Page 22 of Veiled By Smoke (The Nature Hunters Academy #5)

Tinley couldn’t help but laugh, the tension rolling off her shoulders like water.

Even with the city burning, even with the future hanging by a thread, they still had each other.

Even if their group calls sounded like a dysfunctional family with relationship trust issues and unhealthy infatuations with tech skills, she knew every one of them would have her back, and she’d have theirs.

As another firefighter staggered out with a coughing boy who looked to be around twelve years old, Tinley squeezed Crey’s hand, the heat of his palm a promise. “Let’s do this,” she said, dropping her voice. “We’ve got kids to save, and a little sister to find.”

She hung up, the chaos of the call lingering in her ears, and stepped forward as the Mark was loaded onto a stretcher.

Around her, the fog thickened, streetlights glimmered, and the world kept burning.

But hope, too, burned bright and sharp and stubborn as ever.

And somewhere in the shadows, the scent of scorched demon still lingered, a reminder that they had more than one foe they’d be facing in the coming battles.

A cross the street, the world burned, smoke churning, sirens screaming, the night thick with the scent of melting plastic and singed hope.

In the alley’s mouth, shadows pressed close, sticky and alive.

Maris pressed her back to cold, graffiti-scrawled brick, the damp seeping through her jacket.

Above them, a busted streetlamp flickered, buzzing like a dying fly.

She scanned the fog, heart beating, not with fear, but with the kind of hungry anticipation that always came before chaos.

Next to her, Joel—tall, sharp-featured, and reeking of old money and fresh sin–watched the soul bonded with a predator’s patience.

His green eyes caught every movement, glinting orange in the firelight.

On the air, Maris pulled any sound to carry to her, and though she could have dissipated the fog since air was her element, she didn’t want to give away their presence to the light elementalists.

So instead, she asked the wind to bring her their words.

“You got all that?” Joel murmured, voice low and rough as gravel. His element was air as well, and he’d no doubt been doing the same.

Maris nodded, tongue flicking over the edge of her teeth. “Aurora. That’s the key. Viscious is going to lose his mind. Something to tip the scales, no pun intended considering the dragons.”

Joel grinned, but his gaze slid back to the chaos across the street, the children being carried out, limp and soot-streaked, the soul-bonded pairs ready to follow. “We could tail the Mark ourselves. Get in close. Make the first move.”

A cold, oily wind wound around Maris’s ankles, carrying the stink of sulfur and something charred.

She shuddered, half from the chill, half from the memory of what happened the last time she’d underestimated a Mark’s guardians.

“Or we go straight to Viscious with this. He’ll want to make the call himself.

Besides, you saw how those soul bonded fried the last batch of demons that got too close.

There’s eight of them and two of us.” She hadn’t expected them to travel in such a large group, considering more often than not it was only one elementalist per Mark.

The demons weren’t a big surprise. The news of the gate to the underworld being opened traveled fast, and apparently, demons traveled even faster.

Things had gone to a complete crapshoot overnight, and now here they were, trying to choose whatever would get them in less trouble with the dark fire king.

As if summoned by her words, a sudden skittering behind a trash can made Maris tense.

She twisted, hand dropping to the dagger at her belt.

Three smaller demons, the size of large dogs but twice as mean-looking, slithered into the alley.

Their wiry bodies steamed in the chilly air, eyes boiling pits of red rimmed with crusted black.

One opened its mouth, its voice like a dozen cockroaches hissing in chorus.

“Lord Lucifer sends ussss. We are to assist the acolytes. We watch. We follow. We ssssserve.”

The second demon, whose skin oozed with a greasy sheen, interrupted, “Serve? I do not serve. I lead. I am the clever one.”

The third, distracted by a fluttering bit of burning paper, snapped at it, then crowed, “Fire! I like fire. Let’s burn them all, yes?”

“Good grief, “ Maris muttered, “do they all act like evil toddlers in need of meds and maybe electroshock therapy?”

Joel sneered. “They’re demons, what do you expect? Geniuses with manners?”

She shrugged. “It would be a step up.”

Joel just shook his head at her and then looked back at the hellions. “Nice timing. You little freaks want to be useful? Stick to the soul bonded. If any Mark leaves this site, you follow. Report straight to us. No improvising.”

All three demons started to argue at once, tails lashing, claws scraping the brick.

The clever one whined, “Why do I have to follow? Why not that one? He’s slow.” The fire-obsessed one was already pawing at a discarded lighter, muttering, “Burn, burn, burn–”

Maris rolled her eyes. “Stow it! You’ll do as told, or you’ll answer to Viscious. Not to mention, I doubt your lord would be happy with you if you don’t follow through on his orders.”

The leader demon’s tail lashed the asphalt, leaving a scorch mark. “We will not fail, masterssss. But if I see a chance for fun . . . ” He snapped his teeth, a threat and a promise all at once.

“Let them have their fun,” Maris muttered to Joel, fighting the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. “If Lucifer wants them here, there’s not anything we can do to stop him. Let him deal with the mess.”

For a split second, Maris hesitated. Itching for a fight and the need to gain victory over the light elementals, part of her wanted to stay.

But the urgency of the news twisted in her gut, and if this was the sister of the dragonrider, then the fire king would want to know.

“We go. You three,” she jabbed a finger at the demons, who were now bickering over who got to do the watching and who got to do the following, “stay put. Follow the Marks. Report back. No eating anyone.” She had no clue if demons actually ate people, but she wouldn’t put it past them.

The clever one bared his teeth in a sulky grin. “Fine. We will watch. But if I get bored, I eat the slowest.”

Okay, apparently they did eat people. Maris didn’t bother replying.

She and Joel slipped deeper into the alley, shoes silent on the slick pavement.

Behind them, the demons prowled to the mouth of the alley, eyes glinting as they watched the soul-bonded pairs with hungry, feral focus.

Their argument faded into the night, a chorus of hisses, barks, and muttered threats, while the city’s heartbeat thumped, fast and frantic.

She didn’t look back. She didn’t need to. The chaos was only just beginning, and for once, it might be glorious. Joel opened a portal and they stepped through. She took a deep breath, hoping they’d made the right decision.

Viscious was unpredictable in his wrath and his mate was even worse.

T he castle Viscious had claimed for his latest stronghold wasn’t some idle retreat—it was a throne room for a king with conquest on his mind.

Perched atop a jagged mountain wrapped in winter’s iron grip, it loomed over the world like a threat.

The cold here was a living thing, gnawing at the bones of the ancient stone and rattling the glass in the arrow-slit windows.

The air snapped with frost, thick with the scents of old blood, scorched cedar from the ever-burning hearths, and the acrid tang of burnt coffee—the bitter end of Lamia’s temper, the mug still shattered on the floor.

Viscious relished the chill. Lately, he’d grown weary of feeling warm.

Heat was lazy, decadent; this cold kept him sharp.

It reminded him that comfort was for the conquered, not the conqueror.

He stalked the room, not lounging, but prowling, boots ringing on centuries-old flagstone, eyes burning with anticipation.

His black cloak whirled around him with every turn when he reversed directions.

The world was shifting. The gate had been opened and resealed.

Demons roamed, and he could practically hear Lucifer’s laughter echoing in the dark.

Viscious’s acolytes had been unleashed to hunt Marks with ruthless efficiency.

The light royals thought themselves clever, focused on their precious soul bonded. They wouldn’t see his strike coming.

Lamia watched him from her favorite perch atop the armrest of a throne.

She was every inch the tempest—hair swirling like storm clouds, a smirk playing on her lips as she toed a bone from the last summoning off the rug.

“You’re pacing, darling. That means you’re either plotting genocide or you’re about to set the drapes on fire again. ”

Viscious grinned, his teeth catching the firelight.

“Don’t tempt me. I picked this place because the wind is as mean as I am, and the cold keeps my mind sharp.

There are many players on the board now, and I imagine, with the true lord of the underworld back in power, some will be undecided about their alliance.

They are waiting for a sign. The elemental world is waiting for a spark.

I intend to be the one who gives it to them. On my terms.”

A ripple of magic sliced the air, cold and sharp as shattered ice. The portal’s birth was violent–a shriek of wind, a flash of sickly green light. Maris and Joel tumbled out, reeking of city smoke, demon musk, and fear. The portal snapped shut behind them with a sound like the world biting down.

Viscious’s eyes narrowed, hunger and expectation flaring. “Where are my Marks? Where is my proof that you are more than wasted oxygen?”