Darach Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Note from the Publisher

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  About the Author

  Also by R J Scott

  Award Winning Titles

  Darach

  Book 2 of The Fire Trilogy

  RJ Scott

  ABOUT THE E-BOOK YOU HAVE PURCHASED:

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  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated and is punishable by imprisonment and a fine."

  Cover Artist: Reese Dante

  Editor: Devon Govaere

  Darach © 2011 RJ Scott

  ISBN # 9781920501075

  Attention Readers: This book uses US English. Thank you.

  All rights reserved.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental. The Licensed Art Material is being used for illustrative purposes only; any person depicted in the Licensed Art Material, is a model.

  PUBLISHER

  http://www.silverpublishing.info

  Note from the Publisher

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for your purchase of this title. The authors and staff of Silver Publishing hope you enjoy this read and that we will have a long and happy association together.

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  Lodewyk Deysel

  Publisher

  Silver Publishing

  http://www.silverpublishing.info

  Dedication

  Briony

  For being generous, sensitive, and the bravest person I know.

  Matthew

  For showing us a whole new perspective on the world, every single day.

  Love Mum xx

  Chapter 1

  Regan stumbled to a stop, using the wall to balance his abrupt halt.

  The smell of decay and rotting food assaulted his nostrils as he waited, hidden between the dumpster and the wall, and he tried not to inhale too deeply. Damn Kian and his bright ideas; he knew he shouldn't have listened to him. Get them to follow you to the alley and I'll close the entrance, trap them. Famous last words; there was no sign of Kian in the alley or street, nor could he even sense him in the heaving throng of the club.

  Lover or not, the idiot had been off all week. Over the last seven days, Regan had been tiptoeing through an emotional minefield whenever he was near the other-worlder. Kian's moods changed from miserable and quiet to angry and snappy twenty times a freakin' day. At some points the normally fiery Kian was as cold as ice, and at others, he was so in Regan's face he was damn lucky Regan didn't punch his lights out. He wasn't talking about what was getting him riled up, let alone sharing anything with Regan that might be dragging him down. Kian was in some kind of world of his own. God, that made Regan laugh—Kian in a world of his own.

  Scarlet sparked on his palm and he clenched his fist to hide the light, the tension in his spine coiled and impatient for action. He shouldn't be worrying whether Kian had his back; concentrating on anything except getting rid of these bodyguards would just leave him vulnerable. If Kian wasn't going to be here, then it was up to him to get this done by himself. He called on every sense memory, every instance when he had dispatched the Nameless when he had hunted on his own.

  The current Nameless threat had been tracked to the New York club, the Jack of Hearts, in the wealthy upstate area of White Plains. The Nameless they hunted today was different from the norm. This one didn't look like an addict, nor did he have the usual sycophants hanging on to his every breath. There was no obvious vulnerability Regan could ascertain at first glance, and Kian concurred. Agreement was reached; luring away the Nameless's bodyguards would be a good idea.

  Which was just before Kian went glassy eyed and face-planted onto the bathroom floor. The face-planting was another thing he had taken to doing, much to Regan's worry. The episodes didn't last long. They reminded him of his Aunty Nancy, who had diabetes and suffered hypoglycemic attacks. Kian was spacing out.

  When he could focus back on what was happening, he dismissed Regan's concerns.

  "Kian. For fuck's sake—"

  "I'm fine."

  "Clearly." Regan was close to losing it with his lover and his whole "ignoring the elephant in the corner" routine, and he couldn't stop the sarcasm that dripped from the single word. Kian chose to overlook it, as he always did.

  "I'll wait, you lead them out, and we'll get this finished in the alley out of sight." Kian had presented the plan as if it were foolproof, taking a tentative step towards the door and pausing to draw in a huge lungful of air. Thing is, the whole plan depended on Kian being in the freaking alley, and so far, there had been no sign of him. Regan tried to focus on his lover's green Fire, attempting some kind of connection, but there was zero there, just the vacuum of nothing, and it felt wrong. What if the idiot was lying somewhere unconscious?

  Only a few minutes earlier, Regan had promised the Nameless death; clearly the creature credited the Hunter's threat, sending at least one of his bodyguards to find him. The first one was a great big hulk of a man with ebony skin and a wicked looking gun in his hands as he ventured into the dark alley. He wasn't a Nameless; he wasn't even possessed by a Nameless. He was just a huge fuck-off human paid to kill anyone who threatened the boss.

  When a second bodyguard approached from the other end of the alley, Regan tensed; the situation was teetering on "out of hand". Their presence, not more than six feet from where he was hidden, pulled Regan back to full awareness. Fuck. He would do Kian no favors by worrying if it led to getting himself killed.

  Kian had shown him some basic ways to use his Fire. Regan even had some control over the sparks inside him, an extra focus and strength that came with the Fire. The Nameless had sent his goons, not come out himself. Regan didn't want to kill the guards; he didn't do murder on what he labeled as 'normal humans' unless they were too far gone into being turned. Somehow he needed to incapacitate them. He sheathed his long-bladed knife in its scabbard and instead began to center himself. Allowing scarlet to trickle throug
h his veins wasn't easy, but he concentrated hard, until the Fire was forefront in his mind as Kian had taught him. He just wished he had jade there as well, but Kian and his Fire were definitely missing in action. A sudden anxiety caused his fire to dwindle. What if Kian was crumpled, laid out somewhere hurt? His lover's mind hadn't been on the job all week. He had been close to getting himself killed in Rochester. He'd blamed the near miss on exhaustion, but when Regan had seen the blood on Kian, his stomach had turned.

  He crouched as the second man passed him, not stopping to talk to the first, seemingly intent on his own mission. Then the first man halted maybe two feet from Regan, and somehow, Regan knew it was time to move, fast and decisive.

  The fight passed in a blur, and another two bodyguards appeared from inside the club. Subconsciously, Regan counted them as the four he had spotted around the Nameless. And didn't that just make his job easier with the Nameless unprotected? A spark of green and suddenly Kian was in the fight.

  Regan didn't have time to admire Kian's smooth movements, or the Fire that whisked around him, nor did he focus on how much stronger his scarlet was becoming as he fought. Finally, all four were unconscious, heaped tidily in the darkest corner with the huge dumpster hiding them. Kian whispered words Regan knew were magik, casting a net around the men. Then the lovers stood looking at each other. Kian opened his mouth as if he might say something, the aura of emerald around him dulling to sage and earth. Then he shut his mouth and remained silent. Regan brushed past him, cursing his own Fire as it called for him to touch Kian. Nope. There was so not going to be anything like touching Fire for a long time. Regan was furious at himself for thinking Kian was hurt or might bail on him, but mostly for doubting the man he loved. And he was angry with Kian for making him doubt.

  The Nameless was easy after that. With it alone and cornered, Regan had no difficulty "encouraging" it into a room at the side of the main club. No one questioned their presence, and the lights were so dim it would be impossible to see the blood running freely down Regan's arm. The injury made the grip on his half hidden knife tenuous at best.

  The Nameless in the Club, bereft of bodyguards, begged not to be sent back, offering money, information, anything to avoid his 'death'. Regan still didn't have a handle on where the Nameless were sent, whether they died or were just sent back to Kian's world. He just cast the words to dispatch them there. Kian reassured the guy, murmuring words like "going home" and "safe". Regan had wondered before if Kian was giving each Nameless a version of some sort of heaven as they died. It seemed each Nameless they disposed of together, even the one tonight who finally stopped pleading, left this world at peace. Kian spouting shit that Regan didn't properly understand and couldn't clearly hear was unnerving and, given Regan's state of mind, frustrating.

  Kian wasn't sleeping, his head wasn't in the job, and they depended on each other too much for him to let things slide. The Nameless seemed to have multiplied, there were more and more occasions when Regan and Kian had to handle suspicious deaths. Either he or Kian was going to get killed if their minds weren't on the job. In fact, Kian and he needed to talk, because if Regan had to handle one more takedown with Kian's clear lack of support, his mumblings, and his God-damned Kian-ness then Regan was just going to have to kill the guy himself.

  Here.

  Now.

  * * * *

  The room they had rented was in a small motel off a main road, one that supplied beds by the hour. For this type of place, the accommodation actually tended towards clean, creating a paradox in Regan's head. It was in his nature to be suspicious of something that looked too good to be true.

  "Stop it." Kian's voice sounded tired, verging on irritable, and Regan straightened. He checked outside the drapes, unsettled and worried, and then looked back at his lover. Great; miserable-Kian had stood up from the bed and was pacing.

  "Stop what?" he snapped back, scratching at the bandaging that covered the cuts on his arm from the alley fight. "All I'm doing is checking the parking lot."

  "For what? Random Nameless drive-bys?" Kian sounded waspish and spoiled, and just this side of fucking rude.

  In a flurry of motion, Regan had Kian up against the wall, his hands holding Kian's above his head securely. Both men knew Kian could get away, in fact, for a few seconds, Kian did struggle. Then he stilled, pressing back against the faded wallpaper and waiting. Regan couldn't have held back his temper if he'd tried. A hunter was only good as long as he kept surviving each fight, and today could have gone bad so many ways and so quickly Regan refused to consider them.

  "What the hell is going on with you, Kian? Where the holy fuck were you tonight?"

  "I was there, Re." Kian defended himself quickly, ineffectively tugging at Regan's secure grip.

  "You. Were. Not. There."

  "I was just behind you—"

  "Don't lie to me. I may be a magikless human in your eyes, but my Fire is growing strong enough to sense when you are and aren't there."

  "You're not a—" Regan tightened his hold in temper and saw the instant discomfort in his lover's eyes. Guilt flooded him and warred with his irritation. "I'm sorry, Re, I wasn't well. I tried to follow, but I couldn't. I wish I could tell you—"

  "Kian, I swear to God, if you don't pull your head out of your ass and tell me what the fuck is going on, I will dump you here and leave before we both get killed by whatever's distracting you."

  "You can't leave me… our bond…" Jeez, Regan thought, trust Kian to focus on the reality of the threat rather than the general menace Regan was trying to convey.

  "Bond or not, you're screwing with my head. Talk to me, Kian. What's going on? What's wrong?" There was a staring match; Kian's green gaze ran the gamut of emotions, from utter and complete determination to the rise of temper, and then… shit… the most pathetic puppy-dog gaze Regan had ever seen. His stomach clenched.

  Kian had his moments of introspection, and Regan always gave him space. He imagined leaving his life, his family, his world, never to return. It must have been the most difficult thing any person could do. Kian needed time to process. Regan tried to be supportive and as damned understanding as he could be. In turn, Kian inevitably reassured him he wanted to be here with Regan, that he wanted to stay. Today, though? This whole collapsing moment was just another in a long list of things unnerving Regan to the point that he was thinking of finding Kian a way back home if that's what he wanted.

  "Do you want to go home?"

  "Re, I don't want to go home."

  "Do you maybe need to go home?" That was the question he had to ask. Kian looked momentarily confused.

  "Need?"

  "I don't know. Jeez, Kian, is there something wrong, with you, with your Fire?" Regan kept his voice low and attempted to contain his fear. In Regan's worst imaginings, Kian staying here with him was destroying him. He had an intense and real fear that his world, his version of Earth, was somehow toxic to Kian, stripping him of the Fire's identity. God, maybe even killing him.

  Kian stared directly into Regan's eyes and spoke firmly. "I don't need to go home. I promise you, my Fire is strong."

  "Then what the hell is wrong? Man, you're scaring me."

  Kian dropped his gaze then let his whole body slump until Regan found himself holding him up. Shocked and concerned, Regan followed his instincts. He scooped Kian up into his arms and carried him to their bed. After settling his lover under the covers, he crawled between the sheets himself and moved Kian until the smaller man was curled into him. Kian lay stiff until Regan pulled him close. Then, muscle by muscle, he began to relax.

  "It's the dreams," Kian offered quietly. Regan nodded; Kian's sleep was broken and nightmares gripped him every night. Kian woke from them tossing and muttering and panicky, breathing normally only after Regan calmed him. "Some of them are coming to me in the light, when I'm awake, and they're so real. More like visions."

  "Can you tell me more about them?" Regan was trying the gentle approach, stroking Kian's back, doing
what he needed to do to make his lover feel safe. He had asked about the dreams before and received some information, although Kian inevitably lost a lot of the dreams as quickly as he wakened.

  "The same ones. Home, the Council, and the city where I lived."

  Regan would never know them, but he wanted to hear more about the dreams so that maybe, between the two of them, they could thrash out their meaning. He'd had enough of Kian dismissing the nightmares, he wasn't going to let him do it anymore, especially now that Kian was getting visions.

  "What is it you're dreaming about when you're awake?" Regan realized what he had said didn't make much sense. "I mean, what's in the visions?"

  "Darach is in there, awake or asleep."

  "Your friend?" Kian spoke often of Darach, the one thing, the only person he never wanted to leave behind.

  "He wanted to come with me, but his Fire wasn't born. Remember I told you? He had nothing in him."

  "Yeah." Regan remembered the softly spoken story and the grief that had filled his lover's eyes.

  "His destiny is in the world I left, not here in yours."

  Regan's belief in a pre-ordained destiny wasn't as clear cut as Kian's, and so he listened with the cautious approach of skepticism. He had to admit Kian's foretold destiny of bonding with a Hunter was fairly much spot on, but there was also such a thing as cosmic coincidence, which, in Regan's opinion, was far less weighty and much more likely than destiny.

  "Go on," he prompted. What he thought at the moment didn't matter; what mattered were Kian's feelings.