“And you, child, need to work on your manners,” she called after me, but I could hear the smile in her voice.
Chapter Sixteen
Making my way back to the apartment, I contemplated Noree’s deal. Was she losing her touch? It seemed unlikely, but then she was older than I was so nothing was truly impossible.
Being without a cell phone made me anxious, so I picked up my pace, jogging through the streets toward the apartment. I could have called my motorbike, but it seemed like a waste of energy when Noree’s restaurant was only a few blocks away.
When I reached the edge of the pavement across from my apartment, magic prickled down the back of my neck. I peered up at the building, but couldn’t see anything wrong. That didn’t mean that everything was fine.
Sliding the ward beneath my jacket, I crossed the street and stepped into the building. Magic shimmered on the walls, making the air hard to breathe.
Had the witch hunters returned?
I took the stairs two at a time and was relieved to find the hall leading to the apartment much as I had left it. The sound of voices spilling out through the open doorway also told me my panic had been unfounded. However, it didn’t explain the spill of magic that filled the air.
Pausing in the doorway, I caught sight of Mazik standing with his back to me. Samira’s eyes met mine over his shoulder just as he ducked to the side to avoid one of Clary’s roots that burst up through the floorboards.
Considering we were on the eighth floor, her ability to call tree roots from the earth all the way up here was damn impressive.
“I swear I’m friends with Darcey,” Mazik said, his voice a little strained as he dodged another of Clary’s blows.
“Darcey doesn’t make friends with demons,” Clary shot back, the strain in her own voice palpable as she thrust her hand upwards and another root burst through the floor.
“You know you’re paying for that,” I said to no one in particular as I stepped into the apartment.
Clary turned her flashing violet eyes on me; the colour had completely swamped her eyes, swallowing her pupils until there was nothing but a shimmering mass of violet stars.
“I hope you’re not talking to me,” she said, her anger bubbling dangerously close to the surface.
“Nope,” I said, turning to face Mazik and raising my eyebrow. He swallowed his demon halfway with just the barest hint of a ripple across his skin, and his black eyes returned to normal between one breath and the next.
“I really don’t know why I bother,” he said irritably.
“Look, I’ve told you before what can happen if you come here uninvited,” I said with a smile. “Most of my friends are not exactly tolerant of your kind.”
“And you are?” Clary was incredulous. “Darcey, it’s a demon. You should know better.”
“I do, and we help each other out from time to time.” I could feel Clary’s disgust as it rumbled through the room like displaced thunder, the tension causing the air to crackle with enough electricity to power one of the neighbouring blocks.
“If he’s such a friend, then why not ask him to babysit?” she spat.
I was willing to bet she wasn’t this wound up just because of Mazik’s sudden appearance, but I didn’t have time to mollycoddle her feelings. Whatever was going on with her was still her business, and there was nothing I could do unless she was willing to share it with me.
“Why are you here, Mazik?” I asked, pinning him down with my stare.
“I came by to tell you there’s an arrest warrant out for you. Whoever or whatever you pissed off is determined to see you off the playing field.”
“I already know that. I just came from the cop shop. They don’t have anything on me.” I could sense something else in the room, unspoken words on the air, and I wanted to hold my breath.
“I don’t mean the human police,” he said warily, studying my face. “Both the Elite and the demons have a warrant on you. Someone sent in an anonymous tip.”
“Did guilt send you here, Mazik? Did you tell them about me?”
He shook his head, his eyes widening in his best attempt at pure innocence, but demons weren’t bound by the same laws as the Fae—he could lie if he wanted to. Hell, he was a demon, so lying was basically his stock and trade. Finding a demon who didn’t constantly lie was no mean feat, and if I was being honest, I didn’t really know enough about Mazik to be able to tell if every second word from his lips was or wasn’t a lie.
“I have no business with the Elite,” he said, “and I don’t exactly see eye to eye with my own kind.”
He sounded truthful, but I couldn’t be certain. The tension in the room was making the situation harder to read.
He cocked his head to the side and gave me an almost sad smile. “You still think I told them.”
I shrugged, and it was my turn to smile back at him. “You’d think I was a fool if I simply believed you.”
He contemplated my words for a moment and then nodded. “I just thought you should know. What you chose to believe and do with that information is up to you.” He turned for the door. “And next time your attack dog decides to try and make me a tree ornament, I won’t be so nice.”
He disappeared into the hall, whistling cheerfully to himself. If I were naive, I might have said his parting shot came from being hurt. He didn’t want to be seen as the bad guy, which didn’t fit with his image as a demon.
“Really, a demon?” Clary said as I turned back to the room.
“Do I tell you who you can be friends with?” I fought to keep my voice neutral.
Clary was my friend, and I knew she would have my back, but she was also incredibly powerful. Given the opportunity, she would without a doubt crush me beneath her boot. It was simply the way of the Fae—she was stronger than me, more powerful, and she outranked me. The Fae were incredibly good at taking offence at the least little thing, and Clary was no exception to the rule. It probably came from spending so many years in Faerie; many of them had forgotten how to interact with the human world, and some just didn’t care. I had always taken issue with their lack of respect for human life. As far as I was concerned, all life was important.
If she thought I was stepping outside my rank by questioning her, it just wasn’t worth the hassle.
“He helped Darcey last night,” Samira volunteered, and Clary’s expression changed but Samira had already spoken and the genie couldn’t go back in the bottle.
“You’re involved with a demon?” Clary exploded, and three more tree roots burst through the floorboards near me.
“No, I am not,” I said, carefully saying each word. I wanted to make sure Clary not only heard me, but also understood me. “I work as a private investigator, and he’s a useful informant.” I decided to keep all of his other uses to myself. Clary was beginning to act a little too much like my mother, and I was starting to get uncomfortable.
Clary shot me a sheepish glance before staring around at the mess her power had made of the apartment.
“I’m sorry, Darcey,” she said, bending low over the floor and pressing her hand to the splintered wood.
“We can pretend it’s ventilation,” I answered, pulling the ward from inside my jacket.
“I didn’t think you’d be able to get it,” Samira said, crossing the room and stepping over the broken floorboards and limp roots scattered about the place.
“I got it as soon as I left the police station,” I said, carrying the ward over to the door and pressing it to the wall above the door lintel.
The ward glowed red for an instant before the wall swallowed it whole. The moment it disappeared from sight, I felt the apartment heave a sigh of relief, as though it understood the importance of having protection against those who tried entering without consent. I let out my magic, feeling along the edges of the warding, and sucked in a deep breath. Noree had promised the ward would be powerful. I’d believed her, but the power I could feel was far beyond my wildest dreams. Nothing would come thro
ugh the ward without first being invited, and I had the sneaking suspicion that even a void couldn’t derail its power.
Samira swayed on her feet, her eyes rolling back in her head, and I knew she was also feeling the ward.
“It’s so much,” she said, her voice high and breathy.
“It tastes like The Noree,” Clary said, biting down on her lips nervously.
“I didn’t know she had a particular flavour,” I said, pushing my magic back down inside where it belonged.
Clary closed her eyes for a second, and a shudder raced through her. The tree roots spilled across the floor, forcing me to jump out of the way as they snaked toward Clary. Samira was still lost in whatever sensing she was doing, and didn’t see the root snaking along the floor behind her feet.
Grabbing Samira’s hand, I jerked her out of the way. The root tore a hole in the floorboards where Samira had just been standing.
“Clary, what the hell are you doing?” I asked, as another root ripped into the floorboards, tearing through them like a shark through water.
She didn’t move, instead keeping her eyes closed as the roots twisted and spilled down to fill the gaps they’d created.
“She’s fixing the floor,” Samira said in awe as she watched Clary work.
It took only seconds for the roots to work their magic. The floor was whole again, and the spiralling patterns of the roots interlaced with one another to create an utterly unique pattern.
I took a step forward, half expected the floor to feel rough and uneven beneath my feet, but it was smooth—just another one of Clary’s tricks.
“I hope it’s all right,” Clary said, struggling to catch her breath.
“It’s perfect,” I said with a wide grin.
The building was derelict and I was its only resident, which suited me just fine—I didn’t need neighbours butting their noses into my business or getting caught up in my world when my work inevitably followed me home. It also meant situations like last night could occur without repercussions. The building hadn’t always been empty; other residents lived there when I first moved in, but humans found it hard to be around a banshee. They left one by one, repelled by what I was without ever knowing for sure why they felt so uneasy. Leaving was probably their instinct; nobody wanted to be near the very thing that could predict when they would die.
But because of that, the building was now in a state of disrepair. The paint was peeling, the floorboards were old and creaking… well, they had been old and creaking. Now the old ones were gone, replaced with something beautiful and living.
Clary smiled and flopped back against the wall, exhaustion etched into every line of her face.
“Clary, are you all right?” I stepped forward, but Samira had already beaten me to her side. She caught Clary and slid an arm around her waist before helping her across the floor to the couch.
“That shouldn’t have taken so much out of me,” Clary said, staring down at her hands. The fine tremor that ran through her fingers concerned me more than I cared to admit.
“Maybe you’re just a little rusty,” I said, choosing to ignore the obvious signs in front of me. I hadn’t noticed them before, or maybe I just didn’t want to see them. The leaves and blossoms in Clary’s hair were beginning to wilt. When I’d left the apartment earlier they’d been fine, but now…
One pink petal had fallen away from the blossoms that adorned her head and lay awash in the sea of green that was Clary’s hair.
Clary gave me a wide smile, but I could tell by the slight flinching around her eyes that she didn’t believe it either.
“What did The Noree ask for in exchange for a ward that strong?” Clary asked. I knew from her expression that she wanted to change the subject, and who was I to deny her?
“The tears of true heartbreak.” It sounded even more ridiculous when I said it aloud, and I fought back the urge to laugh.
“What does that even mean?” Clary asked, and I shook my head.
I had just about as much of an idea of what Noree wanted as Clary did. Perhaps even less of an idea, since I hadn’t spent as much time in Faerie acquainting myself with everything there was to know about the Fae and their abilities.
“Honestly, you know as much as I do, and I was sitting there with her.”
“But you can be sure it’s something powerful, or she wouldn’t want it. There’s no way she handed something like that off to you without believing she’d get paid.”
As soon as the words left Clary’s mouth, I knew she was right. Noree would never have given me something so powerful without believing she would get something equally, if not more, powerful out of the deal. And as this was all she asked for… Well, the tears of true heartbreak must really be worth something.
Clary’s colour was beginning to return, and she pushed up onto her feet, her stance far steadier than it had been just moments ago.
“I need to be getting back,” she said, and started for the door. I had a feeling her departure had much more to do with wanting to find out what her strange weakness had been about.
I opened my mouth, but the look on Clary’s face told me that asking her to stay a little longer would be utterly pointless, so I gave up. However, her leaving left me with the little issue of what I would do with Samira. I definitely couldn’t take her with me…
“She’s more capable than you give her credit for,” Clary said, still standing in the broken doorway. Considering her reaction when she’d first arrived, I was surprised to hear her praise for Samira. It seemed a leopard could change its spots…that, or Samira was really just that charming.
“You haven’t seen the guys coming after her,” I said, remembering the dead witch hunters. Their presence made Samira’s power more of a liability than anything else, and it would only take one mistake for them to get their way and kidnap her or worse. They’d come close last night—I’d felt it in my bones—and the last thing I wanted was to get that feeling again.
“Trust her,” Clary said seriously, the expression in her eyes trying to convey a message that I didn’t understand. With a shake of her head, she smiled. “By the way, sorry about the kitten fur…” She turned to leave with a giggle.
“What kitten fur?” I said, but Clary was already halfway down the corridor. The only answer I got from her was a hand above her head as she waved goodbye.
“Samira, what does she mean by ‘sorry for the kitten fur?’” I turned to catch sight of a sheepish Samira, who merely pointed toward my closed bedroom door. “You didn’t…” I said, striding forward.
“I didn’t have a choice… Clary really doesn’t like cats.” I pushed open the bedroom door to find the tiny marmalade terrorist curled up on the bed. The pile of clean clothes I’d left in the middle of the bed was now unmistakably dotted with tufts of orange fur.
The kitten stared up at me with its little emerald eyes and mewled, the cry going straight through me. I closed the door again before it could make its move toward me.
“Remind me the next time Clary is here to let the cat sharpen its nails on her legs,” I said bitterly, and Samira covered her face with her hand. I knew she was laughing, and I left her standing near the bedroom as I stomped off in disgust to find a suitable door.
Chapter Seventeen
After setting the last screw in place, I swung the door gently back and forth, satisfied with my effort. It was far from perfect, but it was a door; combined with the ward, it kept everyone from wandering in, and that was all I needed.
Closing the door, I turned to find Samira staring at me.
“You’re not going to leave me here alone again.” She folded her arms across her chest.
“You’ll stay if you know what’s good for you.”
“And we both know how well that worked out last night,” she answered with a ferocity I hadn’t been expecting.
“Look, I’ve got some people to see and it’s not exactly safe—” Samira cut me off with a shake of her head.
“I can help;
I’m not entirely helpless. I hid your friend MacNa from those who came after him.”
“But I still found you,” I said with a smile.
Samira let out a small, frustrated groan and threw her hands into the air. “I appreciate that you’re trying to keep me safe, but I need to stop hiding. I need to stop always allowing them to dictate my life…” She cut off, her voice choked, and when she lifted her gaze to me I could see tears glittering in her eyes. “They killed Ana. I cannot let that go unanswered.”
I couldn’t begin to understand what she was feeling. She had lost someone, someone dear to her heart, and she was holding herself together remarkably well. That, I could admire and understand. I knew what it was like to be hanging on by your fingernails. I also knew what it was like to want revenge on those who had wronged you. I’d faced my demons, so who was I to deny her the right to do the same?
“Fine,” I said with a sigh.
She stared at me, as though expecting me to change my mind or perhaps add conditions to my acceptance, but I didn’t have any. If she believed she could hold her own against her enemies, I had no real reason to doubt her. After all, she’d survived thirty years in captivity. I wasn’t going to put any restrictions on her; the moment I did that, I became no better than the men who had held her prisoner for so long.
Her lip wobbled, and I could tell she was biting back more tears, but she nodded briskly.
“I need to go to the Archers’ house,” I said. Seeing her confused expression reminded me that I hadn’t told her about the case.
“They’re the people who shot me, the ones who framed me for murder.” I crossed the room to a small table in the corner. I tugged open a drawer and found a pair of earplugs. “You might need these,” I said, tossing the packet back across the room to her.
“What for?”
“Banshee, remember? Screaming is kind of my deal, and you’ve already had more than your fair share of exposure to that side of my power.” What I didn’t tell her was that too much exposure would cause her to slowly haemorrhage to death. Or she would suffer a brain aneurism; the pitch my voice could reach had a nasty effect on the delicate blood vessels that kept humans alive.
Banshee Blues (Bones and Bounties Book 1) Page 10
