“How do we kill it?” he asked, his teeth gritted as he grabbed the Hortlak’s head and twisted it hard enough to sever the spine.
Before I could answer, the Hortlak’s legs flipped up and wrapped around Lunn’s waist. He crashed to the ground, and the Hortlak scuttled up after him with quick, jerky movements that reminded me of an insect. Lunn roared again, and I crossed the small space, lifting my iron blade and jamming it down through the Hortlak’s chest cavity.
The creature reared back, unclamping its rotted mouth from around Lunn’s arm. Its body scrabbled and tore at the blade, but the more it struggled the further the blade sank. The Hortlak’s struggles slowed, and Lunn pushed up onto his feet as I forced the creature down onto the ground, twisting the blade with as much force as I could muster through the place where I imagined its heart might have sat.
It screamed again, its dark, empty eye sockets rolling up to gaze into my face. Its hatred for me was palpable, and it sent icy fingers dancing down my spine. Before long, it stopped moving and the spark of intelligence in its eyes died.
“Do you think it’s really dead?” Lunn asked from his place on the ground.
The dirt boiled upwards, and I tugged the iron blade free of the creature as the earth swallowed it whole once more.
“I’m pretty sure it’s dead,” I said, pulling Lunn to his feet as the last of the corpse disappeared from view.
“Who summoned it?” he asked, and there was a warning in his tone that instantly put me on guard.
“Who’s asking?” I countered.
Lunn smirked at me. “I am,”
The tension slowly melted from my shoulders. He couldn’t outright lie to me, and if he wanted to be evasive then he could dance around my questions. Lunn choosing to give me a straightforward answer told me that my fears were unfounded, at least in this situation.
“A young witch. I sort of took her under my wing when I was hunting MacNa.”
“A witch?” Lunn sounded incredulous, and from the way he wrinkled his nose in disgust I could tell he wasn’t impressed with my new choice of friends. “Why haven’t you brought her in for questioning?”
The sudden turn in the conversation set my teeth on edge, and I flexed my fingers around the leather hilt of the blade.
“Because I’m capable of conducting my own interviews. Besides, you know my methods for bringing in Fae are none of your business. I pick them up and hand them over—it’s as simple as that. You don’t get to ask questions. That was our deal, remember?”
He nodded. “Aye, I remember. But you need to remember protocol, and I’m still waiting for you to bring in MacNa. I know you two used to run in the same circles, but considering what’s at stake for you I thought you wouldn’t have a problem apprehending him.”
The urge to jab the blade’s hilt into Lunn’s ribs was almost overwhelming, but a move like that would be certain suicide. Didn’t mean I couldn’t daydream about it, though.
“You’d tell me if you were in over your head, wouldn’t you, Darcey?” The sudden softness in his voice almost made me forget just who I was dealing with.
Lunn was one of the good guys… Well, if you could ever call an Unseelie one of the good guys. He had a sense of honour that I’d never come across in anyone else. But he’d been working for the Court for a very long time, and that same honour made him loyal to them. There was nothing good about the Court; they were about as corrupt as you could get, not that I would ever dream of actually speaking my mind.
“I’ll bring in MacNa, I promise. It’s just taking longer than I anticipated.” I was getting pretty good at skipping around the truth without ever actually lying.
Anyway, how could I tell him something I didn’t fully understand myself? All I had to go on was the word of a human woman who had already lied to me once. That, and the terrified cops I’d left with Samira.
Samira…
I’d been so focused on hunting down the Hortlak that I completely forgot I’d left her to wrangle the uneasy cops. One false move would reveal the truth of who she was.
“Lunn, I’ve got to go.” I turned and sprinted back through the trees in the direction of the house.
By the time I broke through the cover and out onto the driveway, most of the cops had left. The few who were left milling around wore dazed expressions. The scent of magic hung heavy on the air, burning down the back of my throat and making it difficult to breathe.
“Thank you for your assistance.” The voice that spoke was gravelly, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood to attention.
The voice in the back of my mind screamed at me to run, but I ignored it and turned in the direction of the speaker. Time slowed to a crawl, and though I brought up my iron blade, the Saga Venatione’s hand was already raised. The white powder he blew into my face clung to my skin. Instinct kicked in, and when I opened my mouth to scream the white powder flooded my nose and throat, coating every inch of soft tissue it touched.
The iron blade bit into the skin of my arm as the world tilted violently before going dark.
Chapter Twenty-One
This wasn’t happening.
Blinking away the darkness, I swam back to the surface of my mind and came to on my knees in the gravel. The iron blade lay next to me, and my arm stung with pain; the cut wasn’t serious, but it seemed to be enough to counteract whatever magic he’d tried to use on me.
My throat burned as though I’d inhaled a nest of ants, and my watering eyes blurred my vision as I fought to focus on the Saga Venatione who’d attempted to knock me out.
I didn’t have my full power, but his arrogant belief that he could take me down like any other human certainly didn’t sit well with me.
Pushing up onto my feet, I lunged forward, wrapping myself around the witch hunter and sending us both tumbling to the ground in a tangle of limbs and the weird-ass robe he wore.
Satisfaction welled in my heart as I flipped him onto his back and watched his eyes widen in surprise.
“Where is she?” I asked, sliding the Bone Blade from its sheath.
I could have used the iron blade on him, but that would have made his death too easy—a gentle slipping from this world to the next—and he didn’t deserve that.
But the Bone Blade wouldn’t have such an effect.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he hissed up at me, struggling beneath my weight as I pressed him into the small, sharp stones on the ground.
“Please, are we really going to play this stupid game? I thought we were past all that.”
He shook his head, and I pressed the tip of the Bone Blade beneath his chin. His body went as still as the grave.
“You know what this is, don’t you?” I asked, leaning over him, drinking down the bitter taste of his fear.
“You cannot use that on me—it is forbidden.” His voice was barely a whisper.
“Forbidden, is it? And who is going to stop me?” I pushed the blade a little harder against his skin.
“She tried to run, but we’re taking her back home where she belongs. The one who bought her couldn’t be trusted to keep her.”
“What are you going to do to her?” I demanded.
“Death is the only fitting punishment.”
A scream split the air. Considering I was a connoisseur of screams, I determined this to be a good one—good enough to set the hairs on my neck standing to attention.
“They’ve found her,” the witch hunter said, a smile curling his lips.
I scrambled to my feet and ran in the direction of the scream; the sound gave power to my legs, driving me on. I wouldn’t let her down. I’d failed so many others in my life, which was the reason I found it so much easier to be alone. No matter how hard I tried, I could never fail loneliness.
By the time I rounded the corner, it was all over.
Lunn stood in the middle of the road, looming over the broken bodies of the Saga Venatione that littered the ground.
Scanning the scene, my gaze f
ell on Samira. A sigh of relief flowed out of me, and my shoulders drooped as the tension that had held me upright suddenly deserted me. Her wide eyes met mine before I let my gaze drop to the bloodied blade she held in her hand and the lone, crumpled body of one of the witch hunters curled near her feet.
“What happened?” I asked, but Lunn lifted his hand, effectively silencing me. I folded my arms grumpily over my chest and gave him my best withering look, but he merely shrugged it off.
“She’s a liability, Darcey—a distraction.” I hadn’t been expecting his words, and my stomach clenched in panic.
“She has a name,” Samira said, narrowing her eyes in his direction, but Lunn didn’t even acknowledge her presence.
“Don’t do this, Lunn,” I whispered, my voice hoarse even to my own ears. “Don’t make me fight you.”
“You have a job to do. She’s getting in the way, and it would be better if—”
“Bullshit!” I cut him off. “If you so much as harm a hair on her head, so help me I’ll”
Lunn’s expression grew hurt, as though it was beyond the realm of belief to even hear me suggest that he planned to harm Samira.
“You think I would hurt her? I am not the Court, Darcey, no matter how much you might want to believe I am.” He slid his obsidian blade back into the sheath that lay hidden down his spine.
“What do you expect me to think?” I said. “Every time you show up, it’s to threaten me with some new torture and remind me that I’m indebted to the Court. A debt that, if not sufficiently met, will end in my demise.”
His gold-green eyes were filled with a sadness I hadn’t expected Lunn to ever be capable of, but when he blinked again it was gone.
“I hope someday you will understand why I do the things I do,” he said, moving faster than my eyes could follow. The sudden press of his hand against my cheek caused my heart to skip a beat. I stared up into his eyes, my body instinctively swaying toward him. “One day, I hope you will trust me,” he whispered. His face dipped toward mine, and my eyes fluttered shut in anticipation of the brush of his lips.
It never came. When I opened my eyes, Lunn was gone, leaving me alone in the middle of the street with the scattered bodies of the dead witch hunters. My eyes darted to Samira, who shrugged at me before cleaning the edge of her blade against her jeans.
Lunn was beyond infuriating, but as much as I was loathe to admit it, he was right about one thing: Samira was a distraction. It had been a terrible mistake to allow her to follow me out into the open like this. The witch hunters had easily tracked her to the Archers’ house. It didn’t matter whether they found her because of her magic or the collar she still wore around her neck—either way, she was vulnerable.
“We need someplace where you can lay low so I can end this,” I said, more to myself than to Samira. She didn’t argue with me, instead simply nodding and stepping across the body at her feet.
“I do not have anybody in this city,” she said softly. “You are my first friend.”
“Well, I’ve got somebody in mind, but she’s not going to like it when I show up with you.” I grinned, imagining her reaction when I turned up on her doorstep in the middle of the night.
“Who is it?” Samira asked, but I shook my head.
“Just wait and see. Now, come on before that white powder stuff wears off of the cops and they come investigating.” I emitted a low whistle.
The low rumble of the motorcycle rounding the street corner soothed the knots in my stomach as I tried to ignore the bodies on the ground. The Elite would have a field day with this mess; no doubt it would end up being mentioned in the news as some sort of magical gang warfare.
That wouldn’t really be wrong, just a little misguided. The sheer number of witch hunters with the same bald heads and strange, vine-like tattoos didn’t sit well with me. Why were they so intent on recapturing Samira? Her magic wasn’t particularly powerful, so why put so much effort into regaining control of her?
Something wasn’t adding up, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on what didn’t sit right with me.
Swinging my leg up and over the bike, I tossed Samira’s helmet in her direction. She caught it before hopping on behind me.
“I won’t ever go back to them,” she said quietly.
I didn’t answer her, because her words didn’t require one. She spoke one of those truths that everyone already knew. If she said anything else, I didn’t hear her over the sound of the motorbike’s sudden roar as we jumped forward, drowning out everything but the very loudest of my own thoughts.
Once Samira was safe, then, and only then, would I be able to hunt down MacNa and hopefully get my hands on the so-called banshee bitch who had framed me for murder. She might have been playing with me, but being the pawn in someone else’s game wasn’t one of my strong suits.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The restaurant was dark by the time we pulled up outside of it, but I knew Noree didn’t sleep and would be up and waiting. Of course, actually getting her to answer the door was another issue altogether.
I lifted my arm to knock, but my fist hadn’t even touched the wood before the door swung inwards to reveal the same young girl who had served me the eyeball soup. Her name was Katia, or at least that’s what Noree had called her.
“It took you long enough.” The young girl’s voice rasped over the words as her eyes rolled in her head. She stumbled slightly and I reached out to steady her, catching her arm before her knees buckled.
“Does she do that often?” I asked. She nodded, nervously biting her lip as she tugged her arm free of my grip.
“Grandma is very powerful,” she said, her voice hesitant. “I am the only one with enough of the gift that she can ride.”
I hadn’t known that Noree had any children—never mind ones old enough to have kids of their own—but it made sense. Her type of magic was passed from one generation to the next.
“What happened to those who weren’t strong enough?” I asked, taking a small step forward.
“They’re dead!” Noree’s voice came from somewhere above us, and her words sent a cold shiver dancing down my spine. “Katia, get them in here. Now!”
Katia’s earlier hesitation was replaced with a blank expression, and the undercurrent of fear in the air tasted bitter against my tongue. She gestured for me to climb a set of stairs inside the restaurant, and I did so cautiously.
Noree might have done favours for me—favours I paid handsomely for—but that didn’t mean she liked me. And it certainly didn’t mean that I could trust her not to lay some traps for me to stumble into if I wasn’t being careful.
The hall at the top of the stairs was bare, and the black floorboards were so heavily worn that the wood actually gleamed. Carefully making my way down the hall, I paused outside the only door with light peeking out from beneath it. I glanced over my shoulder at Samira and Katia, waiting for some kind of confirmation that I should enter. Katia merely watched me with a bored expression, but the undercurrent of her fear was still present and buried beneath Noree’s power.
When no confirmation came, I moved down the hall toward the next door. No light peeked out from this one to suggest anyone might be inside, but I could see Katia’s fear peeking beneath Noree’s magic. I shoved open the door with enough force to crack the plaster on the wall.
Noree sat on a chair near the window, staring out into the darkness—although, considering she had no eyes, staring might be the wrong word. But I was in no doubt that she could still see, just now the way the rest of us could.
She hopped up from her chair and whirled around to face me. She wasn’t wearing her glasses, so now there was nothing to hide her ruined eye sockets. The muscles and nerves moved as though she still had eyes and a gaze that could roam over us.
“If I’d chosen wrong, what would have happened?” I said.
“You’d have found yourself back out on the street, of course. You know I do not like having my time wasted.”
That, I did know. For someone who had lived so long, Noree had a real bee in her bonnet about time-wasters. And if you arrived late to a pre-arranged appointment, she was a nightmare to contend with.
“Now, why are you here in the middle of the night?” she asked, her voice curt.
“I wanted to ask for your protection for Samira…” Anxiety knotted in my guts; I could predict her answer before she even spoke the words.
“No.”
The word hung between us, and I slowly curled and uncurled my fists. I couldn’t make her help Samira; she might be blind, but I couldn’t even begin to fathom her power. Noree wasn’t a Fae, and she wasn’t a witch. She was something so much more than either of those, and no matter how fast I might be, or how strong, Noree could snap my spine and crush my heart before I could so much as take a step toward her. It was why I needed her to protect Samira: of all those I knew and called friends, Noree was the only one powerful enough to protect Samira on this plain. I couldn’t ask Clary for another favour, she’d already done enough by agreeing to guard Samira in my apartment. And anyway, I couldn’t run the risk of Samira ending up in Faerie and being brought before the Court for questioning.
No, only Noree could help me.
“What do you want in return?” I tried to keep my voice as steady as possible. If she knew I was desperate... hell, who was I kidding? She knew I was desperate, but if she heard it in my voice then all was lost.
“Nothing. You can give me nothing, because I will not do as you ask.” The faint smile playing around Noree’s lips had me on the verge of screaming.
“Darcey, it’s fine. I can wait in the apartment.” Samira moved next to me, her hand touching my sleeve.
The moment she spoke, I felt Noree’s attitude change. Her face jerked in Samira’s direction, and her empty sockets scanned down over her.
“Come here, child,” Noree said, her voice as soft as silk but far more deadly.
Samira took a step forward, but I clamped my hand down over her arm to halt her progress.
Banshee Blues (Bones and Bounties Book 1) Page 13
