nowhere and snatched the clothes from me. "Oh, just be quiet. Megan will get upset if you complain about her clothes." Gwyn threw my clothes on the ground in a dismissive way. I sat in the living room, playing with the zippers on my newly acquired leather jacket.

"Coffee or tea?" Gwyn called from the kitchen.

“Coffee will be great,” I answered. He started the coffee machine, and sighed with contentment. Gwyn plopped down on the couch next to me. I went straight to the point. “What was that thing that attacked me today?”

“A Dæmon called a Voquev. Those species have a little bit of dinosaur dna in them. Their claws have poison coating them. I need to see your injuries.” I leaned forward and took of my jacket a little to expose my shoulders. The red cuts contrasted against my pale skin. It was painful to move my shoulders too much, and there was a bright green liquid pumping out of the cuts. Gwyn touched his cold finger to my injuries. I flinched away from his touch, but I eventually let him examine the cuts.

Gwyn worked quickly and sparingly. He rubbed some ointment on my cuts which stung a little. Then he cleaned off the blood and the poison off, and put a bandage with a leaf plastered to it on my cuts. “It’ll draw the poison out of your veins. Keep it on there for an hour or two,” he instructed.

Suddenly, the door of the hotel room flung open. Megan, Roman, and Celine all came bursting through, looking flustered. Gwyn immediately stood up, tipping over the coffee table as he did. “Guys what’s wrong?” he asked. Roman slammed the door behind them. “Noire. He’s back.” I saw something register in Gwyn’s eyes. He was across the room in a flash and slammed Roman against the wall. His shirt was grabbed in Gwyn’s hands, and Gwyn’s face was so close to Roman’s. “That’s impossible,” he yelled, “Noire’s dead. There’s no way he’s alive. Who did you hear this from?”

Roman didn’t fight back or resist from Gwyn’s grasp. “The Forsaken,” he answered. Gwyn sighed and released Roman. Gwyn collapsed on the couch and heaved a worried sigh. His breath was shaky, and his skin had gone pale. All color seemed to drain from his golden hair and his two-tone eyes, making them gray and lifeless.

“Where did you talk to the Forsaken?” Gwyn asked.

“At a club. One for us,” Roman answered.

“The Forsaken are dangerous. Why were you at the club anyway?”

“First to investigate a lead we were having. Then we started talking. Gossiping. Listening.”

“We need to go to another party where the Forsaken are. See if we can get some more intel on Noire,” Megan intervened. “We are not going topside. We have to focus. Noire might be in town, and we are partying?” Gwyn said.

“This might be a good idea,” Megan suggested, “we need to live a little. And we need intel. This is how we’re going to get it.” Gwyn sighed and shook his head. “Fine. When?”

“Tonight. There’s another party with Forsaken. Just got the message on it,” Roman said. He was glancing down at his phone. I wondered how he got the message. Some supernatural twitter or facebook maybe? “Get dressed. We’re going clubbing,” Gwyn commanded.

Once is was dark, all of us went to do our own thing. Gwyn and Leo went out and came back an hour later carrying suit bags. I really doubted they bought those suits. Stolen probably. I changed behind the counter and came out. Megan was standing there with her hands on her hips.

Megan’s outfit was incredible. A bright red skater dress, with her blonde hair in supermodel waves framing her face. Five inch red pumps were on her feet. She had an overly done smokey eye with a hint of pink glitter. A leather biker jacket was hooked over her arm. A look of disbelief crossed her face when she saw me. “What?” I asked. Her mouth was gaping, and she was completely silent. “So,” I interrupted the silence, “you planning on catching flies with your mouth?”

“You are going out in that?” Megan said, incredulous. I glanced down at my casual clothes. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Seriously. A white T-Shirt with a corduroy jacket? The pants I gave you and Converse shoes?” Her voice was starting to screech a little. Megan ushered me into the bathroom and shut the door behind us. Ignoring my protests, Megan started redoing my outfit. However, her changes to my clothes and hair were inexorable. Merely thirty minutes after, I was in a navy blue skin-tight dress. Again, it made me feel too exposed. My brown hair was in a messy bun, and dark blue glitter coated my eyes, accentuating my gold and silver eyes. My lips were a soft pink color but the makeup session was far from over.

“Do you know how to put mascara on yourself?” Megan asked.

“No, not really,” I replied sheepishly. Megan sighed and carefully ran the mascara wand over my eyelashes. My reflection in the bathroom mirror started getting more and more ridiculous and beautiful at the same time. Sky-high pumps went on my feet. Their colors shimmered like a kaleidoscope in the light. Megan dyed a piece of my hair a bright blue color. I tried to pull down the hem of the dress with no luck. “This dress is too short. I look like a stripper.”

“Careful,” Megan teased, “I’m letting you borrow my clothes. And that dress is too small for me anyway. You’re shorter than me, so I’m giving you these clothes and shoes.”

“Wonderful,” I muttered under my breath. When we got out of the bathroom, everyone else was waiting for us. Since Celine was too young, she was staying in the hotel room, keeping tabs on us at the club. The boys were wearing suits. Both of them were loading up on weapons. Knives and sharp objects were concealed under the clothing. My eyes immediately went to Gwyn. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone and his hands were a blur. It was obvious he had done this many times in the past.

I noticed that on Megan’s arm was a silver snake bracelet. The snake was wound around her wrist and forearm. I saw it slither. Wait. Slither? As I watched in amazement, the snake slithered up Megan’s arm and coiled around her neck, making a sort of necklace. It’s silver body glittered on her collarbone. The snake laid it’s head on her collarbone. I couldn’t bring herself to ask about it. Megan caught my eye and gave me a sly smile. “It’s a weapon. Turns into a baton when needed. Easily concealed as a piece of jewelry,” Megan explained. She touched the snake’s body carefully with the tip of her fingers. She did it with such care that I couldn’t believe she could possess that sort of tentativeness.

“Let’s head out,” Roman said. We got to the lobby and clambered through. The people at the desk and a few late-night people gave us suspicious looks, like we were some stupid teenagers going to a club for a good time. They weren’t wrong about some parts, though. We were teenagers and we were going to a club, but we weren’t going for a good time. Everyone seemed pretty tied up in knots to look like they were planning a night of partying. Gwyn called over a taxi and we all crowded in the backseat. It honestly wasn’t comfortable being squished between the door and Gwyn. But I could easily talk to him this way.

“Who’s Noire?” I whispered so that the driver in front wouldn’t think his customers were crazy. I saw his jaw clench and his hands curled around his knees. “Noire La Vexx. He’s the most feared of all kind. He fell in love with a woman and she bore him a child. His wife ran away when she found out who he was. His wife was a Fae, in other words, one of us. Noire was a Supernatural. Or is I guess. He’s looking for revenge on The Circle who forced him to go into hiding. He blames them for his lover’s death.” Gwyn’s voice immediately lowered. “Noire is the most feared Supernatural of them all. If he’s alive,” he paused, “it could mean the end for all of us.” Gwyn was reduced to staring straight ahead.

I stared at him. He had a sharp jawline, and his eyes looked gray. His lips were pulled in a tight line and he was twisting a ring on his right ring finger. It had a pale blue jewel encrusted in its metal form. I could see the glints of their weapons tied to their bare skin when they moved. Ready for a battle and the Forsaken.