Haunted Blade (Colbana Files Book 6)

by J. C. Daniels

  Eyes narrowing to slits, he looked down the rutted and pitted gravel road leading away from his home.

  “Stupid, stupid, stupid.” He slammed the bowl of soup down so hard, it shattered.

  Then he got up and stormed off.

  I found him around the back. I hated going inside Toots’ home without his permission and he hadn’t been in any of the rooms—rooms that were oddly empty, at least for the old hoarder.

  It wasn’t hard to figure out why, either.

  In the back, perched on top of a rickety old trailer were boxes. Dusty ones, some that looked brand new. “You take it all this time, girl. And don’t come back.” He sniffed and swiped a hand under his nose. “I ain’t going to be here no more.”

  “What are you talking about, Toots?” Warily, I approached, fighting the urge to skulk and check corners and shadows.

  “I ain’t gonne be here no more!” he shouted. Then he launched himself at me, moving with a speed that belied his frail, fragile appearance.

  I had no chance to move—I was thrown off-guard.

  But all he did was wrap skinny, twig-like arms around me and hug me.

  “There’s going to be a fourth, then fifth…then more. It’s death.” He shoved me back.

  I reached for him. “What are you talking about?”

  But he was done talking.

  The punch of his magic knocked me back, falling. Pain cracked and I smacked my head against the rusted metal trailer.

  Hard.

  ⸸

  “Gone.”

  From where I sat in a chair in the cozy, welcoming den that Dennis, the Father of the East Orlando House of the Green Road, used as an office, I could see his face as he spoke to a fellow Green Road witch. “The entire…yes.”

  He ended the call shortly after and sat across me, meeting my eyes.

  “He probably put you in the car and drove you, left you at the hotel where you when you woke up. As you are aware, the boxes you were supposed to collect were in the car with you. Then he went back and…” Shaking his head, Dennis spread his hands wide, before bringing them together.

  Just over an hour ago, I’d woken up in the parking lot of a generic, chain hotel, sitting in the front seat of my car. I’d tried to go back to Toots’ place. But I couldn’t.

  Literally. My car only seemed to understand how to drive north. I wouldn’t have even thought such a thing was possible before today. He’d made it to where I could only drive in the general direction of home.

  “Just out of curiousity…” I offered him a weak smile. “Will my car take me to the Lair now? It’s south of here.”

  He surprised me with a faint laugh. “It’s fine. Toots’ lineage was…complicated, but he had a touch of high magic in him. He could do things others of our house couldn’t imagine.”

  “Had.” Pressing my lips together, I waited until I knew I could ask before opening my mouth. I didn’t want to show any of tears. “He’s gone, isn’t he?”

  “Yes.” Dennis took my hand and squeezed. “Don’t hurt for me, Kit. He was old, lonely…suffering. He was losing touch with reality. We worried for him—sooner or later, he’d slip and cause harm when that was the last thing he would have wanted.”

  ⸸

  I needed pizza.

  I needed pizza and ice cream in the worst way.

  I’ve heard that some people eat their feelings. I guess I’m one of them. I also guess it’s a good thing I have a metabolism that works off most of the food I eat with little effort from me.

  I hit the place that had pizza the way I liked it—New York style. That was the first time I’d ever had pizza, in New York City. Nothing else tasted the same to me.

  Since I was craving comfort food, I wanted what I considered real pizza.

  The cat who ran the parlor was called Stuart, a big, broad man with skin the color of chestnuts and eyes like gold. He liked to brag that he was one of the few who hadn’t had to worry about Annette hassling him and upping his tithe—or those around him, assuming he liked them.

  And that was because he was…well, as I’d said…big.

  Even bigger than Goliath. He had to duck his head to walk in the door of his own pizza place and his hands were bigger than dinner plates.

  I suspected his skin was something other than just skin—armor, maybe.

  I’d been in his joint once, and only once, when the old Apha, Annette, had one of her enforcers come in to talk to him about the situation here at Stu’s place.

  Stuart had calmly nodded, then gestured to the room off the side.

  The shifter hadn’t liked that.

  “If we’re to be discussing business, it happens in there. My customers don’t need to hear this.”

  It hadn’t had shit to do with hearing anything.

  Stuart just hadn’t wanted blood everywhere.

  The minute the door shut behind them, he’d turned and grabbed the shifter by the head, lifted him, then simply crushed that man’s skull between his hands—or that was what it looked like.

  I’d lost my appetite then, but hadn’t been able to do anything but stare as two of the shifters outside came running in to grab the corpse.

  As they dragged the enforcer out, Stuart had followed, calmly wiping his hands. “I had a master before. I’m not having another. We can keep doing this and she can keep losing men, or she can take the tithe I already pay.”

  He had been one of the first, I’d heard, to give his loyalty to Damon.

  I’d liked him from the moment I met him and that had been way before Damon had ever stormed his way into my life.

  Stuart saw me coming into his shop and his brows, lately showing sighs of going silver, went up. “The Alpha isn’t with you, so I guess you want your usual?”

  He didn’t give me the stiff nod so many of the other shifters did. From what I’d heard, he’d lived on his own for over a century before an official clan set up close to him. The…rules and politics of shifter society didn’t set well with him.

  It was part of the reason I liked him. He still acted… normal. Whatever that meant.

  And he treated me like I was still me, and not some extension of Damon.

  I loved Damon, being with him, and there were any number of his people that I cared for.

  But that didn’t mean I wanted to seen as just some blonde-haired, shorter, weaker shadow of his, or some…puppet.

  “Sounds good.” I smiled at him and settled at one of the few stools near his workspace.

  He had a few employees, but I’d knocked off early and from what I could tell it was just him and the mostly silent Freddy who handled the cash and internet orders.

  “Drink while you wait?” Stu jerked his head toward Freddy.

  “Just a beer.” They had tea there but try as they might, and they tried, they could never get it the way I liked it. It might have something to do with the fact that they choked it with sugar before they brought it out, even when I ordered it hot.

  The bell over the door jangled as I lifted the bottle to my lips and Stu looked up, his familiar, friendly greeting in place.

  “Hello, Stuart. Long time, so see.”

  “Hey, Marie. Been a while!”

  “It has,” a woman said.

  I didn’t know that voice, but habit had put me in the one seat that allowed me to watch the front of the pizza parlor, so I had a peripheral view of the woman as she came in. She didn’t go to a table. Or one of the stools farther away from me.

  She came right to the one where I’d braced my boot and studied my upraised knee for a moment.

  “Hello.”

  Stu was carrying on, business as usual.

  Since I figured he’d be acting otherwise if he had issues with this…Marie…I straightened up and lowered my knee, then my boot until it was touching the rung beneath my stool. “Do you need something?”

  “Yes. A few moments of your time.” She cocked her head. “Justin Greaves contacted me earlier and asked me to do some digging around.”r />
  “Did he now?”

  “Yes.” She gestured to the phone I’d put on the counter. “Call him, please. You’ll feel better and then we can get on with it.”

  “Maybe I’ll do that.” Easing from the stool, I moved a few paces away and made that call.

  And Marie settled on the stool I’d been using as a foot rest—okay, that was probably rude. As I waited for Justin to answer, she started to chat with Stu.

  “Yes.”

  “Hey, Justin.” I didn’t bother introducing myself. Why? We’d known each other’s voice anywhere at this point. “I needed to ask you—”

  “I already answered you. Yes.”

  Unwittingly, I looked back at the woman and as if he had developed the ability to see inside my skull, Justin said, “Yes, I contacted Marie and asked her to do some digging. You needed help. I needed eyes there that I could trust. But people won’t talk to just anybody, Kit. They’ll talk to her, though. I trust her. More…you will, too. Ask her who she is, Kit. Ask her who her grandmother was.”

  “You know, I’ve had a horrible day, Justin. Just plain horrible. That could even be considered an improvement from yesterday, dealing Malcolm…” Shit.

  My words trailed off, but Justin didn’t rush to fill the silence. After a few seconds of quiet, he cleared his throat. “I…ah…I heard about Toots. Okay, yeah. Marie had connections upon connections. You need to talk to her about Malcolm. Sorry, not trying to be all…cloak and dagger. It’s just…”

  “You and Toots were close.”

  “At one time.” Justin cleared his throat. “Go talk to her, okay? I gotta go.”

  He disconnected without another word, so I put the phone away and eyed the woman from where I stood.

  She was tall and slim, pale brown hair clipped neatly back at the nape of her neck. As I returned to my seat, she sipped from a glass, not even looking my way.

  “I heard about Toots as well. It’s a sad day for the House.”

  Hearing Toots’ name made me more agitated than I already was and that made me less…diplomatic. If I was honest, and I normally am, I couldn’t be called diplomatic even standing next to the most obtuse, blunder-prone politician in all of the world’s history. And that was when my filter was somewhat engaged.

  It wasn’t engaged at all at the moment.

  Skimming her up, then down, I shook my head. “You’re not a witch.”

  “You’re terribly blunt.” She looked up at me, a smile flirting with her lips. “Does not being a witch mean I cannot mourn?”

  “Not being a witch makes me wonder why the death of an old, senile witch would matter.”

  At that, her head went back and she narrowed her eyes. “If I didn’t already know enough of you to have formed an opinion, I’d think a great deal less of you for that, Ms. Colbana.”

  “Let me tell you,” I drawled. “My heart bleeds.”

  I didn’t tell her, though, that I was thinking a little less of myself for the comment.

  Toots might have been old and senile, but he’d meant more than most of the people I’d known in my life. There had been times when he’d felt like the only friend I had, too.

  Sometimes, I could really be a bitch.

  “Why don’t you tell me what you want?” I said after she continued to watch me with sad, patient eyes. “I’m tired. I want to get my pizza and go.”

  “I want to talk to you.” She shrugged, her expression calm. “Didn’t Justin offer you anything to put your mind at ease about me?"

  “He told me he trusted you.” Without understanding why I was even talking to her, I hitched a shoulder and picked up the drink I’d left on the counter. It was warm now, but I was so thirsty, it didn’t matter. “He also told me I would too…if I knew who you were. Who your grandmother was.”

  I managed a tight smile. Familial relations didn’t go very far in my book.

  Marie stared into her glass, her expression pensive. It was almost as if she knew what I was thinking.

  “Grandmother,” she murmured, nodding her head. “Yes. You knew her. I believe you trusted, perhaps even admired her.” After a moment, she looked at me. “Her name was Delores.”

  My heart lurched.

  “Most people called her Es.”

  Blood roared in my ears.

  Child, you suffer from an excess of great stupidity or great bravery. I’m not sure which…

  I tilted the bottle to my lips and drank, drank, drank…draining it. “Stuart?”

  He put another bottle in front of me without comment, disappearing as quickly and quietly as he’d arrived. I guzzled half of that one down as well.

  “Your grandmother…” My mind kicked into gear and I focused on her face. “You’re the lawyer.”

  She inclined her head. “I hope you won’t hold that against me.”

  A sharp bark of laughter escaped me.

  Feeling drained, I dropped my head into my palms. “Why are you here?”

  “Because Justin asked for a favor.” She lifted her shoulder. “I may not belong fully to any house of witches, but I’m considered…family. So is he. When family asks for help, you don’t say no.”

  “You’ve had better interactions with family than I have.”

  Her sad smile had me squirming. “And what would you call Colleen? What would you call Grandmother, were she still here? Even the man here who watches your back as he quietly makes your food?”

  I opened my mouth respond, then shut it without saying a word.

  I had no answer.

  Marie leaned forward. “Family isn’t always what you’re born to. Sometimes, you have to find your own, and claim it.” Then she shrugged. “There’s some maudlin wisdom for the day. Now…to business. You called Justin about a recent visitor you had—Malcolm.”

  Warily, I eyed her. “Yes.”

  “I take it that it wasn’t a…friendly meeting?” She arched a brow at me.

  “You could say that.”

  She nodded and gave a slow look around the pizzeria before meeting my eyes once more. “We…should talk. Are you comfortable doing it here or should we go elsewhere?”

  Chapter Seven

  I hadn’t been back to my apartment in a few weeks. Eying it with a frown, I thought back the days in my head—yes, a few weeks.

  Definitely not so long that the windows should be practically overrun with vines. And branches, too, on the right side. The maintenance people were charging me extra to come by and take care of the yard since I wasn’t here, and it had become a charge that happened every two weeks.

  “What’s wrong?” Marie asked as she joined me. She’d parked her car next to mine and now stood close enough that the breeze had her fluttering skirt smacking against my legs.

  Automatically, I moved away.

  “The vines and branches. It’s weird. They should have just been cut a few days ago.” As I started for the door, the magic of my wards pricked, flaring to life as they sensed me. They were inactive unless a threat was sensed—or me.

  Once I was inside, I waved Marie in, then rekeyed the wards.

  I’d been on the fence about whether to keep the apartment. Damon had already told me if I felt like I needed a place to retreat, he understood.

  I felt like it had cost him a rib bone, maybe a kidney, something vital, to tell me that, especially when he wanted to swaddle me in bubble wrap.

  But sometimes, everything with him and the shifters got to be too much.

  And then sometimes, I just needed a place to talk that wasn’t as obvious as my office.

  With Marie showing up, I guess maybe today was the deciding factor.

  I’d hold onto the apartment for a while.

  The wards flared back up as I resettled them, nice and strong, just like they’d been a few weeks ago. And they stayed flared, too.

  That was…weird.

  They continued to hum and pulse, clearly not settling back in their watchful state. Casting a look at Marie, I asked warily, “Are you just a carrier
of the gifts your grandmother had? Nothing active?”

  “Yes.” Lips pursed, she stared out the window. “I can…sometimes sense things. Somebody called me a sensate once. I can feel things that are magical and I always recognize shifters, vampires. But I have no true abilities. The wards aren’t settling. Are the reacting to me?”

  “Possibly. They aren’t reacting to any sort of active threat, but they are…watching.” Deciding to do the same—watch—I moved to the couch and settled on the edge.

  “Justin does fine work.”

  “You can tell he made them?” I asked, glancing at her.

  “Yes.” She met my eyes and shrugged. “I’m…sensitive, as I said. I recognize magic, and its makers, quite easily. Sometimes I can even see it. I’m just not…open to it. Life sucks sometimes, doesn’t it?”

  “You want to use magic?”

  “Do you want to use your sword? Does a half-wolf long to change?” She held out her hands and shrugged. “The blood line in me is that of a witch. I was just…skipped when it came to actually handing out the gifts. But I can feel it, see it…sometimes I think I almost see it dancing on the wind.”

  Her words faded, but for several moments after, only silence hummed between us, those words echoing back louder and louder until they felt marked inside me, like scores upon my flesh and I knew I’d never forget them.

  “Yeah,” I finally said, nodding. “Sometimes life sucks.”

  She nodded and took the chair across from me. “Now…perhaps we can discuss this business between us.”

  This business between us turned out to be shit that revolved around Malcolm and his mysterious ways—mysterious, bullshit, treacherous ways.

  Once she was done, I sat there, hands clasped in front of my face, thumbs pressed to my brow as I took everything in. It wasn’t hard to figure it out and I understood why Justin had been worried earlier.

  Hell, I was worried now.

  “You should tell your alpha,” Marie said softly.

  My alpha. The words no longer had the effect on me they would have had a few months ago, or even a year ago. She wasn’t referring to Damon as my leader or anything—just as…mine.