Misery's Way: A Kit Colbana World Story Read online

  “Yes.”

  He glanced at Kit and then back at me. “Are you human?”

  “Do I look human?”

  He snorted. “That doesn’t mean much. I look human.”

  “Boy, you are human.” I gestured to Saleel. “He was … once.” Then I shrugged. “You, for all your magic, aren’t as far from human as you think. Kit … you’re not so different either. Even the shapeshifters with their fangs and their fur … they aren’t as different as all that. Vampires, that’s where it gets harder. But … no, I’m not human. I never was. As for what I am? Don’t ask. It’s not even on the books.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.” Kit snorted. “Okay, then. We’re done here.”

  “No.”

  “No.”

  She wasn’t surprised by my denial.

  But when Justin caught her arm, she gaped at him.

  “We are leaving,” she said, her voice low and hard.

  “We’re not.” He continued to stare at me. “I’m not telling you who told us about you—she’s not a threat to you, couldn’t be if she tried. It’s not in her nature. She just heard somebody was conning cancer victims—she’s got … personal concerns there so we promised we’d look into it.”

  I rolled that around for a moment and then nodded. “Okay, I can accept that. Now … how did you find me?”

  “It’s not hard to find a faith healer in a giant tent,” Kit said, her voice waspish.

  “Oh, but it is.” I started to drum my nails on the arm of the couch. “At least when that faith healer is me. I’ve worked hard to make it that way. People chase shadows trying to track me down once I leave an area.” I glanced at Saleel and smiled. “It’s a particular gift of Sal’s.”

  “Yeah? Well, I’m good at finding things.” Kit glared at us both, her chin jutted up in challenge. “Call it a particular gift of mine.”

  Huh.

  I fought the urge to shoot a glance at Saleel—or upward. Fate sometimes had a way of taunting me. “Is that true? You’re good at … locating things? People?”

  She stared at me, the silence dragging out into a mutinous battle of wills.

  “Kit.” The word came from the man at her side, a low murmur that managed to convey both a request and a plea—a thousand, unspoken things. A bond. I understood the bonds of friendship. It was just one of the things that bound me to Saleel.

  She looked at him and I watched as she sighed, then lifted her head as though seeking the answer somewhere above. Then she blew out a harsh breath and focused on me. “Yeah. I tend to luck out when it comes to things like that. Luck plays a lot into it, but it’s just part of what I am.” She gave me a brittle smile that held absolutely no humor. “Next question? Oh, yeah. You want us to convince you that we meant no harm to anybody earlier. Please.”

  She flicked a hand like she was swatting at a fly. “And just who were we going to hurt? That man who was already about to step into his grave? The old people who were ready to sign over their life savings if you’d just let them live long enough to see their great-grandbabies?”

  “I never take money from anybody!” I snapped.

  A slow smile curled her lips, and I could have kicked myself for letting her get under my skin.

  “I think you’re annoying,” I decided. Bracing my hands on my hips, I tapped out a rhythm with my nails as I pondered her. For no clear reason, I was suddenly amused. I think I liked her. No, I did. I started to chuckle. Feeling Saleel’s gaze on me, I glanced at him. “She’s bold as brass. She’s got to know we could grind them into paste if we wanted, and still she accuses me of being a thief.”

  “And you think that is … amusing?” Saleel ran a thumb across the sharp line of his chin, studying her. “I think it makes her stupid.”

  Still smiling, I moved closer. “She’s not stupid. I did the same things, didn’t I? Back with …” I paused and then glanced at Saleel. “You remember. I had no chance, but what was I to do, cower and beg? Silently accept my imminent death? That’s not in me.”

  Saleel’s brow lifted slightly. Then he made a slight flicking motion with one hand. It was the best I would get with him. But he didn’t have to like her. As long as he understood—he wasn’t to harm them.

  Looking back at Kit and her witch, I opened myself more fully to the parts of me that wanted to find those hidden hurts. Both parts were all but crouched, drooling for the feast I sensed lying within her. “There’s a piece of you missing.”

  I lifted a hand, curious.

  She tensed, but didn’t move when I touched a finger to her brow. “In the very back of this thick skull of yours.”

  She tensed. I saw the cords in her neck stand out, the muscles in her arms go tense. “I can see it,” I said, wondering when she’d pull away. “It’s this little hole. Have you felt it?”

  Her eyes flared wide now, so wide I could see the white all around the green, a thin, thin rim.

  “I don’t like it when people mess around inside my head.”

  “Oh, girl. I don’t have to mess around. It’s just there … I can see it.”

  I pushed harder.

  We both fell.

  Chapter Six

  Useless waste.

  Filthy pig.

  A child lay broken on the ground.

  I stood over her, watching.

  But I wasn’t alone.

  There was a woman.

  She didn’t see me, nor could she. I wasn’t truly there, in this memory I’d found.

  The child was thin, so thin. Her bones stood out against her cheeks like she was half-starved.

  “Such a weakling you are, Kitasa.”

  I jerked my head around to stare at the woman. She crooned the words, the way a parent would to a child, and she knelt down, but when she touched the shivering child, it was to jerk on an arm that was clearly broken.

  I braced myself for the screams.

  But the girl bit her lip bloody to keep from crying out.

  “Your mother should have strangled you with her cord.”

  “She hated me because my mother didn’t do just that.”

  I jerked around and found myself staring at an older version of the child on the dusty ground.

  She wasn’t a woman. Not yet.

  She was still just as skinny, malnourished, and she looked out of place with the tall, slim women around them. I wondered if they’d stunted her growth—clearly they hadn’t fed her well. I could see that simply by how pronounced her bones were, how hollow her face was.

  “I’m going to die soon,” she said.

  I waited.

  She wasn’t talking to me.

  She was talking to the child struggling to stand in the dirt.

  Then she turned and walked away.

  She walked and walked and walked …

  The memory seemed to take forever, but it didn’t.

  Darkness wrapped around us and we were falling. Down into a pit and the same woman was staring down at us.

  “You thought to escape that way, Kitasa. But you will not insult the family name like that. No, you will not.” Her laugh was like the song of a bird—a venomous, deadly bird—and she stared at us with malice. And the girl huddled against the pit’s wall, blood seeping from long, thin stripes that crisscrossed her skinny back.

  I went to touch the blood, mesmerized, desperate to feel it slick on my flesh, to spread it over my mouth and lips—I touched her and she screamed. I went to pull back and I fell. Throwing my arms over my eyes, I screamed, “I’m sorry!”

  But she kept screaming and screaming … When I lowered my hands, I saw that she was struggling against two men. Two men. No … I moaned under my breath, but before I break free of her memory, she broke free of her captives, a blade in her hand. Blood coated it and her, and I heard music. Music, and a voice. I am here. I am here. I am here.

  She went to her knees, older now, cradling the blade against breasts that hadn’t yet fully formed, and she started to sob.

  The dar
kness spun away and time and place reformed, always back to her, and that blade.

  A dozen memories, easy.

  She grew older, stronger. Yet … not hard.

  The blade became her strength and then …

  Him.

  The tall, pale vampire.

  “Is something missing, Kit?”

  He held the sword in his hand and I could feel her pain—Kit’s pain … and more, something from the blade as well. It had a sentience to it, that blade. It moaned in anguish for its bearer, and I could feel the two of them reaching for each other.

  But that channel had been torn apart.

  Mine! Kit’s heart was screaming it but that void in the back of her, that bloodied, raw void, had been torn open.

  It was broken.

  The vampire smiled, unholy glee lighting his eyes.

  Oh … I wanted to kill him for her. I wanted to. So badly.

  “Yes,” he whispered. “Yes, I think it is.”

  “Lock it in my chambers.” He tossed the sword to a woman nearby as he continued to smile at Kit. “Everybody … out.”

  I broke away.

  The pain was still screaming inside her but I had my limits—and she had her pride. I’d probably already smashed it enough as it was. She staggered and fell against the witch. He caught her and gave me a look that promised death.

  I ignored him and stared at her. “I can kill him for you.”

  I had my answer now. He wasn’t dead. Her fear of him still inside her like a caged beast, prowling and pacing, battling for freedom. And she fought it down. Every day.

  “Let me kill him,” I said.

  Kit shuddered and flexed her hand in what I now knew to be a habit—she’d once called her blade with that hand.

  She’d do it again.

  “Kit!” I snapped her name when she didn’t look at me.

  Sluggish, she lifted her head and I shoved back the guilt as I realized I’d pushed too deeply inside her head. I wasn’t going to feel guilty—not over this, because I was going to help her—on at least one thing, if she wouldn’t allow me the other. I suspected she’d need to do the other on her own. I could accept that, respect it, certainly.

  But that one thing …

  “Why don’t you just go fuck yourself?” she said wearily.

  “I can kill him,” I said again.

  She didn’t ask who. She was … too aware. She’d shared those memories along with me and she knew exactly who I spoke of.

  Her eyes widened slightly. But then she shook her head. “I … have these plans, see. Me. Maybe a rocket launcher.” Then a smile twitched her lips. “And Damon.”

  “Damon.” I scowled. An image formed in my mind.

  Justin’s lip curled. “If you change your mind, Kitty, I’m just as good as a rocket launcher.”

  She nudged him with an elbow and steadied herself, balancing on her own two feet.

  “As fun as this has been … I’d like to …” She pursed her lips as though considering the most diplomatic approach.

  Or perhaps not. “As fun as this has been, I’d like to get the hell out of here and never see you or Dr. Death over there again. Can we make that happen … like now?”

  “Dr. Death?” Saleel murmured.

  Dr. Death. I added that to my mental file. I liked it. It even suited him, in an odd sort of way.

  “You can go. Soon. But I make no promises on the second part of your request … because you will see me again. You see, Kit, you’ll owe me a favor.”

  “No.”

  “Oh, Kit.” I looked at her and watched as she braced herself.

  The witch realized something was up, too.

  Too bad.

  They didn’t have a chance.

  “I’m not asking.”

  Chapter Seven

  Don’t harm him and don’t kill him, I warned Saleel silently just before I moved.

  They were still struggling to act when I grabbed her.

  She was still drawing her sword when the air whooshed around us and we disappeared into the ether.

  We reappeared into the hot, bright light of the sun as it shone down on the Serengeti. I caught her face and dragged it up to mine. “This will hurt … the human brain is a delicate thing. Any sort of healing brings a trauma. Hey, stop that!” I had to let go of her with my right hand to catch her left before she could skewer me with that pig-sticker of hers.

  “Don’t make me break your hand now … trust me.” I grinned at her. “You’ll want to enjoy this, Kit.”

  I wrenched the blade from her hand and threw it, hard and far, the silver of it reflecting in the sun. Then, before she could draw another blade—and she had more, I could feel them—I shoved inside her head.

  If she was wholly human, I’d have to be more careful and take more time.

  But if she was wholly human, I probably could have intimidated her into being more cooperative.

  As it was, she was still struggling and calling me a whole slew of ugly names.

  That is … until I got to work.

  The brain is a complicated mess of neural pathways, connections, brain matter, and delicate vessels. I’ve been learning my way around that miraculous construction for decades now and it still confounds me. Her brain wasn’t entirely human, either—she hadn’t been born wholly human. That’s the thing. A shapeshifter who was turned? His brain still operates the same way. One who was born? The wiring is just the slightest bit different. His organs, just the slightest bit different. When things are different on that level, then you can argue that something isn’t human and maybe I’ll give you some points. Her brain? Not entirely human.

  It was delicate work, just finding my way to the injury. Delicate and time-consuming.

  Low grunts of pain came from her, and I paused to make sure I wasn’t doing her any serious damage. Healing wasn’t what you could call an exact science. Her heart raced fast, too fast, but steady. She was strong.

  And pissed—scared, so scared. The greedy little monster in me slurped and fed on that fear and there was nothing I could do for it, either. It was too hard to control that bitch when I was struggling to fix the ragged edges of the torn wound. It was a pinprick, really. If somebody had taken a medical scanner and peered inside her skull, they would have seen it. Seen it and been baffled by its presence, but really, magic has a scientific explanation. It’s one that is way over my head, but the explanation exists.

  The bits and pieces of her brain that had created the bond with her sword had been torn, twisted and severed. It was as if the witch who had severed the bond had reached inside her brain with some microscopic tool and wrenched at it, twisting and tugging as he went.

  It left a wound, one that was raw and open and slow to heal.

  Now I was knitting the injuries back together piece by piece.

  She passed out.

  It didn’t surprise me.

  This wasn’t much different than brain surgery—I just wasn’t cracking her skull open to do it.

  And, well, yeah. I’m completely self-trained. But, in my defense, I’m what you could call a natural at it.

  Finally, all the pieces lined up. They weren’t completely smooth because when something was ripped apart, it was hard to make it as it had once been. She was … together … just not whole.

  Inflammation lingered and I pushed more energy into her to speed that along the way. It would have been best if nature could take over here and she could sleep for a few hours—a few days—and let her body recover from what I’d done. But we weren’t staying here and I didn’t want to just dump her unconscious at her partner’s feet.

  Slowly, I eased her slack weight to the ground, taking a moment to look around.

  It had been an age since I’d been here.

  We were in Kenya. Locals called this place the Mara, if I recalled correctly. I came here so rarely, and I didn’t even let myself spend much time thinking about this place that called to me more than any thing or place else ever had.

&n
bsp; I hadn’t been born here—the place where I actually had been born had no name. Not one that humans could pronounce anyway. But this place, Kenya? This was the place I chose to call home. I lifted my face to the blue bowl of the sky, breathed in the hot air, let it flood my lungs.

  I couldn’t stay.

  Anytime they found me, it was because I’d come back here.

  But for a few short moments, it was safe.

  I’d needed the solitude to heal her … and maybe, the few, brief moments of peace. Anytime I returned here with Saleel, I had nothing but his incessant harping—We cannot stay, mistress. Why are we here, Frankie? If even one creature shows its eyes, I will kill it … yes, my angel, even a lion.

  I laughed softly to myself.

  He was my strength and my sanity, even as he drove me to the very limits of my patience.

  At my feet, the young woman made a low, grunting sound and I focused my attention back on her. “Let’s wake you back up, girl,” I said quietly.

  As much as I hated it, it was time to leave.

  Tapping her on her cheek, I called her name. “Kit. Come on, Sleeping Beauty. It’s time to wake up.”

  She made a disgruntled noise, and I tapped her harder.

  “Wake up, Kit.”

  She was still glaring at me when I pushed her sword into her hands a few moments later.

  She was ghastly pale and her eyes were glassy and I suspected her head felt like I’d ripped it open, tap-danced inside it, and then sewn it back together using a knitting needle.

  I couldn’t blame her for glaring at me.

  But when she started acting stupid, that was a problem.

  A low, ugly whisper started to hiss and echo inside my skull, and I caught her arm. “Come on. It’s time to go,” I said, looking around. I had to find the point where we’d arrived. It was the easiest way for me to leave here, and it would cause less of a ripple—meaning it would be easier for me to hide the signs of my passage.

  The whisper in the back of my head got louder.

  And she jerked her arm away. “Get … off.” She had to stop and swallow in between words and her ghastly color took on a green cast.