“Clearly you didn’t talk this over with Damon,” I muttered. If they had, and Damon had sent his best, Chang would have maybe left behind a few skins.
“Not beforehand. No.” She kept her voice level. “We are two separate entities, Kit. As well as they work together, Dair and Damon are…polite allies. Under the wrong circumstances, they could be adversaries.”
“Tonight could have become wrong circumstances really easy.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw her face go tight. “I’m just the a low-level enforcer. I’m doing what I was ordered.” Then she looked at me. “And yes, you’re right.”
A few moments passed and she shrugged, a silent message in it. “In the end…? You were still the ideal choice. You’re neutral, and you have an ace in the hole that nobody else in East Orlando can match.”
“Damon.” Jaw clenched hard enough to shatter tooth enamel, I told myself not to squeeze the steering wheel until it groaned for mercy, not to hit something.
“Damon.”
She looked unconcerned, but that wasn’t surprising.
“You also had Doyle with you.” Either Elizabeth trusted my temper more than I did or she was just unaware of it. “He’d watch your back, assuming you needed it, should there be an immediate threat. Vane’s pack isn’t a strong or cohesive one. They bully, threaten and abuse. They don’t train or work together. If a united front was presented, they’d fall apart. We did what we had to do.”
She went quiet, but only for a moment, then she looked at me and said it again, “We did what we had to do.”
⸸
It pissed me off that I understood.
It pissed me off that I hurt all over from fighting with that stupid bitch, Babs.
And my nose was still killing me. She’d broken it. And not even with her fist, which was the respectable way. But with her damn head.
Trudging my way down the hall toward my room, I wondered what sort of face-off awaited me with Damon. He hadn’t called me. I’d sort of expected him to, but he hadn’t.
I hadn’t called him.
The door opened when I was still ten feet away. In the process of unbuckling the harness that held my sword in place, I came to a halt and eyed him.
“Hi.”
He studied my face for a long moment, then leaned against the door. “Hi.”
I dragged my feet, forcing myself onward even though all I wanted was sleep.
“Dair didn’t tell me this was going down until after you’d left,” he said when I was about three feet away.
The terseness of his voice caught me offguard. But I wasn’t up for this. “I just want to shower, Damon.”
“If I’d known—”
“You would have wanted to come. Or you would have called and warned me. Or something. I handled it, didn’t I?” Edging in past him, I dropped my weapons on the nearest flat surface and started to disrobe, still moving toward the shower.
“So you’re not mad at me?”
“I’m plenty mad. I just can’t decide who I’m mad at. And I’m dirty. I’ve got blood on me. I’m tired. Can’t I just shower and sleep?”
⸸
I should have been expecting it.
The more tired I am, the harder the dreams are to fight. And I had been weary to the bone, falling asleep with Damon’s heavy arm thrown around my waist, his face buried against the back of my neck.
Now I was trapped in a dream with no escape.
These dreams were becoming all too common.
I had no protection against them, either.
Once, I could have forced myself into wakefulness, but now the dreams had become almost a compulsion—like I had to see them through.
And I had no doubt about who was in control.
Fanis stood there.
The monster in my closet, the thing that hovered at the edge of my nightmares.
My tormentor.
My grandmother.
She walked around the room and absently, I realized it was her receiving room—she didn’t call it a throne room, but that’s what it was.
Her eyes landed on me and she smiled. It was the sort of smile a snake might give its prey, except reptiles don’t really toy with their food. They just kill and eat.
She’s far more cold-blooded.
I was on my knees—I don’t remember how I got here and I don’t remember kneeling. Shoving myself upright, I held her gaze and didn’t look away, even when she rang the golden bell on the table next to her grand chair. She was seated by the time her guard arrived. Five of them, all dressed in finely made armor that moved with them and made it clear just who they served, they gathered around me.
I held no more interest to them than a fly would.
They stared straight at the woman in front of us and if she said Kill—they’d do so.
What happened if I was attacked in a dream?
“Hello, granddaughter.”
I said nothing.
If they attack, you wake up, I told myself. She couldn’t hurt me. Scare me, yes. But hurt me, no.
“Do you not speak?” The faint smile on her lips widened. “Has living among those vultures affected your brain?”
I flicked at a speck of lint on my vest. The bulk of a blade was there. I could barely feel it. Its presence reassured me.
“In some primitive cultures, early humans would honor a woman who died in childbirth, revere her as a warrior. Did you know?” She cocked her head and light glinted off the plain golden circlet she wore on her brow.
Wake up, I told myself. Wake up.
“Personally, I never thought somebody too weak to survive such a simple process should be respected, much less revered.” Fanis crossed her legs, her lips pursing. “The honor goes to the warrior who survives the battle. Not the weakling who dies. Both in war and in child-birth.”
She rose and came down the two steps of the dais, stopping in front of me now. “Had your mother murdered you, strangled you with your own cord, for that, I would have honored her as a warrior. For ridding this world of your miserable existence. Even had she died birthing you, and taken you with her…that, I could have respected. Instead, she saddled me with you.”
The insult lacked the ability to hurt. After living with it for more than a decade, I’d hardened myself to it.
It was harder, though, to ignore her next words.
“Instead, she got herself killed on a mission that should have been so easy. Didn’t even finish the job.”
My mouth was open, words flying before I realized it. “Perhaps if you’d shown some balls and done the job yourself, you could have saved yourself some trouble,” I said. “But you’ve been sitting here, safe and protected, while you send your people off to do your bidding. You’ve gone soft, old woman.”
She opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Then, with a flick of her wrist, she gestured to the guards around me. I spun, pulling my blade and slicing through the men. They melted, dissipating like fog. Coming to a stop after I’d completed a full circle, I held the blade up, pressed the tip of it to her chest.
She had substance, unlike the guards my mind—or perhaps hers—had summoned to terrify me.
She was the one I feared.
Fanis pressed harder against the blade, her smile spreading. “You have fear inside you, granddaughter. Such fear.”
As she pressed against the blade, I stiffened my arm, determined to keep her at bay.
“Kit Colbana. Such a boring name you’ve chosen. Almost…human. The one thing of honor you had—our name—and you stripped yourself of it.”
“The honor exists only in your eyes.” I managed to summon up a smile. “For me, I might as well be wearing a hair shirt.”
Her lips tightened. Oh…she didn’t like that.
She reached up and closed her hand around the sword. She tried to jerk my blade away. Tried to steal her. No! the blade shrieked in my mind. Her revulsion was clear, as clear as her anger, and it blasted out of the sentient thi
ng into both me and Fanis.
But that alone wouldn’t sway the mind of a madwoman.
Fanis squeezed th edges of the blade, tighter, tighter, until blood dripped to coat the gleaming, nicked, scarred surface.
My grandmother tried once more to take the blade from me—this time, calling through her blood and power.
She couldn’t.
A cold smile graced her face.
“You stole her sword, Kitasa. One day, I will get it back.”
Rage bled from her eyes, her voice.
“Good luck.” I sneered at her, determinedly ignoring the fear. “She came to me. She’s mine.”
Focusing, I banished the sword—and relief crashed into me when she obeyed.
Fanis’s eyes widened slightly, but she showed no other reaction.
Without the sword to hold her back, she closed the remaining distance between us and reached up to touch my cheek, leaving a trail of blood. “You should run, daughter of my daughter.”
Our disparity in height forced me to look up to her as I knocked her hand away. She felt…real. Solid. I could smell the frankincense perfume she liked. It turned my belly.
“Run, while you still can. You think you are so…so safe there in your mad little city with those…unnatural beasts you’ve befriended. But you are not.” She smiled at me and leaned in closer. “You only have a little time left. But go ahead, pretend you are…safe.”
She straightened and moved to back away.
I was the one who closed the distance this time.
“I’m not running. You try to come after me, bring an army…and be ready for your people to die.”
“Kit.”
She hadn’t opened her mouth.
I heard the voice again. “Kit!” Strong, demanding.
⸸
Cold water splashed into my face, forcing me into shivering, shocking awareness.
Shaking my wet hair out of my face, I gaped at Damon.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I demanded—or I tried. Water rushed into my face and I half-choked on it.
His face was a hard, expressionless mask, save for his eyes.
And they were full of hell.
“Damn it.” He hauled me against him and pressed his face to my neck. “Damn it, damn it, damn it.”
I didn’t ask why he was cussing. As the echoes of the dream began to work through my waterlogged state, I shuddered.
“Shit.” I sucked in a breath. “I can smell her, Damon. It’s like she was here.”
“She wasn’t.” He forced me to look at him. “She wasn’t. It’s just you, just me.”
Sucking air in, I clung to him. Maybe she hadn’t been here—physically. But I couldn’t keep hiding from it. These dreams weren’t normal.
“You’re trying to freeze me to death,” I whispered, the icy water blasting me.
“Serves you right. I think you almost gave me a heart attack.”
“You can’t have heart attacks.” I snuggled closer. He was so warm.
“Shows what you know.” He reached behind me and turned the water up, slowly, going from cold to tepid to warm until it was liquid heat flowed around us. I still felt cold, but I suspected that was as much from the dream as anything else.
Long moments passed.
Finally, he slid a hand up my back and tangled his fingers in my hair. “What’s with the dreams, Kit? You dream about her almost every night now. Ever since…”
He didn’t finish.
He didn’t need to.
A little over a month ago, Damon and I, along with the help of others, had dealt with a power-hungry—and crazed—ancient. He’d been a shapeshifter, but not a normal one. Human myth would have called him a trickster, but he was more than that. A lot more, although he had definitely fooled a lot of people, including vampires I knew to be fairly sly and old themselves.
But there was old…and there was ancient.
“He knew Fanis.” I shook my head, my skin sliding wetly against his chest. “He knew about me. Nobody knows what his plans were but if he had something in mind beyond trying to fool the entire USA, then maybe…” I shook my head. “She excels as intrigue. More than a few coups happened because of advice she offered. She so loved to brag about her exploits.”
The hand he had on the back of my neck tightened. “Do you think she’ll try to come here?”
“I don’t know.” The very thought turned me cold inside and I wanted to wrap myself around Damon even tighter, locked out the whole world and never leave. But I’d already made my decision to stop hiding.
“Are you thinking about running?”
There was a world of tension in his voice. Slowly, I lifted my head and peered down into his eyes. Laying my hand on his cheek, I studied the entrancing, compelling dark gray. “I’ve thought about running almost every single day since I first landed here. Now, I’ve got more reason to stay than ever. I’ve made a home, Damon. I’ll be damned if I let her chase me away from it.”
He tugged me close and kissed me, hard and fast. “I’ll hold you to it,” he murmured.
As I settled back against his chest, he curled his arm around me, keeping me tucked in close. “You’re not alone anymore, Kit. You know that.”
“Yeah. I know.”
Chapter Four
I’d taken the previous day off but maybe I shouldn’t have. If I’d been here, maybe I would have gotten a job, then I wouldn’t here dealing with this asshole again.
“I already told you that I’m not interested in your job, Malcolm,” I said, neatly avoiding the strangely compelling looks he was giving me.
He hadn’t done that before and I didn’t like it. Mostly because they were strangely compelling.
He was making my eyes itch, too. Only one thing could cause that. Illusion. I’d noticed it before, but it was worse today and I had no idea why.
“I heard about the job you did for the wolf pack,” he said, picking up the tea I’d given him. I hadn’t wanted to, but it was a simple, straightforward request. Hard to refuse without offering insult. “I’m rather impressed. You handled a tricky matter with such… diplomacy. Will you tell me about it?”
“No.” I didn’t soften it with a smile. “My jobs are confidential. If you heard about it somewhere, perhaps go to the source for more information.”
“Ah, yes. Of course. You are rather close-mouthed.”
“Jobs are confidential.”
“Yes.” He leaned back in his chair, a much more relaxed pose than I would have expected from him. “I’m glad you have such respect for those matters—confidentiality, you see. I have questions I must ask, as a representative of the Assembly. It’s about your grandmother.”
You think you are so…so safe there in your mad little city with those…unnatural beasts you’ve befriended. But you are not…
That bitch. The stupid, insane desperate bitch.
As Malcolm smiled blandly in my direction, the obvious became clear.
He’d made a deal with my grandmother.
And I was the prize.
She’d made a deal with the devil.
Jagged, icy screams exploded in my head. Over and over they raged.
Under the desk, I held the grip of my sword which had come to my hand without any conscious recollection of me even calling her.
Run…I’ve got to run…
No. I’m staying here. Damon is here. Doyle is here.
Is he lying?
All those thoughts raced through my mind.
It seemed like hours passed.
It was mere seconds. I heard them tick away. One. Two. Three.
By the fourth, I was able to speak. Quite calmly, too.
“My…grandmother?” Laughing a little, I leaned back. “This should be interesting. I haven’t seen any of my family in years.”
“Yes. I’m aware.” His eyes dropped and I had the strangest notion he could see under the desk, straight through to the blade I held.
“You haven’t seen her sin
ce you ran away, isn’t that correct?”
The panic inside threatened to spiral out of control.
“We had a parting of ways,” I said mildly. “She didn’t like that I was half-human. I didn’t like being beaten and starved. I figured it was best all around if I just…removed myself.”
“And would the Assembly agree with that assessment?”
Cocking a brow, I shrugged. “It would depend on whether or not they agree with child abuse.”
They didn’t.
“What about theft?”
The sword heated in my palm. I am here. I am yours. You are mine.
“What theft?” I even managed to smile.
Malcolm held up his hands. “I’m merely asking questions that were brought to the Assembly, Kit.”
“Questions that were brought between the last time I saw you and today,” I said slowly. “Got it.”
He smoothed a finger across his eyebrow. “You must realize there have been a great many questions regarding whether or not you truly have legitimate status in the Assembly.”
“No. Nobody has ever mentioned that,” I said honestly. But my stomach felt a little hot and tight now, and I wasn’t overly happy to hear this…bastard spouting shit like this now. He wasn’t doing this because of anything going in the Assembly. If anybody there had been talking about me, somebody would have already said something—if not to me, then to Damon or Chang.
Maybe they did…
No. Damon and I weren’t keeping those kind of secrets from each other. We’d done that once. We weren’t doing it anymore.
The corner of his mouth curled in a sly smile and Malcolm leaned forward. “How strange. It’s quite the topic of conversation among some of us.”
“Really?” Summoning up a bored tone, I shrugged. “I find it hard to believe a group like the Assembly doesn’t have anything better to talk about than me.” I paused a moment, then added, “Am I really that interesting?”
I guess he’d expected me to show some measure of fear.
Too bad, jerkface. People always wanted me to be afraid. And half the time I was. But if I gave into it, I might as well hide away in a closet in the room I shared with Damon, sucking my thumb.
Haunted Blade (Colbana Files Book 6) Page 4
