Night Blade

by J. C. Daniels

  A long, taut silence passed and then, in a frigid voice, she informed me, “I’ll pass the message along. I assume you’ll be at your offices?”

  “I’m not sure.” That wasn’t lying, either. I wasn’t entirely certain it was safe to speak to Jude without a little more firepower on hand. I’d never gotten my hands on that rocket launcher, either. “For now, he can call me. I’m sure you can track down my info for him, right? If I need to make it a face-to-face meeting, I’ll let you know.”

  “Very well.”

  Right before I could disconnect the call, she said, “Ms. Colbana. Jude is a busy man…when he does call, keep this short.”

  * * * * *

  I wasn’t on the premises when Jude decided to return my call.

  And the son of a bitch did go by the office. I felt his presence ripple through the wards. The only reason I could feel it was because I’d had them made to respond to the presence of anything soulless.

  Vampires aren’t undead the way literature paints them to be. But they do lose their souls over time. Something like that? Magic can pick up, very well. And since Jude had placed his loathsome ass in my office before, it wasn’t that hard to key my wards in so they reacted to his particular soulless self.

  I felt the buzz of his presence echo through me while I was talking to a couple of other witnesses and it wasn’t long after that his beloved Angie gave me a call.

  “Ms. Colbana. If you’re going to request that he speak with you, can’t you have the courtesy to be around when he tries to do just that?” she asked, his voice all tight and prissy.

  Sometimes I thought about how much fun it would be to kill her. I could do that. She was almost as soulless, almost as evil as her master, and I don’t say that just because I dislike her. I’ve seen her backhand people for so much as bumping into her as they walk down the street.

  Needless to say, she doesn’t leave NH territory much. She has to behave on human turf and she hates that.

  “Angie, I think I told you I doubted I’d be in the office today.” I glanced over my shoulder as I made tracks for my car. The two I’d just spoken with were watching me and they weren’t really giving me warm, fuzzy feelings. Bottom-level witches—had worked with Max, mostly doing fetch and carry shit and serving as power sources when she did high-level spells, but I still didn’t want to mess with them if they got testy.

  It would take time, and time was something I didn’t have.

  “Why should he bother to speak with you if you can’t be accessible?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Put him on the phone or tell him I’ll send the escort on down his way. His choice—and don’t tell me that he isn’t around. I know better.”

  Two seconds later, his voice came on the line and a shiver of cold raced down my spine, followed by the oh-so-unwelcome sensation of pleasure curling through me. Vampires could work their voices like a weapon…one of pain, or one of seduction. “Darling Kit,” he murmured.

  “I’m not your darling anything, Jude. I have questions.”

  “Come by. We’ll discuss anything you want over dinner.”

  “No can do.” As if I’d step foot in his house.

  “If you can’t come by for a few minutes, then I’m afraid I can’t answer your questions.”

  Curling my lip, I resisted the urge to hit something. Instead I climbed into my car and shut the door. “I’m on the other side of East Orlando and I’m finishing up with other business. Answer a few questions now and if it’s necessary to speak in person, I’ll arrange a meeting.”

  “I’d prefer to discuss all of this in public.”

  Yeah. I bet. Snakes didn’t like phones—made it harder to attack their prey. As much as I hated it, when it came to vamps as old as Jude, I felt like prey. “Look, I’m busy as hell and don’t have time to waste chasing down dead ends. I just need to know if you have any information about a Speaker…vampire by the name Samuel. He was killed and the Assembly asked Banner to look into it.”

  A taut silence stretched out between us.

  When Jude spoke, his voice was sharp as a blade. “Since when do you care about the comings and goings of Banner, Kit?”

  “Since I got dragged into it,” I said, managing a very put-upon sigh. “They dump a case into my lap and leave me to work it blind. Since he’s an old vampire—and so are you—I’m assuming you know each other. Or knew. Several Speakers bit the big one lately and I was asked to consult. Who knows why, but I’ve got this job on top of my other work. Now…Jude. Do you know anything about the Speaker’s death?”

  “I knew Samuel.” Then, before I could ask him to expand on that, Evangeline was on the phone.

  “If you want any more information, you’ll have to speak to Jude in person. Threaten away, if you wish, but I’ll just have one of the lawyers contact you. He’s a Speaker of the Assembly and that grants him certain…protections.”

  I curled my lip as the call was disconnected.

  Throwing the phone into the seat beside me, I tried to decide if that had been useful, at all.

  It only took five seconds to decide.

  No. It hadn’t been helpful at all.

  * * * * *

  Justin still hadn’t called.

  I’d spent most of the day churning up absolutely nothing.

  Jude was now expecting me to grace him with my presence—I’d have to figure out a way to suffer through that, and survive it, or just put him off until I solved this case on my own.

  I had, however, figured out a few things…time and locations of death.

  The Assembly was almost fanatical about tracking their speakers.

  Two of the dead Assemblymen had been killed at one of their other homes. They might be registered in East Orlando, but some of these people had money out the ass and homes all over the damn world.

  Veronica and Silas hadn’t died here.

  I shrugged my shoulders a little, twitching as I pondered that.

  Jude claimed he had seen Damon, but Damon wasn’t an idiot.

  He was too smart to get seen outside of East Orlando right before he planned on killing somebody.

  A fact I planned on pointing out to Justin, as soon as I talked to him.

  This whole damn case had me cranky, and not being able to get answers immediately was making it even worse. Plus, I needed some information from Justin and he hadn’t called. Jerk.

  I could track his ass down easily enough, but I didn’t even want to spare the time to sleep, much less go looking for him. Before I went home, I swung by the office. There was one more weapon I thought might come in handy. I tugged it off the wall as I made that next call to Justin.

  This one wasn’t so polite.

  “If you don’t call me, I’m going to hunt you down and use your bike for target practice. I’ve got a Desert Eagle .44 Magnum that I hardly ever get to practice with…it’s getting kind of lonely.”

  As I disconnected the phone, I studied the Eagle.

  It was like touching a stick. Guns had no music for me. No meaning. They didn’t talk to me and they didn’t whisper. Almost all of my other weapons did.

  Still, even my firearms had their place.

  And this mean son of a bitch would put nasty holes through the bike Justin loved so much. Especially since the ammo I used had been magic-charged. Colleen had given me a look of much pain when I’d asked her to find me a warrior in her house who’d do it.

  Colleen, a healer out of the Green Road House of Witches, adored me, but she was a pacifist. Most witches were. But as I’d once been told, even a peace-loving house needed their warriors if they wanted to survive in our world. The witch she’d found to charge the ammo had been utterly delighted at the challenge.

  And one touch to the jacketed, hollow-point beauties told me one thing…the charge was still there.

  Yep. If he didn’t call me, I had a date with that bike of his.

  * * * * *

  Useless waste—

  The nightmares
found me.

  It wasn’t a surprise.

  I huddled against a wall, clutching my broken arm and staring at my grandmother.

  She wasn’t alone this time.

  Samuel was with her. The vampire—the one who’d called me a whore. The one Damon had supposedly killed. He smiled at me and opened his mouth to reveal fangs that made me think of a snake’s.

  Deadly.

  So deadly.

  “You can’t save him. You couldn’t even save yourself,” Samuel said, smiling at me. It wasn’t a kind smile. It was the smile a madman would give his victim right before he ripped off her head.

  “I did save myself,” I said, trying to think past the pain in my head. I shifted my gaze to Fanis. How I hated her…her face was an elegant, more beautiful, older version of mine. Unlined, despite the fact that she was coming up on her third century. Lovely as the day was long. And so very cruel. “I got away from you.”

  “Did you?” She smiled and bent down to stroke my hair. She tsked as she drew her hand away and reached for a cloth to wipe it clean. “Filthy thing. And you didn’t get away. I’m still here, aren’t I?”

  “No.” I lurched upward, swallowing a scream as my broken arm smacked against the stone wall at my back. “I’m dreaming. Just a dream. You’re nothing but a nightmare.”

  “Darling…I’m one of your worst,” she whispered, still smiling. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not real.”

  As she reached out to touch my cheek, I batted her hand away with my unbroken one. “Don’t touch me, you twisted bitch.”

  She laughed and backhanded me. Men rushed up to grab me and I shuddered as pain danced through me. My arm…fuck, my arm.

  “Does it hurt?” she asked, studying me. “Tell me it hurts, Granddaughter. Let me hear you scream…”

  I came awake with the scream trapped in my throat.

  No—

  I didn’t scream.

  Not for her.

  Not anymore, not even in dreams.

  Not for a long, long time.

  Huddling against the headboard of my bed, I flexed my arm and all but sobbed as I could move it without pain. Three times, now, it had been broken. Twice by her.

  The memory of the pain was awful, a sickening beast that lived in my belly and I wanted to curl up and hide away from the memory of it. Instead, I drew my knees to my chest and breathed.

  Quietly.

  Slowing my breaths down took practice. Focus.

  But I wasn’t going to let her win.

  I had gotten away.

  She wasn’t in my head and those dreams were just that.

  Dreams.

  * * * * *

  Morning took too long.

  I spent the rest of the night huddled in my bed and fearing the darkness like some young child who lived in fear of the monsters under the bed. My monsters lived inside of me, and that made it all the more pathetic.

  Part of me kept hoping the phone would ring.

  Part of me wanted to reach for the damn thing and call Damon.

  Hearing his voice would fix everything.

  Instead, I waited in bed until dawn and then stumbled into the shower. Once I was in there, I scrubbed my skin until it glowed red, washing away the dirty stain of the dream, scrubbing my hair, then scrubbing my skin a second time.

  I wasn’t filthy.

  I wasn’t the weak, dirty child who’d run from her, broken and terrified years ago.

  Lifting my face to the water, I whispered, “I am aneira. My sword arm is mighty. My aim is true. My heart is strong…”

  And my grandmother hadn’t broken me.

  * * * * *

  I was finishing my second cup of coffee and a donut so smothered in chocolate there might as well not be any donut when I felt the warm prickle on my skin.

  A powerful male, that much I could tell without opening the door.

  It also wasn’t Damon.

  And I knew my early morning visitor, too.

  Sighing, I glanced down at my clothes and made a bypass by my laundry basket to grab a tank top. I tugged it on over the sport bra I usually practiced in and then I made another stop.

  The Desert Eagle was sitting right top of the duffle bag, all matte black and pretty. I loaded it with two bullets, though I figured I’d only need one to make my point.

  I was at the door before Justin had managed to bang on it even the first time.

  He had his fist raised.

  Shoving the door open, I stepped back out of his reach and took aim over his shoulder. “Now it’s my turn,” I said flatly, narrowing my eyes as I aimed at the back tire.

  “If you pull that trigger, I’m going to paddle your ass.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I narrowed my eyes. “You’ve seen what a Desert Eagle will do, right, Justin? I can put a bullet-hole in a man the size of a soft ball…or bigger.”

  “I’ve got wards around my bike,” he snapped.

  “And I’ve got magically charged ammo.”

  I shifted my gaze to him and smiled. “Iron. Hollow point. Charged by a warrior out of Green House. Wanna see who wins?”

  “You’re a bitch. Don’t you have a fucking job to do?”

  “Yes.” I went back to staring at his bike.

  “That gun is too heavy to hold for long,” he said.

  “Wanna bet?”

  The Desert Eagle did feel heavy in my hand, but I could hold it. The beauty of not being entirely human…I could do things no human could, no matter how strong they were.

  Seconds ticked away. Finally, he spun away with a snarl. “What the fuck, Kit?”

  I lowered the gun and smiled. “You ready to come in and talk?”

  * * * * *

  “I can’t help you,” he said again. “This was made damn clear.”

  I stretched out my legs and folded my hands over my belly as I stared at the ceiling. “Here’s the problem, Justin, and you can either explain it to the big shots at Banner or I’ll go to Colleen and Green Road.”

  His eyes slitted. “You can’t talk. I made sure of that.”

  “She’s an empath. I won’t have to…at first.” Sitting up, I rested my elbows on my knees and stared at him. “Then she’ll pick up on the fact that I had a binding laid on me without my consent. Dirty pool, there, you know it and so do I. She can break it and if she can’t, somebody in her house can.”

  He started to pace.

  “Once the oath is broken, I’m going to go to the Assembly. I’ve seen enough of their meetings in the past day to know one thing—some of them don’t like Damon. He’s a maverick. But even more of them hated Annette and they are glad he came in and took care of her.”

  “Nobody disputes that.” He shot me a dirty look.

  I smiled serenely at him. “Here’s what I dispute. If I go to them and say a handful of people are trying to set him up and I don’t like how it’s playing out…there are going to be problems. And you know it.”

  He stopped pacing and turned to stare at me.

  “Somebody is working this,” I told him. “I don’t know why. I don’t get it and I don’t see how, but somebody is working this to get him out of the way.”

  “It doesn’t change the fact that he likely killed five Assemblymen for no reason.”

  I reached into my bag and pulled out the picture of Samuel. “One of them made a perceived threat against me.”

  “Samuel.” Justin’s eyes narrowed. Then he shifted his gaze to me. “Perceived how?”

  I gave him the brief version.

  “He’d kill because somebody called his girlfriend a whore?”

  Rubbing my hands over my face, I fought past the headache, past the pain in my chest and past the clinging dregs of the nightmare for some modicum of composure. When I thought I could speak clearly, I lowered my hands and then reached for the black leather brace I’d taken to wearing around my left wrist. I didn’t always have it on.

  But Damon worried that the marks would make me a target.

  I didn’t l
ike him worrying any more than he had to.

  So when I was out working the job, I kept it on.

  Unlacing it, I stripped it off and dumped the leather on the table and then held out my hand, wrist turned up so the light shone down on the silvery marks there.

  “It goes a little deeper than his girlfriend,” I said quietly.

  Justin hissed out a breath.

  “I think you knew it was pretty damned serious, or you wouldn’t have bothered approaching me.” I reached for the bracer but before I could put it back on, Justin was there, holding my hand in his, staring at my wrist. I tugged on my hand, but he didn’t let go. “Do you mind?”

  “Yeah.” He nodded slowly. “I knew it was serious, but shit, Kit. This is permanent for him. He warned you about that, right? Did he make sure you understood what this meant for him? When a shifter does this, it’s….” his voice trailed off and he lifted his gaze to stare at me.

  “I know what it means, Justin.” It was a permanent thing, that mark. Not just because I scarred from it—if I was a shifter, it would have healed. It wasn’t the mark, but the meaning behind it. Shifters don’t bite like that unless there’s something serious…something permanent. When Damon did it, it was his sign that he’d accepted what he felt for me. When I let him, it was my way of telling him I was cool with it. Rubbing my thumb of the scar, I tugged my wrist and this time, Justin let go.

  A heavy sigh drifted from him. “I’d heard rumors, but…well. I guess the cute leather bracer isn’t just to make you look tougher than you already are,” he said, moving away to stare out the window.

  “If I wanted to look like a badass, I’d get a Banner cop uniform and stick pretty silver sparklies on the arms.”

  He didn’t respond, just stared outside as if the answers to the universe and everything were written somewhere on the broken pavement. Long moments ticked away before he finally said, “Kit, you understand, regardless of what the Assembly is up to, Damon has Banner worried. If we can’t show just cause, they want him dead.”