“And power was given unto them, the Four Horsemen, over a fourth of the earth to kill with sword, and with hunger, and with death, and with the beasts of the earth.”
Revelation 6:8
1
“Ven, you’re being an idiot.”
Seriously, if his brother wasn’t already dead, he’d kill him.
Turning from the sea-spray-crusted window, Patrick Watkins ground his teeth, mobile phone clenched in his right hand, blood boiling with frustration. “I’m not coming home. I have a job to do and I’m not leaving the beach just because you’ve got a freaking bee in your bonnet.”
“When are you going to listen to me, brother?” Ven’s normally deep voice growled unnaturally deeper. Whether from anger, worry, or the high position of the sun, Patrick didn’t know. Ven was usually asleep at midday. Being awake and in an argument with his younger brother probably brought the demon lurking in Ven’s blood closer to the surface than usual.
Patrick didn’t care. Not with the way Ven was carrying on. Anyone would think Patrick was walking around with a Kill Me sign taped to his back.
“It feels wrong,” Ven grumbled. “Let the other guards babysit the tourists. You’re the boss. Delegate.”
“Yes, Ven. I am the boss.” Patrick turned back to the window, studying the thousands of swimmers—tourists and locals alike—enjoy the gorgeous summer’s day at Bondi Beach. “Which means I can’t just bugger off.”
Danger lurked out there in the famous beach’s crystal blue waves. Sharks. Rips. Undertows. Blue-bottles…all waiting to catch a swimmer unaware. To bring pain, suffering, maybe even death. He’d be damned if he was leaving those swimmers’ fates to chance. His team was good. Better than good. God knew, Bluey, his second-in-command, had been swimming since birth. The senior lifeguard’s rescue rate was the second highest in the country after his own, but—like Ven—Patrick had an uneasy knot in his gut today.
Unlike Ven, Patrick’s sense of disquiet had nothing to do with a supposed attack from an unknown “thing” and everything to do with the large number of people enjoying the famous stretch of beach.
Ven existed in the inhuman, paranormal world. Patrick didn’t. On a day like today, there were close to forty-thousand human souls on the sand and in the water and that equaled roughly forty-thousand possible drownings, shark-attack victims, blue-bottle stings…
Patrick’s gut knotted again. No matter what bizarre threat Ven’s paranoia created, he couldn’t leave work.
But he’s not being paranoid. You know that. And you know exactly what threat—
Shutting down the unwanted thought, Patrick scanned the surf before him, zeroing his focus down on a group of three tourists bobbing ignorantly close to Backpacker’s Express. If the beach’s notorious and infamous rip took them into its embrace, they’d be out to sea and two miles south before they even realized they were no longer in Bondi waters. It would take at least four lifeguards to round them up, leaving seven to keep the rest of the beach’s visitors safe. Seven people to deal with any emergency on the mile-long stretch. His team couldn’t do that without their boss, no matter how good they were.
He bit back a frustrated sigh. Just a typical day at work. Danger and death lurking everywhere. He couldn’t pack it all in just because his brother thought he was in danger. Besides, it was the middle of the day. What type of paranormal nasty attacked in the middle of the bloody day? And on a busy beach, no less?
The kind in a black suit, maybe?
The silent question scratched at his mind, but he ignored it, returning his attention to the packed surf instead. It was a glorious summer day on Australia’s most famous beach. Perfect, in fact. Blue, cloudless sky, clean five-foot waves, warm seventy-one degree water. If said unseen paranormal attack was going to happen, it sure as hell wasn’t going to be today. What Patrick would more likely be confronted with on a day like today, what the knot in his gut was probably warning him about, was the possibility of a careless, overconfident tourist taking their life in their hands by not swimming between the flags. That, he could deal with on his own. He didn’t need his vampire big brother to save a drowning person. When it came down to it, Ven wasn’t up to swimming these days anyway, not during sunlight at least. Picking up his old board for a midnight surf or two, sure…when he wasn’t trying to protect Patrick from threats from who the hell knows, that was.