Page 49 of Above Cursed Winds

What caught his attention hadn’t been the radiating fluid that was nearly glowing in front of him. It was the three bodies that lay near the back of the hall where Jeremiah had been teleported.

Now that the air had been cleaned, it was safe for everyone else to return, and Kane was first. The vampire councilman crouched next to his fallen, red blood dripping from his mouth, covering each of them with a sheet. His expression was that of a broken man. Behind him, his mate Nova gripped his shoulder, her mouth moving but the words inaudible from where Jeremiah stood.

It was then that Remmus returned, appearing at his side with the swiftness of teleportation. “We couldn’t save them all. We were alerted too late, and the poison spread too quickly.”

Deep within Jeremiah’s soul, something shattered.

While he’d attempted to help, leapt into action, it still hadn’t been enough. It was like a curse, nothing Jeremiah ever did making a difference. While he was numb, another vampire came to collect the fluid floating before him, seamlessly whisking it away.

The futility of the effort weighed on him, and with one look, Remmus understood. “We did all we could, Jeremiah. You saved lives here. Hundreds of lives.”

“But not all of them.” The words were like poison on his tongue, a bitter taste. “Please take me back.”

In the next blink, he found himself just outside Zia’s home.

The sun was just beginning to crest over the horizon, whispering of the day ahead of them. All Jeremiah wanted to do was disappear, to collapse in on himself and stew in the abject failure that’d left three immortals dead.

Remmus shot him a concerned look. “Are you okay?”

“Sure. I’m fine.”

“You’re lying.”

Jeremiah bared his teeth at the other man, the agitation that had built beneath his agony mounting with every passing second.

“What the hell do you care, Remmus? Leave!”

In a true testament to his vitriolic mood, he shoved an air shield at the Raeth, knocking him backward without apology. Remmus took no offense, giving him a dutiful nod before evaporating into a teleport.

“Jeremiah!”

Zia raced out of the house. Scrubbing a hand through his hair, Jeremiah’s eyes closed. His patience was desperately wanning. He needed an outlet, a punching bag. He couldn’t possibly explain his complex emotional state to Zia.

She didn’t deserve his anger. But then again, neither had Remmus.

“What happened?”

The concern in her voice touched him, soothing a part of his soul, but it wasn’t enough. Shaking his head, hard eyes met Zia’s. “I have to go, Z. I can’t be here right now. Forgive me.”

In seconds, he’d rendered himself invisible, spearing into the sky as he left the woman behind. He angled himself toward the one place where he knew he could vent his rage and someone would always square up with him.

Jeremiah was seething. He’d failed, once again, to keep others safe. Regardless of the power he held, regardless of his will to protect, he failed miserably. Three people had died today because he hadn’t been strong enough.

Just like he’d failed to protect his best friend. He deserved to shoulder the brunt of the responsibility for Gideon’s death, even though he hadn’t physically pulled the trigger. No matter how many times Gideon forgave him and told him it’d been his own choice, it didn’t matter. Jeremiah had failed.

During the short flight over, Jeremiah’s phone had chirped three times. Gideon or Rukia, no doubt. They would want to know why he hadn’t called them, or why he’d failed at Kane’s House.

Iron-rich blood embittered his mouth, his teeth chewing on his cheek as he attempted to right the fury that set him off balance. He’d soon have an opponent to beat it out of him.

Jeremiah shrugged off the invisibility and pounded a clenched fist against the metal door that led to the underground club. Bouncing on its hinges, it rattled as the person beyond it grumbled a gruff command.

No matter the time, no matter the day, there were always people willing to go toe to toe with him. Jeremiah had developed quite a reputation for himself, and the number of opponents he’d faced had only grown with his popularity.

Within forty minutes, he’d stripped off his shirt and stepped into the octagon. The chain link surrounding the makeshift cage fenced him in with the other man. They started to circle one another, unbothered by the presence of the blood already smeared across the floor.

A growl sounded from Jeremiah’s opponent. The other man’s eyes were shadowed, near-black, and focused unnervingly on the Elemental. He was beefy, nearly as wide as he was tall, and considering he riveled Jeremiah at six and a half feet, that was quite the feat. His name was Rake, Jeremiah recalled.

He had sarcastically chuckled and made some quip about gardening tools when it was announced, earning a snarl from across the octagon. It’d only added fuel to the fire, and that fire would hopefully prove to loosen guilt’s chokehold from around his neck.

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