Night Blade: Blade Hunt Chronicles Book Two

by Juliana Spink Mills

  “They’re obviously in Reis’ pay, right? Have you thought that maybe they’re heading for her Manhattan stronghold?” Alex drummed his fingers on his desk.

  “Of course I thought of that. I’m hoping that isn’t the case, though. If Reis gets her hands on John, I’ll never get him back. And I owe him for the information he gave us. Also, if that’s where they’re heading, then Camille is as good as dead. Reis won’t want that additional bit of complication.” Deacon’s voice was tight with worry.

  “Taking her doesn’t make sense,” Alex mused. “Unless they’ve heard about the demon bounty on her head.”

  “There’s a bounty out? Already?”

  “I just found out about it earlier today. I didn’t have time to warn Camille. I figured she’d be safe once she reached the Court, and we could make plans after I got there.”

  “Huh.” Deacon’s grunt was cautiously hopeful. “That might be a good thing. If they’re waiting to claim bounty on her before they turn John in, I might be able to catch up to them.”

  Alex thought fast. “Do you have computer access?”

  “I have my laptop.”

  “Then find somewhere with internet and wait for me. I’ll see if I can get some satellite links and highway cameras for you to comb through. If you can eliminate the routes to New York first, then you can look through other options. Oh, and text me the address of the road stop, so I can find cameras for that, too.”

  “I’ll send it right away. Alex? That thing we talked about. Could this be my fault?”

  Alex was puzzled for a moment. Thing? Then he remembered the conversation they’d had in his office. “I think the New England chapter has a traitor,” Deacon had said, jawline taut with tension. “It’s just small things, here and there. Nothing glaringly obvious. But I’m worried…”

  “It’s a possibility,” Alex told him now. “We can’t rule anything out. But right now, that’s not important. You need to focus on finding John and Camille.”

  He hung up and put down his cell phone. He grimaced, running fingers through his hair. Please let this be the only other problem we run into this week, he thought, and it was half a prayer, half just wishful thinking. Camille and John were gone, the Moot began tomorrow, and Rose and Finn were stuck with some ridiculous contract spell that meant they couldn’t communicate properly.

  He’d had exactly two texts from Finn, on Tuesday morning. The first message simply said:

  Winslow.

  The second, hours later, was chattier.

  Bad idea. Will live. No more texting.

  Apparently the contract spell didn’t approve of text messages. Rose and Finn were on their own.

  Alex straightened, cracked his knuckles, and went to work. Between his own deft computer skills and a little help from an inside contact in the Connecticut Department of Motor Vehicles, he eventually found the links he needed. He sent them to Deacon, one by one, with a short message.

  Let me know if I can help you in any way. Leaving after lunch for Toronto.

  Alex tried to do some paperwork, but couldn’t concentrate. Something was bothering him. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, trying to empty his mind and follow the thin thread of unease. Something about the ambush at the road stop. He opened his eyes.

  The trolls had found Deacon and Camille far too easily. They’d been prepared. They’d known how many people to expect, and that one was a sentinel. It was all too smooth. That could only mean one thing: they had inside information. And not from the sentinels, from Deacon’s supposed leak, but from the Chapterhouse itself. Camille had decided last-minute to join Deacon on his drive. Not many people knew she’d gone with him.

  And then there was John’s allergic reaction to the brownies. It had happened lightning fast, in a matter of moments. For the first time, Alex voiced his suspicion out loud. “Poison.” He had a traitor in his own house.

  The last time he’d caught a mole in the Guild, it had been at the Abbey of Saint Martin of Tours, where Rose had grown up. Father Luke Hanson, former prior and now abbot, had been coerced by Shade Raven to feed her information for years. Luke, a non-Guild human, still didn’t know that Alex had found out about him. But Alex routinely checked Luke’s not-so-secret email account, and there was nothing to link him to the Guild Chapterhouse. Anyway, he was looking for someone connected to Reis, not Shade.

  He thought of Lionel with a pang of regret. The human had been one of his best spies, a true asset. He had a knack for ferreting out traitors. Alex could have done with his expertise right now. But Lionel had completely fallen off the radar while working undercover at the Darkwing estate. Alex had no illusions about what must have happened. His fingers tightened briefly on the edge of the desk. Lionel’s was another death that Shade would have to account for, eventually.

  Alex spent a fruitless hour scouring the Chapterhouse computer networks for outgoing messages. Eventually he switched off his laptop. The mole search would have to wait until he returned from the Moot. He dragged his mind back to the stack of urgent paperwork and forced himself to focus until he powered through. The anxiety never quite left, though, coiled in the pit of his stomach like a snake, feeding his thirst.

  He stopped once to check his sword, Redemption, drawing it out an inch or so from its scabbard. Redemption shone with a faint red gleam. It was still sated enough for now. It would have to last a while longer, at least until Alex had reason to hunt down more enemies of his cause. If the blood thirst became too strong, he would take the sword far away into the woods and track down wild game. A deer, perhaps. He hated having to do it, hated the compulsion to drink blood that his vampire nature forced him to. His sword took blood for him, letting him keep the vow he’d made almost a thousand years back, but it still required a kill. Still demanded a death toll. He would never be free of that.

  Alex knew that many others saw him as some sort of saint: the vampire that had never touched his lips to another’s throat to drink. But he was no saint, and sometimes the blood marks on his soul ran so red he thought he would never be clean of them. Would never redeem himself in the eyes of the Lord he prayed to so fiercely for salvation.

  He sheathed Redemption again and packed a bag with the things he’d need for the trip to the Moot. Laptop, charger, papers: all the bureaucratic weapons that the commander of the Guild of Saint Peter might need. Then he left for the dining hall in search of some lunch. He couldn’t — no, wouldn’t — feed his vampire self, but he could at least satisfy the flesh and bone house his soul resided in.

  ***

  Deacon checked in around one in the afternoon. “They definitely didn’t head for New York. I got some nice clear footage from the road stop, which I copied and then deleted from the source. They were following us. They pulled in after we did, and waited for the right moment. The whole thing was so sleek it was almost rehearsed.”

  “Smooth. Yes, that was the impression I had, too.”

  “Alex, I told no one that Camille was coming with me.” Deacon sounded unhappy. “You know the Chapter doesn’t really understand me working with a half-demon. I try to keep mention of her to a bare minimum.”

  “I know what you’re saying, and I agree. We appear to have leaks all over the place. But this one? This isn’t on you, it’s on me. Whoever this particular rat is, they’re here, at the Chapterhouse.”

  There was a brief silence. Then, “I’ve checked all toll cameras, and now I’m working my way out from the road stop. That satellite link you sent hasn’t connected yet; I’m going to keep trying it, as I think that might be my best bet. Will let you know as soon as I find something.”

  “Okay. Be safe. Bring them back to us,” Alex said.

  “Alex? You be careful, too. You have a long drive ahead, and the Heart Bearer is in your care.”

  He hung up, leaving Alex staring at the cell phone in his hand. Deacon had a point. A great point, in fact. They would be extra vulnerable driving down to the Adirondacks. Suddenly, Alex grinned. He had a
n idea. He returned to his office and unpacked his laptop. He drafted an email, reading and rereading until he was sure he had the wording right. The message outlined his intended route, departure time, vehicle, and list of passengers. He included a few words on how he considered the Court of the Covenant to be honor bound to protect and defend the Heart Bearer, should anything happen to the transport she was in. And then he sent it to every single Court Baron and high Court official on his contacts list.

  There. Now no one had the advantage, and everything was out there in plain sight. It was a bold step, but a risk he was willing to take. No one would dare move so openly against Del, as to do so would be to declare war on the Court itself. He grinned. That should give his in-house traitor a nasty jolt. Let them try and take Del now.

  He repacked his stuff and walked to the entrance hall, stopping for a quick word with Griffin, who always ran the Chapterhouse in his absence. The silver-haired werewolf looked unhappy.

  “I saw your email. Can I ask why you would do that? Tell everyone in the world about your route and departure time? Shall we paint a giant flashing target on the top of the van while you’re at it?”

  “I had my reasons.” Alex had absolute trust in the old wolf. He couldn’t be the traitor, he just couldn’t. But still. Still. He held out his hand for Griffin’s firm grip. “It was necessary, I promise you. Take care. Let me know if you have any problems. I’m not expecting trouble at the Chapterhouse — I’m pretty sure I’m taking all the trouble with me. But be careful, nevertheless. These are strange and dangerous times we live in. The Heart Blade has been claimed, and once again lives among us. I don’t need to tell you that everything has changed.”

  Griffin just gripped his hand harder. “I know, old friend. And we’ll pull through. We always do. Now, off you go. Godspeed.”

  Alex packed his things away in the ample trunk of the passenger van, waving away the driver’s offer of assistance. Slowly, the others gathered in the entrance, too: Del and Ash, Daniel. They all stowed their things away and climbed into the van. Alex got in, settling beside Daniel in the middle row and leaving the last row for the two teens. Del looked excited, and not as fearful as Alex would have expected.

  “Ready to go?” he asked her.

  She nodded, smiling. “Ready. So ready. I can’t wait to get this over, for them to declare I’m no longer a half-demon, and to be free of Shade forever. And maybe to finally find out something about this.” She gestured at the scarred letters on her arm.

  Ash didn’t look as excited. There was a quiet dread on his face, which he hid when Del turned to him. He smiled back at her. “Yeah,” he agreed. “It’ll be good to get this over and done.”

  Over and done. Alex nodded, silently agreeing. That was all he wanted, too. To get this whole weekend over and done.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Raze

  Raze returned to her apartment at three in the afternoon to find Jude Raven leaning casually on the doorframe. She gave him a sour look, and he raised his hands in a gesture of peace.

  “At least I waited outside this time,” he said, his voice mild.

  “Oh, well, thank you for not breaking in. That was so kind of you,” she said, unlocking the door. “What do you want, Jude? I have things to do, places to be.” She walked inside, and he trailed in after her.

  “Now, now. Is that any way to treat someone who’s trying to do you a favor?” He gave a lazy smile, one that curved up slowly, slightly higher on one side than the other.

  “Favor?” she spat out. “Favor? You have my grandparents, and I want them back.”

  “Well, then, all the more reason for you to be nice to me. Have you thought about my proposal?”

  “My grandparents and the contract spell removal for the price of one Night Blade, slightly used?”

  Jude’s grin climbed even higher. “Snarky,” he said. “I like it.”

  Raze was suddenly tired of it all. Of the games, the subterfuge, the secrets. Of his stupid annoying smirk, the one she wanted to punch right off his face. “Like it. Don’t like it. I couldn’t care less what you think.” She kicked the leg of the table. It made a satisfying clunk. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him wince, so she kicked it again, harder.

  “Can you stop that?” he asked, smile finally slipping. “You’re being a child.”

  Now it was her turn to smirk. He huffed in irritation and pulled her away by the arm as she made to kick the table leg again. Finally, she thought, shrugging him off. It was nice to see him lose that annoying air of superiority. Out loud, she said, “What’s it to you, anyway? Suddenly you care how I behave?”

  “Oh, I care. I care very much indeed. I care about your decision, Raze. Tick tock.”

  Her fists clenched. Staring at the floor so she wouldn’t have to look at him, to see him watching her, she blurted out, “I haven’t decided yet.”

  “I can arrange a little incentive, you know,” he said conversationally. She looked up and found him narrow-eyed, steel in the soft gray of his gaze.

  “No! Don’t hurt them!”

  “Really, Raze? You think I would stoop to torturing your grandparents to get what I want? I’m disappointed in you. No, I have other means of persuasion.”

  “Like what?” she said, the wolf inside her snarling, urging her to bite.

  He examined her face intently, as though committing it to memory. He was serious now, all trace of a smile gone. “You’ll see. You have until midnight to let me know what you decide.” He handed her a business card and left. The apartment felt very empty afterwards, no one there but Raze, standing alone with her fists still clenched.

  ***

  Raze arrived at the hideout in Queens at five o’clock sharp to find Gareth on his own. He grinned at her, waving at a stack of pizza boxes on a plastic folding table in the corner.

  “You should eat, before the others get here. Benjy alone can devour a whole one of those. Though I don’t know where he puts it, the kid’s all skin and bones.” He shook his head in mock bemusement. “He used to live at my place. You should have seen the grocery bills.”

  She grabbed a slice from an open box, licking the grease that spilled down her fingers. “How long have you known him?” She already knew the answer, of course, from Finn’s research, but small talk was good, right?

  “Three, no, four years now? Yeah, four years. He was fourteen. Good kid. Had a lot of bad stuff happen to him. He was lucky Lix found him. He was living off odd jobs and petty theft, and sleeping at the boxing gym his dad used to go to. But they were running out of patience. He was a few days away from the streets.”

  He smiled, eyes distant, lost in memory. Then he focused on her again, smile broadening. “But hey, you don’t want to hear an old guy like me ramble on. So what’s your story?”

  She tried for a nonchalant shrug, not quite sure she’d pulled it off. “Me? My parents died when I was really small, and I grew up in an orphanage. It wasn’t bad. Wasn’t good, either. Sneaking out at night helped. I got good at climbing.”

  “So how did you get into our line of work?”

  She thought fast. Keep it simple, Alex had told her. “People leave their windows open a lot,” she said, “especially the sort of people who live high up. They think they’re safe. It started out just for fun, at first. But then I realized I could make money from it…” She let her voice trail off, resisting the urge to embellish her tale. The less she said, the fewer lies to get caught out on.

  Gareth seemed satisfied, though, so she went back to the cooling slice of pizza as Ben walked in, closely followed by May. Ben greeted them, and went straight to the pizza box. “What did I tell you?” said Gareth in a loud stage whisper.

  Ben just gave him an amused look as he grabbed a slice. “Have you been bad-mouthing me?”

  “Just warning Raze here about your prodigal pizza-eating powers,” replied Gareth, waggling his eyebrows.

  Raze burst out laughing. “I’ve never met anyone who could do that,” she
said, pointing at the witch’s face.

  May grunted. “Gareth has plenty of useless talents, you’ll see.” She shrugged off her winter coat. Underneath she wore bleach-stained leggings and an old and hideously garish hoodie with an anime-style panda on it.

  “Why thank you,” Gareth said, bowing. “Always nice to get a compliment from the High Priestess of Japanese fashion.”

  May glared at him, hands on her hips. “Fashion? Really? That’s what you’re going with? Like I give a tiny little rat’s ass about your opinion on what I wear.”

  Ben beckoned Raze over as May’s rant began to swell to epic proportions. “Yeah,” he muttered in a low voice, “you don’t want to get near May on a rampage. Gareth always knows how to press her buttons, he does it before every job we’ve ever had together. Says it’s for ‘good luck’ or something. He’s a nut, but a good one. Give them a few minutes, and they’ll be laughing together.”

  Finn arrived next, hurrying over to the pizza table to avoid May, who was now gesturing wildly. Moments later, Lix walked in. Her quiet cough cut through the shouts, and everyone turned toward her.

  “Gather around, we need to talk.”

  Something in the predatory way Lix eyed Raze made her stomach go cold. Incentive, Jude had said. Persuasion. Damn it. She didn’t like this at all. Lix had positioned herself to block the entrance, and Raze had to use all her willpower to avoid looking around for another exit like a trapped animal. Don’t look guilty, she told herself fiercely.

  “I had a most interesting conversation with our client just now,” Lix started.

  “I thought you said you didn’t know who they are,” Ben interrupted, eyes tight with suspicion.

  “Our anonymous client,” Lix continued, ignoring him. “And our client seems to be under the impression that we have an infiltrator among us. From the Guild of Saint Peter, no less.” Her hard blue eyes glittered with what Raze first thought was anger. But her wolf-self recognized the look a split second later, and she shivered: the thrill of the hunt. Lix was enjoying this.