Boss Fight (Beyond the Aura Book 1)

by Helen Adams

  But…

  “It’s not Mina’s fault that she’s in this condition,” I explained. “If we’d got to her before Kristjan, we could have stopped all this. If we could somehow help her…”

  “Catch her first. Then we’ll talk. There’s a safe place, a clinic.”

  “The cost…?”

  “Never mind that now. Are you going to let me fix those cracked ribs or not?”

  “Aren’t you knackered? We just need a bit of sleep –”

  “I’ll tell you when I’m knackered, thank you very much! Consider this a freebie. Now shut up and let me get to work.”

  Who was I to look a gift-healer in the mouth? I shut up.

  Half an hour later Denique was done, and five minutes after that she was gone. Raz woke just long enough for her to work her mojo on us, one at a time, taking our right hands in both of hers; she chanted something soft and lyrical and stroked our palms. I smelled primal magic and, bizarrely, roses. I felt my wounds knit together, the abrasions, cuts and burns healing. The sharp pain of cracked ribs healing was something that I could have done without.

  When she was done I was so tired that I could barely move. I saw her out of the house and dragged myself upstairs. Lee was alright on the sofa – he still slept like the dead – but I wanted a bed. A big, soft, inviting bed. I figured a house of this size would have plenty. I left Raz to sort himself out.

  I found what I was looking for behind door number three (one was a bathroom the size of my kitchen and the second was a dressing room, presumably where Lukas had found that snappy suit). I kicked off my trainers, too tired even to undress, and crawled beneath the duvet.

  TWENTY-ONE

  I snapped awake. It was Wednesday morning – well into Wednesday morning – and I was in a strange bed.

  Correction: - I was still wearing the torn, burned jeans and Anthrax T-shirt that I’d worn yesterday, complete with nasty socks, in a strange bed. Right. This was Mel’s safe house, and yesterday I’d escaped death by the skin of my teeth.

  Today I was probably going to do it all over again. I’d best get up, then.

  I wandered into the bathroom. Lorl hitched a ride on my shoulder, as bright and perky as always. I wanted to be bright and perky, too. My body felt absolutely fine. Nothing hurt; the bruises, burns, scrapes, cuts and abrasions were all gone, and there wasn’t a thing wrong with my ribs. But I couldn’t do bright. I couldn’t even twinkle a bit. Not when most of the good things in my life were broken.

  I kicked off my torn and ripped clothes and took a shower. I stood under the hot water, letting it cascade over my body, feeling the rhythmic patter of drops against my skin.

  This was the first privacy I’d had – true privacy – since Lee had ended our phony relationship. With the door locked and a curtain of water surrounding me, I finally allowed myself to just… let go. I let the pain hit me. Last night’s crying jag with Raz had released some, but not enough.

  Bam. Lee had betrayed me. Not the first guy I’d dated after leaving prison, but the first guy that I’d trusted enough to get close. He hadn’t cheated; I could have recovered from that. Kicked his arse from here to Timbuktu, sure, but I’d have gotten over it in time. Being fucked over like this was worse than any amount of running around with other women.

  Bam. Alice was missing. Mina was doing who-knew-what to her mind. She must be terrified, scared out of her wits. I was trying so hard to get her back, but it felt as if I was smashing into a brick wall everywhere I went. There was no guarantee that I could save her, and even if I did, would she still be the same bubbly, vivacious woman?

  Bam. The last, but by no means least, blow. Baby was gone. My sword – my ugly, battered, scarred, nicked falchion was gone. The blade that I’d trained with, killed my first troll with, carried around with me virtually everywhere I went… she was just gone.

  I cried. I cried hard. I let the steaming shower sluice it all away, all the tears, all the pain, the frustration. I pushed it out into a place where I could deal with the whole fucking mess.

  When I finally stepped out of the shower, I no longer felt as if I was fighting a losing battle. The problems were still there. The hurt was still there. But it was gathered up, contained, bound. I owned it, not the other way around.

  “Fuck Lee,” I said to Lorl as I wrapped a towel around me. She settled on my still-damp shoulder, batting her face against my cheek. I took comfort from her quiet strength. “And yeah, Alice is missing. But I’ve got Lukas and Mel on my side now.”

  Lorl sneezed – yuck, thanks, sweetie – and patted her nose with a tiny paw. I managed a smile.

  “I can get another sword. Baby was a bad-ass bitch but there’s plenty of other swords in the world, right?”

  Lorl made an agreeable noise. I scratched her ears and, still wrapped in a towel, went to explore.

  More awake and hair still damp, I searched the other rooms upstairs, taking a few minutes to have a nose through the dressing room. It was full of men’s gear. Mel had said that this was a safe house, but I’d assumed it was designed as a bolthole for Lukas.

  “Right,” I muttered as I pawed through trousers, shirts, jackets and sweaters. “Because a giant, scaly, clawed, flying, sword-wielding, fire-breathing human lizard totally needs a bolthole.”

  I frowned. Why here? Why Basingstoke? Because of me? Surely not…

  Then why here?

  This place must belong to Mel. She had knowledge and she knew when to use it; to me, that made her a spy. For Lukas? I thought about it as I rummaged through sock drawers and shoe racks. No, she wasn’t spying for Lukas, though I had no doubt that she helped him out on occasion. Most people, when speaking to a vaengrjarl, would talk in tones of hushed respect (unless you were Denique or, sometimes, me). In the few exchanges I’d heard, Mel hadn’t spoken to him as if she was a lackey. She hadn’t spoken to him as if he was a colleague or even a friend.

  I frowned, hands stilling on a pair of brogues. I remembered the way Raz’s teenaged kids talked to each other, that strange mix of polite contempt.

  That made no sense. Mel was a kitsune. She could shapeshift, sure, but into a fox. And they didn’t look a bit alike.

  But Lukas was a proud man. I doubted that he would tolerate anyone but close family telling him that he was being ‘managed’, and even that was iffy.

  Hmm.

  I found Raz in another spare room. He’d managed to drag himself upstairs and was still sleeping, his snores hard and unmelodic.

  “Rise and shine!” I trilled through the open door.

  “One day you’ll die in a hole,” he slurred through the pillow, “and I’ll be there to laugh over your death.”

  “I love you too,” I grinned. “I’ll get some coffee going. If you’re not moving soon I’ll drink yours.”

  “A really, really deep hole.”

  I struck gold in the last room, another dressing room stocked with women’s clothes in varying sizes. Figuring that Mel wouldn’t have left us here alone if she didn’t want us to make use of all the facilities, I started rummaging for something to wear.

  Five minutes later I’d pulled out a Korpiklaani T-shirt, leather trousers and matching jacket. The underwear drawer was stuffed with silk and nothing else. I wasn’t complaining.

  I also had nothing to complain about when it came to footwear – I found a pair of boots in my size, solid as hell, with steel toecaps, heavy heels and thick soles. These boots were made for kicking the shit out of something and so help me, that was what I intended to do.

  It felt natural to call them the Shitkickers. I smiled, musing at the inanity of naming inanimate objects, but the smile faded when I thought of Baby. Would her loss have hurt so much if I hadn’t named her?

  “It, Daphne,” I murmured. “It’s only a sword. A bloody good sword, but still.”

  She – it – nope, I couldn’t call her it. She had been with me from the beginning. My first sword. It was more than possible to form an emotional connection with an object
.

  It was easy.

  I wiggled my toes in the Shitkickers and stomped downstairs.

  Lee was in the kitchen, wearing clean clothes that he must have filched from the men’s dressing room. Last night’s leighis had healed the bruises and swelling on his face, and judging by the way he was standing – relaxed, easy – his wrist was fixed enough that he could move it without pain. He’d certainly been able to put on some coffee. I grunted something that might have been ‘good morning’ and headed for the pot.

  “Who the hell are Korpiklaani?” he demanded, staring at my T-shirt.

  “Finnish folk metal band.”

  “Folk metal?”

  “Say it like that again and I’ll shove your teeth down your throat.”

  “Babe, that wasn’t an insult,” he said, rich brown eyes half-lidded in the familiar way that told me he was thinking about peeling my leather off.

  “Oh, fuck off,” I growled, remembering all the times that he’d undressed me; all the times he’d helped me dress again, all the showers we’d shared, the cooking and the meals. The million little domestic things in his flat and mine.

  “Come on,” he tried. “We had plenty of good times…”

  I was going to be sick. The look on his face reminded me of when I’d had no idea of his secret life, when he’d still been the tough, accepting boyfriend that I’d wanted.

  I was sorry that those days were gone. Sorry and sad. The anger was still there – it would always be there, simmering beneath the surface, with a contempt so thick that I could beat him round the face with it – but right now, the predominant emotion I felt was sadness.

  “You blew it. It doesn’t matter how many good times we had.”

  “You still want me.”

  Words hadn’t worked against him, so now it was time for Plan B. I grabbed his throat and pushed him back against the fridge. He didn’t struggle, though we both knew that he had the skills to turn this kitchen into a boxing ring. Training and self-discipline, right there.

  “We are finished!” I hissed into his face. “Get that into your thick head, OK?”

  His hands curled around my hips. His touch brought back a wealth of memories and feelings; more than that, it brought heat and desire. I let go of his throat as if I’d been burned.

  “Dating you was my job,” he admitted, “but it was my pleasure, too. Not gonna deny that.”

  His hands moved higher, under the T-shirt. Rough fingers against bare skin. I shivered. Somewhere a phone rang.

  He kissed me and I didn’t even try to stop him. I could beat him into a bloody pulp but I didn’t try that, either. His kiss was hot and familiar.

  “Arrogant bastard,” I breathed against his lips.

  Why did I want guys who were so bad for me? Lee was a shit and Lukas… well, Lukas was the wrong side of homicidal.

  “Tell me you don’t love this,” he said.

  I gritted my teeth and stepped away. It was harder than it should have been to put space between us.

  “I love unicorns and ponies,” I replied, “like a good girl should. Now fuck off.”

  The door opened. Raz shuffled in and made a beeline for the coffee, looking rumpled and bad tempered even in clean clothes. He hadn’t shaved. The kitchen seemed like a smaller – yet safer – place.

  I slapped on my best poker face and pretended that nothing had happened. Queen of Denial, that was me, and it wasn’t just some river in Egypt.

  “Any word from Mel yet?” I rushed to say. “Or Lukas?”

  “Mel just called,” Raz grumped. “They’re on their way back. Fifteen minutes.” He kept flicking glances between us. I wondered what conclusions he was drawing.

  I heard a flutter of wings. Something landed on my head with a sharp donk.

  “Ow!” I reached up and a comb dropped into my hand. My taufrkyn zeroed in on a packet of cereal, open on the breakfast bar, and ignored me.

  “Lorl!”

  She let out an unrepentant squawk and disappeared inside the cereal box.

  “Cute,” Lee growled, eyes hard. “Guess she wants you to tart yourself up for the lizard.”

  I could punch him. It would be so easy. Just one quick punch –

  “Grow up,” Raz rumbled, ever the father. “Stop baiting her. Daphne, tell me how you know Mel.”

  “Well, it’s a funny thing…” I said, a lie already prepared.

  Raz gave me a look. “You know how many children I have. I can smell bullshit a mile away, and you reek before you’ve even opened your mouth.”

  I gave him a sullen look and told the truth.

  After combing the tangles out of my hair I raided the fridge. Raz got the cooker on and between us we made plate after plate of food – bacon, eggs, sausages, hash browns, fried onions. Lee sorted out bowls of cereal and fresh fruit.

  I shouldn’t have been surprised that Mel’s kitchen was so well-stocked. I doubted that anybody actually lived here, so she must pay someone to keep it stocked and ready in an instant. I was grateful, despite the waste.

  We all ate in silence, focussed on replacing the calories we’d expended yesterday, then gathered in the living room to watch the news on a massive flat-screen TV. We’d missed the headlines. I cleaned blood from my Bowie while the presenters got through the business news and weather.

  “Fire fighters have finally managed to get a massive blaze in Basingstoke under control,” the woman announced. “An industrial estate was thought to have been completely destroyed last night by fire. The cause is believed to be arson. There are no confirmed casualties, though the authorities have been unable to locate the security guards.”

  I could tell them that the poor guards were dead, but they’d never find their remains. The monsters they’d become would be nothing but smouldering ash by now. Any trolls not incinerated would have turned to mush, their remains mixed with the rest of the detritus.

  “Police are unable to fully investigate until the fire has been extinguished,” the newsreader was saying now. “Until that time, locals are urged to stay away. Residents in the surrounding area have been evacuated in the event of the fire spreading.”

  The screen cut away to shots of the site. In daylight it looked horrific. Lukas’s fire had ripped through building after building, turning them into blackened husks. There was no trace of the part-built warehouse where we’d fought; that was ground zero. There were a few twisted wrecks that could have been construction vehicles.

  “That’s some blaze,” Lee remarked.

  “Vaengrjarl.” I didn’t need to say anything else.

  Lukas and Mel arrived. Mel led us into the dining room and we arranged ourselves around a large round table.

  “You do a lot of entertaining here?” I asked.

  “Of a sort,” she replied with a thin smile. “Please, sit. There is much to discuss.”

  “What’s to discuss? You tell me where Mina is, I take her down and bring Alice home.”

  The others sat. I stood behind a chair, fingers gripping the back of the seat, but didn’t sit.

  “It’s not as simple as that.”

  “It never is,” I glowered, finally plonking onto the chair. Lorl settled in my lap.

  “Mina is in a section of woodland you call the Crabtree Plantation,” Mel explained. “Your friend is with her. She seems… traumatised.”

  “Then what the hell are we waiting for?” I shot up, grabbing a surprised Lorl before she could fall. I was already imagining what my prison cell would look like.

  “They appear to be alone. It’s a trap.” Mel was a calm white wall against the crashing crimson tide of my frustration.

  “Of course it’s a trap! We just have to be smarter than her!”

  “Trap or no trap, I will kill her,” Lukas said, looking around the table with haughty arrogance. “Any attack on vaengrjarl must be answered. That is our way.”

  “No.” Mel got there before I’d drawn breath. “Mina already knows you’re involved. She was prepared for you at the
building site.”

  His jaw clenched. Someone had just told him ‘no’. I was going to savour this.

  “So how would you suggest I help?” he bit out.

  Mel looked at me. “What would you do?”

  Every eye in the room was on me. I fought the urge to fidget. What was this, spy camp? No – this wasn’t a training session, it was a test. Mel wanted to know what sort of queen I’d make.

  I should just save her the bother and tell her. I’d make a shit queen.

  “I’ve got a few ideas,” I said aloud, sitting again. I eased Lorl back into my lap, thinking hard. “Mina does expect to see Lukas. But how? Swooping down in his dragon skin?”

  The muddy brown of Mel’s eyes warmed. I was on the right path. Great – now I was thinking like a fucking spy.

  “He could show up as a human,” I continued. “That might throw her. But not for long. I think I would… create a diversion,” I said eventually, stroking Lorl’s fur. “Something big and noisy.”

  Mel nodded in approval.

  “Of course, the sensible thing would be to keep the heir to the vaengrjarl throne out of the fight altogether,” I added.

  Mel and I shared a look. We burst into laughter.

  Lukas growled, wordless, his eyes solid lumps of emerald. The laughs spluttered out.

  “Are you quite done, Daphne?” He sounded pissed.

  “Sorry, yes.” I pushed the laughter down and got my game face back on.

  “I brought you a gift.”

  Well, fuck. I was pretty sure that I didn’t want what he was offering. I didn’t want anything except his help, and even then he’d been my last choice. He was already having problems accepting that what we’d had was strictly in the past.

  Hell, I was having problems accepting that what we’d had was strictly in the past.

  “Beware of vaengrjarl baring gifts,” I muttered. Mel tried – and failed – to stifle a snigger behind her hand.

  Lukas rose and whistled two short notes. A long, narrow object, wrapped in dirty cloth, dropped into his outstretched hands. He laid it on the table in front of me, eyes glittering. He was back to playful prince now. I couldn’t decide which was worse.