Finding Grace: The Guardian Chronicles Book One

Chapter 45. Hurt*

Tourneau was a much more elegant fighter than I. While I dealt blows with surgical precision, he used the art of swordsmanship and cunning to get the better of his foes. He had twin blades strapped to each hip and a shoulder holster with a pistol in it. Knowing we needed to move stealthily, he opted out of carrying the flamethrower. It was highly effective, but very cumbersome. We both had already strapped on our ammo belts with our extra clips of ammunition before we got into the Hummer. Tourneau tended not to need to reload, as he preferred his blades or his bare hands.

"Ready?" Tourneau asked me as he tightened the shoulder holster.

"As I'll ever be. Where to first?"

"I would think we should check on Aristarchus and the others in the Council chamber. I have the feeling we are in for an ambush. The fact that we've been here this long and not been greeted by one of the guards makes me think a coup has been put in motion against the Brethren. I feel like an idiot bringing Rafael to Saint Louis. I honestly did not have any idea..." Tourneau trailed off with a sad look in his eyes. For such an emotional sap, he was an impeccable warrior. I would not want anyone else at my back. I had gotten used to working alone of late, but I trusted Tourneau's instincts.

"Put him out of your mind, Jean. Alright, let's go," I said as I threw open my door. We met in front of the Hummer and paced back to back toward the entrance to the building, checking the corners high and low for signs of an attack. We both had our guns drawn and held at the ready. Silently, we turned into the short corridor leading to the security doors. We came across the first body here. Tourneau kept watch while I checked to see who it was. Nudging the body in the shoulder with my toe, I checked for signs of weapons near the body. Not seeing any and finding both hands thrown out to the side, I flipped the body over and recognized one of the Guardians who usually greeted visitors. The only reason he was not reanimating was because his heart had been ripped out of his chest. Ribs protruded through the jagged hole I assumed had been made with a fist. Gory but very effective. I preferred to dismantle and burn rogues, as it was more definitive. But this was a type of suspended animation. He would not decompose, but he could not move, or all of the blood would pump out of the hole in his chest and he would eventually wither to nothing if left long enough. Judging by the amount of blood on the floor around him, I figured he was probably a goner. There was no light of recognition in his eyes. I stood slowly and turned toward Tourneau.

"It's Archer," I announced very quietly. There was very little left of his aura, a meager sickly green color spiked up now and then, but mostly was gone. When I looked up, Tourneau's mouth was set in a grim line.

"I've only once ever seen Rafael kill, and this is his calling card. He is here. We will be fortunate if he came alone, but he and Bong-Li together are formidable enemies," Tourneau said.

As I considered his words, I moved forward and punched in the access code to the security door. Moving like a well-oiled tactical team, Tourneau and I made our way down the brightly lit corridor. First impressions were of a high-end prison, with the double security doors we had to pass through. Once through the second door, we entered into the reception area where there was usually a bored secretary sitting on the phone. Despite the old warehouse exterior, the interior was refined and smacked of fortune five hundred business. I had always been irked by the sterility of the generic office décor, with the pale colors on the walls and cookie cutter furniture.

Nothing let on that things were not business as usual here except for the utter lack of the activity and the pool of blood next to the chair where the receptionist usually sat. The two of us looked like bloodhounds, scenting the air, trying to pick up on any clue as to where we might run into a vampire. Archer's blood still tainted my nose, but I sensed the underlying miasma of spilled blood coming from ahead. It was not vampiric blood, but human blood. Cautiously, we crept down the hall, as I now knew where we would find the source of the aroma. Hunger growled in my chest. I had not fed on the way here, as I had told Evan I would. There hadn't been time.