Shadowed Flame

by RJ Blain

  My questions could wait until I figured out what I needed to know first. Unfortunately, I had no idea where to begin. My ignorance felt limitless, and every question I had led to twenty others.

  Starting somewhere was better than spinning my wheels going nowhere fast. “You don’t like the color red?”

  “I see too much blood as it is.”

  I swallowed and nodded my understanding. There had been so much blood at La Guardia, although to my eyes, it had been charcoal rather than red. Did color make such a terrible thing even worse?

  “This Inquisition wants us to deal with the people responsible for what happened at La Guardia, don’t they?”

  “Yes.”

  “How?”

  Ryan poked and prodded at the meat in the frying pan. “I’ll probably work with the FBI on this. We’ll look for information on where they went, why they did it, and then we’ll eliminate them so they don’t kill anyone else. I’m an operative, which is a nice way of saying I’m a hired killer—an assassin. As long as you’re with me, that’s what you’ll be, too.”

  My wolf stirred at the doubt in Ryan’s voice. I sniffed, and my wolf pinpointed the unease in his scent. “So there won’t be a formal trial?”

  “No. Part of my job is to verify guilt.”

  “If no one is supposed to know what we are, how can you work with the FBI?”

  “The Inquisition runs portions of the FBI, that’s how. The upper management are all in the know or are Inquisitors. It’s part of how we have managed to keep the supernatural hidden for so long. The Inquisition is involved at all levels of government.”

  I frowned, staring at the cutting board. “All levels? How high up?”

  “The Inquisition cultivates people for politics, but their primary focus is on law enforcement, the Supreme Court, and the military. While there are Fenerec politicians, they’re usually local-level. It’s difficult to hide our nature when we’re too close to the top. Most Inquisition politicians are witches.”

  “So the people behind La Guardia will die.”

  “Yes.”

  I nodded, clenched my teeth, and lifted my chin. “And we’re going to be the ones who do it.”

  “Yes.”

  While I had never been a supporter of the death penalty, I remembered too well how many had been killed or suffered as a result of the explosions, myself included. If it hadn’t been for Ryan, I would have died.

  Death seemed too easy of a way out, too gentle of a punishment for those who would ruin so many lives. My wolf growled in my head.

  She didn’t speak with words, but I felt her desire to obtain justice for those who had been hurt and killed. “I’m under the impression it’s hard to kill one of us. How are we going to do it?”

  “We heal faster and live longer than humans, but a bullet to the head will kill us. Silver will, too. Some exposure to silver isn’t lethal, but a silver bullet often is. They don’t penetrate as far as standard rounds. Unless they’re removed, they’ll kill a Fenerec. The older the silver, the faster it kills. Age matters when it comes to silver. An older Fenerec is more resistant to silver, so the bullet has to be forged of older metal, preferably an heirloom of some sort—something that’s been passed down through several generations.”

  Ryan’s emotionless tone bothered me almost as much as the fact he refused to look up from the frying pan.

  The scent of his discomfort and anxiety strengthened. “Anything else?”

  “Broken necks will kill younger Fenerec; older ones will recover, but it takes a long time. Blood loss and extreme trauma can be fatal, too. The older the Fenerec, the harder they are to kill.”

  “You hate it, don’t you?”

  “I hate I have to do it. The fact it is necessary, the fact there are Fenerec who would lower themselves to such levels, that’s what I hate. I look forward to killing the ones who hurt you. This is a hunt I want.” Ryan exhaled, long and loud. “I didn’t want to expose you to this part of my life like this.”

  “Do you kill people who don’t deserve it? Innocent people?”

  “No!”

  I set my knife down and crossed my arms over my chest. “So, you’re killing people who deserve it?”

  “Yes.”

  “So they won’t do it again? Hurt others?”

  Ryan nodded.

  “And you thought I’d have a problem with this?”

  “Yes.”

  “Guess what? I don’t. The only thing I’m going to have a problem with is if you tell me I can’t help, or if you try to tell me I’m a good girl and I shouldn’t worry my pretty head over it. If I can help, I expect to help. I am not the type of woman who will be happy if you sideline me for no reason. If I have to watch you run off and go to your mountain on your own so you can get the space you need, then you have to deal with me helping you however I can. Fine, I don’t know how to use a gun. I’ll learn. I’ll do whatever you need me to do, just don’t stop me.” I picked up the knife and went back to work cutting up potatoes. “If you’re expecting some stay-at-home woman, you’ve got the wrong girl.”

  “Trust me, I noticed. I noticed in the airport when you worked so hard to help the other victims. I noticed when you tore your feet to strips because you wouldn’t take those shoes of yours off until there was nothing left for you to do. I don’t want a trophy. I want a partner.”

  So did I. Satisfied we had found an understanding, I decided to get to the chase. “Will I be able to return to work?”

  Ryan took the frying pan off the burner and set it aside before turning to me. “Of course. Becoming a Fenerec doesn’t mean you have to give up your life. It’ll change it a bit—okay, a lot—but you’ll be able to do everything you used to. I’ll have to travel as needed, but I’ll deal with that when it happens.”

  “How often does the Inquisition have you work?”

  “I’ve been working on this pack problem for three months. They’re good—too good. After the attack on the airport, they dropped off the map. Since we were trapped, I wasn’t able to track them. With the scale of the attack, we’ll have official FBI resources to draw on. Sinclair’s pack should be enough firepower to get the job done. Normally, I prefer to do my hits in a dark, quiet alley and get rid of the evidence before anyone knows someone was killed. We’ve been in a holding pattern waiting for a break in the case.”

  I clacked my teeth together. “That changed because of me, didn’t it?”

  “It gave the Inquisition an excuse to call Sinclair. With a full pack on the hunt, it’s a lot safer. Sinclair’s pack can do a lot of the heavy work while I plan the hit.”

  “How can I help?”

  “That’s what I’m not sure of yet. With Harthel, it’s easier; you’ll be the bait. You’ll lure him out so I can deal with him.”

  “We can deal with him,” I corrected, narrowing my eyes.

  Ryan scowled, sighed, and nodded. “We will deal with him. Sinclair will probably insist on helping, too. He’s unhappy about what happened when you were under his guard.”

  “I was not under his guard.”

  “To him you were. You’ll have to get used to that. Alpha males are all the same; they’re protective, especially around children and young women. You were in his company, and you were hurt because he wasn’t able to stop Harthel. Not all Alphas are as serious about it as Sinclair, but that’s one of the reasons I like him even though he annoys me.”

  I had the feeling Ryan disliked all Alphas, and I was reminded of his reaction to my willingness to let him have the space he needed to be happy. I understood.

  “All right. What if I can’t figure out the trick to shifting?”

  “You will.”

  “That doesn’t help me now. Dad’s acting like I’m going to hurt him, and he’s okay with it.” My frustration bled into my voice. “How am I supposed to deal with that?”

  “Until you control your wolf’s impulses, he’ll probably get bit a few times. It’s pretty normal. Fenerec-born are tough. He can
handle it.”

  “I don’t want to bite anyone!”

  Ryan scowled.

  “Except you?” I corrected. “See? This is just what I’m talking about. It’s okay for me to bite you. That’s…”

  “Not what you’re used to?”

  I nodded.

  “We bite. I’ll bite you. You’ll bite me. You’ll bite other Fenerec when you get into dominance battles with them. You’ll get bitten, too. Honestly, I’m surprised Sinclair hasn’t bitten you yet—he could have instead of grabbing hold of your neck with his hand when you were nipping at my cabin.”

  “Is there an instruction manual for being a Fenerec? I could use one.”

  “What do you want to know? Just ask.”

  “Before I knew it was my grandmother, why did I dislike her being there so much? I’ve never really cared what other women did until now.”

  “Competition for the only available male around. Until you and your wolf feel comfortable and secure no one is going to steal me from you, your hackles will go up any time another female comes by. The more dominant the female, the more protective she is over her male, especially if he’s less dominant than she is. Usually, females partner with more dominant males, so these instincts are reversed; normally, I’d be the one bristling around other males.”

  So it’s normal for me to feel so possessive?”

  “I’d be worried if you weren’t.”

  I dumped all the cut potatoes into a bowl and handed them to Ryan, who in turn dumped them into a large stock pot along with the meat. “Grandmother seemed confident we’re a couple. Why?”

  Once the stew was situated to his liking, Ryan tapped the side of his nose. “You’ll learn to identify when a Fenerec is mated from scent. Right now, you’re probably still having trouble sorting out specific signatures. Mated Fenerec carry their partner’s scent, so other Fenerec can tell with a few sniffs. So, in a subtle way, you smell like me, and I smell like you. Your grandmother has been a Fenerec long enough she knew right away. You’ll probably start detecting subtle scents in a few weeks; most Fenerec pick it up within days of the ritual, but most don’t undergo the ritual when they are as sick as you were. That affects things.”

  “Do I have to do anything to keep it that way?” I demanded.

  Ryan laughed. “While I’m tempted to say otherwise to lure you into having your way with me, no. You’re mine, I’m yours, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it, not without drastic measures.”

  “What drastic measures?”

  “We die or someone uses magic to break our bond.” Ryan’s mouth thinned to a line. “That’s also part of what I do for the Inquisition. I hunt down those who would use that sort of magic and rid the Earth of them. No matter what anyone tells you, Matia, understand this: there’s nothing good about a necromancer or a sorcerer, and don’t ever let anyone try to convince you otherwise. One steals secrets from the dead and uses the bodies however they see fit. Sorcerers harvest pain, suffering, fear, and all other negative emotions and use them to fuel their magic. They can also steal away a victim’s will and life, making it their own. I have met a sorcerer once, and I hope I never do again.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The world hid a lot of secrets, and while the Fenerec topped the list, witches came a close second. While breakfast cooked, Ryan cleaned and told me about the types of people he killed, the conditions required for an execution order to be issued, and the rare circumstances when someone might avoid death.

  Ryan and I fit in as the rare exceptions. Since he had violated only one taboo, prevented other Normals from witnessing his deed, and secured my cooperation, we weren’t a risk to the Inquisition and the supernatural community as a whole.

  Until the day the supernatural could live openly among Normals, secrecy reigned supreme.

  I still had too many questions. Determined to be less of a liability, I asked, “Can you explain why it’s okay to be a Fenerec or a witch, but it’s dangerous to be both?”

  “Balance of power. Fenerec witches have two types of power. Fenerec are strong, fast, and difficult to kill. Witches can control a Fenerec’s stronger impulses, balancing the human and wolf halves. Depending on type, witches have other powers, too. Witches align with the four elements. Put them together, and you have a very potent combination. Once upon a time, Fenerec with witch powers were kept under close guard. Caged. Fenerec with witch powers began hiding their abilities to prevent themselves from being imprisoned, let out only when the Inquisition needed them. That ended some fifty years ago or so—I was a puppy back then.”

  “What changed?”

  Ryan paced the length of the kitchen, pausing to check on the stew. “Fenerec with witch powers are a lot more useful to the Inquisition when they cooperate willingly. They’re becoming more common, but knowingly turning a witch into a Fenerec is as close to taboo as it gets without technically being one. Witches run a high risk of losing control of their powers when they become a Fenerec. If the witch doesn’t already have control of their powers, becoming a Fenerec can have destructive—possibly lethal—consequences.”

  Something didn’t add up; I remembered Dalton talking to Ryan about me, hinting I had been something before becoming a Fenerec. Every now and then, I caught a glimpse of the shadows surrounding people, shadows I had seen long before I had met Ryan.

  “What if I’m something else, too?”

  For the first time since we had started the discussion, Ryan grinned at me. “Don’t worry. Even if you are, you’ll be given a chance to prove yourself—or learn how to control your powers should you have them.”

  “I see things,” I confessed.

  “When I first met you, I smelled smoke on you—not like cigarette smoke; it’s more like wood smoke in the winter. It’s a sign of a fire witch. The stronger the witch, the stronger the scent. Talented, sensitive witches can learn to mask the scent, but it takes time and practice. Fenerec witches, ironically enough, are usually the best at hiding their nature. Fire witches are often sensors. They see things, usually auras. You’re the first colorblind witch I’ve met, though.”

  I stared at him, my mouth gaping open. “Then I’m a witch? There are other people who can see things, too? You knew?”

  “Harthel wasn’t the one who torched the cabin he had you in. It was you. He probably put you in the tub, but then you shifted, and when you shifted for the first time, you manifested your witch powers. Fire witchcraft is common, but it’s often dangerous. There are few truly powerful fire witches. Why? They combust. Those instances of self-combustion that sometimes crop up? Fires with unknown causes that kill one person? Often a fire witch losing control of their powers during their first manifestation. You survived. That’s all that matters. After initial manifestation, it often takes a new witch two or three months to recover enough to begin training.”

  My wolf whined in my head, and her worry bled into me.

  “I burned the cabin down?”

  “Too much too soon?” Ryan grimaced. “I know a lot about witches because it’s my job to deal with them if one goes rogue. I can’t teach you how to control your powers; another witch will have to—or you’ll figure it out on your own. Many do, once they manifest.”

  “But I’ve always seen those shadows.” I heard the whining quality of my voice, swallowed, and lifted my chin. “I refuse to be a liability.”

  Ryan chuckled and checked on the stew again. “You’ll be fine. You have me to help you, and I can help prevent you from manifesting again.”

  “You can?”

  “Breakfast first, then I’ll show you.”

  I had to be more careful about underestimating Ryan. If preventing accidental manifestation of witchcraft involved exhausting us both, his idea of spending the day in bed would work. He contented me and my wolf, and without her whining anxiously in my head every other minute, I was also able to relax.

  “However much I enjoyed that, I don’t think that’s appropriate if I have a problem in, say, the
grocery store,” I pointed out, snuggling up against Ryan’s back to enjoy his warmth.

  “I have other ways, but they’re not nearly as much fun,” he admitted.

  “What other sort of ways?”

  “Since you’re a Fenerec, I’d just pinch the nerve in your neck. The pain would be enough to break your concentration. If you’re completely uncontrolled, I’d have to knock you out or use wolfsbane.”

  “Wolfsbane. You mentioned that before—you used it in the airport? Am I remembering that right?”

  “Yes. When I was certain you weren’t doing well, I slipped it in a water bottle and gave it to you. It’s an herb, and it can control Fenerec. I don’t like using it, but if I need to control another Fenerec, that’s the best way to do it. It makes it almost impossible to disobey an order. It’s our bane because it takes away our will. That’ll be part of your training. You’ll need to experience wolfsbane, learn its symptoms, and learn to protect yourself if you’re dosed with it.” Ryan stretched. “In a way, you’re fortunate. You’re going to be dominant enough you won’t need to use things like wolfsbane to protect yourself. You’ll go toe to toe against other Fenerec and beat them by the force of your will alone.”

  “Do you use wolfsbane on other Fenerec?”

  “Whenever possible. I try to prevent unnecessary deaths. Wolfsbane helps me do that. Sometimes the Inquisition will consider alternative punishments. I try to make those happen as often as possible.”

  Ryan sighed, and I pressed my nose to his throat and breathed in his scent. While I didn’t want to hurt anyone, I couldn’t deny there were a few I wanted to kill, including Harthel.

  “I have a confession.”

  Ryan tensed. “What?”

  My wolf’s influence explained my blood thirst, although wanting to rip a man’s throat out with my teeth unnerved the human half of me. “I want to kill Harthel for what he did. Not just to me, but to Dad. He did it to hurt Dad.”

  With a soft laugh, Ryan pulled away and rolled over to face me. “That’s what Sinclair and his pack are coming over later to discuss. We’re going to figure out how to lure the bastard out and put an end to him. He picked the wrong family to attack, and the Inquisition doesn’t appreciate when safe holdings for Fenerec are compromised; your company is one of four major corporations in the United States set up to handle witches and Fenerec.”