BROKEN BLADE Read online

  “Enough.”

  Megan tensed at the low, guttural growl. The tension spiking through the air seemed to hit her harder than me. Her shoulders bowed forward, but then she jerked them back, pride glinting in her eyes. She shoved past me, jamming her elbow into my stomach.

  I ignored it.

  I didn’t have time for her attitude.

  I went back to my seat, settling down.

  “I have some questions, starting with…just how do you know this woman is Pandora?” MacDonald’s eyes, coppery gold, rested on my face.

  “Because when I asked, she didn’t lie.” I met those eyes dead on. “And because I’m good at what I do. Very good. You should be aware of that after all this time.”

  Megan opened her mouth. MacDonald silenced her with a look. “Ms. Colbana, if she is who you claim, then I believe you. As you said, you are very good at what you do. What I want to know is this…why does it involve me? Or even any of us?”

  There we go. Time to get down to it.

  Alisdair just wanted the facts.

  “Have you heard of the Blooding?”

  None of them moved. None of them changed their expressions. But those words had an impact—I could feel it.

  All the knowledge Es had crammed into my head had finally settled into place and I could pick through it, understand it. It made sense in an odd, awful sort of way.

  MacDonald continued to watch me, but he hadn’t said a damn thing.

  “Well? Have you heard of it or not?” I asked. I damn well knew the answer.

  “Who hasn’t?” He gave me a condescending smile, one that was just a little too superior, a little too smug. It settled me, though. Odd how a smirk can make you feel a little more secure. Or maybe it’s just me. “Naturally I know of the Blooding. I received the standard education fitting for the leader of my kind, after all.”

  You’re a reject, Kit. We might not say it out loud in polite company—or around Damon—but you weren’t good enough. I am. He didn’t say those words. But I saw them echoed in the back of his eyes.

  Trying to piss me off? I just stared at him. It would take more than a clever little potshot to do it.

  The tension in the room was enough to choke me. It was going to get worse, I suspected.

  “How many wolves were created during the Blooding?”

  “Who knows? It was ages ago and the facts have been lost to—”

  “Ballpark figure is two-hundred thousand in Europe and Asia alone,” Damon said, his voice flinty and he gave MacDonald a look that said, Say anything. I dare you.

  MacDonald’s face turned to stone.

  “That’s just the figure for wolves.” Chang sipped from his water. I looked over at him but he was also watching MacDonald. “Asia is almost equal, as far as cats and wolves go, but it’s estimated perhaps one-hundred-fifty thousand cats were made. History says the shifters had to start spreading further out—migrating to Africa, Asia…even America.”

  Okay now that was interesting, but I didn’t have time to mess with history lessons.

  I watched MacDonald. “Do you know anything about the vamp population during that time?”

  His lip curled. “Why ever would I care?”

  There was no love lost between shifters and vamps. That was nothing new. Still, I suspected he did know the figure. He was a smart guy and smart people tended to cling to that old saw: know your enemy.

  “I’ve heard the figure was pretty damn high. They say vampire numbers skyrocketed. If you increased by a few hundred thousand, I guess it’s safe to say vampires increased by even more.” I watched his eyes as I spoke, saw the minute tightening. Yeah, he knew the numbers, alright. “It’s estimated that anywhere from seventy million to two hundred million humans could have died during the Black Plague. Of course with werewolves, you stand a better chance of surviving it if you’re healthy. If you have a disease, your chances go from about five percent to maybe…what, half a percent, even less?”

  “I’m not a statistician or a doctor, Ms. Colbana. I don’t know.”

  I saw the knowledge burning in his eyes, though.

  “You still added a hell of a lot of people.” Leaning forward, I murmured, “Seventy-five million, MacDonald. If even one percent of that number had a chance at surviving the plague and one of your kind, or a vampire showed up in the night…? Panic must have been running high then. You think they made a million new vampires? Two million?”

  “It was easily a million.”

  I slid Chang a look. He didn’t look at me as he rose from the table. “Vampires all but decimated Europe during the Blooding,” he said quietly, moving to stare outside. “Shifters keep an excellent written history, second only to the historians of the Green Road. We remember our enemies very well. The Black Plague wasn’t solely responsible for all those deaths, Kit. It was vampires ravaging so much of Europe. But they didn’t want the sickly people—those who would die. They wanted a healthier sort for their dungeons. For feeding, for sex. As the plague ravaged the mortal population, they looked to a healthier sort and started targeting weres. I believe the Order of Witches even has data about how their number decreased during those years.”

  I stared at him. “Witches would have been able to handle the plague better than mortals. Heal it themselves or be healed by their houses.”

  “The plague wasn’t the predator,” he said, looking at me, his liquid eyes full of ugly truths.

  It was no wonder most of the world over hated vamps. “They hunted witches, then.”

  “I don’t have factual references of that.” He inclined his head. “But we do have a written history going back about our kind. Yes, our numbers increased…they had to, if we wanted to make a defense against the leeches who were trying to enslave any warm-blooded creature they could get their hands on.”

  “So it was forced on able-bodied mortals, then.”

  Chang stared at me. “I don’t know how they were selected. But if somebody hadn’t stood against the vampires who were killing thousands by the night, then they had to do something. The plague killed millions…but it’s suspected that many deaths attributed to the plague were actually people who were killed by vampires. It was just more expedient to blame it on the plague rather than bloodsuckers.”

  “This is all very interesting.”

  Megan delivered that statement with complete sincerity. The smile on her pretty face was one hundred percent believable. And as I swung my head around to look at her, even though I didn’t see it in her eyes, I knew exactly what she was thinking.

  Just get this over with.

  “But again, what does any of this have to do with Pandora…and what does she have to do with us?”

  I shifted in my chair and debated just what I should say.

  Not all that long ago, Es had told me to trust myself. Even thinking of her left a hollow emptiness in my heart. “Pandora took her last body during the Black Plague…and I think you guys got a power charge off it.”

  I had their attention now.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I didn’t quite get around to telling them that they might be susceptible to whatever weird magics Pandora possessed.

  I managed to fill them in on what Es had said happened when she took over a body and they somehow caught the leftover power—maybe it made it easier for the shifters to change sick people, for vampires to successfully bring more humans over, I don’t know. The atmosphere in the room as I finished that explanation wasn’t a cheery one.

  And it would only get worse. But as I moved onto to tell them about Clara, the sweet, pretty, pregnant girl who was about to become a target—might already be a target—a roar echoed from somewhere off in the Lair.

  A split second later, there was a cat’s scream, defiant and enraged.

  That might not have bothered me.

  But I felt the prickle of magic and Damon was already climbing to his feet, a dark, angry look on his face.

  Closing my eyes, I rubbed the spot between my b
rows and stood up, looking over at Damon. “Tell them to stand down.”

  A storm gathered in his gaze as he swung his head around to look at me.

  “Tell them to stand down, Damon, or you’re not going to like what he does,” I said softly.

  Justin wasn’t close to us, not yet. I would have sensed him before now if he was, but I knew the man’s magic.

  When Damon didn’t answer me, I said softly, “He will end up killing whoever gets in his way if they aren’t very, very good, Damon. How many cats have you got that can stand up to high magic?”

  There was another roar. It was deeper this time—a different were had attacked. The roar went on and on and on—and then, abruptly, it ended. I didn’t like that.

  Since he hadn’t answered me, I decided to help him out. “You can do it. Chang could.” I flicked a glance at Doyle. “In time, the kid can. Your enforcers and probably a handful of your more elite fighters can do it. But he’ll cut through as many of them as he has to, just because he feels like it. What’s the point?”

  “If he needs to see me, he can make an appointment,” Damon said, his voice flat.

  “He’s not here for you. He’s here for me.” I moved away from the table and grabbed my sword as I headed for the door. “I don’t face high magic on my own. He’s working with me.”

  I felt his shock, his fury. At the door, I paused and looked back at him. “Didn’t you hear the word partner earlier? If I’m back in, I work the jobs with the tools I’ve got at my disposal. Justin’s a damn good tool.”

  The ground under my feet trembled. Closing my hand around the door knob, I said, “And that tool just might make the place come down around your ears if you don’t tell your people to stand down.”

  I wasn’t surprised when they joined me.

  Damon pushed in front of me and I read the rage in every part of his body. Oh, well.

  I followed my gut, which usually didn’t steer me wrong, yet somehow managed to get me in a lot of trouble. This time, it led me to the courtyard. It hadn’t even been a year since I’d had my first confrontation with Damon in this very place. It looked different now and not just because Justin had thrown up a barrier ward. They’d done some decent landscaping and it looked lush and welcoming—not like a place only a queen would be allowed.

  Not that it was terribly welcoming right now.

  The barrier ward shimmered and I wondered if they could see it.

  A cat came streaking out of the Lair and lunged for Justin.

  He hit the ward, crashing into it with a whine low in his throat.

  That answered my question.

  “Tell Harry Potter if he fucks up my cats any more, I’m going to rip him apart,” Damon said, his voice just barely above a growl. He crossed his arms over his chest and stood there, legs spread, menace all but pouring from him.

  “I’m not your messenger girl, Damon.”

  Still holding my blade, I approached the ward, taking in the feel of it. Strong, yeah. Designed to stand against those who presented a threat. Okay. That left me wiggle room. I wasn’t going to threaten Justin, and I wasn’t a threat to the sleek little creature crouched across from him—she wasn’t hurt. At all. Probably went in after the injured one and that was why the barrier hadn’t hurt her. She was a delicate little thing. Judging by her coloring and body type, she looked like a serval. I’d seen a few of them before.

  The serval opened her mouth and screamed at Justin but didn’t move. I frowned as I noticed the big golden cat she was standing guard over.

  His blood pooled around her feet.

  I tapped the tip of my blade against the ward.

  Justin didn’t look at me.

  “Heya, Kit.” A wild, reckless grin split his face. Magic danced in the air and his dreads were drifting around him, caught in that field of energy. I wanted to tell him to suck it in, but that wasn’t smart. Not here. Not now. “I have news for you. Just wanted to talk to you and these asses weren’t letting me in the door.”

  “I see.” I nodded and looked around the barrier. So far, the only injured party was the unconscious cat the female was guarding. “So what did you do?”

  “Since they wouldn’t let me through the door, I made my own.”

  Feeling the heat along my spine, I dodged forward. The ward didn’t fight me. I felt it sting my flesh and that lasted about twenty seconds, but I tolerated it and glanced back at Damon in time to see him curl his hand into a fist, staring at me through the ward’s glimmering presence. I suspected he could see some echo of it. Some shifters were more sensitive to magic than others. Damon was one of them. He didn’t like it, but he could still pick up on it.

  For a second, he just stared at me and then he laid a hand just above where the ward began. “It’s going to hurt,” I warned him.

  Then I gave him my back.

  Telling him not to try and muscle in would be a waste of breath.

  The ward started to spark.

  Justin’s grin took on a meaner slant as he slid me a look. “I wasn’t going to cause any problems, but they were in my way.”

  “Did it occur to you to call?”

  “I did.” He shrugged. A grim look entered his eyes as his gaze lingered on my face. “You didn’t answer.”

  Then he looked away, but not before I caught an echo coming from him. A twist of nightmare and darkness—memories. I knew him too well not to understand. The last time he’d tried to call me and hadn’t gotten a hold of me, I’d disappeared and he’d had to help track me across a continent. Swallowing, I looked away. This wasn’t the time or place for either of us to have those sorts of bad moments.

  Magic groaned, screamed and I shifted my attention upward, staring at the domed ceiling of the ward as it sparked again. There was an ominous little shriek, something jagged and biting, like claws drawing down metal.

  I reached into my pocket for my phone only to stop as I realized I didn’t have it with me. Well, hell. “I think I left it in the car.”

  “Yeah.” Justin didn’t look worried about the ward, but there was still a world of tension gathered inside him. If we didn’t get him leveled out soon, somebody would get hurt. “You’re out of practice, Kitty-kitty.”

  “Tell me about it.” I eyed the two cats, the fallen one and the female serval standing guard over him.

  “He’s fine. Just a headache.” Justin looked past my shoulder and that wicked light in his eyes made him look almost demonic. “Your boy over there is sweating a bit, Kit.”

  I looked back.

  Damon was indeed sweating, a fine sheen of it breaking out along his forehead as he continued to push against the ward. “You think it’s going to do you any good to have him break through? He doesn’t want to come in and discuss the weather or the stock market. He’s pissed—you hurt one of his cats.”

  “No.”

  Arching my brows, I swung my head back around and waited.

  “I hurt three of them.” Justin shrugged. “The other two are out on the grounds. Don’t worry. They’ll all be fine.” He rolled his head back and forth, cracking his neck and I saw the shimmer of silver dancing over his sleeves as he readied the magic. “And I didn’t hurt the little serval over there either. I just fucked up the ones who got my way.”

  “That’s typical.” This could get so ugly, so fast. “Will you behave, please?”

  I had visions in my head of him wrapping all that silver around Damon—he could shred the flesh from a shifter’s bones with that much. He and Damon might be a match in a fight, I didn’t know. But I didn’t want to see this.

  “You take all the fun out of my life, Kit.” Then he sighed. “As long as no more of them come gunning for me, I’m fine. I’m here on official business, after all.”

  I frowned and glanced at him. He smiled and tapped the badge he’d affixed to the pocket of his jeans.

  Perfect.

  He had his Assembly ID with him. He’d kept up his investigator status—either that, or it was one hell of a forger
y. Damon’s people really hadn’t had any excuse to deny him the right to speak with me. Maybe they didn’t have to show him inside, but they could have used the phone.

  And I could have mine with me, I thought sourly.

  “Let the damn ward down.”

  He sighed. A split second later, my ears and my skin buzzed as he sucked all that magic back inside him.

  The angry, crawling presence of a dozen shifters made my head ache. “He’s on official business.” I turned to face Damon, folding my arms over my chest and putting on the best bitch face I could muster. “Any reason why he was turned away when he asked to speak with me?”

  “You going to hide behind that fucking budge?” Damon asked, his voice silky, his gaze locked on Justin.

  “Nah.” Justin tugged it off and tossed it in the air, spinning it with his magic. “I’d be happy to toss in the dirt and go a round with you. But…well. Priorities and shit.”

  Then he looked at me, his grass-green eyes glowing. “I got news on the vase, Kit.”

  “What?”

  He leaned in, his voice low. It didn’t matter. Everybody there would hear, even if he spoke in a whisper. “It was stolen by a couple of witches teamed up with a vampire house. Most of them are dead now.” He glanced past me, his gaze landing on Damon for just a fraction of a second. “But the vase was in the possession of Samuel Allerton before he died. He had it in under lock and key. When he died, it passed to the next in line of his house. A vamp by the name Amadeus.”

  “Amadeus.” Closing my eyes, I tried to focus on something other than the fact that I now had to contend with vampires, not just crazy ancient magic hell-beasts. “A vampire named Amadeus.”

  My gut cramped. Fear started to scream inside my head.

  A hand, hard and brutal, closed around my arm. Dimly, as Justin’s magic jolted through me, I heard deep, guttural growls coming from all around. Not from Damon, though. He was silent as stone. I feel his gaze boring into us, although I didn’t dare look at him.

  “Maybe we’ll find a Beethoven, too,” I said, forcing the words out of my tight throat.