Heart Blade: Blade Hunt Chronicles Book One

by Juliana Spink Mills

  They sat on a bench at the far edge of the plaza, overlooking the Connecticut River as it wound its way past, slow and lazy in the late-afternoon warmth. It was nice out here, she had to admit. And she liked watching the humans go about their business. It made her feel less apart from things. A small boy went by, towed along by a tiny dog on a leash, his mother a step behind them. The dog was in a panting hurry, and the boy shrieked in delight as he ran along behind his pet.

  Del smiled at the scene and caught Ash watching her quizzically. “What?” she asked, worried, her sense of peace shattering. “Is my glamour not in place?”

  “Yes, you’re fine. It’s just… you have a nice smile. I don’t mean that in a— look, I’m not hitting on you. I just haven’t met any demons before. Not socially, I mean. You’re not what I expected.”

  He’d gone all serious again. She liked that his eyes were kind, even when he was serious. She didn’t dare seek out the sorrow she knew would be there, just beyond the surface but still tightly locked away. She guessed it had something to do with demons, and a death. Someone close to him. She shifted the subject slightly, out of respect, and because she was afraid to pry and to find out what had happened to him to make him so angry, and so sad.

  “Well, I already told you, I’m not a proper demon. I haven’t pledged yet. Do you know what that means?”

  “An oath of some sort?”

  “There’s a little more to it. Have you heard of soulgild?”

  He nodded. “Soulgild, deaths owed to a demon moving to a new pack, right? They feed on the deaths in exchange for their loyalty.” He looked sick. “And the Court sanctions those deaths; it’s legal and everything.”

  “Sort of. Demons feed on emotions, not the death itself. We’re not vultures. But the point is, new demons are supposed to claim soulgild, too. Until we do, we’re still partially human. The first kill seals our demon blood.”

  Ash was staring at her, horror in his eyes.

  “And I haven’t yet,” she added in a hurry.

  “Haven’t what?”

  “Haven’t claimed my soulgild. Haven’t killed anyone. And stop giving me that look, the one where you want to throw me in the river. Use that angel sensing thingy you have. I’m telling the truth!”

  He calmed down, and after a while he gave a small nod. “I’m sorry I doubted you. So that’s what Shade wants you for? To pledge? That’s what you were talking about back at the shop. When you said you wouldn’t kill for her.”

  “I’ll never kill for her. I won’t join the pack. I can’t explain, not really. It has something to do with my scars and something I remember. Something from my old life.” She leaned toward him, lowering her voice. He leaned closer, too, and for a second, as the sun touched his hair, she wished they were just two ordinary humans on a bench in a park. But wishes didn’t solve problems.

  “I don’t think Shade found me as I was dying. That’s the story I was told, and I don’t think it’s true.” She drew even nearer, her mouth so close to his ear she could feel the heat from his skin. She had an insane urge to press her lips to that soft dent below his earlobe. She ignored the impulse. “Ash,” she whispered, “I think she killed me herself. And I want to know why.”

  He sat back, long legs stretched out, eyes on the river. The sudden distance between them felt huge. A chasm. Del waited anxiously for him to say something. Eventually he gave her a sideways look. “Dang it, that’s some story. If what you remember is true, she won’t let you go easily.”

  “I know. And that’s why I need the Guild. No one else will stand up to her. I don’t know what to do. I can’t find anything on them, anywhere. You saw what it’s like trying to research them. I think I should just call it a day, hitch a ride to Toronto, and try my luck up there.”

  “There are demons in Toronto, Del. The Darkwing family is based there. They run a nasty little heroin racket that ties in to Shade’s dealings. She has them in her pocket.”

  “But what else can I do? I can’t just sit around in Hartford and wait for her to come knocking and ask your father ‘pretty please’. And what if she declares me a rogue? Won’t you be honor bound to kill me, or at least hand me in?”

  “Luckily for you, I’m still an apprentice. Until December, I can’t execute anyone.” He was kidding, but it wasn’t funny.

  “Oh, great. How nice for you. So I need to be gone by December, is that what you’re saying?”

  “Hey, I didn’t mean it that way at all. All I meant was that I’m under no obligation to hand you over. I haven’t taken any oaths yet. Listen, tomorrow is Saturday, and I have class until noon. It’s the wrap-up for the summer course, a last chance for questions before next week’s finals.”

  “Finals?”

  “I’m an apprentice sentinel, remember? Yeah, finals. And then battle tests, followed by two months as a field apprentice before I graduate in December. But you’re missing the point. What I’m trying to say is, tomorrow I can ask some questions about the Guild. Maybe I can get the information you need.”

  He was smiling at her. “You have a nice smile, too,” she told him. “And no, I’m not hitting on you either. I think that’s a great idea. The questions, I mean. Not the— Oh, crap. That came out all wrong.”

  Her cheeks were hot, and she set a palm against each side of her face to cool them. Ash was grinning broadly now. “Well, darn. I made the demon blush.”

  She laughed. “I know. Real smooth of me. And what’s with the ‘gosh, darn, dang it’, anyway. Don’t you ever swear?”

  Ash gave her a mock-stern look, eyebrows raised. “Have you ever had your mouth washed out with soap? Not the nice, scented bath stuff, but the nasty, rough bars you keep in your garage to scrub off engine oil from your fingers?”

  She was still laughing as she shook her head.

  “Well, I have. You learn quickly after that. Plus, my grandfather was strict about cussing, so a clean mouth runs in the family. Well, on my side, anyway. I won’t vouch for my cousin.”

  Del saw a familiar figure striding toward them. She nudged Ash. “Speaking of cousins…”

  “Oh, shoot!” Ash got up quickly, his face reddening as though laughing with a demon was a crime beyond measure. Del stood too, as Jordan walked up glaring.

  “What’s she still doing here?” He jabbed a finger at her chest. “You said you were getting rid of her!”

  “She has a name,” said Del, swatting his hand away. “And don’t touch me.”

  Ash gave her a look, like not helping. He turned to Jordan. “I know what I said. And I am.”

  “What?” Del was furious. Double-crossing bastard. “You promised to help me!”

  “Ugh! Can the two of you just calm down!” Ash got between them, a hand on each of their shoulders. Del shook it off.

  “Del! Just stop and listen, will you?” Ash was trying not to shout, frustration all over his face. “I’m not ‘getting rid’ of you. I gave you my word, remember? And Jordan, dude. She’s leaving soon. She has to. But I can’t just dump her out in the cold. Shade Raven is after her and I won’t give her up to that… that…”

  Jordan’s voice was steel. “I think the word you want is ‘bitch’. And it’s hardly cold out here. Lose the demon before Deacon finds out and this Sanctuary crap bites us both in the ass.”

  “Del will go when she’s ready. She’s not ready. She could be in danger if she leaves, and I won’t let that happen.”

  Jordan snorted. “Grow up, Ash. This isn’t some fairy tale, and you’re no knight in shining armor. You know what she is, and she has no right to be here. You of all people should know that. I can’t believe you’re letting her stay in the shop, of all places! Your dad will freak.”

  “Only if he finds out. Look, I know what I’m doing. Trust me.”

  “Trust you?” Jordan gave a dry, mirthless chuckle. “Oh, she’s good. She’s really good. Corrupted you right to the core, hasn’t she? That’s what they do, you moron.”

  Ash was breathing hard, fi
sts clenched. “If you can’t be civil, we’re leaving. Come on, Del.” He grabbed her hand and towed her away. But Jordan followed close behind.

  “Oh no, you don’t get to walk out on this conversation. Get back here, Ash.” He grabbed Ash’s arm, and Ash shook him off.

  “We are not discussing Del, Jordan. Not until you calm down. Not here!” Around them, people were beginning to stare. Jordan stopped, still glaring, as Ash continued to tow her away. She could feel his poison-green eyes on her all the way across the plaza.

  Once they got to a side street, Del pulled her hand free. “You can let go of me now. I know how to walk by myself.”

  Ash ran a hand through his hair, troubled. “I’m sorry about that. Jordan can be difficult.”

  “Jordan is a jackass,” she replied. She stopped walking. “Ash? What happened in the shop?” He ignored her and kept on going. “Ash!” She hurried to catch up, and touched his hand.

  He stopped but didn’t turn around. From where she stood, all she could see was the curve of his cheek and his clenched jaw.

  “Ash?”

  “It’s where my mother was killed. By the East Coast Hunt.” He still didn’t turn, and she let go of his hand as though she’d been burned.

  He started to walk again, but she didn’t follow, afraid of the sorrow that trailed in his wake. Eventually he realized she’d stayed behind. “Del?”

  “I’ll leave first thing in the morning.” Her voice sounded dull and flat. “You’ll be rid of me then. You can tell your cousin. I’m sure he’ll be pleased.”

  And then she put on a burst of demon speed, pushing past him as she ran, and leaving him far behind.

  Chapter Seven

  Diana

  Diana knelt in the supplicant’s pose, one knee folded under her, one bent at a right angle to the floor. She held one fist to her heart and kept the other hand behind her stiff, straight back. Her lowered eyes stared at the floor below.

  All she could see of Shade Raven, her Liege and creator, was an elegant ballerina flat tapping the ground impatiently, and the legs of the expensive black pantsuit. The Lady always wore flats. It had been one of her first lessons. “Never wear anything you can’t run in, my daughter.” That had been many, many years ago — over a century — but it still felt like yesterday.

  The Lady cleared her throat. Her voice when she spoke was an ocean sinkhole, fathomless and ice-cold. “Adeline must be found. This is a serious lapse, Huntress.”

  Diana kept absolutely still and tried not to grind her teeth. She wanted to scream at Shade, tell her she’d chosen wrong, that Del was the worst fit for a demon she’d ever seen. To yell at her: tell her to let the girl go, to forget her. Shade would probably kill her in a heartbeat for disrespect, but perhaps that would be better than this inhuman disdain. And perhaps, if she died, then the crushing shame that had swelled impossibly over the last few years would finally go away and leave her in peace.

  Tap-tap-tap went Shade’s foot on the tiles. An unbidden jumble of memories surged — dripping swords and dead bodies, so many bodies — and this time she did grind her teeth, biting back a howl of anger. To make matters worse, Diana’s immortal hunger was for guilt, and lately she’d been feeding off her own emotions far too often. Maybe Del was right to run.

  The foot stopped tapping. Diana heard the whistle of air and readied herself for the blow. It came, violent and cruel, knocking her to one side and filling her mouth with the metallic tang of her own blood. She righted herself, pushing back her heavy, dark braid of hair, and snapped once again into the supplicant’s grovel.

  Although she didn’t raise her eyes, she could sense her Liege’s gaze upon her. They remained in silence for a long moment, punctuated by the steady drip of blood from Diana’s split lip upon the floor.

  Finally the Lady touched her head briefly. “Rise. Walk with me, Huntress.”

  Diana stood, controlling the impulse to wipe her mouth. The blood dribbled down her chin and collected at the tip, ready to fall. The Lady nodded, a slight smile on her mask of a face.

  “You may clean yourself.”

  Diana wiped her mouth and chin with her sleeve, glad she had worn black. She didn’t speak, though. She had not spoken once since finishing her report on Del’s disappearance. This was no mother-daughter tea party, but a formal meeting between the Lady and her Mistress of the Hunt.

  Shade turned toward the living room, Diana following. Shade stopped when she reached the large picture window, dancer-light on her feet despite her six-foot frame. Below them, the view of Boston spread out like a postcard. The last glimmer of daylight was fading from the sky in muted tones of pink and red, and the city twinkled in the gathering dusk. Shade stared out at the skyline, beautifully chiseled features pale against her short-cropped cap of jet-black hair.

  “You were just seventeen when they hung you up to die,” she said, out of the blue. Diana watched her Liege, wary.

  “The Wild West, they call it now. Such romantic notions these humans have. There was nothing wild and beautiful about it. Nothing but petty mortals with their petty quarrels. Cattlemen and sheep ranchers. Feuding over a few paltry acres of dirt. The humans made you watch as they ripped your mother to pieces, and then they set the noose on you. I cut you down before your soul departed, and made you mine. And then together we killed them all. Do you remember, my child?”

  Diana touched a finger to the scar tissue around her neck, the mark that had never entirely disappeared, inflicted before she was made demon. Yes, she remembered it well. At the time, there had been nothing but joy at giving in to her new savage nature, and only pleasure at blood and gore. In those days before security cameras and modern communications systems, it had been easy to ignore the Covenant, as long as you were careful not to get caught. Diana had taken a vicious pride in breaking the laws, over and over. But that had been many years ago. Now all she felt was an exhaustion that reached so deep it never seemed to end.

  “I remember, my Lady.”

  “Draw your blade, Diana.”

  Diana set her hand to her heart. Her fingers pressed into her skin slightly, and with the ease of long practice she pulled them out again, drawing her soul blade. The cool hilt materialized in the palm of her hand, the sword flowing smoothly through skin and clothing to shine, fully-formed, in her grip. The sword had been forged from the sliver of human soul that had remained when she was Gifted, and it had always been the most beautiful thing to her. Now, though, the gleaming blade was an executioner’s axe, a screaming accusation. Instead of beauty, Diana saw only despair. Shame, shame, shame, went the echoes in her head.

  “I had my reasons for choosing you,” said Shade, in the light of Diana’s soul blade. “I had my reasons for choosing Adeline. Find her for me, Huntress. Bring her back alive. And keep it discreet.”

  Diana opened her mouth to answer, but Shade lifted a hand to stop her. She turned to face Diana, both her silver eyes gleaming dispassionately. “Adeline is not the only reason I summoned you. I have a task. In a way, it is linked to your Gifting. I wasn’t in Arizona for you, of course. You were a chance find. I was there for a sword. A trickster’s sword: a thief’s blade. I lost that one, but now I have my sights set on another. Diana, what know you of the Blade Hunt Chronicles?”

  Diana was surprised. Whatever she’d been expecting, this wasn’t it. She let her soul blade shimmer out as she considered her response. “Not much. Which of the four Books are you referring to?”

  “The first. The Heart Blade prophecy.”

  Diana thought fast. She’d never really cared for the study of lore, preferring to focus on martial arts and sword-work. “The Heart Blade will be summoned by a girl, born this millennium? Not yet born, perhaps?”

  “No!” Shade’s voice was harsh, her careful neutrality shattered. “The girl is of this time, right now. The prophecy is clear on this.”

  “The Heart is the most important of the Blades, the catalyst?” Now she was winging it, but she must have said somethin
g right, because Shade’s porcelain mask cracked and she smiled, predatory.

  “The Heart Blade is truly the heart, my daughter. The four Blades cannot be united until the Heart rises again. It can rise in light, or in darkness. If it is reborn as the Dark Heart, the others will soon fall to shadow as well. The Horsemen will ride and the world will be plunged into chaos.”

  A look of pure avarice flashed across Shade’s face, there and gone in an instant. She gripped her daughter’s arm, and Diana felt the strong fingers bite deep. She’d have a bruise later. “I need that sword, Huntress. At present, the Guild has the girl. She’s seventeen, my sources tell me. She goes by Rose Grace, but her real name is Pietrowicz.”

  Diana was startled. “Pietrowicz? Wasn’t that the witch’s name? Big guy, like a lion. The werewolf’s mate. But our pack killed them both…”

  “His wolf was breeding. The child must have been born before the pack arrived. What happened is guesswork, but somehow the Guild got hold of her and placed her in the care of the Church. I sent an agent to prepare her. He failed. And now the Guild will have moved her.” Shade’s mask was back, her face once again expressionless. “Diana, you’ve led my Hunt for almost seventy years. You will not fail me. Set your best trackers on her trail.”

  Diana bowed her head in consent and turned to go. As she walked out the door, Shade called out, as if in afterthought, “Diana? Do keep an eye out for snakes, won’t you? Some of them are poison.”

  Snakes? Diana looked over her shoulder and met her Liege’s eyes, glittering with malicious amusement. Shade offered no explanation, and Diana asked for none.

  Two hours later Diana was on a small plane, heading away from Boston to Bradley Airport and the East Coast Hunting Lodge just south of the Connecticut-Massachusetts border.

  The East Coast Hunt was the largest pack in North America. It gathered dozens of half-demons, many of them Gifted by Shade Raven, but also from the lesser families drawn to the prestige of Diana’s group. Of course, the rich pickings that came from working for Shade were also an incentive. Extortion, money laundering, racketeering… the opportunities were plentiful. And a tidy fortune in drug profits.