Her eyes widened, but she didn’t protest. People usually did. Nobody liked the sound of my scream, but for some reason they always forgot just how painful and damaging it truly was. Samira’s willingness to take my word for what was best made her one smart cookie.
“There’s something else you’re not going to like,” I said.
Samira didn’t speak. She continued watching me, clearly waiting for me to spit out the bad news.
“Little issue of transport…” I said, and Samira’s expression fell.
I felt bad, but there was nothing I could do about it. I needed the bike with me, particularly for something like this. It was the only thing I could trust to protect the Bone Blade if anything happened to me. The bike would ensure the Bone Blade couldn’t be used against me.
“I’m sorry, but—” I began, but Samira shook her head. Rolling back her shoulders, she met my gaze with her steady, brown-eyed one.
“It’s fine. If I want to go, then I need to get over my fear.”
I didn’t question her—it wouldn’t have been right, and I’d only be putting more doubts in her mind that she really didn’t need. If she was willing to swallow back her fear, then who was I to interfere?
“Good, just let me get one thing and we’re good to go.” I moved toward the bedroom.
I sighed when I stepped through the door and eyed the sleeping ball of fur on the bed. Creeping toward the wardrobe, I swung open the door and popped out the wall insert, lifting the blade free from its hiding spot. It didn’t glitter in the light, or do any of the usual crap you’d imagine with a blade of such power. It sat in my hand, solid and reliable, the colour muted by age, the heavily-carved handle slowly turning black through use.
Running my finger along the edge, I winced as it bit into my skin. The wound healed instantly, but my violet blood glistened along the razor-sharp edge before the bone drank it down, sucking it in through its pores. The energy I’d felt when I’d picked it up thrummed to life in my grip, causing me to suck a deep, hissing breath in through my teeth. The power called to me, urging me to abandon my plans and do what I was born to do. I was the harbinger, not some petty errand boy for the Faerie Court… There was nothing greater than I.
Get a grip Darcey, that’s not what you do anymore.
The voice in the back of my head held a note of desperation, and for a moment I wavered. It would be so easy to ignore it, to take the blade and my calling back into my own hands and answer only to the true Death.
The ginger ball of fluff on the bed stretched and caught my eye, its green eyes filled with surprising intelligence. It meowed at me, a plaintive cry that reminded me of everything I’d lost. That single moment of doubt was enough to break the power of the blade, and I blinked back my tears. Everything I was, everything I had been, was gone, truly gone. I would no longer honour the banshees who had gone before me.
Scrubbing the back of my hand across my eyes, I swallowed back my tears and tucked the blade into the sheath clipped onto my belt. Passing by the bed, I paused next to the kitten; its green eyes never left my face.
“Thanks,” I said grudgingly, brushing my fingers across the top of its head, the fur soft beneath my fingers.
The kitten mewled in response, and I shook my head as it curled up on the bed.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” I told it, moving toward the door. “As soon as this is over with, you’re going back to whoever sent you.”
I’d come to the conclusion that the only possible solution was that someone had sent the kitten to me. It was clearly an intelligent being, and there was something so familiar about its eyes that I should have known who sent it. But whoever that was would be taking back the kitten as soon as I cleared up the mess I had found myself in.
Chapter Eighteen
The motorcycle’s engine died as it rolled to a stop a couple of houses down from the where the Archers lived. The last thing I needed was to get busted before getting close to them, so parking at a distance from their house seemed like the best idea.
I climbed down from the bike and waited for Samira, who seemed utterly unstable on her feet, the fine tremble running through her body giving away her terror. Pushing down the kickstand, I gestured for her to follow, and we crept down the street toward the Archers’ oversized mansion.
The street was quiet, and the black iron railings that surrounded each of the houses set my teeth on edge. Climbing the fence was going to suck, but I pushed the thought aside as we neared the house.
The Archers’ house was also surrounded by black iron railings, and a shudder raced down my spine when I saw that the tops were shaped into pointed spikes. I could practically feel the damage they could do if I was caught unawares. The house was made of red brick, and it rose above the trees that lined the boundary of the property. The interior lights blazed bright enough to spill out onto the driveway and surrounding lawns giving the appearance of daylight.
The crackle of a walkie-talkie ground my progress to a halt, and I held out an arm to keep Samira from passing me. Peering in through the gateway, I quickly caught sight of the police cars and several other unmarked security vehicles.
The place was a hive of activity. Security officers in dark suits scurried back and forth with the uniformed officers.
Great. I was good—and there was a time I had been great—at getting in and out of places unseen, but that time was gone. I could practically feel their attention already trained on me. The atmosphere of nervous tension made it impossible for me to try out the same trick I’d pulled off at the police station. They were on the lookout for me, and my ability relied heavily on going unnoticed.
With a sigh, I took a step backwards and flopped against the rough bark of a nearby tree.
“What is it?” Samira whispered, attempting to peer around me.
“There are too many guards. I’ll never get past them all without getting seen, and I’d rather not start a fight with that many innocents…” It was an act; I was only concerned about getting overwhelmed by their sheer numbers and making a mistake. I didn’t feel like dying at the hands of the humans and their weapons. I also didn’t fancy dying and leaving Samira alone to fend for herself. My body wouldn’t even be cold when the bald, tattooed creeps would come a knocking for her once more.
She stared past me and then dropped back into the shadows with a nervous that caused my stomach to knot.
“If we can get a little closer, I might be able to help,” she said, chewing her lip.
“Help how? Because I’m telling you now… if it involves you being the distraction, the answer is no.”
“I wouldn’t really be the distraction; it’s more what I can conjure…” She glanced anxiously over my shoulder in the direction of the house.
“What can you conjure?” I asked. The idea made me uneasy; conjured creatures were tough to manage and tended to be unpredictable.
“My mother taught me to call the Hortlak. This was long before I ended up in the hands of the witch hunters.”
What the hell was a Hortlak? I cast my mind back over all of the monsters and creatures I’d ever come across, but I couldn’t remember ever stumbling over something with a name so unusual that I certainly would have remembered it.
“Well, what is it?” I asked, my curiosity failing to dispel the nervous energy gathering in my core.
“The Hortlak are the spirits of the dead—evil spirits of the dead, twisted, and dark.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea…it sounds like something begging to go wrong,” I said, but Samira was already shaking her head.
“It’s safe. My mother taught me how to bind it to me, and what other choice do you have? You said it yourself, Darcey: you’re not going to get past them without something drawing their attention.”
She was right, of course, and I hated it. “You’re sure you can control this thing?” She nodded, but judging from the audible sound she made as she swallowed I wasn’t entirely convinced.
“If th
is goes wrong, how do we put it down?” I said, imagining the creature breaking through the bond Samira would create.
“It won’t.”
“But if it does. Come on, humour me.”
“If it breaks free, it will feed until it is satisfied… and the Hortlak have an insatiable appetite.”
“Great.” I dropped my hands down by my sides. The Hortlak sounded just like every other mindless creature lurking within Faerie. Except that by the sounds of this thing, cold iron wasn’t going to do jack-shit against it.
“So it can’t be stopped?” I said. If that were true, no way was I going to let her conjure it. I was just going to have to be smarter than the humans wandering around outside the Archers’ house—and considering I’d been around a hell of a lot longer than any of them, coming up with an alternative plan shouldn’t be that difficult.
“It’s vulnerable when it feeds—that’s when it can be killed. Iron will work against it just as it does on any spirit, but only when its guard is down and it has begun the feed.”
Her words sent a nervous shiver down my spine.
“We don’t have a choice, Darcey, and I can do this, I swear.” She suddenly sounded sure of her abilities, and for a moment I could feel a flicker of the emotion that coursed in her veins. She wanted to help, wanted to be considered useful, and who was I to doubt her abilities? She was no Shadow Sorceress, but she was still a damn strong witch. She had a hell of a lot more magic than I did, so why did I feel as though I could throw my weight around and dictate to her what she could and could not do?
“Fine,” I grumbled. “But for the record, I have a really bad feeling about this.” Samira’s expression brightened, only to be quickly replaced by one filled with nervous tension.
“Right, I need to get closer,” she said, moving stealthily toward the iron railing. I watched her grab the bars and hoist her body toward the sharp points that lined the top of the fence. She balanced for a moment on the top, and I sucked in my breath as her arms wobbled. I watched her draw up her leg, and I let out the breath I was holding as she jammed her foot between the spikes, giving her enough leverage to boost her body over the top.
She landed almost soundlessly; I only heard her because my hearing was better than that of any humans. When she peered at me through the fence, I felt my stomach flip. This was going to hurt…
I loped across the pavement and scaled the fence in two bounds, flipping soundlessly over the top. My hands burned and the smell of singed flesh tingled my nose, and I cringed when I saw the blackened welts that had sprung up on my skin.
“What was that?” Samira whispered, staring down at my hands.
“Iron doesn’t mix well with the Fae,” I said, shrugging off the pain with a roll of my shoulders. “It’ll heal.” I hid my hands and gestured for Samira to move ahead of me. She opened her mouth to protest, but I shook my head. “Seriously, it’s fine. I’ve had worse, and we’ll both have worse if we get caught here.”
She glanced nervously in the direction of the guards’ noisy voices as they patrolled outside the house, then nodded before taking off through the trees. She moved like she could see through the dark, and I followed her without a sound.
I tapped her shoulder as soon as I realised we were drawing dangerously close to the side of the house. Samira nodded her understanding. After another couple of steps, she came to a halt. I could make out the red brick of the house through the trees; the floodlights cast the house in odd shadows that made me wonder if the Archers had more than just cops guarding them.
Samira dropped to the ground, digging her hands into the dirt. The second her fingers were buried in the soil, I felt her magic rising. It prickled along the edges of my skin, raising the hairs so they stood to attention.
“Shit,” I muttered, reaching out to stop Samira. If I could feel her power, so could any humans who were sensitive to magic.
The second my hand brushed her arm, I regretted it. The Hortlak was close; I could practically feel it swimming upwards through the dirt. It felt so much anger, pain, and resentment toward the living. I felt its desire to feed, to feast on those nearby whose heartbeats thundered on the air like the clamour of hooves.
The Hortlak broke through the ground, and Samira fell away from its groping hands. It clawed and fought against the dirt, its rotted flesh sloughing away from its face in chunks as the earth herself seemed to fight back, desperate to keep the Hortlak where it belonged.
Once it was chest-high out of the ground, Samira surged forward and thrust her hand against its mouth. The creature didn’t waste any time sinking its teeth into her soft flesh.
“Jesus Christ,” I said, diving forward, an iron blade sliding from my belt and into my hand.
“No!” Samira turned to face me, her agony visible in her eyes, and my stomach churned as the sound of the Hortlak feeding met my ears. “Don’t. It has to be this way. I must be worthy.” Her eyes rolled in her head as the Hortlak’s frenzied feeding intensified.
Samira returned her attention to the beast that was still halfway out of the ground. “Stop.” The creature made no move to halt its feeding, and Samira wavered on her knees.
“Dur!” she said, her voice ringing with power. “Duy beni. Duy sesimi!”
I knew from my paltry knowledge of languages that she was speaking Turkish, but I had no idea what she was saying. But the creature understood, because its frenzied feeding halted when she spoke.
It glared at her, the dark, empty sockets where the eyeballs should have been holding an intelligence that should have been impossible. But, then again, in all my time as a banshee I’d seen some pretty impossible things, and they didn’t surprise me like they once had.
“Heed my words, you will not feast upon anyone but me. No other blood shall pass your lips. You are mine until I command otherwise.” This time she spoke in English.
The Hortlak didn’t like her words, and began struggling against the ground, its anger palpable.
“Duy beni!” Samira repeated, and the Hortlak ceased its struggles. Silence flooded over us, and the ground in which it was buried flowed upwards, freeing the creature from its bonds. It wore no clothes. Each pitted hole in its skin was exposed to the air, each muscle and tendon visible to the naked eye. What little skin it had was almost gelatinous; pieces of it slipped down its body in heavy lumps. No remnants of cloth covered its rotted form, and I couldn’t help but wonder where exactly Samira had conjured it from.
The Hortlak pushed up onto its feet, mirroring Samira’s movements. She didn’t need to speak again; the creature turned away from her and moved in the direction of the guards.
“Samira, I don’t want anyone to get hurt,” I said, remembering the way it had fed on her hand.
“It won’t. It knows its only job is to create a distraction, frighten them but not hurt them.” She watched as it shambled out from between the trees.
There was something off about its movements, and part of me knew that the intelligence I had glimpsed in its dark, eyeless sockets caused it to appear weaker than it truly was.
Casting a glance back over at Samira, I noticed her wobble on her feet again. “Let me see your hand,” I said, crossing to where she stood.
“It’s fine,” she protested, but I grabbed her arm and stared down at the ragged wound the Hortlak had created whilst she was trying to bind it with her power.
“It’s not fine. If you pass out, what happens to the Hortlak?” I imagined in horror the thing rampaging through the guards.
“Good point,” she said, giving in without much of a fight. I could tell that she was way more hurt than she was willing to share, but I needed to keep her conscious and in one piece so she could put that thing down once we were done.
The air split with a scream, and I knew the Hortlak had reached its targets. The first scream was quickly joined by another, and then the sound of gunfire cut through the panicked babble of voices.
“We need to move! We’ll get something to bind that insid
e.” I helped Samira through the trees and out onto the gravel path that led to the back of the house.
I glanced toward the front of the house to where the Hortlak shambled after a fallen guard. The other guards were gathered behind their cars, guns out and firing at the creature, but each bullet that struck its target was merely absorbed into the Hortlak’s body.
“Shit,” I muttered to myself, and turned away from the unfolding scene. I could taste the terror on the air, and the Unseelie side of me desperately wanted to join the fight. We reached a set of double doors that opened out onto the small patio where we stood, and my stomach churned uncomfortably. My Unseelie side might have wanted to join in the fun, but the essence of what I was, the harbinger, could feel death in the air like a familiar embrace. I couldn’t figure out if I was just feeling the Hortlak’s presence, the Hortlak, or if before the night was over death would come again.
Chapter Nineteen
The glass doors opened easily to a dark, silent room cast in the orange glow of the floodlights that lit the garden. Samira’s pained breaths cut through the stillness, and I moved ahead to where the door opened onto a dark corridor.
The house was eerily silent, but when I closed my eyes and opened my senses I could feel the terrified heartbeats of those who occupied it. I’d met the Archers, which made them easier to pick out among the cacophony of tiny human sounds.
I found the kitchen and grabbed a dry cloth from a hook near the counter. I tossed it to Samira and waited for her to wrap her hand in it before directing her to follow me toward the sweeping staircase in the hall.
The staircase creaked, and the heartbeats of those in the house ratcheted up. That was the strange thing about humans—they had a sixth sense for impending doom, and yet none of them ever seemed to act on it. I was driven by my instincts, and that innate instinct to survive overrode all my other thoughts. The noises were louder on the second floor, and I heard the sound of a gun’s safety being switched off long before I came face to face with the first guard.
Banshee Blues (Bones and Bounties Book 1) Page 11
