Shadowed Blade (Colbana Files Book 6) Page 6

  I’d spent more than half of my life at Aneris Hall, located on a remote island, protected from mortal eyes. Set apart from even the closest country, it might as well be trapped in a time from centuries past. Modern comforts, technology, none of that had any sway.

  “Colleen says you’re good to travel. Do you feel up to it?”

  Instead of answering right away, Justin finished the soup and set the bowl aside. His vivid green eyes locked on my face and he eased higher up in the bed, pinning me in place with his gaze.

  “I can travel. But I want answers. I think you owe me that.” His gaze slid from me to Damon at my hesitation. “Your man got any idea how close you came to being flambé, Kitty?”

  “Don’t.” I pointed a finger at him. “You’re not going to wield him over my head.”

  Still, I felt Damon’s gaze cut toward me. I’d managed to put him off, because I knew I’d get it from Justin and I didn’t want to get hammered twice today.

  Justin eased a knee up and braced his elbow on it, staring me down. The intimidation factor would have been considerably more if he hadn’t looked so sallow. He was considerably paler than normal—his mixed race normally gave him a nice, warm glow, but he looked rough and raw.

  His eyes, though, they were unblinking. “For the record, I’m not threatening anything. I’m just wondering if he can offer some insight about this bullshit job. He hasn’t ever come running quite so fast before—protective as he is, he knows you can take care of yourself. Which makes me think he’s worried about this job.”

  Now he slanted Damon a measuring look.

  Damon’s face was an unreadable mask, but I had a bad feeling that Justin’s logic was right on the mark.

  “I don’t think it’s the job.” I resisted the urge to pull out a knife and make it dance. “I think it’s my client—he doesn’t like him.”

  Neither do I.

  “Okay. Give me some more insight then. We were supposed to be providing surveillance.” Justin’s voice grew hard. “Surveillance, Kit. You see only one person coming and going and two days into the job, things go sideways and the target turns the tables on us. Turns out she’s a witch with a very unique power and somebody I’d written off as dead. When we finally get her cornered, she looks at me like she doesn’t know me, then she commits suicide right in front of us. And then—”

  “Okay.” I cut him off. I don’t know what drove me to interrupt him before he could mention the nameless woman who had had sent us a warning—not once, but twice. I knew in my gut she was the woman who’d called me with that vague warning to move…right before the salamander came calling. “Okay. Just…shit, Justin. Breathe before you make Colleen come in here and throw us out.”

  Shoving off the bed, I paced over to the window. I wanted more time to think this all through, but I didn’t have it. Damon watched me from under his lashes and I knew I was going to get a whole lot of questions from him. Every time I thought I might be able to avoid dragging him into what I did, something else happened.

  “I wasn’t—” I stopped and shook my head. I didn’t even have any idea to go about explaining this. We were in a place that was a secure as I could hope to find. And yet, I didn’t want to talk about this here. Or anywhere.

  He deserves to know why.

  Squaring my shoulders, I turned to face him. “While you were taking your week long beauty rest, I took on a very unusual…client. He wanted to hire me exclusively, but I told him that wasn’t happening but he did put me on retainer—paying…insanely well.”

  “At this point, I’ve worked two other jobs; both were simple surveillance jobs, lasting no more than two days. He’s told me most of the jobs would be in that vein, odd jobs, surveillance jobs, typically. But occasionally he would send me after people who might be able to offer some insight on Blackstone.”

  Justin’s eyes sharpened at that. I now had his undivided attention.

  Blackstone had been on our radars for months now.

  “I’ll admit, the only reason I found it at all appealing was because of the possible connections to Blackstone.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I turned back to the window. Misgivings had shown up fast and hard, especially once he’d tried to get me to work exclusively for him—he’d even offered lodgings closer to D.C. Right in the thick of things, he’d claimed, would be more convenient. My gut had shrieked a warning at that.

  “If it wasn’t for the hope that I might get closer to Blackstone, I would have told him to fuck off. Albeit a bit more diplomatically.”

  “Kit, you wouldn’t know diplomatic if it bit you on the ass.” Justin snorted.

  “True enough, but this time I would have managed. You see… this client was somebody who could cause trouble for a lot of people.” I looked back at him, slicking my suddenly damp hands down the sides of my trousers.

  Justin canted his head to the side. “Yeah, who was it? The president? I don’t see anybody else making you go for diplomacy.” He flicked at something on the sheet.

  No doubt, Justin had expected his sarcastic comment to be met with an equally sarcastic reply.

  “Yes.”

  The absolute lack of humor in my voice caught his attention and slowly, he looked up.

  A few seconds of dead silence passed. Finally, he tried for a smile. “You’re bullshitting me.”

  “No.”

  “I only wish.” Now I moved closer to the bed, unconsciously hugging myself. “And you want to hear something else? The man is not human.”

  Justin came off the bed, moving too quick for his injured body to protest the movement, although the moment his brain registered it, he was pale and clutching his ribs. Swaying on his feet, he floundered for something to steady himself.

  Damon was already there, nudging him down none too gently. “Stay on your ass, you idiot.” He remained where he was, eyes on me.

  Justin didn’t even respond, clutching at his side, face pale from strain—but I don’t think he really registered the pain. He stared at me in dumbfounded shock. “That’s not possible, Kit. Whitmore is human.”

  “No, he’s not.”

  Justin shook his head. “I’ve met him, Kit. He bleeds red, white, and blue and has a great big fuck you to anything not human.”

  Now it was my turn to look dumbfounded. Shifting my attention to Damon, I tried to make the adjustment from what Justin was telling me to what I’d seen for myself.

  A discreet knock on the door kept me from thinking too long.

  Head spinning, I tried to make myself move over to open it, but Damon got there before I did.

  One of the witches from Red Branch stood there. She gave Damon a deferential nod and held out a phone. “Your second in command would like to speak with you. He tells us that you’re not answering your cell.”

  Damon just nodded and took the phone.

  She hesitated a moment and then offered, “The line is secure, Alpha. We respect the privacy of our fellows.”

  Then she left, pulling the door shut behind her.

  I dropped down to sit on the edge of the bed, shoving my hands into my hair and tugging at it rhythmically in hopes of jarring loose some key bit of information.

  “You’re sure, Justin?”

  “Yeah.”

  Damon spoke in low tones to Chang, but we could both hear him—Damon at least. I heard Chang, too, and they weren’t even a minute into the conversation when my gut went cold and tight.

  Slowly, Damon looked up, pinning me with a grim look. “Apparently your client is having trouble getting a hold of you, Kit. Any reason why that might be?”

  “My phone was damaged.” By my foot. I didn’t add that part in.

  Damon gave a nod and repeated that back to Chang.

  I heard Chang promising to relay the message.

  “Is he getting pushy?” I demanded.

  “Nothing I can’t handle, Kit.” I heard the polite amusement in his voice as he answered my question before resuming his conversation with his Alpha. “Damon, w
ill you be back soon?”

  “Yeah.” He focused on me, eyes thoughtful. “Do me a favor, Chang. Start trying to see what you can uncover about her…client. Everything. But be very, very quiet about it.”

  “And here I thought traipsing about like a bull in china shop would be more fitting,” Chang said calmly. “As it would happen, I’ve been reaching out to my sources already. Some unsettling information has reached my ears. I thought it would be best to see what is going on.”

  Damon’s response was a grunt. He disconnected without saying anything else and then he tossed the phone down.

  “How was your phone damaged?”

  “It met an unfortunate ending with my boot heel.” With a nonchalant shrug, I flicked the question away as though it meant nothing. “I haven’t gotten around to replacing it yet.”

  “Unfortunate. I guess that explains why you haven’t touched base with me, either.”

  With a brilliant smile, I said, “It does.”

  The smile faded, though, and fast as I focused back on what Justin had said. “When did you meet him?”

  “Before he became our esteemed president. He was just a lowly congressman.” Justin shifted around and braced his back against the headboard, eyes dark and grim. “But he was most definitely human, Kit. I was brought in back when I was still with Banner. He’d had somebody sending his office…well, we can’t call them threats. They were more ominous warnings than anything else. The writer was smart, knew how to walk the right line. Turns out it was somebody who worked for him—kid’s mother was a witch, she’d died in the wars. The kid had ended up in the foster care system…long story short, hid all this hate and ended up getting an internship for the guy. When Whitmore found out, he belted the kid before any of us could stop him, attacked him. The look in his eyes...”

  Justin shrugged. “As it was, because of the way Whitmore had acted, the kid ended up getting a slap on the wrist. Now leads one of the larger activist groups for NH rights. But I had my hands on Whitmore, Kit. I touched him. He’s all human.”

  The taut silence was so thick, I thought it would choke me.

  Damon was the one who broke it when he asked, “Did he know you were bringing Justin?”

  “No.” Shaking my head, I crossed my arms over my chest and tilted my head back, staring upward. “Justin showed up about an hour after the call. I almost told him no, but I had a feeling...”

  Justin swore.

  I leveled my head and stared at him.

  But he had closed his eyes. “You and your damn feelings, Kit.”

  I didn’t have anything to say to that.

  Chapter Eight

  Hauling ass to Orlando didn’t really appeal, but sitting within the confines of the safety of Red Branch didn’t appeal either.

  They’d been decent enough to take us in, but Justin and I—or at least I—had some weird sort of target on my ass and if I was going to draw attention to myself, better to do it somewhere else.

  So I’d do it at home. With other non-involved parties.

  That idea didn’t settle all that great either, but home was where you went when trouble came calling, or some shit like that. I thought. Besides, something weird was going on and neither Justin nor I could hope to untangle it if I kept my head tucked down.

  I’m pretty sure Damon would rather me untangle things back there anyway—then he can tear off the heads of anybody who decides to try to come at my back, and damn the consequences.

  Granted, that wasn’t the way to handle this.

  And Justin thought I couldn’t be diplomatic.

  Once I’d gotten back to East Orlando, I’d made him stop so I could get a new phone. Colleen and Justin had broken off some miles behind us, Colleen driving Justin’s car. One of the witches from Red Branch had promised to deliver her car within a week or so after she’d voiced some reserve about letting him drive alone.

  I doubted he’d pass out behind the wheel, but I wasn’t going to point that out to a healer. There were some people you just didn’t argue with. Ogres. New mamas. A healer with her charge. A woman in love. I wondered if she’d ever tell him.

  Of course, once or twice, I’d seen him looking at her in a certain way and I had to admit, I wondered if it was necessary. He didn’t let her see it, though. Maybe Justin was determined to keep himself closed off. He and I had once had a thing, but I’d been…safe, I think. He’d known what we had wouldn’t last. If he let himself fall for Colleen, that would last.

  And love was scary.

  Screw facing psychotic vampires or sociopathic first-water demonesses. Love was the thing that could do a person in.

  I should know. The biggest weakness I had was eying the piece of shit phone I’d bought with the same look I might have given a dime-store knife.

  “You plan on using that?”

  “Yes. Because if I end up having to trash it, I don’t want to be out a decent phone.” I sliced through the packaging and popped the device out. While it wasn’t exactly a throw-back to earliest days of cellular communication, it was the very bottom of the bottom line. That was fine. It would take calls and make calls. It would take texts and make texts. No video. That was fine. Right then, it seemed wise to keep my communication with one Mr. Whitmore—or maybe one pseudo Mr. Whitmore—very limited.

  “What’s the issue with the phone?” Damon asked, his level voice not quite hiding the tension inside him.

  I caught my lower lip between my teeth, let it roll out as I pondered my answer. Finally, I said, “If it wasn’t for the fact that you can scent track, if I wanted to hide from you, you’d never find me.”

  His hands blanched. That’s how tight they went on the steering wheel. Something cracked, and I reached up, resting my hand on his arm. “Relax, I’m not trying to say something here.”

  “Then out with it,” he said, voice ragged.

  “I…” Blowing out a breath, I rested my head on the pillowed back of the seat. “If I got in a car and drove and drove and drove, made sure to not stop long enough for my scent to catch, just kept on moving, eventually, it would be impossible for anybody to find me, except for Doyle. Even he would have to have help right now.”

  Doyle was Damon’s ward—and oddly enough, somehow kin to me. I didn’t understand that; maybe I never would. But he was the only other person like me—aneiri—outside my native home that I’d ever met. That he would be here, in the place I had decided to call home after years of running was beyond unsettling and I was starting to wonder if maybe it wasn’t just coincidence.

  My kind had been created to hunt, to track…to kill. Assassins, thieves, we moved in the shadows, lived in them. We were as home there as a fish was in water. At least, the good ones were. But I’d never been a very good aneira.

  My half-human side had made me repugnant in the eyes of my kin and that was why I’d left. Still, I couldn’t leave behind the parts that were ingrained.

  “Nobody has ever been successful in hunting me down if I didn’t want to be found,” I said softly. “But that witch?”

  I looked over at Damon. “She found us. Both Justin and me.”

  Damon frowned, shooting me a look before focusing back on the road. He slowed, taking the final turn that would lead us to the Lair. “Any number of reasons could explain that.”

  “True enough. But not long after I ditched those phones, she tried a new tact. I don’t think it was just coincidence. It’s possible she could have locked onto the cell signal being emitted from the phones, but both Justin and I use scramblers. It wouldn’t be that easy for the typical Jones to locate somebody using their phone.”

  Damon’s lips quirked up.

  I rolled my eyes, already suspecting I’d messed up the phrase, but I didn’t care. “Justin could do it. I doubt I’d be able to. Would this witch have the knowledge? Would you?”

  “Is that your subtle way of asking if I track you?”

  “No.” As the car slowed to a stop in front of the Lair, something in me relaxed. Home.
Safe. I could breathe for a little while. Could think. Plan. “If you wanted to track me, you’d put Chang on it. Then I’d find out and kick you in the balls.”

  “Exactly. But no…I couldn’t figure it out. I’d have to put Chang on it.” He slanted a look at me. “No, I’ve never asked him. I know you’d find out and kick me in the balls.”

  I smiled at him as I reached for the handle. “You understand me so well.” Before I could get out, he reached over, caught my hand.

  “You need to think long and hard before you accept any more jobs from this guy, kitten.”

  “Technically, once tomorrow comes around, I’m not required to.”

  “He’s going to try to twist you up. Be ready for it.”

  Tension gathered at the base of my neck, pulsating like a bomb waiting to explode. “I already am.”

  I put off calling Whitmore. I needed a good night’s sleep in my own bed—without stressing about things—and I needed to think. I could put him off too—because, hey, he didn’t have my number.

  That wouldn’t stop him from knowing I was in town if he had goons watching—assuming the goons were any good, so I opted to err on the side of caution. I assumed they were good and pulled out all the stops, leaving Damon’s without telling anybody, including him the next day.

  When I didn’t want to be seen, I simply wouldn’t be seen. Although it didn’t work all that well if I decided to drive.

  Cars being driven by invisible people caught attention.

  There were remotely operated vehicles, but they weren’t often seen driving around in East Orlando. The licenses to handle such a vehicle were pricey, and NHs were deemed to unreliable to responsibly use much of the drone-operated tech that existed in the world.

  That was fine.

  Most of us preferred to be more hands-on with things anyway.

  But it did mean I couldn’t get into a car and pretend it was driving itself.