Page 57 of Wolf of Ashes
He flips the lid closed with aclackand the flame disappears.
His gaze finally clashes with mine and it’s like that little flame has licked across the distance and sent a burn through my entire body. Surprisingly… it’s not entirely unpleasant.
Where the keeper is all darkness, this man is like light. But not a pure, angelic sort of light. More like a blinding-hot flash that could kill me if I get too close.
“Friends, huh?” he drawls, referring to the way I addressed them all. “I guess we’ll see about that.”
I mutter a response beneath my breath. “Well, the fact that my dogs didn’t eat that guy should count for something.”
If this new man hears me, he doesn’t react. While the others remain in apparently wary silence, he speaks to the man standing beside him—a lean guy with a shaved head. “Get Vanguard. Tell him we’ve got a problem.”
“Sure thing, Jonah.” The man with the shaved head doesn’t hover, quickly weaving through the room and disappearing through the far door.
As he rushes away, my mind is whirling. Jonah asked him to get someone called “Vanguard.” Which happens to be the surname of both of my father’s generals: the brother and sister. The snake shifter and the witch. Although it’s unclear which of them is being summoned right now.
I edge closer to Diavolo while Jonah—since that seems to be his name—approaches us with a calm confidence that contrasts sharply with the demeanor of the men around him.
As he steps closer, his height becomes more apparent, and I’m glad Diavolo chose his taller, bulkier form.
“Beautiful dogs,” Jonah says, inclining his head at the panthers.
“I appreciate you giving them space,” I reply, a grudging acknowledgement of Jonah’s intelligence when he stops a sensible five paces away from them.
Now positioned directly in front of us, he peers at all of us, but his focus is more intently on Diavolo. Unsettlingly, Jonah’s gaze falls nearly immediately to the crown on the keeper’s hand.
I know what the crown is because I know what the keeper is. I do hope Jonah doesn’t know what he’s looking at or we could be in trouble. After all, the keeper is supposed to be in his realm. Not gallivanting around New York city.
Of course, it might be helpful if Jonah knew what he’s really up against, but there’s no way that the keeper would be allowed anywhere near the Nostra empire. The Ultima Nostra would see him as a direct threat.
“I’m Jonah Hartvigsen,” Jonah says, politely introducing himself in a way that tells me he intends to keep things civil while we wait for the big guns. “And you are?”
“Veda,” I say, deciding to play the politeness game for now. “This is Diavolo.”
Jonah gives Diavolo a short nod, not combative, exactly, but not welcoming, either.
“What about your beasts?” Jonah asks. “What do you call them?”
Panthers. I call them ‘panthers.’
Inwardly, I sigh.Well, fuck, it would have helped if I’d given them names already.
“I call them ‘hunters,’” I say, while mentally adding naming these gorgeous creatures to my to-do list after surviving this encounter.
Jonah gives me a smile that shows his perfect, white teeth. He clicks open his lighter and the little flame appears before disappearing again with anotherclack.
Since he’s standing closer now, I can make out some sort of inscription on the front of the lighter, maybe a rune. Definitely not in a modern language. I may struggle to name every single object I come across, but Mom did her absolute best to teach me about the existence of magical runes and of other languages.
There’s a stir on the far side of the room and finally another man looms in the doorway.
It has to be Vanguard. James Vanguard. The male general.
An unwelcome shot of fear strikes through me as I take him in. It’s not so much his physical appearance but the energy around him that seems to drag the air out of my lungs and squeeze my chest.
He’s tall and lean. His hair is dark brown and long enough to fall across his brown eyes, which, even from this distance glimmer visibly with a crimson hue. A short, neatly sculpted beard shadows his strong jaw. I’m surprised to see a scar running down the left side of his forehead and the upper curve of his cheekbone—a wound that would have come awfully close to destroying his left eye.
On his back, he carries what looks like a sword, its braided handle visible over his right shoulder. I haven’t come into contact with many swords—really only the angel’s sword back at the Cathedral—but the handle appears finely crafted. I’m sure the blade will be nothing less than superior.
Everything and everyone else in the room—except for the keeper and Jonah—seems somehow smaller and insignificant in his presence.
