Page 85 of Guardian

She heard his words, but his lips didn’t move.

Surrender!

The demand was accompanied by a wave of pain washing over her head, penetrating her skull.

“Noooo!” she screamed.

She couldn’t allow him in, couldn’t give in. This invasion was different from the one she’d experienced with Gabriel, but her mind’s reaction was the same. She pushed against it, fought with every cell of her body against the foreign power wanting to invade her mind and focused only on one thing: survival. She felt electricity spark around her, saw blue light appearing at the edge of her vision, sensed her hair standing up in all directions. At the same time, she felt a supernatural strength inside her, her psychic power defending itself.

She held on for dear life, fought against Zoltan’s invading thoughts, trying to get her to surrender to his power. But with every new command that he sent into her mind, her psychic power seemed to grow stronger.

Zoltan screamed and slammed his hands against his temples, stumbling backwards. Still, Winter continued to fight, continued to bombard him with her power.

Suddenly strong arms ripped her backwards and tackled her to the floor. She lost her concentration. Simultaneously, Zoltan’s invasion ceased. She struggled against the two demons who’d come to their master’s aid, but they were too strong. Her own power seemed to be zapped. She had nothing left.

She heard Zoltan’s angry growls before he entered her field of vision. He glared down at her.

“Get her up,” he ordered his two subjects.

They followed his command and jerked her to her feet.

“I’ll teach you to defy me, you bitch!” he yelled.

She only saw his fist when it was already too late. Even if she’d seen it earlier, she wouldn’t have had any defense against it. It hit the side of her head, snapping it in the opposite direction. The force of the blow was so violent that it flung her against the nearest wall. Pain seared through her entire body. She tried to hold on to her consciousness, tried to grasp at something, clawing at the wall behind her, but it was no use.

She opened her eyes, trying to focus, but everything around her was gone. The demons, Zoltan, the dining room. Gone. In its stead was a pleasant room with a large window, a soft rug beneath her feet. The furniture was old fashioned, antique even. Outside it was dark.

The crying of a baby made her spin around. It came from a wooden crib. It was just as old as the rest of the furniture in the room. It reminded her of the kind of furniture that belonged in a palace in the 1800s. Next to the crib, a single candle was lit.

The baby kept crying. She approached the crib and looked in. The child, a boy, was naked and had thrown off his blanket. She reached into the crib, but realized then that she couldn’t cover the child, because she wasn’t really there.

A sound across the room made her shift her gaze away from the child. Her heart stopped. Poison-green eyes blinked at her from the door. The demon wore a long cloak with a hood. The darkness in the room did the rest to obscure his face. Frightened for the child, Winter tried to scream, but no sound left her throat. Unimpeded, the demon approached. He reached into the crib. Oh God, he would kill the baby! But the demon lifted the boy into his arms, holding him to his chest as if he were a treasure. Winter stared at the demon, then at the naked baby. The candlelight suddenly spotlighted a curious looking birthmark on the baby’s bottom.

Then there was another movement. The demon reached in his pocket. He pulled out a small metal flask, opened it and poured the liquid into the crib. Red blood stained the sheets. The flask empty now, the demon put it back in his pocket and turned, leaving the room with the child in his arms.

Winter ran after him, following him down the stairs of the big mansion. But she couldn’t stop him. The moment he reached the first floor, he made a movement with his free hand and conjured a vortex. A second later, he jumped in and disappeared.

Oh God, no!

Tears streamed down her face. The vortex vanished, and suddenly she was staring at a portrait of a man and a woman, a baby in her arms. They both wore clothes that would have been fashionable in the Regency period, but something else drew her attention. On the man’s hip sat a dagger. The same kind of dagger she’d seen Logan and his friends wield. The man was a Stealth Guardian, of that she was certain. And a demon had kidnapped his child.