by Everly Frost
“Wise advice.”
Archer gives me a look I have trouble deciphering: challenge or doubt, I’m not sure which. She says, “Lutz Logan implied that you and Cain were together.”
I choke on air. “Wow. Really? No. Cain is a kind and generous friend but nothing more. Lutz should have known better.”
Especially because Slade is his Master. I make a mental note to smack Lutz around the head the next time I see him. That’s if I don’t hug him instead. The rumor is that he not only protected Archer on multiple occasions while she was in the South, but he also looked after Cain’s sister during Amalia’s attack on the Horde.
Archer gives me another cautious smile. “I’ve hit a nerve.”
I want to ask her if she has been taking “blunt” lessons from Vlad. My voice becomes wry when I say, “Lutz knows I’m with someone else.”
She sighs. “It’s hard to imagine having a normal relationship in this assassin’s world. Not that I ever expected to have a normal relationship. It’s impossible when you can’t tell anyone the truth about your past, let alone your real name. Cain was the first man I couldn’t lie to…”
Hmm. Unable to lie. Another symptom of bonding. When I separated from Slade, I was in a lot of pain. Archer is hiding hers well, but it’s there, lurking in the crease in her forehead, the tension in her shoulders, and the way she visibly braces every time she says his name.
To hell with the Guardian’s ruling. I have to find a way around the distance between them.
Archer inclines her head at the wall of weapons behind us and changes the subject. “I can throw knives just as effectively. I can use swords, too.” She crosses to the end of the room where my katana rests on a stand.
I ask, “Do you like it? We can get one for you.”
Her eyebrows rise. “It’s beautiful. I would like that.”
I consider her carefully. Cain said she collapses after a fight but so far she isn’t showing any signs of physical distress. “Forgive me for asking, but how do you feel right now? Cain said that triggering your power has consequences—”
She jolts away from me, immediately on the defensive. “He told you what I am?”
I don’t react to the fighting stance her body settles into, even if it does worry me a little. We are in a room surrounded by weapons and she has proven that she’s strong enough to fight Amalia and win. I have no illusions that I’ve seen all of her strengths yet.
I take a deep breath and say, “I know you’re Keres.”
She considers me with alarm and sudden distrust. “But you agreed to train me. Aren’t you afraid of what I am?”
I calmly sweep my hand in the direction of the Lane. The dojo doors are wide open, the entire street visible to us.
I say, “You’re not the only magical being on this street. In fact, this place is a safe haven for those who have escaped violent pasts. See the brownstone on the far corner? That’s Tansy’s home. She is known as the Saber Lane Witch and she is… like a sister to me.”
Saying those words brings home how true they are now. Like sisters, Tansy and I have fought, disagreed, even hated each other, but at the end of the day, we’ve come through for each other.
I continue, “That place over there is Dean’s Diner. He’s an empath.”
“I’ve never met an empath. All magical beings have an aura, don’t they?”
She peers at me as she speaks. Hmm. She’s checking me for an aura. I wonder if Cain told her that Keres and Valkyrie don’t have one.
I say, “That’s correct. It’s better if you don’t meet Dean until Tansy can protect him from your emotions. I hurt him badly the first time I set foot here. Something tells me you’ll knock him out.”
“I carry a lot of baggage.” Her gaze is astute, intelligent. “The Keres are killers but… you really aren’t afraid of me.” She searches my eyes as she asks, “Why not?”
Slade said I should take things slowly.
I probably should, but every word I say to Archer counts. She is too perceptive to accept a lie. I prepare myself for the moment of truth, the challenge of needing her to accept what I am.
I step back from the doorway so I can’t be seen from the street.
“I’m not afraid of you because I’m—”
“Hunter!” A shout from outside the dojo makes me jolt.
I hurry to the door to see Briar racing up the street, her beanie held in her hands, her wispy hair flying. She speeds up the stairs. “We have another one!”
She skids to a halt when she sees Archer, pausing long enough to say, “Archer Ryan, you’re healed! You gave us a big fright.”
Archer returns Briar’s smile with a genuine one of her own. For a second, I think she’s going to hug Briar, but it looks like physical affection is not something she’s comfortable with. “I’m sorry I didn’t do what you asked and come right here that day.”
“You trusted your instincts. That’s never a bad thing.” Briar spins to me, her sense of urgency returning. “Two mages are holding a boy for ransom. The mother is at the bookshop.”
Deep anger spears through me. “When will these assholes learn?”
I pause only long enough to seize two daggers from the wall of weapons behind me, pocketing them so they’re out of sight and I won’t scare the client. “Come with me, Archer. You’re going to get your wish today.”
I stride from the dojo, pleased when Archer keeps pace with me. Like Slade, she walks beside me, not behind.
The familiar bell rings when we enter the shop. The agitated woman pacing at the counter heads straight for me. She’s dressed in a designer coat, clutching an expensive bag, pearls dangling from her ears. The rest of her is a trembling mess.
She nearly drops her bag when she grabs my hands. “Please, they said you can save my son.”
I curl my hand into hers as gently as I can. She’s shaking so hard she rattles and I’m worried she won’t be able to write in my ledger. I make no promises as I draw her to the counter, open my book to a fresh page, and press the pen into her hand.
“You need to write the details here. Then we will wait for the mission to be sanctioned. If it is, the men who are holding your son won’t live to see another day.”
The pen shakes, she tries to steady herself, but her tears keep flowing and the ink streaks across the paper. “Oh, help,” she says, gulping, dropping her bag so she can grip the pen and book.
I want to help her, steady her, but writing in my ledger has to be done of her own free will. I can’t assist her to do it.
Archer suddenly swings around me and takes the woman by the shoulder, urging her to look up. “Your son is going to be okay. Trust us. We won’t let anything happen to him. We will get him back.”
Archer is standing with her back to me but I can see the woman’s reaction—she swallows, takes a deep breath, shuts her eyes for a moment… and then a deep peace fills her expression. She stops shaking, the crease across her forehead disappears, and her tears stop.
At the same time, Archer’s back glows. Gentle golden light shines through the thickness of the sweater she’s wearing, spreading across her shoulders and down her spine.
I take a quick step back, the force around Archer’s body biting my exposed face and hands like the lash of a whip, but the glow fades as quickly as it appeared.
Cain told me that he used the power in his assassin’s ring to keep Archer calm. I didn’t think much of it but what if… Keres power can calm people’s emotions? Tansy always said that the Keres were the gentle ones.
Unlike me. My power only instils fear.
Luckily, Briar is standing on the other side of the woman, so she didn’t see any of it.
The woman focuses on my ledger and begins to write. I recognize the men’s names, both minor players in Amalia’s game, both lesser mages, but I’ve been eager to make their acquaintance.
She places the pen in the middle fold and stands back. Within seconds, the Guardian’s sanction appears across the page.
I say, “Normally, we would be done at this point, but there’s one more thing I need to do.”
I take the woman’s place in front of my ledger, carefully considering the two men and what I know of them. Kurt is a fire mage, but not a powerful one; he can only wield a flame that is already lit. But he’s also a straight shot with a gun. The other is Scott, an earth mage who prefers to play with his prey. He is an expert in close contact knife fights.
I circle Kurt’s name, draw a line from it to the space beneath and write:
Archer Ryan will take this target. If successful, I will request her status be updated from Novice to Superior.
Archer murmurs at my shoulder, “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Assigning one of them to me. For giving me the chance to prove my worth.”
I don’t react. I keep my breathing steady. “You can read what I wrote?” She shouldn’t be able to. Nobody but the client and I should be able to read it.
Archer gives me a guilty look. “I read Cain’s ledger, too.”
Another Keres power, then. I definitely need to ask Cain about those shifters they fought in Texas. Come to think of it… there was a rumor that a bunch of Jaguars and Wolves went down in a gang war outside Austin. Perhaps they didn’t kill each other after all.
I hold my breath waiting for the Guardian’s decision. It’s early for me to put Archer to the test, but I hope her history will force the Guardian to agree.
The Guardian’s golden writing gleams across the page.
Sanctioned. Don’t get her killed or Cain will hunt you down and end you.
I smile and write:
Noted.
Briar quickly ushers the woman out of the shop, but before she leaves I ask her to verify the sanctioning with the Guardian over the phone. Amalia may have disappeared for now, but I’m not taking any chances that she could have interfered with my ledger. Kurt and Scott aren’t exactly her most loyal followers.
Then I swing to Archer. I have two challenges now: the first is figuring out where these assholes are keeping the boy. The second is getting Archer a protective suit. My suit has a bullet hole in it and I don’t have a new one, let alone a spare for Archer. Technically she doesn’t need it but it’s reckless not to suit her up—the kind of reckless that will make Cain beat down my door.
Just when I’m about to offer her my suit, she drags her focus away from the page and says, “We need to go right away. I know where these guys hide, but they’re unpredictable. They work for Lady Tirelli. They’ve given the mother until midnight to pay the ransom but they’re just as likely to kill her son for kicks.”
She holds out her hand for one of the daggers I took from the dojo, saying, “I don’t know how to blur but I don’t mind hanging on to you so we can move around undetected when we get there.”
Okay, then. She already knows the drill.
I say, “You should wear a protective suit or Cain will kill me. I have one you can borrow—”
“No need. There are two suits in the box of clothes he sent.”
She flips the dagger in her hand in a way that tells me she’s getting a feel for its weight. “I’ll get dressed and meet you back here in a minute. We need to hurry.”
She takes the stairs two at a time. She wasn’t joking about hurrying.
I lean against the counter, mentally preparing myself for the task ahead. Killing is so much easier when I can use my power but I won’t be able to do that in front of Archer. Relying solely on my weapons is dangerous for me now that my healing power is nearly gone—there’s more room for injury and the consequences are far worse. I tell myself that if I have to, I can blur and use my power that way.
Except that Archer can see through blurs. Damn.
But can she see through mine?
It’s a risk I can’t take.
Weapons it is.
I hurry to dress, attaching weapons holsters around my body before I check the hole in my suit. It’s small and shouldn’t pose too much danger. My attacker would need excellent aim to shoot through it.
Archer appears in the doorway and quickly freezes, fixated on the picture of Mom on top of the dressing table.
She says, “I thought you looked familiar.”
I’m surprised. “Did you meet my mother?”
“Not officially. I only knew her by name. In fact, I deliberately avoided meeting the Glass Fox.” She slips into my room and picks up the photo. “I used to think that assassins were myths. But this woman… I did see her a couple of times. Only from a distance.”
I want to tell Archer that Mom died to protect her, but how can I lay that on her?
Her fingertips linger across the image where little me smiles at the camera. Archer gives me a crooked grin. “You were a cute kid.”
I laugh. “Don’t let anyone hear you say that. You’ll ruin my reputation.”
She smiles. “Something tells me your reputation is more secure than that.”
She hands me the photo and I press my finger beside my mother’s image. Gareth killed Mom, but Amalia was the cause of it.
Somehow, no matter how much damage I do to Amalia’s empire, it’s never enough.
Chapter Fifteen
I check that Archer’s harnesses are secure before I hand her a tranquilizer gun and a gun loaded with bullets. “Do you know the rules of the Assassin’s Code?”
She seems unbelievably calm. Even calmer now that she’s carrying firepower. “Kills must be sanctioned. Collateral damage is forbidden.”
“Good. The tranquilizers are for anyone who isn’t your target. Collateral damage includes any injury that results from your actions so you need to be careful.”
“So… if my target shoots at me but kills the person behind me, that’s on me?”
“Yes. For that reason, we should approach our targets in a secluded location.”
She purses her lips. “That will be tricky, but not impossible.”
“If we blur while we run, do you think you can keep pace with me without losing contact?”
Her answer is to clamp a hand on my arm. “Easier than a three-legged race.”
I grin at her and mentally lose myself into my surroundings, drawing on my power to blur myself. It rises to the surface, a force that is like a deep current, flowing through me and calming me.
Too late, I realize my mistake.
The place on my forearm where Archer grips me flares, a spark shooting between us.
She cries out, wrenching her hand away, a lightning-fast reflex that carries her several feet from me in an instant. A safe distance. She hugs her hand to her chest, taking glances at her palm. “What the hell?”
Oh… no…
I bury my power, switching it off cold, and take her hand, checking her over. Her palm is red, but luckily she didn’t lose any skin. There are no deep burns. I check her face and her eyes to make sure she doesn’t have any delayed concussion. “Are you okay?”
“That was like electricity. Your assassin’s magic is…” She forces a laugh. “Damn, Hunter. No wonder nobody messes with you.”
She thinks it’s my assassin’s ring. I don’t feel guilt very often—it’s not in my nature—but right now I’m swimming in buckets of remorse. I could have seriously injured her. This means that I can’t harness my power at all while she’s touching me.
“I’m really sorry. I didn’t know that would happen.”
She shakes off her surprise and pain faster than I expected, proving to me just how tough she is. “Okay, what do we do now? We can’t run through the streets dressed like this.”
I exhale slowly.
Slade would be seriously worried if he knew what I was about to do.
I say, “Now we get changed into civilian clothing. We conceal our weapons on our bodies. I need you to watch my back. I might have a reputation but I can get hurt… whereas you…”
“I’ve got your back.” She gives me a determined nod before she races to the bathroom to change.
Two minutes later, we leave the shop, dressed in jeans, t-shirts, cropped leather jackets, and boots. We each carry a tranquilizer gun and a regular handgun tucked into our jeans. Archer’s clothing looks brand new. She mumbles something about how Cain “refreshed” her wardrobe. I hide a smile that quickly fades when we pass Tansy’s place.
I half expect Slade to burst out of the house and ask me why I’m not wearing a protective suit. The honest answer will get me into trouble since it will involve mentioning in front of Archer that I’m Valkyrie.
A moment later, we turn the corner. Without alarming Archer, I cast my gaze back toward the street, worrying at my lip, but all is quiet behind us.
When we arrive at the high-end casino, I’m sure we’re in the wrong place. “This is it?”
I definitely pictured a dingy warehouse for these guys. Instead, we’re surrounded by opulence: plush amethyst carpet, leather seats at the games tables, a chandelier for every ten square feet of ceiling, and sweeping drapes hanging beside marble columns.
“Trust me. They’re brutes, but they like to live it up. They’ll keep the boy bound up in their room while they enjoy themselves at the tables. They like to gamble.”
I growl, “With people’s lives. How do you know all this?”
She swallows. “Because my father once used me as bait.”
She strides forward but I grab her arm and pull her into a side corridor.
“What?”
She sighs. “It was when I was a kid, maybe ten years old. They locked me in their room while they gambled and when they got back… well… I did a lot of damage and they agreed to do whatever Dad wanted. Kurt still has the scar I gave him.”
I have trouble processing that. To begin with… “What sort of father uses his own child as bait?”
She says, “But I’m not his child. I never knew my real parents.”
She appears completely unaffected, but she can’t fool me for a second. Pain is buried deep inside her, the same way Slade buries his rage and I bury my truths.
