Beneath the Night

by Jen Colly

  Tension seemed to seep from Jovan’s body, and when it did, a strange sadness returned. He reached up, softly stroked the big cat with both hands, and mumbled a few inaudible words.

  Whatever the exchange, Barro seemed somewhat mollified. The panther huffed once more, and stepped off Jovan. Tail twitching, he lazily made his way to where Oriana sat, tugging off her boxing gloves. Barro flopped down at her feet, reached out a paw, and batted at her foot. She absently reached down and scratched his ear, and he blissfully rolled, basking in her attention.

  Cat crouched near Oriana and patted Barro’s ribs several times before helping the young girl remove the wrappings around her wrists and hands. They talked quietly, their heads coming together as if they’d shared a secret.

  Every mother parents her child in her own particular way, and each child, because each is a unique soul, needs a specific type of mother. The two aren’t always well suited. Navarre had been witness to several mismatched families, but Cat’s five? She seemed to parent each child differently, as if she knew the key to how they thought, what they needed.

  It was an ability he didn’t have, and he was in awe. Only love could fuel that deep an understanding of a person.

  Dulcina came to stand at Navarre’s side, arms crossed over her chest. Her short, springy curls framed her lightly freckled, heart-shaped face. She popped her chin up a notch and said, “Cat doesn’t fuss over the boys. Or me. We don’t need it.”

  “You seem to hold your own rather well. I can’t imagine you would need such a thing.” Navarre sent the girl a half smile, then asked quietly, “Why do you not call her mom, or mother?”

  “She wants us to remember our real mothers, and we do. All except Oriana.”

  Of course she would want them to cherish those memories. Cat understood firsthand what it was like to have your mother ripped away. She’d given so much of herself to these children, and he wanted to give something to her.

  “I want to do something for her.”

  Dulcina’s eyes widened; then a second later a calculating smile spread across her face. “Let Uncle Soren teach me to shoot.”

  “Shoot a gun?” he asked. Dulcina nodded, her pale green eyes wide and hopeful. Navarre was horrified at the thought of such a weapon in a child’s hand. “Out of the question.”

  “She’d like anything that could keep us safe,” she said, and when he scowled at her, she shrugged. “You know I’m right.”

  “Why do you feel you need such training?”

  “I don’t need it. I want it,” she said, then tipped her head to the side as if remembering something. “Plus, Uncle Soren already taught me. If you say it’s okay, then he won’t get in trouble when Cat finds out. You’d really be helping Soren out of a tough spot. He’s your friend, right?”

  Navarre suddenly saw this sweet-faced teen in a whole new light. “You’re conniving.”

  Dulcina grinned, broad and shameless.

  A girly squeal of delight pealed through the room a moment before Oriana sprinted across the room toward the door. Soren and Faith stood in the doorway, and Oriana crashed into them, arms wide, catching them both in a hug.

  “Did you see my ponytail?” Oriana grabbed her hair and tipped her head upside down, showing Faith. “I did it. See? No bumps!”

  “I’m staying out of it. I learned the hard way not to touch Ori’s hair,” Soren said, hands in the air; then he separated from the girls and headed toward Navarre. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “Cat and I have some things to discuss.”

  Soren nodded. “We usually have the younger ones tonight anyway. Two more doesn’t change anything.”

  “Would you do something for me?”

  “Absolutely,” Soren said.

  “A demon brought a gun into their home, and as it’s not a weapon they’re familiar with. I’d like you to teach Rollin and Dulcina firearm safety.” All eyes turned to Navarre. “That is, with Cat’s permission.”

  Cat looked suspiciously between him and Soren, a single eyebrow lifting. “I’m not opposed.”

  “Oh, okay. That was unexpected.” Soren sent Dulcina a stern look, which she ignored completely, sending him a cocky grin. “I guess this gives us a focus for tonight. Let’s go.”

  Soren paused to give Faith a quick kiss on the cheek before leading Rollin and Dulcina out the door.

  Faith wiggled her eyebrows at the remaining three. “Well, then. We get to do whatever we want.”

  Maeryn turned to Jovan, looking to him for permission instead of Faith. “Can we swim?”

  Oriana pivoted sharply to face Jovan. Knees bent, hands clasped together, she barely contained her excitement.

  Jovan answered Maeryn, like it was his call to make in the first place. “Yeah, if you want to. We can swim.”

  “Yes!” Oriana leaped up, punching her little fist in the air.

  “Fine by me. Suits and towels, then we’re off!” Faith said. Oriana grabbed Maeryn’s hand and pulled her through the door. Jovan and Faith had to hurry to catch up with the eager girls.

  The room, with only Navarre and Cat remaining, was silent. That is, until Cat walked toward him, the sound of her boots muffled on the training room floor.

  “I don’t have a problem with those two knowing their way around a gun, but don’t let Dulcina talk you into things. She gets her way too often without your help.”

  “They’ll be fine. Trust Soren.”

  “I do,” she said. “And now I’m trusting you.”

  “Good. Because I plan on trusting you with my life.”

  Her delicate eyebrows twisted in confusion.

  “I want you at as my personal bodyguard.”

  Cat laughed. “I don’t think so. I want to be reassigned to an above-ground patrol.”

  “I can’t do that,” Navarre said, and quickly found himself on the wrong end of her lethal stare. “Cat, I need you at my side.”

  “How does trailing after you help me take out the demons before they get inside the city?”

  “They’re already here,” he said. “I have a feeling a number of them are waiting for the right opportunity to attack me. Or you.”

  Cat’s eyes went directly to the door, and for just a moment, she stood frozen, her mind clearly sorting through possibilities. “We’ll be walking around together like one giant target.”

  “And if you’re as capable as I believe you are, they have no chance of succeeding. I want these demons exposed, not roaming my corridors freely without suspicion.”

  “You plan to make our partnership visible.”

  “Exceedingly so,” Navarre said with a smile. “We’ll need to be in the dining hall a few hours from now. A feast is being held to celebrate my return to…life, so to speak.”

  “If I’m supposed to protect you, I need to know what I’m working with. Can you take Spirit?”

  “No. I’ve never been able to accomplish the feat.”

  “Any good at fighting?”

  “I can handle a sword,” he said confidently.

  Cat rolled her eyes. “So can Jovan.”

  Chapter 13

  Navarre had asked her to dress nicely and come heavily armed. Those two requirements didn’t mesh well together.

  Her dark blue shirt was long, falling past her hips. She’d rolled up the sleeves to her elbows to keep her hands free. The black vest she wore over her shirt was nearly as long, and only a small amount of blue peeked from beneath the vest. Silver buttons kept the vest tight over her chest, but just below her ribs she’d left it unbuttoned, her belly bare.

  This was as close as she came to dressing up. As it was, she’d have to sweep her vest and shirt back to access her knife belt, or her short swords, but it was workable.

  Navarre walked ahead of her, surprisingly underdressed for the occasion. He wore his typical black slacks and white button-down shirt. No tie, no jacket.

  Cat had worked with Guardians nearly every d
ay she lived here in Balinese, and had a practical appreciation for their well-formed bodies. She even considered several of them handsome, but she’d never been tempted in the slightest.

  Navarre? Cat smiled. He seemed so regal as he moved through his marble corridor. The lord of the city, smooth and steady, looked as if he’d never been out of control in his life. But she’d seen him undone.

  The night she’d come to feed him, Navarre had been hanging on by a thread. His crisp shirt had hung wide open, revealing a fair amount of skin, and his hair had fallen loose around his shoulders. It was an image she found herself revisiting often, and having him square in her line of sight did nothing to help her forget.

  He awoke something inside her that had been completely dormant. Cat was familiar with the primal craving for blood. But flesh? This was new, and Navarre was becoming her one and only desire.

  A cacophony of voices floated down the corridor, male and female, all trying to talk over one another. Cat reached out and tugged on his arm until he slowed. She couldn’t see directly into the next corridor and refused to blindly walk into an unknown situation.

  “I need to—”

  The sound of heavy boots approaching halted her train of thought. How big was this man if she could hear his steps over the voices?

  Cat stepped in front of Navarre and flipped the split edges of her shirt back for clear access to her throwing knives, pulled the blade at her thigh halfway out. She was ready.

  The man came into sight and Cat sheathed her blade. Graydon. Bald head, broad shoulders, and an I own this place stride. She didn’t often see Graydon outside of the arena, and had forgotten the man had some serious size to him.

  “Corridor’s packed,” Graydon said. She’d never been able to decide if the way he spoke was direct or just lazy. “We’ve got ’em backed against the wall.”

  “How many?” Cat asked.

  Graydon shrugged, those big shoulders barely moving. “A lot. Most are on the other side of the foyer. I’ll take you.”

  Turning his back to them, Graydon headed their small procession. Cat dropped back, allowing Navarre to walk ahead of her.

  “Cat,” Navarre said, glancing back at her. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

  “Of course there isn’t. I’m here,” she said. “Now stop talking to me. I’m busy.”

  Graydon pointed to the ceiling and made a slow circle in the air. He did this in the arena, too. It was his way of telling her it was time to keep her eyes open. They went around the bend, following Graydon’s pace, and Cat sucked in a deep breath as she caught sight of the large crowd bottling up their path.

  The corridor leading to the dining hall was wide, and still the number of people gathered was staggering. The Guardians had stemmed the crush of people, allowing only thirty or so to remain within touching distance of their lord.

  The foyer was clear, but beyond that? The connecting corridor was packed. Two Guardians prevented the enthusiastic crowd from spilling into the foyer. People filled every space, waving and shouting, excitedly trying to gain Navarre’s attention. Women cried happy tears, and children sat on their father’s shoulders.

  “Okay, wow,” Cat whispered.

  “Told ya,” Graydon said over his shoulder.

  The throng was boisterous, high on the news of their lord’s miraculous resurrection. This crowd was exactly why he needed a bodyguard. One hand on her weapon and one free to intercept people should they get out of hand, she kept a sharp eye out.

  Graydon approached the chaos, reminding the people to stay back as he walked ahead of Navarre. For the most part, they did. Some reached out, but Navarre only stopped a couple times to clasp a hand or to reassure them he was just fine.

  When they’d made it to the foyer her discomfort grew. She felt surrounded. The Guardians made certain everyone was kept in check, but she didn’t trust crowds. It was too easy to miss a threat.

  They approached the double doors. Only one Guardian stood posted. She caught Graydon’s attention, sent him a quizzical look.

  “I’m the second,” Graydon said, raising his voice to be heard over the crowd. “It’s a closed meal. Invitation only.”

  Cat nodded. A closed meal meant a small crowd, likely the wealthiest aristocrats of the city. Graydon gave a signal and both doors popped open. She waited for Navarre to step through, but he paused in the doorway, glanced back at her, and held out his hand.

  She eyed his hand suspiciously. “I’m not giving you a weapon.”

  Navarre moved his upturned palm closer to her.

  “You’ll hurt yourself. Not happening.”

  “I’m asking for your hand,” he said. The tone of his voice, low and persuasive, alerted her senses to a different kind of danger. Physical contact.

  “Why?” She glanced from his hand back up to meet his eyes. “I need it.”

  “Give me your hand, Cat,” he said, his determination clear.

  She slowly reached out, strategically offering her less dominant hand. Navarre pulled her to his side, then tucked her hand under his arm and pressed her fingers against his bicep. A thrill zipped through her, foreign and intriguing.

  “This makes it look like a completely different kind of partnership,” she whispered. Her voice had gone shaky.

  “Perhaps.” He leaned closer, whispering, “I intend to ensure you are treated with the greatest respect in my city. That begins with me. I don’t question your presence at my side. Why should I allow anyone else to do so?”

  Navarre escorted her into the dining hall, and the doors shut behind them. The small gathering, no more than twenty, all paused and clapped. To her surprise Navarre wasn’t rushed with well-wishers. These people seemed content to carry on as they were and wait for him to approach them.

  He didn’t seem to notice that entering the dining hall was like walking into a completely different world. This kind of grandeur was probably a common sight for Navarre. A pearly white chandelier trimmed in gold was shaped like a giant flower, surrounded by several smaller flowers. Red curtains with gold fringe were draped over the only door, black and red chairs lined the outer sides of the tables, and the dome ceiling seemed covered with thousands of blue and gold scales.

  “I don’t belong here.”

  “You do,” he said confidently. “You’ll see it when you’re ready.”

  Cat took note of those gathered. Stately gentleman mingled in conversation, backs straight and jewels on their cuff links. The women fluttered from one group to the next in their fluffy skirts, careful not to knock loose the jewels pinned in their hair, and looking every bit like brightly colored flowers floating across the floor. “I’m not seeing it.”

  Navarre laughed. “Give it time.”

  Cat glanced around the room, not recognizing any faces. This wasn’t a surprise. These people kept to themselves and didn’t cause trouble. Ever. The likelihood of a Guardian having to enter one of their homes and settle any kind of dispute was practically nil.

  Then one man caught her attention. He stood alone with a glass of wine in his hand. Oddly enough, it wasn’t his shaggy beard, unkempt hair, or uncomfortable stance that worried Cat. It was his hollow stare.

  The poor guy tried, but somehow he looked like a ruffian who had been unceremoniously stuffed inside a tuxedo and couldn’t find his way out. Nicolai Moretti had ventured into public, which was rare enough, but to walk among his peers was unheard of.

  She knew very little about Nico, other than the fact that he’d come out of almost complete seclusion after the attack to help Soren train new Guardians. Everything else was rumor. Supposedly he was the last Moretti, and it was said that he’d gone wild. Cat always assumed people had gotten the rumor wrong and intended to say that he’d gone mad, but their paths had crossed several times over the years, and she’d learned how right they were. Nicolai was a completely lucid barbarian.

  Cat tapped Navarre’s arm and pointed across the room. “At least I’m
not as out of place as Nico.”

  Hand still trapped in the crook of Navarre’s elbow, Cat had no choice but to quicken her pace as he hurried toward Nico.

  Navarre reached out, placed a hand on Nico’s shoulder, and lowered his voice. “Nicolai, please don’t think you must stay to honor me. You have done that and more with your service to the Guardians in my absence. Thank you, my friend. Find your peace in solitude.”

  “My lord,” Nico said. He bowed slightly, then quickly left the room, no doubt grateful for his lord’s understanding.

  “He needed that,” Cat said. As a Guardian, Nico was robust, confident. But here in this setting? He seemed a shell of a man.

  “I know. Nicolai has always had difficulty interacting with his peers. I thought maybe things would change with time, but he’s not ready.”

  “How do you do that? See through people?”

  Navarre smiled. “It’s not seeing through someone. It’s catching a glimpse inside.”

  “Saying it differently doesn’t make it any less strange.”

  “And yet you do it every day as a Guardian, correct? To predict how a man will act or react, you must take into account all you know about him and, in a sense, look inside of him.” When she didn’t respond, mostly because he was right, he continued, “It’s a gift, Cat. A rare and useful tool that not everyone has the good fortune to possess.”

  “Lord Navarre.” A tall man approached, elegant in his silver vest and black tux.

  “Henrick!” Navarre said, and the two men shook, hands over wrists, then came together in a brief back-slapping hug. “How’s Felicia?”

  “Ah, the wife is well.” Henrick beamed, turning slightly to point across the room. “My money looks good on her, no?”

  “It does,” Navarre admitted. “She could start a new trend, take us all back to the 1920s.”

  “Good heavens, don’t tell her that,” Henrick whispered. “If you get a chance, she’d love to say hello.”

  And just like that Henrick wandered off, mingling back into the crowd. People shifted from one group to the next, the room in constant motion.