Sin Eaters: Devotion Book One Page 4

  Marco had to laugh because the Hunter was still confused. He loved newbie Hunters who still couldn’t tell if he was Light or Cursed. He watched as the newbie shrugged and returned her attention back to the house. His eyes stayed focused on the Hunter and the house as he stepped closer.

  The intensity of the closeness made her finally speak. “She a potential, waiting for the word to get her.”

  Marco rocked back and forth on his heels, chewing on his cigarillo, his hands calmly sliding in his pockets. “Aw, like you were chica, huh?”

  Within a span of a heartbeat, before she could reply, Marco reached and grabbed the Hunter by her delicate neck and whispered, “Shhhhhhh! Escucha. Play with me.” He felt her struggle while he dragged her from view.

  She tried a swift kick to his head, which he promptly blocked, still gripping her neck. Her sharp grunt and growl revealed her fangs as they glinted in the night with each jerk of her body.

  As she twisted, he held her tighter then turned her to face him. His voice dripped with an icy, malicious drawl. “Let me tell you who I am. I am the grey, and you are no more.”

  Recognition lit her eyes as they flashed red, and she pushed to attack, rasping, “Traitor!”

  Kissing her angry lips, he blew the smoke from his relit trinity into her mouth and watched her choke on it. Her eyes widened at the assault of blessed smoke. She screamed, and he let her go. He stared in deep contention as she clasped at her throat, while still trying to attack him.

  Re-crossing his arms over his wide, solid chest, he sighed and continued to watch with a bored expression on his face as she fell to her knees and looked up at him. Her wide eyes flashed with frozen fear.

  Marco kneeled down before his target and blew more smoke in her face and pushed her head to the side, exposing her neck.

  The frightened Hunter reacted in innate fright-flight reaction, reaching out to claw his face.

  Unfazed, Marco’s bite was quick like a cobra’s and purposely painful. The Hunter paled, letting out a final scream as white light exploded from the street and side of the building where they were, dissolving her into ash and ambers.

  Standing, Marco licked his lips. He savored the taste of her sudden fear of the Light he had poured into her system. With that bite, he was able to connect to that fear of the Most High unto her soulless body, spreading it through her tainted body.

  Turning to walk away, he placed his trinity in his mouth and hummed, “As they say, give up the ghost. Let her know that when you see her again in Hell, bella.”

  Calvin landed with a thud, cracking cement, as an Anarchy Snatcher blasted him with a punch to his chest.

  “Dayum!” escaped his lips as he flipped forward and rolled into a low crouch, holding twin scythe blades in each hand. His massive shoulders shifted as he rolled his neck, cracking it. Working a prayer spell into each blade, his emerald eyes softly glowed, as did his tats on the back of his cocoa-rich neck and shoulders. He slowly rose to meet the Anarchy Snatcher coming his way.

  The attack was fast. Objects lifted in the air, hauling toward Calvin as the Snatcher ran head on into him, swinging, his long nails protruding like thorns.

  Ducking each advance, he leaned back as the Snatcher’s long claws tried to stab into his heart. Using quick footwork, he had to dodge parked cars as he landed skin-searing blows to the Snatcher’s body.

  “Hey, homie, getcha hits right. Then I may be scared. Ya heard me?” Calvin slid over the hood of a nearby car. Producing a holy water-infused, electric nuke ball of light, he threw the spear at the venom-spitting vamp and watched the Snatcher leap away. A mantra of curses swarmed into his mind as he maneuvered himself around the car.

  Lookie here. This bussa is fast. Calvin landed into a running back stance, his massive frame hunkering low as he sprinted down the street to draw the Snatcher out into open space. He knew it was life or death when dealing with a Snatcher. His body was cut up good by the hard-hitting vamp, but he knew what he had to do to kill it.

  As he ran, he saw a flying Dark Gargoyle hunting his movements. Glancing back, he noticed the Snatcher was still following. Tracking both targets that came his way, Calvin sprinted around a corner and found a brick. He pulled his hoodie on and lifted the brick. After tossing it between his large hands like a football, he hitched it as hard as he could and threw it at the Dark Gargoyle, sending an exploding prayer with it.

  The wind was suddenly knocked from Calvin, making him feel as if an asthma attack was forming. The spells were weighing heavy on him, draining him, and affecting his breathing. He needed better recovery time. Being a partial Mystic was limiting and, frankly, sucked ass. With a sigh, he chewed on some Qua gum, aka spirit gum, to quickly give him some energy. Embers of dead Dark Gargoyle rained around him as he strolled, relaxing and brushing the ash off his body.

  Quietly waiting, he closed his eyes and listened to the screeching approaching Snatcher, who was drawn by the exploding Dark Gargoyle, as he kept his back to the entity. His hands fisted at his sides as he heard the signature clicking vibration a Snatcher makes when producing its Cursed venom.

  Generations of spells filled his mind, some he wasn’t able to work but knew, others he used on a daily basis, and others he had created himself. He let the rhythms of each spell fill his spirit as he began to bob his head to the internal rhythm he was creating with each swirling spell. He could literally smell the Snatcher in his personal space, ready to attack. His eyes suddenly cascaded into white light, and Psalms and spells spilled from his lips in song. Each note carried in the air, making the Anarchy Snatcher back away in pain, the song swirling around the vampire.

  Crooning to the melodies in his mind, body, and soul, Calvin rock-stepped back into a capoeira martial arts kick. The quick motion allowed him to divert his moves and stealthily bring down his scythe blades to slice the Snatcher in half. The vampire shred into miasmic pieces, due to the combination of Calvin’s blades and spell.

  Calvin smiled as he landed against the ground in a resting stance. His blades, the ground, and the block lit up like a lamp, a signal from his brother-in-arms. Calvin’s soul calmed in satisfaction as his spell doubled back and worked the second part of its purpose.

  Everything that was covered or touched by the Cursed enemy was suddenly washed in healing and cleansing white light that purified everything it touched.

  Exhaling slowly, Calvin pounded a fist to his heart and pointed to the heavens with thanks.

  Scoping his area, Khamun scanned the house and stopped. A sensational ting flowed over him. His body tightened in heightened desire as he mentally caressed her. She was tense, confused, angry, and hurt. He could taste her tears as she sat on her bed. She was exhausted at having to answer multiple questions. He wanted nothing more than to walk into her room, pick her up, and soothe her pain, but he couldn’t. She wasn’t his world. Well, she wasn’t, until he saw her best friend turn into a Light Gargoyle, and he was currently occupied.

  Quick like a cobra, he reached out in front of him. His prey hissed in his arms as the Reaper’s wings exploded in the night air, encompassing the demon. The energy within the neighborhood sizzled and snapped, connecting with him as he channeled it. Khamun woke up the Light powers, and a white wall of energy lit every street, house, and car as holy land was reclaimed.

  Grunting, the Reaper’s arms bulged with the strain, twisting and turning. The little S.O.B. didn’t know what hit it. Khamun was the Reaper, and the thing was his prey.

  Khamun absorbed his victim’s screams as it tried to leak acid from its teeth and tried to ineffectively gash at him.

  Suppressing a laugh, the Reaper heard a crack. The Dark Gargoyle went limp in his arms as he absorbed the entity’s essence, and the Light barrier fried the rest of the monster’s dead husk, saturating the air with the metallic scent of Cursed demon flesh. Flames then ash decorated the skies as the Light finished off the Dark Gargoyle’s approaching Master.

  The sound of a still screaming Cursed Hunter stuck in
the light barrier triggered the Reaper to pull out his blade and approach the hissing and suffering entity. With a quick flick of his wrist, he made the warrior think he was about to slice him in half as he whistled in amusement, holstering his blade.

  “Your kind fucked up by coming into my territory.” The Reaper smiled even more while circling the writhing Hunter, toying with his prey. “Tell me what you were looking for, and I’ll send you to your master right now. Or I’ll watch you burn from the inside out some more. Your pick of the cards, cousin.”

  The trapped and screaming Hunter twisted as he tried to get loose. Sudden fear for the first time in his long-lived life filled him as he gazed up. He couldn’t understand any of this. He wasn’t supposed to fear this Angel. He was ready to die for his Cursed family. But as he stared into the glowing amber eyes of the Guardian in front of him, fear ran down his stuck legs as he felt the Light eat him from the inside out. Last-minute thoughts flickered in his mind as if he was on death roll, and all he could think was, torture and pain was his kind’s birthright. But who knew the Light could throw it back in righteous balance? Maybe he’d chosen wrong.

  With a tilt of his head to the side, the Reaper looked deeply into the Hunter’s terrified gaze, and he lowered his voice. “Maybe, you did.” Then, quick as a blade, he ripped through the Hunter’s chest. He tore out his prey’s still beating heart, wrapping his fingers around his spine and pulling both free at the same time.

  Fear was frozen on the Hunter’s face, and he sputtered, the life in him fading. “What are you?” faded in the air as the Hunter’s body dissolved in the Light.

  Dropping the dissolving remains, the Reaper walked away, brushing his shoulders off. With a shrug, he casually said, “I don’t know,” and looked into the house, searching for his guide.

  Listening and connecting instantly with her stressed mind, he saw her standing in the shower. Swirls of hot water glowing from the prayer protection spell that was released slid down her soft breasts, curved hips, and ample rear. He had to stop himself from phasing into the shower to kiss and slide her hardened nipples into his ready mouth.

  Inwardly pissed at the rules that kept Guardians like himself from interacting with Guides one on one unless they were in danger, he couldn’t do what he really wanted to, which was to sink deep into her hot, sweet, wet tightness.

  Stepping back at the sound of Calvin’s tan boots on pavement, Khamun turned and gave his bro a pound with his fist. Assessing his boy with an inward chuckle, he noticed the blood on his leather hoodie jacket, jeans, and hands. Calvin was a beast with his Mystic and fighting skills. Khamun knew whatever got in Calvin’s way wasn’t coming back alive.

  “What it do, bro? She all right?” Calvin wearily asked, his eyes scanning in the dark.

  Kicking a lone basketball out of his way, Khamun rolled his shoulder and pulled his spilling locks back up into a knot. He then ran his ash-covered hands over his pants. “Yeah, she’s cool. Your spell kept everything invisible to the innocents.”

  Calvin suddenly dropped to the ground squatting, his hand touching glowing grass as he quirked an eyebrow and scrunched up his face in amazement.

  “Yo, what the fuck, man! Where this holy land come from?”

  Turning, both men eyed Marco as he strolled in smoking and resting his gun against his shoulder. His eyes were flashing, silver disks circling his irises as he frowned. “Mira, the whole block is lit up. That’s what’s up.”

  Lost in thought, Khamun remained silent as he stared at the house then walked away. Heading to his ride, he slid his hands behind his neck.

  Both Calvin and Marco glanced at each other.

  Marco lit another trinity, and Calvin adjusted his hood, sliding his earbuds in and cranking up his iPod as they trailed behind in silence, scanning the house on their way out. Both men were satisfied at the fight they’d had today. Everyone had gathered a little bit of info that they would need to present to the Lady Elderess, Khamun’s mother Neffer. Until then, it was time to roll out.

  Chapter 4

  “Sanna!”

  Knocked out, yet slowly waking up, Sanna sighed and sank deeper into her soft warm bed. It was comforting to be at her mom’s, even though a part of her wanted to be at her own home.

  Last night was fit for a soap opera. Her mother was angry when she saw her daughter and goddaughter surrounded by police and firefighters, and covered in soot. The moment they entered her home, she instantly put her foot down and demanded that her daughter stay.

  “Sanna, get up!”

  Chipped manicured nails peeked out from under the sheets. Snatching at the half falling pillow, her small hands quickly placed the pillow over the bump of a head under the sheets. Sanna didn’t feel like dealing with the aftermath of losing her restaurant. Her body was tense and sore in every crevice. All she could think about was taking another hot shower and lying in bed all day. She was slowly thinking about both, until her whole peripheral vision began to shake behind her closed eyes.

  She abruptly sat up with a jerk and looked through her blurred vision, and her mother hazily came into view. With a sulking huff, she pushed down her curly, frizzy hair. Her hair had earlier been styled into thick, fluffy natural curls that fell past her shoulders. She had been channeling Jill Scott, when she had it done, but now it was a fuzzy mess after having washed it. But she didn’t care.

  Right now she was wondering why her mom was shaking the hell out of her, and if it would be personal suicide to push her mother out of the bed and kick her one good time, before going back to sleep.

  Grouchy, Sanna sighed. “Yes, ma’am?”

  Tamar Steele was considered a small, calm woman with a temper when she was ready to release it, and last night, her spirit broke into a thousand pieces as she felt the same things that hunted her husband long ago had returned to hunt her baby girl. Eyeing her disheveled daughter, she could clearly see the bruises and strain on her child’s body, and it put the anger of God in her, especially when she saw the same markings on, and fear in, her godchild. Both of her daughters looked as if they had stepped out of a war, and burning house.

  The paralyzing fear from last night flashed in her mind again as she rubbed her temples and exhaled. She pushed the thoughts away in order to stay strong for her daughter and not panic over almost losing her. She was sure her children were more than she hoped they were.

  “A representative from that architect, restoration realtor business is here. He needs to talk to you right now, baby.”

  Sanna looked at her mother with hidden tears in her eyes, flinching from the soreness that filled her frame. “Ma, I’m not ready for that right now. Can we do this later?”

  Tamar inwardly heaved a sigh, shaking her head. “Baby girl, get your ass out that bed now and come talk to this man. He said this can’t be moved to another time. Kyo is out there with him right now. Both of you are strong, so go talk to him.”

  Sanna grabbed her fluffy cotton robe and slid it on. As she slowly shuffled down the hall of her mom’s house, sadness filled her. Her restaurant was in ruins. All her money and time had gone to hell, and now she had to relive it and listen to how much money it would take to try to rebuild what she and Kyo had just invested in. Tears threatened to fall as she walked down the hallway.

  Rounding the corner, Sanna saw Kyo chuckling as she sat eating some French toast in her mother’s kitchen. Ready to pop off a smart remark, she froze as a pair of startling icy blue eyes—no, grey—No, they were blue, but they stood out so strong, she wanted to blink but couldn’t. Those eyes filled her with calm, healing relief. All she could do was stare at the owner.

  “Hello, Ms. Steele. I’m Lenox . . . Lenox MacLeod. I’m here at the request of our firm to discuss the loss of your property. And it looks as if I’m also here to enjoy a wonderful breakfast.”

  A reassuring smile came across Lenox’s strong, five o’clock-shadowed, sexy jaw, and she felt the soreness and pain in her body disappear with a shake of his big hand. The man stood
a towering six foot eight, she guessed, with jet-black curling hair that was pulled into a ponytail at the nape of his neck.

  Sanna had to count her breaths as she watched the man pull out a chair for her. He moved smoothly, like a man who knew he was suave, but not in a conceited manner. Suddenly images of single friends she could hook this guy up with flashed in her head as she sat. The man was astounding. He had a soft light-bronze tone to him that suited his rugged, sophisticated Scottish and African American heritage. His light goatee that rested on his cut jawline accented his full, shaped lips, his defined muscles moving under his relaxed Armani suit. She couldn’t lie, she was impressed, and really relaxed, which she couldn’t understand, but since the pain in her body was now gone, she couldn’t complain.

  Taking a seat, she looked at the array of French toast and scrambled eggs on her plate. “We are willing to seek ways to work with getting Aset back up and running, but I hope this doesn’t skyrocket our payments with you all. It was—things are not making sense. I’m sorry,” she said with a smile.

  Sanna was taking small bites and talking. She abruptly put her fork down and rubbed her temple, as memories flooded her mind. She felt her body tense. Her hands began to shake, and her mind swirled. Welcoming the impending blackout, Lenox’s voice sliced through it all, producing a sense of calmness within her, erasing the pain.

  “Ms. Steele—Sanna, if I may, that is not why I am here. Well, it is, but please, listen. Protection Corps understands the unusual circumstances to the loss of Aset, and we have decided to turn this situation into a positive by currently relocating all of Aset into the building you had been looking at last week, the Nile building.”

  Kyo, cupping her café mug to her lips, almost choked on her coffee as she and Sanna both mirrored the same shocked look.

  “What?” escaped both women’s lips in unison as they leaned toward each other.

  Lenox smirked and took a bite of his French toast. It had been a long time since he’d had such a delicious batch of French toast. With all the work he and his fam did to guide and help in the city, breakfast wasn’t something eaten all the time.