The Pact of the White Blade Knights

by Barbara Russell

  He won’t kill me. Fear coiled in my belly and stole my breath. I can do this.

  I stood up and adjusted my buckskin trousers. “How do I look?”

  Sophie, my chamber maid, tilted her head. Her brown hair reminded me of the color of tea. “Very elegant, Your Grace.” A corner of her mouth quirked up, and I burst out laughing.

  She chuckled, and cheerfulness wafted from her and lightened my heart. “Sorry, Your Grace. I meant no disrespect.” She bobbed a curtsy.

  “Don’t you worry. I know I must look odd.” I walked across the Persian rug and stepped around the low table, then the armchairs facing the fireplace. The freedom of moving my legs without petticoats made me giggle. Men were lucky. I inhaled deeply. My ribcage expanded as much as I wanted. “It’s easier to wear men’s clothes than a tight bodice and bustle.”

  Sophie snickered. “So it would seem.”

  “You may go now, thank you.”

  Sophie curtsied again and left me alone.

  A long tendril of chestnut hair fell over my face, and I puffed it away. I braided the strand and pinned it at the back of my neck with a brass clip. Once I donned my flat hat, I could pass for a young man, if one didn’t study me too close. Venturing in West Auckland dressed like a lady wouldn’t be wise even with Jamie at my side, and I didn’t want him to punch anyone.

  From the center drawer of my desk, I retrieved Marianne’s picture in an old issue of the New Zealand Herald. My throat constricted at her smiling, happy face. The article didn’t divulge all the gory details of her death, but having witnessed it, I didn’t need them to know how much she’d suffered or how horribly her young body had been ripped apart. I folded the article and tucked it in my pocket. If Murk had murdered her, seeing her picture would spark violence or satisfaction inside him and would give him away.

  A knock startled me from my sad memories as I finished stuffing my hair underneath my hat. “Come in.”

  “Oh, Isabel.” Aunt Ermintrude flung the door open and strode inside in a flourish of black silk and gray velvet. She dabbed a white handkerchief on her forehead. “You cannot imagine what I heard at Lady Lor—” She fell silent, her forest green eyes so similar to mine roaming my face. “Good gracious, why are you wearing men’s clothes?”

  I straightened and stood at attention. “My first official mission for MI7.”

  The thin lines around her mouth deepened as she scowled. Aside from my aunt’s few gray strands in her glossy chestnut hair, we could be mistaken for mother and daughter or sisters even. Did my eyebrows pinch like that when I frowned?

  “Your first mission? I don’t think so.” Aunt Ermintrude’s lips squeezed into a firm line. “You’re a lady.”

  “And a member of MI7. Victor gave me his blessings.” I kissed her cheek without bothering to read her feelings. I knew she was annoyed. “It’s nothing dangerous, and I’ll be back before you notice my absence.” Hopefully.

  “Isabel, I forbid you to go. What will people say if they see you dressed like that? It would be a scandal.” She twitched her nose as if smelling something rotten.

  “No one will recognize me. Besides, no lord or lady wanders around the slums of West Auckland, and Jamie will escort me.” I hurried down the stairs before Aunt Ermintrude could lecture me further.

  “Isabel!” Her shout and her quick footfalls echoed into the corridor’s high-vaulted ceiling.

  I didn’t train two hours per day with Jamie to be caught by my corset-wearing, forty-year-old aunt. I skidded to a halt in the foyer in front of Jamie, my flat soles screeching on the marble tiles. A laugh escaped me, and another wisp of hair fell loose and tickled my nose.

  “We are having fun, aren’t we? This isn’t a game.” Jamie clasped his hands behind his back. His jacket opened, revealing his Enfield MK1 gun. Or was it 2? I always got confused with those silly gun names.

  My gaze traveled skyward. “I was just fleeing from my aunt’s lectures about my choice of clothes.”

  “Why you look . . .” Jamie’s sapphire eyes lingered on my legs. “Lovely.”

  Fierce desire rose from him in waves that warmed my body even if I wasn’t probing him. He could barely restrain his lust. He wanted me here and now. Then his feeling shattered like a window broken by a stone, then built up again. His face flustered. I guessed it was Jamie’s attempt at hiding his emotions. I broke the contact, guilt and shame gnawing at me.

  I pulled down the hem of my jacket. His arousal stirred mine and confused me, not sure about what my true feelings were. “Thank you.”

  “Your Grace.”

  I turned at the sound of Hollom’s voice. “Yes, Hollom?”

  He carried a brown satchel. The fabric strained from the bag’s contents. “I’ve prepared everything you asked of me, ma’am.”

  “Splendid. Thank you, Hollom.”

  His kind smile brightened his hazel eyes. “My pleasure, ma’am.”

  Jamie took the bag and strapped it over his black jacket. “A bribe for Murk?”

  I nodded. “A street urchin will be tempted by food and money.”

  He arched a brow.

  “Unless you already tried that, and it didn’t work?” I sank my teeth onto my bottom lip. Why hadn’t I asked him before?

  “I guess I should have.” He opened the front door, and the scent of winter roses wafted from the garden.

  Hollom bowed. “I prepared the Tokaido. In case you wanted to use it, sir. The car is ready to go.”

  “Your steam car?” I walked to the porch and descended the steps to the front yard. Jamie’s red steam car was parked on the gravel next to the marble fountain. A few drops fell on its shiny bodywork, carried by a breeze. Its engine rumbled, and steam puffed from the exhaustion pipe.

  “I’m not sure it’s a good idea.” Jamie caressed the hood, flashing his charming smile. A dimple dented his cheek. “But this Japanese lady is fast, and I made a few improvements. We’d arrive at the rookery in a moment and be swift if we need to flee. I don’t want to put you in danger running on foot. What do you think?”

  I balled my fists at my hips. “No steam car. We’ll take a hansom cab.”

  I didn’t want to go in one of the most troubled and poor areas of Auckland with a flashy, brand new steam car. We’d attract the attention of every thief in the quarter, not to mention that we needed Murk to work with us. He was a street urchin, probably half starved. Showing off our wealth wouldn’t make him friendlier toward us.

  “You sure?” Jamie asked, doubt and worry growing inside him.

  “Yes.”

  “Hansom cab it is.”

  “I’ll call one for you, sir.” Hollom bowed again.

  “Would you please bring some tea to my aunt?” I asked. “She’s a bit agitated.”

  “Certainly, ma’am.” Hollom inhaled deeply. His body shook, and his silhouette blurred. There was a soft, popping sound when he split and doubled. Two twin Holloms stood in front of me. They were identical in every detail, down to their gray hair and mole on the left cheek. Except that Hollom’s double didn’t radiate any feeling. It was like trying to probe a stone.

  I’d love to be able to do that. One Hollom darted toward the kitchen while the other ran toward the boudoir to call the cab.

  Jamie stepped closer. His lust was gone, replaced by desire to protect and love me. “You’ll stay close to me, will you?”

  His fresh breath feathered on my mouth as he leaned forward. I pulled away before he kissed me. I wasn’t ready, and I wouldn’t have more intimate physical contact until I understood where his feelings ended and mine began.

  “Jamie, please, you know that I—”

  “Don’t tell me again.” He shrank backward. “I know how you feel, but this doesn’t mean I don’t worry about you.”

  “I appreciate that, I really do.” I hated how laughable I sounded. “I just don’t feel the same way.”

  He kicked a cobble. The movement was casual, but the stone arched high in the sky and disappeared behind the
distant trees.

  “You don’t have to explain it. First your parents, then Marianne. I understand. You need time, and I’ll wait.”

  I wasn’t sure it was a matter of time.

  ~*~

  I twitched my nose. The hansom cab smelled of coal. A thin layer of ash covered the leather seats, making them slippery.

  Jamie moved closer as the cab driver traveled past Remuera district. “Victor wants Murk to live at Hastings Manor, in one of the guest rooms, of course if you agree. We’ll find a more suitable arrangement for him later.”

  My power broke free on its own volition, and I sensed the driver’s boredom and Jamie’s anxiety. I flinched. When I was nervous or distracted, it happened often. “Of course I agree. Victor wouldn’t ask unless it was important.”

  “He wants to keep Murk close, in case the man can’t be trusted.”

  I gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Once I read him, I’ll know if he’s a good man or not.”

  “Unless he can trick you,” he muttered.

  I climbed out of the back seat of the hansom cab when we arrived at the rookery. Jamie paid the driver and closed the door behind me. His broad frame had hunched to fit the restricted space, and now he stretched his arms over his head. “Not the most comfortable journey.”

  “Always better than a horse-pulled carriage.” Those ancient vehicles made me queasy.

  He took my elbow. “Stay close to me.”

  I nodded, lifting the lapels of my jacket to fend off a chilly southerly wind. The rookery’s main road lacked any kind of paving, and mud filled the puddles. I jumped to the side when a horse carriage spluttered filthy water. A couple of men walked past us and threw us sideways glances. Jamie shifted closer to me. Children with grimy faces played in the dirt and cast curious looks in our direction. They muttered something I didn’t catch.

  “What did they say?”

  Jamie grinned. “They say you are too pretty to be a boy.” He gave me the onceover. “So much for your disguise.”

  “Oh well.” I pulled my hat over my face. “Next time I’ll do better.”

  “I hope there won’t be a next time. This is too dangerous.”

  I sighed. After I recruited Murk, Jamie would have to see me as a useful member of MI7.

  A boy tipped his hat to Jamie. “Sir.”

  Jamie nodded in reply. “Archie.”

  “Do you know that boy?” I asked.

  Pride grew from him, stretching his chest. “I volunteer in this area once a week. I train the young Supernaturals so they aren’t scared of their powers.”

  “Oh. You didn’t tell me.”

  He shrugged, a hint of coyness rising. I wondered if my rejection had anything to do with his lack of communication.

  An airship soared overhead, shading the street in a premature dusk for a moment. Women in riddled clothes carried baskets of half-rotting fruits or coal. A few children tugged at the women’s skirts. I flexed my pale hands. A few cuts and bruises marked them. The training with Jamie took its toll, but I’d never worked to buy food or clothes. I didn’t envy the life of a coal lass, carrying heavy baskets of coal all day to the rich families of Auckland.

  “Did you practice how to block people’s pain?” Jamie asked.

  Not really. “Yes, of course.”

  His hand twitched over the holster of his gun hidden under his jacket. “If someone attacks you, I’ll shoot, but I don’t want you to feel pain.” His solemn stare bored into me.

  “Don’t worry about me.”

  “Stop saying that.” He scoffed. “Now we have to leave the main road. Don’t talk to anyone, children included. Half of them are thieves, and the other half is in training.”

  We took a side road where the strong stench of sewage made me gag.

  Jamie twitched his nose. “Sometimes having a heightened sense of smell isn’t a gift.”

  I clamped a hand over my mouth and nose as we entered another secluded alley so narrow Jamie’s shoulders skimmed both brick walls. The alley opened to a wider lane, and I walked side by side with him. A baby’s cry echoed, followed by a man shouting and the sound of glass breaking. I jolted and grabbed his arm.

  He stopped and turned to me. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.” I released my grip. “Sorry.”

  His jaw muscle twitched, and he mumbled a curse. Focusing, I searched his feelings. Frustration and worry mingled inside him. I had to be stronger to convince him I could do this, or he would drag me back to Hastings Manor. We turned right into another alley filled with wooden cradles, piles of rotting vegetables, and scrap metal.

  “See that half broken door over there?” Jamie pointed at the end of the alley. A wooden door with flaking white paint was set askew, hanging from one hinge. “That’s the entrance of Murk’s house, if we can call it that. I’ll lead the way and you—”

  “I’ll go alone.”

  Jamie’s anger surged so fast I gasped. It formed a red halo around him, and the taste of chili stung my tongue. “You will not do such a thing.”

  “He knows you. If he sees you in his house again, he’ll attack us. Let me go alone.” I tugged at the strap of the satchel he was carrying. “I have to trust him if I want his trust.”

  “Isabel, no.” He folded his hand over mine. “He can hurt you, attack you or worse. I need to be by your side.”

  “I’ll scream if anything happens. With your heightened senses, you’ll hear me.”

  “Not if you’re on the other side of the house. I’m not that powerful. Besides, some walls are reinforced with metal panels. My hearing can’t pass through them.”

  “Please. I know what I am doing.” I hoped my voice sounded confident enough.

  He let go of my hand, and I took the bag, struggling under its weight.

  “I won’t walk far from the door.”

  He clenched his jaw. His concern and love, so much love, engulfed me like a warm, soft blanket. My face heated at what he felt for me. Something stirred inside me, but I couldn’t tell if it was more than affection. Or perhaps I was just experiencing his own feelings.

  “Isabel,” he said so low I wasn’t sure he’d spoken. “If anything happens to you, if he so much as tears a hair from your head, I’ll go mad.”

  “You have to trust me.” With a sigh, I faced the house, but he stopped me, taking my elbow.

  “Be careful.” He squeezed gently before letting me go.

  I scrutinized a rusty nail on the ground. “Always. I have a great combat teacher after all.” I smiled as I walked toward the tattered door.

  My boots crunched the dried mud and the pieces of broken glass littering the ground. A horsefly buzzed above my head, and I swatted it away. With the tip of my shoe, I pushed the door open. It dangled inward, rattling and screeched like an angry monkey. The surprise effect was gone. The entire quarter must’ve heard the noise.

  I squinted. It was too dark to see anything aside from the wooden floor. Mold and humid air assaulted my nostrils. Gripping the strap of the bag tighter, I walked in. Behind me across the street, Jamie stood, tensed and menacing, ready to pounce.

  The wooden boards groaned as I stepped farther into the room. Aside from the fluttering of pigeons’ wings and the seagulls’ cries, the house was silent. Maybe Murk wasn’t here. I rolled my eyes. So silly of me. The man could turn himself invisible. I concentrated and unleashed my power, searching the room. Not a single vibe touched me.

  Metal panels covered the walls, and I breathed out. Jamie couldn’t hear me. I headed into a corridor dimly lit by a broken window. Wooden planks partially covered it, but a few rays of sunlight streamed inside.

  There wasn’t much to see anyway, just dust motes glittering in the dark. It must’ve been a pretty house once, probably filled with happy children. It was a miracle that it hadn’t collapsed with those rotting walls. I turned and faced more metal panels. Damn.

  I arrived at another dark, empty room and cleared my throat to announce my presence. “Is th—”


  The punch hit me in the stomach, hard and strong. I doubled, gasping for air. A presence slammed into me. Anger, worry, and fear came out of my attacker from somewhere in front of me, filling my mouth with the flavor of ginger and black pepper. I peered around but faced only the dirty bricks. A sturdy hand seized my throat and shoved me against the wall.

  I tried to scream, but only a muffled sound escaped. “P-please.” I dropped the satchel and touched the invisible hand keeping me in place. Hard muscles like ropes twitched under my fingers. “C-can’t breathe.”

  “You’re a girl,” a deep, masculine voice rumbled. His guilt and shame flooded me as he let me go. Surprise and shock also came out of him.

  I bent forward, putting a hand on my belly and gasping for air.

  “Who are you?” he asked.

  I ignored the burning in my lungs. “My name is I-Isabel Blackwood.” I peered around, seeing nothing. The sting of his anger diminished, replaced by curiosity and concern. “Are you Murk?”

  “What do you want?”

  “I’m here to talk to you. Just talk. I need your help.”

  “Wait here.”

  I did as told. Not that I had the breath to go anywhere else.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  About the author

  Contact me!

  Bonus content