Iron (The Warding Book 1)

by Robin L. Cole

  By the time I was on my third journey down the aisle, I had ruled out all of the larger weapons. The array of swords was awesome, but—weight and length issues aside—they failed the discretion test just as much as the big, badass monstrosities. If I was learning to defend myself against creepy faeries, I needed something I could potentially keep near me. Otherwise, what was the point?

  I settled myself in front of the knife section and slowly picked them over. Some were as small as my palm—which didn’t do much to instill courage in me—while others were as long as my forearm. I ruled out the big, thick ones (and giggled to myself as I thought just that), sticking to the thinner blades that I could potentially hide in a purse or boot. A few felt nice in my hand. I finally whittled the selection down to a wicked looking cousin of the bowie knife that seemed to fit my grip well. It was doubled edged, with a decent weight and a good balance to it when I mocked some punches and stabs. I stood there, holding it, and gazed down at it for what seemed like a long time.

  I placed it back down in its original spot on the table, biting at my lip. It was nice but there was just something missing. It didn’t have the umph I was looking for. I don’t know what I had been expecting. Maybe, when Gannon had given his little weapon choosing the wielder speech earlier, I had expected some crazy Excalibur like moment when the perfect one found its way into my hand. That was silly, of course, but it lingered in my mind. I just hadn’t felt that click yet and it was damn frustrating.

  While I chastised myself for my dreams of grandeur, my eyes roved the table and finally came to rest on a pair of long, tapering blades laid by the far end of the table. I had discounted them as being too dainty to give me the sense of security I was longing for, in favor of the heavier, more familiar shape of the other knives. Certainly a sturdy blade would be more useful than something thin and sort of flimsy looking, right? After my extensive trolling of its kin, I was having second thoughts.

  I took a blade in each hand, holding them up to admire them. They were indeed thin, but a bit heavier than I had anticipated. The blades were twice the length of the handle, each coming to a wicked point. I resisted the urge to test it with a finger; I already knew they would draw blood. The handles felt good. The soft, black leather of their grips felt smooth against my palms. The bar that crossed over—and I assumed, protected—my knuckles was ornately wrought to look like curling ivy. The girl in me appreciated that bit of flair.

  I went through my awkward stabbing routine, only to find it wasn’t quite as awkward with these knives. They followed my motions effortlessly, seeming to fit each move without much adjustment on my part. I felt a chill run up my back and smiled.

  “I see we’ve found a winner.”

  I startled and whirled around, falling into the ready stance. Gannon’s slow smile and appreciative nod made me blush. Truth be told, I was pretty proud of how instinctual protecting myself had become too but he didn’t need to know that. I straightened up with a forced cough, feeling awkward standing there with the knives clenched in my hands. A slow smile spread across my face, until I was grinning like an idiot. “Yeah, I think I did.”

  He crossed the room and I let him take the blades when he held out his hands. I tried to ignore the little twinge inside me that didn’t want to give them up so easily. He took his time examining them; turning them this way and that, giving one an experimental flip in the air which he completed with far too much ease. “Good choice. These will suit you well.”

  I took them back, clasping them in sweaty palms. “You think so?”

  “These are stilettos.”

  “First kind I’ll play with that aren’t patent leather,” I said.

  He ignored my sarcasm. “They’re intended for stabbing, which I think will suit your style. This particular pair has quite the history. They belonged to Kaine’s mother. She trained many warriors in her day.” He looked down at the blades, then back up to me; something curious playing in his eyes. “You have a bit of her spirit about you.”

  “Oh? How so?”

  “She was quite the smart-ass as well.” He broke into a grin when I stuck my tongue out at him. “You’ll do them justice, I think. I’ll show you how to take good care of them.”

  I gaped at him for a moment. “Wait, you mean I get to keep them?”

  “It would be pretty silly for me to teach you to use them and then take them away, don’t you think? Besides; every blade is different, even if only in the most subtle way. I would feel better that you stick with them, for the time being.”

  I gazed at them in wonder, like they were about to spring to life in my hands. “Won’t Kaine have an issue that? I mean, will he be okay with me taking something that belongs in his family?”

  “Don’t worry about Kaine.” Was that an annoyed tick at the corner of his lips that I spied? It was gone too soon for me to read further into it. He said, “He wasn’t too happy with the idea of you going on the offensive, but he agreed to put the reins in my hands where your training is concerned. As long as you keep your skills here, in this room—”

  “Say what?” I clenched my fists around the hilts of my daggers. “Nu-uh, no way. I need real-world experience if I’m going to stop choking up when these assholes come at me. I’m going hunting with you.”

  “No, you’re not. It’s too dangerous.”

  “Why? Because you might lose your Lynx Detector?” The discomforted look that earned me said I wasn’t far from the truth. I scowled. “Yeah; that’s what I thought. Well, fuck that. I’m going hunting.”

  He heaved a great sigh. This argument didn’t seem to surprise him. I don’t know if he had expected my level of stubbornness, however. Silly man. He said, “Caitlin, this is serious. Hunting is a dangerous job. It’s a lot to handle, even for a Guardian.”

  My smile might have showed a little too much tooth. “Don’t worry. I can handle it.”

  A skeptically raised eyebrow confronted me and I stared it down like a champ. “It’s one thing to say you’re prepared, it’s another to be so. Killing stains your soul in a way you cannot ever anticipate. Think hard before you say yes. Are you ready to have blood on your hands? Even in the name of justice, every life you take will stay with you for the rest of your days.”

  “Then that’s something I’ll have to learn to live with.” I hoped the impassioned stare I leveled him with showed him everything I was feeling, even as I struggled to put it all into words. “I didn’t ask you to train me just for vengeance, Gannon. Those creatures are a threat not only to me, but to other innocent people. I know I’m not going to be some super badass warrior, wheeling and dealing justice like a real Hunter, but if what you’ve all said is true, those guys? They aren’t exactly doing their job these days. Someone needs to do something. People who have no clue what is out there are getting hurt and I might be the only one around here who knows the truth.”

  Where had that come from? I hadn’t intended to go all avenging angel, but sure, why not? I was sick of feeling lost and vulnerable. I was done with being scared. Maybe if I had stopped and given it some thought earlier, I would have realized that sooner. I needed to stop being a passenger in my own life, but more so I needed to stop the outside world from getting bigger and scarier. I needed to do something.

  If there was one lesson that my time with the fae gang had taught me, it was that sometimes you had to say the words aloud for everything to click into place. In that moment, it all made sense. The words just spilled out of my mouth, hot as lava. “There’s no saying if you’ll be able to fix shit once you get home. If you can’t, I may be the only thing Riverview has between it and the monsters for a very long time. I’m not asking you to teach me this for fun. I have to do something.”

  He raised his hands, throwing up the white flag. “Fair enough. I’ll speak to Kaine and work something out. But hear me now: under no circumstances are you to go looking for trouble by yourself. You wait until I say you’re ready, and when we’re out there on the hunt, you listen to my every
word. I need to know I can trust you. Arguing here, in training, is one thing. Out there, it could get one or both of us killed. If I tell you to fall back, I need you do it immediately. Are we clear?”

  “Yes, sir. Crystal.” From the mildly frightened and wholly unconvinced look he was giving me, I must have been grinning the way I had when I opened up my Barbie Dream House on Christmas morning as a child. I felt that excited, so it made sense. I dialed it back a bit and tried to look suitably somber. “I have no intention of winding up in a back alley with an angry centaur just yet. I promise I’ll follow your lead and I won’t go looking to test out these bad boys”—I held up my new best friends—“without you. I am perfectly aware that I am little and squishy, and the things out there are scary and may have horns. I don’t need a repeat of the other night.”

  I don’t think he was buying it. He certainly didn’t look all that convinced. He sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck. A shadow passed over his face. “Caitlin, about that night…”

  I cut him off with an upheld hand. Shit. I should have known better than to bring that up. “I’d rather not talk about it, if it’s all the same with you. I got upset and freaked out and lost my head. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you guys. You were doing your best to help. Besides, there’s nothing that can be done about it now. I’d just like to move on and get done what I need to get done—okay?”

  Goddamn, his stare was intense. I fought the urge to shimmy away from his gaze, like my insides tried to do whenever we locked eyes. Instead I held that stare and lifted my chin. I was done letting anyone intimidate me. It was so damn frustrating, trying to get a read on where his head was at. I couldn’t tell if I had said something to piss him off, or if there was some sort of gallant wellspring fueling his anger. I didn’t want to guess and I sure as fuck wasn’t going to ask.

  I let some of the bitch drain out of my tone. “Mairi said you’ve been hitting the street looking for those bastards. You said it yourself once; that means way more to me than any apology.”

  We both stood there for a moment and I think he was as uncomfortable as I was. Why I had brought that up, I don’t know. I hadn’t been looking to create an awkward, touchy-feely kind of moment but I had. I jumped a little when he reached out and clapped my shoulder with a firm hand; squeezing it. “Understood. Why don’t you start to warm up while I put those—” he jerked his head in the direction of the discarded weaponry—“away? Then we’ll see just what you can do with those.”

  I found myself grinning back, my hands flexing eagerly around the hilts of my new toys.

  Finally, something was starting to feel right again in my life.

  Chapter Seventeen

  January

  The blood would never wash away.

  My hands would be stained with it for the rest of my life; a reminder of what I had done.

  I’m not sure how long I sat there, letting the shower rain down over me until it was little more than lukewarm. It didn’t matter. I had scrubbed and scrubbed until my skin was raw but I could still see the blood there, staining my hands. I could still feel it, hot and sticky; could still smell it. My stomach flipped and threatened to make me retch all over again.

  Time had lost all meaning to me.

  I had lost all meaning to myself.

  Life liked to remind me of my place, whenever I got a bit too cocky. I don’t know why I had ever let myself think that that would change. I should have known better. I did know better. I’d never been lucky, not even from day one. I was the kid who never got one past her parents without it coming back to bite her in the ass, for Christ’s sake—how did I ever think I could lie to the Universe at large and get away with it?

  Maybe I thought that the revelation of my super cool, mystical Gift had somehow transformed my luck as well as my humdrum daily life. Maybe I thought I could change by pumping iron and learning how to hold a knife. Maybe I just thought that if I wanted it badly enough—if I just tried hard enough—I could break become something different. Something stronger.

  Who did I think I was kidding?

  I wanted to be tough; to be a badass. The past few months had filled me with a longing to be anything other than the soft, weak little human I was. Anything other than the little girl lost, who was so far over her head in fae shit that she could barely breathe for the stench of it. Maybe there was a part of me that had thought a little too long on Mairi’s offhanded question about my lineage; that had dreamed a little too much in the dark of another sleepless night. Maybe, just maybe, that little part of me had started to believe that she could be part of their world, where things were different and exciting and strange.

  The truth was no amount of wanting, no secret longing, would ever make me anything but what I was: a little girl trying to roll with the big dogs. I couldn’t be one of them, no matter how hard I tried. I was stranded worlds apart from them, and no amount of knife-throwing and cardio workouts were ever going to level that playing field. Being badass came with strings attached and I hadn’t stopped to think of what those strings were attached to or how hard they would tug when tested.

  Life reminded me of that fact the first time Gannon agreed to take me on a hunt.

  I ducked my head down to my knees and hugged my elbows to my ears, trying to block out the moaning. It grated along my nerves; that horrible, endless groan. It was the warble of something in pain. The last gasp of a dying animal. My attempts to block it out didn’t help.

  The sound was coming from me.

  Something inside of me was dying.

  I was pretty sure it was my innocence.

  What had I been thinking, insisting that I play a part in dealing out fae justice? What had I expected to happen, when I took another being’s fate into my own hands? Who the hell did I think I was? I couldn’t even hold my every day, mundane little life together. Work had become a joke; I was out more than I was in. I had no lifelines left there. One more screw up and I would find myself out on my ass. I should have been taking the initiative to look for another job—or maybe another living arrangement, for when everything finally went south—but I hadn’t. I wouldn’t.

  Jenni hadn’t called or texted me in over a week. I could hardly blame her. I was living a life apart from everything she knew now. Our conversations had become more silence than words, hers stony while she waited to hear whatever poorly concocted lie I had for my increasingly unexplainable behavior, mine thick with guilt. I think we had a date set up to have lunch, but I couldn’t remember when. I hoped I had written it down somewhere but doubted I had. Soon, I would be making another round of ill-received apologies.

  I was pretty sure my family hated me far worse than Jenni at the moment. I had missed my grandmother’s 91stbirthday, forgetting not only the fancy dinner my mother had planned, but the day in question all together. Of course Grandma had said it was no big deal when I called to make my tearful apology two days later, but I wasn’t buying it. As her oldest granddaughter, I had the responsibility of remembering something as important as that. I could hardly tell her I had gotten caught up in another wild goose chase, scouring some crappy little off Broadway theater in the city because a sylph had told us that her djinn buddy had promised that he had heard, on good authority, that the Lynx had purchased tickets to the show that night. Big ol’ waste of time that had been.

  Perhaps mom and dad would have forgiven me that transgression (even if I would never forgive myself), had I not missed Christmas too. I had no excuse for that one, save for the wear and tear on my body had finally caught up to me. That disaster was all me. Having the day off from work, training, and Lynx-hunting had been a rare gift. Maybe the day had started with the impromptu baking of semi-edible gingerbread cookies and present wrapping, but the temptation of a nap had wrecked all those good intentions. I had slept the sleep of the dead, straight on through morning, oblivious to alarm and phone both.

  Jenni had remembered to stop by and see my parents, of course. She had come by on Christmas evening like c
lockwork, ever since we were teenagers. My mother’s abrupt message on my voicemail had tartly informed me that she had left my Christmas present with them too, having expected me to be there. Once, I had found my bestie’s love of my parents endearing. Now it was just another thorn in my side, reminding me of what a shitty daughter I had become. It was par for the course I guess. I wasn’t just a shitty friend and an even shittier daughter; I was a horrible person.

  I had taken a life. I had felt that life spill out over my own two hands and watched the light fade from a living creature’s eyes. Yes, those eyes had been luminous green and more reptilian than human—but that hardly mattered.

  My life was falling apart and I had no clue how to keep the pieces together. Everything felt wrong; was wrong. Every time I tried to shore up another weak spot, a leak sprung clear across the way and left me scrambling. With everything falling down around me, I had clung to the stupid hope that I was making strides toward becoming a new me, a better me. I told myself that when the fae went home I would somehow be better off for having met them. I let myself believe that I was learning something valuable; something that would shape my future. I wanted so damn bad to find my place in the world that I had jumped on in, thinking “Yes, this must be it!”

  And what had that gotten me?

  Nothing.

  Worse than nothing, really. Instead of finding some sense of self, some confidence or whatever the fuck I had thought learning to knock off nasty fae would have given me, all I had learned was that my tough-as-nails attitude came with a price. Facing down a Naga in a dark back alley had revealed something even uglier than its snake-face living in my soul. It wasn’t the fear I had felt, grappling with scaly hands that wanted to lock around my throat. It wasn’t the panic that had done me in, in that moment when it bore down on me and I was sure as fuck that I had forgotten all Gannon had taught me. It wasn’t even some enlightening, angelic revelation that told me I was destined to be the god-damned protector of the human race.