Haunted Blade (Colbana Files Book 6)

by J. C. Daniels

  “There’s no time for that anyway,” Samantha said grimly. “I can deal with Malcolm—there’s salt water in that lake, enough of it in the groundwater now—idiot likely starting fucking with the earth’s stability again. A Green Man should know better.”

  I wanted to ask question. I wanted to get answers—had to.

  But she flapped a hand at me and at the same time, I realized we were surrounded.

  Three of Dair’s wolves stepped up and Elizabeth began calling out orders while Jay and Alli moved to join me. I might have groaned at the sight of them, but Alli’s ever-present smile was gone and Jay looked grimmer than normal.

  “The Alpha says you need to trust her,” Jay said, holding out an envelope. She glanced at Chang, then back at me before nodding formally at Damon. “He also says, with all due respect, Alpha Lee, please get your ass back to Orlando before there isn’t much left to come back to—he had to fight off an assassination attempt in the night and there are rumors that the Grand Assembly is considering extreme measures.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The body count in the city had risen by more than two hundred.

  Sixty-three offshoots had been killed—four strong cross-breeds had been assassinated, we were informed, NHs who had abilities from both sides of their gene pool, all the strengths, and at least half of them were missing the weaknesses.

  With the exception of one—they all needed their heads to survive.

  That had been removed in all four.

  The assassin had been an unseen creature that moved preternaturally fast.

  The lemera.

  This time, she hadn’t just gone after high-level NHs, though. People had started to breathe again, had let their guard down to some extent and before anybody realized what was happening, she’d torn through more than two hundred of us in the central areas of East Orlando.

  I wanted to scream.

  I wanted to hit something.

  I wanted to break something.

  I had no idea what was going on between Jude and Malcolm, but the lemera…that was because of me. It had to be. My grandmother had unleashed her pet killer because of me.

  “We have to kill her,” I said without realizing I was speaking outloud.

  Damon laid a hand on my knee. He’d changed into clothes that Chang had had tucked into the back of his SUV and we rode quietly in the backseat as Chang hurtled along through the night.

  Occasionally, we’d get updates.

  The last one had come nearly twenty minutes ago when Jude had finally reached the city and holed up inside Whittier Manor.

  A number of his guards had been found mutilated outside said manor.

  The vast majority of the dead hailed from House Whittier.

  “We have to kill her,” I said again. Covering Damon’s hand with mine, I looked over at him. “The lemera. My grandmother…she doesn’t give a damn about all this infighting, but the lemera will continue to go through people until she gets to me. So we have to kill her.”

  Damon opened his mouth, then closed it, shaking his head.

  After a moment, Chang spoke, his words coming out careful, like he specifically discarded and selected several before finally deciding on what he wanted to say.

  “Can this lemera be killed? And why is it killing high level NHs if you are the target?” he asked.

  Damon growled.

  Chang flashed him a look. “You have me around to ask questions that you cannot or don’t think to ask. It’s what I do—it’s what I excel at. Growl if you wish but none of this makes sense.”

  He looked back at me.

  “I don’t know,” I said bluntly, answering the second question first. Then I sucked in a breath. “But if it can’t die, it can be controlled. So we just have to find a way to…”

  Words trailing off, I lapsed into silence.

  Chang filled in for me, voice darkly humorous. “Control a blood-thirsty vengeful spirit?”

  “It’s not a spirit.” Swallowing all the spit pooling in my mouth, I looked outside. “Spirits aren’t corporeal. The lemera is. And she’s pissed off. What we have to do is find her handler. We have to find my aunt, Fen.”

  ⸸

  Sadly, that was too easily done.

  It was dark by the time we reached East Orlando and moonlight shown down on bones left exposed where she’d been ripped limb from limb.

  One eye was missing.

  Her throat was laid bare.

  She still had her blade in hand.

  Even in the dull light, I could see that she had died fighting—and that the vampires who’d killed her had drained her dry. There were bite marks at her throat, the crook of her elbow and the one thigh that wasn’t totally shredded.

  Something else had torn into her.

  I suspected it had been the lemera.

  “I want her body collected,” I said to Damon as we stood there. Gripping my blade, clenching it rhythmically over and over again, I said it a second time, “I want her body collected.”

  He put a hand on my shoulder. “If that’s what you need.”

  With a jerky nod, I moved closer. Bending low, I carefully took her sword from her.

  It sang in a shrieking, discordant wail.

  Mourning.

  I’d never banished a weapon that wasn’t mine, but I couldn’t listen to that song of sadness. Nor could I leave it here.

  So, closing my eyes, I focused.

  I felt the resistance and pushed harder.

  When she finally left, it was with a scream of denial.

  I looked back at Fenele one last time and it was as though her body had sunk in a little more, like she’d already started to wither.

  “Don’t forget,” I said, turning to meet Damon’s eyes.

  “I won’t.”

  There was a pattern of death as we moved closer to the house. Bodies that fell where they stood. Others who’d clearly fought. A few of them survived, but the question was…for how long?

  “I don’t like this,” Damon said, his voice a low growl.

  Chang paced along in front of us, looking more inhuman than I’d ever seen him. He still wore human skin, but it was like a costume now, something he’d put on for show. As Damon spoke, he looked back at us. “The thing is here,” he said, voice flat and cold.

  I didn’t have to ask what thing.

  Nor did I have a chance to.

  A split second after I heard the quiet rush of air, Chang went airborn, springing up like he had rockets in the soles of his feet.

  What came back down…wasn’t Chang.

  Or, well, I guess it was.

  But it…no…he was massive.

  And unlike any shifted creature I’d ever seen before.

  The only thing I could say for certainty was that he was definitely a cat.

  Maybe some sort of leopard…?

  There seemed to be spots under that dense, dark fur, a color too deep to be called gray and where weak light did filter to stroke over his muscled form, the fur shone more blue than red.

  As Chang gathered his body to attack, Damon grabbed me and threw me to the ground, slamming his body down over mine.

  I was too busy gaping to realize what was happening until Chang went flying over us. His body seemed to go on…and on…and on…six feet, seven, eight, nine…ten…

  “What is he?” I whispered, torn between terror and awe.

  “A force of nature.” Damon yanked me up and against, starting to haul me toward the building. “Come on. We’ve got to…shit, Kit. What do we do now? Your aunt was controlling her, right?”

  “Shit!”

  I jerked against his hold, no longer gaping at the mass of short-maned muscle behind me. “She would have it on her!” I shoved against Damon’s chest, but he didn’t let go. “Damn it, I have to find it!”

  “Find what?” he shouted.

  “There’s something she has,” I said. “It’s controlling the lemera. I have to get it or the lemera will just kill, and keep killing!�
��

  Damon swore and again, gathered me up against him. With his body between me and the eerie, seemingly one-sided battle, he lunged. He didn’t run—he lunged, clearly yards of ground with each jump.

  An unearthly wail rose behind us.

  He tensed.

  “Don’t look back,” I warned him. “Just…don’t.”

  There was another wail, but another sound shattered the night—a terrifying scream of a roar that warned of threat, menace and death.

  What is he…

  Even now, the question trembled at the back the back of my throat, but I swallowed it down.

  I could ask about the strange, maned, spotted black lion looking thing later—if that thing didn’t kill me.

  If it didn’t kill—

  Don’t think about that, I told myself. Don’t.

  There was another dizzying leap.

  Another.

  Then I was put on my feet so fast, I almost fell face first into my aunt Fenele’s dead body.

  Damon’s hand catching my by the seat of the pants saved me from that horror.

  “Sorry,” he said, voice raw.

  I didn’t look back.

  I didn’t say anything.

  I knew what had turned his voice to razors.

  Going to my knees, I hovered there a moment, staring at the ruin of Fenele’s body. I hadn’t thought of her, I realized. Not for the past couple of the days. There had been too much other insane bullshit going on. How could I think of her, worry about her when there was so much other bullshit going on?

  There had been an underlying fear that lingered about the lemera, but Fenele? My family?

  Fear of them had always lurked.

  How could I think about her?

  I was thinking about her now.

  Thinking about her and thinking about the fact that the seething hatred she’d directed at me every time she’d looked at me was gone now. She’d never be able to break another bone, cause another injury that could lay me up in the infirmary. She’d never touch me again.

  If I died tonight, it wouldn’t be by her hand.

  Oddly enough, I found no relief in that fact.

  My stomach roiled as I slid my hands along her body, still warm but cooling. She hadn’t been dead long, but they’d fed deep and long and it wasn’t a stretch of the imagination to suspect they’d taken more than half her blood—the rest of it was slowly dripping down the side of her neck from that gaping hole.

  One of them had tired of the game and had ripped her throat open.

  Why?

  Why had she been here?

  I didn’t know.

  I didn’t know what I was looking for. A charm? A pendant? Some sort of totem?

  A weapon, maybe.

  But unless it was part of her clothing, there was nothing.

  The battle behind us was getting louder—and closer.

  “Kit,” Damon said, his voice a growling edge.

  “There’s nothing here,” I said, furious. “Nothing.”

  “Then we’re going.” He grabbed me again and we were airborne. Just…up. I yelped and the next thing I knew, we were in a tree. My feet dangled in free air until he lowered me enough that I could find a perch. I almost punched him but figured I’d lose my balance.

  “Asshole.”

  He didn’t respond and from the corner of my eye, I caught sight of his face.

  Turning, I looked at him more fully, then, slowly, almost afraid to look, I followed the direction of his stare.

  Downward.

  Chang, in that menacing, giant nightmare shadow of a cat, stalked along the ground, almost flat as he approached…something. I couldn’t tell what…then it flickered, solidified.

  A woman.

  Except it wasn’t.

  And she was gone again.

  Then in a blink, she was there again.

  Like a vid screen that couldn’t lock on the picture, she blinked in and out of sight, the tall, ghostly pale form. Her eyes were empty sockets, her mouth black and slack. Then it twisted in a sneer as she focused on Chang. Drawing into a crouch with her hands on the ground in front of her, she stared at him.

  “Mongrel,” she hissed. “Malcontent. You…you do not belong.”

  Chang didn’t respond, just slunk closer, body tightening like a coil as he prepared to spring.

  “No better…” She faded out of view.

  Shocked understanding hit me.

  No way.

  No. Way.

  “How is that possible?”

  I didn’t realize I’d spoken outloud until Damon moved, behind me in a flash and clasping me back against him, his hand over my mouth.

  But it was too little, too late.

  She’d heard.

  In a blink, she snapped back into focus and lunged, clearing distance almost as easily as Chang and Damon.

  Chang came charging after her.

  But she faded after the first leap. My eyes tracked—without knowing how, I knew I was seeing her. The tree branch gave as she swung off of it. Chang was there a second later, but she was already gone. Up in the next tree. On the ground—

  Swallowing back the startled noise as she appeared at the very end of the branch where I stood with Damon, I stared into rheumy, dead eyes.

  And she was dead.

  Her body had the faintest reek of grave rot.

  “You are small and weak for one of the blood,” she said, her voice distant and echoing.

  “You’re dead.”

  Her eyes widened. “I am Lemera. I do not die. I am vengeance. I am rage. These things…they never die.” Her gaze tracked downward, toward Fenele. “She is now part of me. Her death, needless. Her blood calls out to me. It is part of me. She is me.”

  Wow. Now if that wasn’t creepy.

  “If you’re vengeance, then why are you pursuing one that hasn’t harmed you? Hasn’t harmed her?”

  “He is a mongrel. Our kind hunt his.” She cocked her head and looked at Damon, standing guard at my back. “Our kind kill his. Honor demands it.”

  “They’ve saved my life.”

  She smiled, lips peeling back. “I must have my blood. I’ve been summoned.”

  “Then go find the one who took my blood. Who dishonored me.”

  Lemera’s face went thoughtful. “There is one who dared dishonor a child of the blood.” She tipped her head back, the wind teasing the long, dried strands of her hair. “Oh…yes. I sense him. He has…he feeds by blood and fear. Now he is steeped in it. Yes. Yes. I’ll take his fear. And him. He ordered his ilk to kill one of the blood. You say he dishonored you.”

  There was a whirl of wind and she was gone.

  The backlash of the wind was so strong, it threw me backward into Damon—and him out of the tree.

  We hit the ground some twenty feet below. Damon grunted in surprise while I lay there dazed, struggling to get my lungs to work again.

  “That’s the lemera.”

  I couldn’t respond. Not at first. I couldn’t even breathe.

  A pale gold hand appeared in my line of sight and I glanced up—then away, quickly. Chang was rather naked. I refused to acknowledge the fact that he was rather hot, too. Eyes locked straight ahead, I accepted his hand and rose.

  Damon growled low in his throat.

  “I wasn’t expecting this, boy. Don’t growl at me,” Chang said sharply.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw him striding away—and wow, did he have an ass on him.

  “Kit…”

  “I wasn’t planning on any of this either,” I said, turning and jabbing a finger into his chest. “Tell you what…my britches would fit him just fine. Maybe loose in the hips and waist, short in the leg. I’ll walk around in your shirt. That work?”

  He swore.

  A moment later, Chang said in a smooth voice, “The chivalry is appreciated, Kit, but not necessary. You may turn. Your modesty is protected and Damon’s…baser urges should be satisfied.”

  I dared to look in his dire
ction and saw him pulling a pair of trousers over lean hips. They were too long, but he addressed that with a simple rip and jerk of the material.

  Then he caught up with us. “There’s a great deal of destruction going on inside. We should move.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Destruction.

  That was what Chang had said.

  Destruction.

  I wonder what he’d thought when he’d seen the aftereffects of WWIII.

  A minor skirmish?

  There were parts of the manor that were just…obliterated.

  Rubble and rock littered the path, along with scraps of fabric and bits of what might have plush Aubusson rugs, paintings. I couldn’t tell. What I knew about fine art was everything I’d learned about stealing fine art.

  Something sharp poked into my ankle through the thick leather of my boot but I ignored it, trailing along in Damon’s wake.

  But something made me stop.

  It was a prickle on my spine, making me freeze and I couldn’t go forward.

  Only back.

  I was crouched in the rubble when Damon returned, his hand coming down possessively on the back of my neck. “What are you doing?” he asked, hunkering down next to me.

  I’d picked up a scrap of cloth and was using it to whisk through the dirt, trying to clear whatever it was that had jabbed me.

  So far, I hadn’t been able to reveal it.

  But I would.

  I would.

  “Kit!”

  “Quiet” I snapped, going lower until my nose all but brushed the ground. My finger did—

  Power surged up.

  I gasped, startled by the intensity of it. So startled, I almost lost control and nearly fell.

  Damon’s grasp on my shoulders saved me and I slammed a hand against a thigh as hard as iron, breathing shallowly as power pulsed through me.

  Breathe. Must breathe, must breathe…

  Something the color of old bronze appeared under the dirt and rubble. Something…old.

  There was a wail.

  A roar.

  The ground under us shook.

  I wrapped my hand around the hilt.

  Damon grabbed me.

  Then a monstrous form covered both of us as all hell broke loose.