Night Blade: Blade Hunt Chronicles Book Two

by Juliana Spink Mills

  She shook the contents of a brown envelope onto the table and began handing around the keys that tumbled out, along with an address. “We’ll be using a property on the edge of Queens as our prep base. It’s big enough to store the cars. I’ll be in there most of the time; feel free to come and go. But I expect everyone to check in at least once a day. Tomorrow, I want everyone there by five pm. Understood?”

  There was a flurry of nods, and then Lix called the meeting to an end. “I need to talk to each of you before you leave. Finn, I’ll start with you.”

  Ben drifted to the living room along with everyone else. Gareth salvaged what was left of the snack tray and brought it along. He dumped it on the coffee table and said, “I’m going to grab a beer. I’ve earned one, I think. Anyone else want one? Raze?”

  She shook her head. “I probably shouldn’t.” She looked very young and uncertain all of a sudden, and Ben wondered if she really was eighteen, as she’d told Lix. She wouldn’t be the first to lie about her age. He’d done it for most of his teenage years.

  “You sure?” Gareth pressed her. “Come on, let your hair down a little.”

  She shook her head again, and Ben took pity on her. “Nothing for me, Gareth. Raze and I should keep a clear head. God knows what Lix’s little side project will turn out to be.”

  Raze gave him a small, grateful smile. “Any idea of what she’s after?”

  “With Lix, it could be anything. Once she made us get hold of a troll’s toenails for this potion she was working on. You should have seen Gareth here trying to talk a troll into a pedicure.”

  Gareth chuckled. “He finally agreed, but made me give him a manicure, too. Helluva day that was!”

  Raze laughed, and finally her shoulders began to relax.

  “Don’t worry,” Ben told her. “She wants her team whole and in one piece for Friday. Whatever she’s after, it’s nothing you and I can’t handle.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Ash

  Ash was teaching a sword class when the door opened and his dad walked in. The classes had been Alex’s idea; Ash had been learning longsword and other historical weapons since he was a kid, and Alex had proposed he take over teaching the beginners’ group.

  He nodded at Deacon, but didn’t stop talking. “Okay, going back to what I was saying about posture at the start of class. I need you all to remember, this isn’t the sort of modern fencing you see in the Olympics. The longswords we use in class are based on fourteenth- to sixteenth-century war swords. They’re a lot more robust than a fencing foil or épée. Back in the day, a sword had to be able to face different weapons, from a poleaxe to a sneaky backup dagger in a duel. It had to deal with both heavily and lightly armored combat, against single or multiple opponents. When you’re using a longsword, you need to think in a versatile manner: be able to cut, to thrust, and even to move in close and grapple.”

  Ash raised his sword from the floor and assumed the Pflug guard, hands by his waist, blade defending his lower abdomen. “That’s why our body posture isn’t the same as the one modern fencers use. You need to hold yourselves wider, broader. Look how I position myself: back straight, legs wide apart, knees flexed. Hips loose, ready to move. Center your body, and give it stability.”

  Ash glanced over at his dad again, and then up at the clock on the wall. “Okay, we’re done for today. Homework: practice walking up and down a hallway in the correct posture.” He demonstrated, taking a few steps across the room in a weird, wide-legged rolling gait. He grinned at the dubious look on his students’ faces. “Yes, I know it’ll look ridiculous. But trust me, it’ll help.”

  The class broke up and Ash made his way over to his dad, who pulled him into a hug. Ash resisted stiffly at first, but then he relented and hugged his dad back, hard, and when they pulled away, they were both smiling. Deacon ruffled Ash’s hair.

  “I’ve missed you, son. The house is far too quiet without you.”

  “I’ve missed you too, Dad.” There was a lump in Ash’s throat. He did miss him. He missed it all. The steady routine of school and football practice, sentinel classes, family, and friends. It had smothered him at the time, but now it promised safety. Familiarity. A safe port to anchor himself in. But he knew there would be no return.

  “Nice teaching form,” Deacon teased. “Getting back at your students for all the training I made you do when you were younger?”

  Ash laughed. “Remember that time you made me practice this across the whole football field and back, twice? I was furious at you. I remember it was a Saturday morning, and the girls’ JV team had a hockey match one field over. I was fourteen, and wanted to die.”

  Deacon chuckled. “Well, it served you right for sneaking around with your cousin when you were supposed to be studying at the library.”

  “Huh. Yeah, well, I paid for it.”

  “It was your mom’s idea, by the way. I wanted to ground you. She said I should just teach you a lesson in humility.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” Ash said, looking up and saluting with two fingers.

  Deacon went quiet. “Do you think about her a lot?” he asked softly.

  “Sometimes. Not as much as I used to,” Ash confessed. “But in a better way than before. Being with Del helps. I don’t know if it’s the Heart Blade, or just her, but it’s easier when she’s around. I still get nightmares, though. Only now, they’re not just about Mom.”

  “Is it worse? The anger, I mean. After you called upon Michael’s Blessing, did it get worse? After you were… When those witches had you.” Deacon’s eyes tightened at the words, and Ash could tell how much it still hurt his dad to remember how his son had been tortured.

  “I don’t know.” Ash hesitated, and then he straightened his shoulders. He was being a coward. “No, I do know. And the answer is yes. Yeah, the anger has been worse, harder to handle. What does that have to do with the Blessing?”

  “Michael’s Blessing is an angelic gift. Yes, it gives a sentinel temporary enhanced strength, but that ‘gift’ comes at a cost. It— how shall I put this… it alters us, somehow. Makes us less human, and closer to the angelic blood in our veins.”

  “But that’s a good thing, isn’t it? Dad?”

  “There’s a reason I stopped using the Blessing, Ash. It makes us less human. And even though we’re preternatural, it’s the humanity in us that keeps us on our path.”

  “Dad, you’re talking like a textbook. What are you getting at? Less human, how?”

  Deacon grimaced. “I didn’t mean to bring this up. I wouldn’t even have mentioned it, except last summer you went and called down the Blessing, even though you hadn’t taken the sentinel blood oath yet, and it shouldn’t even have been possible. And now the nightmares… It might not be connected. But the anger is a sign. Don’t try and use it again, okay? The Blessing. Promise me?”

  They had been standing so still the automatic lights clicked off. Ash waved them on again. “I promise. I don’t know how I did it, and I won’t try and do it again. It felt weird, like I wasn’t really myself. Like I had no real emotions. I guess that’s what you mean by less human, right? Anyway, I promise.” He gestured at the door. “Come on, let’s go to the residents’ lounge and get something to drink. I forgot my water bottle.”

  They walked to the big common room that had a reading nook on one side, with comfy chairs and magazine racks, and a laid-back social area on the other, with sofas, game tables, and two full-sized pool tables. At this time of day, the room was almost empty. Ash grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

  “Can I get you something?” he asked politely.

  “I’ll have a coffee,” Deacon answered, serving himself from the selection of thermos flasks at hand.

  They settled down in a quiet corner of the room. “I got your email,” said Ash. “So, tomorrow you’re heading to the Adirondacks. Prisoner escort, you said. I still don’t get why you had to come all the way here. Couldn’t Alex take the witch down with him when he goes?”

&nbs
p; “It’s not his responsibility, it’s mine,” answered Deacon. “And I need a word with Alex, without Court eyes and ears on us, so I figured this would be a good opportunity. Besides, I wanted a chance to catch up with you before all the Moot madness starts up.” He took a sip of his coffee, eyeing Ash over the rim of his cup. “Feels like just the other day I was dropping you off here. But it’s been three months. I haven’t seen you in three months, Ash. We need to talk. I have to make sure this is really what you want. You know you’ll always have a place with us, don’t you? That you can always come back?”

  Ash knew his dad was too stiff-necked to beg. But there was a plea in his words, just the same. Ash took a sip from his bottle, stalling.

  “I’ve thought about it,” he finally acknowledged. “Going back, you know? It would be— Maybe ‘easy’ isn’t the right word. But comforting, I guess. I know what’s waiting for me there. I know what to expect. But then I look at Del, and I’m certain my place is here, with her. And I know that sounds like some dumb teenage infatuation, but it goes beyond that, it really does. When she’s close, I can feel it inside her. The Heart Blade. There’s a connection, and it links the two of us together. I need to be here.”

  Deacon sipped his coffee for a while, clearly trying to decide the right thing to say. Finally he put his cup down. “I can respect that. I can’t understand it; who could? No one can feel exactly the way you do. But I respect you enough to accept your decision. Even if I don’t like it. After all,” his voice lightened in tone, “it’s almost your birthday. And that’s another reason I had to come. You’ll be eighteen tomorrow. You really think I’d miss that?”

  He reached for the overnight bag at his feet and unzipped it. “I have something for you.” He reached in and pulled out a bundle of black. Ash recognized it immediately. It was a Kevlar vest, the custom-fitted, made-to-measure body armor every sentinel apprentice was given at graduation. Ash fingered the sleek black fabric, admiring the handiwork.

  The custom stitching on the vest was beautiful, and when he spread it out, he saw the gray stylized wings stamped across the breast. “But I’m not Chapter anymore. I shouldn’t have this,” he said in a low voice.

  “It was almost finished when you left for Toronto,” said Deacon. “I didn’t see the point in telling the store to stop working on it. Besides, I have a feeling that you’ll need it. You’re Del’s main defense now. The way I see it, you’re still doing the Archangel’s bidding. You just chose a different path.”

  Deacon swallowed, as if debating whether or not to go on. Then he blurted out, “You could still take the oath. Still be one of us. And we could assign you to Adeline.”

  But Ash shook his head. “You know I can’t. I killed that demon to protect Del. And if it were necessary, I’d kill again. I’ve made my peace with that, I think. But if I take the blood oath, then that gets in the way of protecting her. Of shielding the Heart Blade.”

  Deacon sighed. “Your mind is made up, I see. I had hoped that— Never mind. Keep the gear. You’ll make good use of it. And now, we should find Alex. I have one last gift for you, and he’s holding it for me.”

  Puzzled, Ash downed the last of his water and led the way to Alex’s office. The door was wide open, as it always was when Alex wasn’t out or in a meeting. He looked up from his laptop and smiled, getting to his feet.

  “Deacon. Welcome. The drive went well?”

  Deacon clasped the vampire’s hand. “As well as can be expected.”

  As the two exchanged small talk, Ash’s gaze fell upon Alex’s desk. “Uh, Dad?” he interrupted. “Is that Grandpa Jim’s sword?”

  “Yes.” Deacon took a step forward and touched the sword lightly. “I had hoped to convince you to reconsider and join the New England Chapter. Then you would receive a sword of your own. But since you’ve made your choice, well. This is your birthright. You were born to be Michael’s sword and Michael’s shield, even if you turn down the path laid out for you. And I can’t let you walk forward unarmed. I’ve had it sharpened and polished. It should serve you well.”

  Ash reached for the gleaming sword, hesitant. It was beautiful. He’d always loved his grandfather’s weapon, with the dragon carvings on the hilt. Next to it lay a plain leather scabbard, in the businesslike style of the sentinels, and a sword belt. He touched it lightly, as his father had, and then looked up questioningly.

  “Yes, Ash. It’s really yours,” Deacon said. He inclined his head formally to Alex. “Brother Alexander, as his swordmaster and Guild leader, would you do the honor?”

  Alex took the sword. “Kneel, Ash. Do you, James Asher Deacon, swear to protect the innocent, to be a champion of justice, and defend with honor those who cannot defend themselves?”

  Ash repeated the words solemnly, eyes unwaveringly locked on Alex’s. Then the vampire gently touched him on one shoulder with the sword.

  “Rise, James Asher. You are now a Champion of Light and a Knight of the Guild of Saint Peter.”

  Ash stood up a little unsteadily, throat tight with emotion. He’d given up his place among the sentinels, but he had a place and a mission that were all his own. Alex gave the sword to Deacon, who slid it into its scabbard and buckled it around Ash’s waist, smiling a little sadly. Ash knew it was hard for his dad to let him go. He stood up straighter, hand resting on the hilt.

  “I may not be Chapter, Dad, but I’ll make you proud. You’ll see.”

  Deacon’s smile grew warmer. “You already do, son. You already do.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Raze

  Raze shivered in the mist, waiting. The lightest of drizzles was falling, and the clammy cold had seeped into her clothing, chilling her skin.

  Ben returned, droplets of moisture clinging to the navy blue sweatshirt he wore, hood pulled tight around his head. “I found the place. It’s supposed to be empty — the owners are in France on an ingredient run — but you never know.”

  “Do you want me to shift? My wolf senses are pretty good.”

  “Okay. That’s a good idea. Do you want some privacy? Do you need to, um, take off your clothes or something?” Even in the wan streetlight she could see the blush on his cheeks.

  “No. It doesn’t work like that. Never seen a shift up close? It’s a sort of all-over magic. Anything I’m wearing, or holding, transforms too. Nothing alive, I mean. If I’m holding your hand, for instance, you remain as you are. You’ll see.”

  She reached for the wolf, and then she shifted. In her eyes, the world changed gradually, growing brighter and taller as her perspective dropped down low to a wolf’s-eyeview. But she knew that to Ben, her shifting would appear sudden, a shimmer of movement wrapped in a hazy cloud of blue. That one moment she would appear human-like, the next as a wolf.

  There was a short intake of breath from him as she shook her fur. “Raze?” he asked tentatively. “Can you understand me like that?”

  She gave a short huff. “Right,” he said. “Good. So, shall we go?”

  When they got to the corner, she moved ahead to scout out the small three-story building that housed the apothecary store, scenting the air. There was nothing here but the stale stench of city and trash, and the scurrying of rodents. Nothing human and nothing preternatural moved in the narrow side street. She drew nearer to the building itself, and smelled the sharp tang of magic clinging to the storefront and windows. Tar and licorice root, and something acrid mixed in that made her want to sneeze. She shifted back.

  “We’re good,” she said. “There’s no one around. The building’s got some sort of spell on it, though. Something nasty.”

  “Yeah, I noticed. All the ground floor windows and doors are heavily warded. So’s the fire escape. We’ll have to get in through one of the upper floors.”

  “No problem. That’s what I’m here for.” Raze walked back and forth, studying the building and evaluating her ascent. “That window, see? The one with the tiny balcony? I have a clear path to the roof if I use the gap between this building an
d the next, and then I can let myself down to the balcony. I’ll fasten the ladder to the railing, and you can join me.”

  She took off her boots and socks and stuffed them into her backpack, taking out one of the brand new emergency ladders Gareth had bought. It was heavy, too heavy to climb with, so she pulled out a coil of rope and tied one end around her waist before passing her bag to Ben. “Here, hang on to this for me. Pay out the rope as I climb, and when I get to the balcony you can tie it to the ladder and I’ll haul it up.”

  “Uh, aren’t you using the rope to climb with?”

  “No, I’m free climbing,” she explained. “I’m going to shimmy up between the buildings. They form what’s known as a chimney in rock climbing.”

  She slipped into the narrow cleft between the small apothecary building and the taller, more modern one beside it, and began to climb. She kept her back against one wall, one leg bent and foot flat on the wall beneath her. The other foot, extended, pushed against the wall in front as she edged her way up, inch by inch. It was slow going, far too slow for a winter evening without gloves or shoes. But she always climbed better barefoot. By the time she had reached the third floor, her body was shaking with exhaustion and she could barely feel her toes. Below, Ben was a dark shape in the half-light of the city street.

  Raze reached the top without much trouble besides one tough section that had moss growing across it. She took a moment to stretch her muscles, and then looked over the edge to the balcony. It wasn’t far; she could just drop down onto it. She climbed over the roof parapet and hung by her fingers for a moment, before letting go to land with an ankle-jarring jolt on the ice-cold metal.