Assassin's Mask

by Everly Frost

  Slade did a very thorough job of cleaning me up.

  I lean against the sink, squeezing my eyes closed, trying to forget the way his thumb grazed my side, my hip, my thigh… The way he didn’t seem to know he was doing it…

  I shove the sensation away, focusing instead on the physical pain. In the last two days, I’ve taken a death blow and multiple bullets. My body is wrecked.

  A growl of frustration rips through me. The bullets hurt less than the mask Slade wears when he looks at me. I never intended to come back to Boston, but now I need to stay. Somehow, I have to find a way to live with him in my life.

  I head to my room, pull the Valkyrie Vade from the large pocket inside the jacket that Slade gave me, and curl up on my bed with it. I’m grateful for the jacket and I’m actually looking forward to receiving the clothing he’s going to send me. The best thing about assassin’s clothing is all the secret pockets.

  The Vade is similarly designed to the Coda with a lock on the side that opens at my touch. It’s smaller than the Coda, but thicker. The aura around the book is a strong glow, every page infused with magic.

  I half hope it isn’t written in code but… it is. The pages are filled with illustrations and each is made up of tiny words, none of which make any sense. I carefully turn the pages until I reach the same illustration that is in the Keres Coda. It depicts a woman holding two babies—one in the crook of each arm—while a single feather floats on each side of her. I was distracted the first time I saw this image, but now I have time to study it.

  The babies’ delicate wings are tucked tightly to their sides, but what surprises me is that the one on the woman’s left hip is Valkyrie while the one on her right is Keres.

  As for the feathers, the one floating in the air beside the Keres baby is silver, while the feather floating in the air beside the Valkyrie baby is copper.

  I run my fingertips across the drawing.

  Who is this woman to hold both children in her arms as if she loves them?

  I jump when William appears in the doorway. That’s the second time someone has crept up on me today. My reflexes have definitely taken a beating.

  He says, “That drawing confuses me. I haven’t decoded it yet but I’m determined that I will.”

  The fact that I didn’t hear him approach tells me that my strength and senses are significantly dimmed because of the energy I’m using to heal. It’s okay for me to let my guard down inside the shop, but I’ll need to be on alert if I go outside again today.

  I ask, “No more customers?”

  “I’ve closed up for lunch.” He props himself on the end of the bed, pointing to the book as he says, “That illustration raises many questions.”

  I nod, agreeing with him as I say, “Like why she carries a child of each race, and why the birth feathers are on opposite sides.”

  William leans forward. “I have a theory that...” He suddenly frowns, his fingertips playing around the edge of the book. “Wait a minute... This is not the Keres Coda.”

  I hand it over to him with a smile. “It’s the Valkyrie Vade. Slade gave it to me.”

  William’s eyes widen as he runs his hands over the book in reverence. “He gave this up?”

  I nod and shrug. “I didn’t ask him to. He probably doesn’t know what it’s worth.”

  “Oh, he knows.” William sighs, his shoulders sagging where he sits. “When you were gone and the rumor started that he killed you, he came here. He tried to tell me that it wasn’t true.”

  I consider the regret on William’s face. “You didn’t believe him.”

  He grimaces. “I may have said some things I regret. I fear… I spoke too harshly.”

  He falls silent. I sit up a little, propping the pillow behind me and pulling my knees to my chest. “What did you say to him, William?”

  He gives a small shake of his head, closing the book and clasping it tight. “That he never deserved you. That you gave up something precious for him—your feather—to save his life. That he would never be worthy of it.” William meets my eyes. “Your mother was killed by her bond. I thought you had been, too.”

  There is so much regret in William’s expression and I would do anything to make it go away. He has been nothing but protective and kind toward me. Whatever he said to Slade was said in fear and pain. Pain that he thought I was dead, betrayed like Mom was betrayed.

  I unfurl from my position at the top of the bed. In the last two days, people have hugged me. A lot. But offering a hug is not something that I’m used to doing. It’s a form of affection that is completely foreign to me. Mom loved me but her love manifested in the form of training and instruction, in teaching me how to defend myself and how to fight. Just hugging me for the sake of hugging me… maybe it happened when I was little but not when I was older.

  I take a giant leap of faith as I reposition myself beside William, slide my arm around his back, and drop my head to his shoulder. “You thought you lost me.”

  “I did.” He tilts his head to mine, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “I didn’t know how I was going to get through that again…”

  I curl into his side, giving him the same feeling of warmth and security as he gives me. We are quiet until finally, he pats the book. “I also demanded the Vade from him. I told him he had no right to keep it. He said he would only give it to you.”

  I inhale and exhale. Slowly. “He kept his word.”

  “I misjudged him. And I fear I did some damage that I never intended. Words have power, Hunter. If Slade believes everything I said to him…”

  William places the book to the side and turns to place both his hands on my cheeks, a sudden urgency in his expression. “Hunter, I need to tell you what your Mom and I argued about. It was a long time ago, but it’s affecting your life now—”

  A sharp clatter from downstairs interrupts us.

  William and I freeze.

  I whisper, “I thought you said you closed for lunch? Is Tansy downstairs?”

  As soon as he shakes his head, I gesture for him to head across the hall to his room. He will be safe there while I check out what made that noise. Fallon threatened to come after everyone on Saber Lane. After Lady Tirelli’s failed attempt on the Guardian’s life this morning, I’m not taking any chances.

  Once William hurries away from me, I implement a full blur. It’s harder than usual, takes me longer to achieve; another sign that I’m depleted. I’m not sure how I can keep fighting today…

  I proceed cautiously down the stairs, painfully aware of my limitations. I can’t race into an ambush this time. I need to go on the defensive and conserve my energy. I creep down the stairs even though my blur hides any noise I make. I’m almost at the bottom when the scent of roses rises to meet me.

  Perfume. Lots of it.

  It smells like flowers but it’s… off somehow. Like it’s masking the scent of something… rotten.

  I press against the wall as I emerge into the downstairs, not sure what I’ll find.

  Everything is quiet.

  The door is closed.

  Nothing moves.

  But it’s not only the smell now. There’s a presence in the shop that is immense, powerful, and yet small and diminished at the same time, overwhelming but also weak, like a tornado and a puff of air, like death and life overlaid on each other. So many contradictions that my senses spin. I try to get a location on it, to pin it down, to find a shape in the air, but everything is perfectly clear, almost… too sharp.

  The oppressive force increases. The scent of roses becomes sickening, making my stomach turn. It’s as if the force is approaching my position. That is not possible. My blur is complete and can’t be detected. Whoever it is, they shouldn’t be able to see me.

  Unless I’m so depleted that I haven’t completely blurred after all. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. My defenses rise and my lips part as I spy my ledger, fallen on the floor not two paces away from me as if it was deliberately dropped where I couldn’t mi
ss it.

  It’s splayed open, the pen cupped neatly in the middle fold.

  In large letters scrawled across both pages, it says:

  You will come to me, Hunter. Or I will kill them all.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Rage spirals through me, but I control it, contain it, and hold it ready. I have one shot…

  I don’t know if the presence in the shop is Lady Tirelli herself or a thug she has sent to do her dirty work. Anyone can write in my ledger, but not anyone can blur like me.

  I whisper, “Lady Tirelli, you will never have what you want.” Not the Clave, not the books, not the Keres girl. None of it.

  I close my eyes and stop trying to see with my eyesight, stepping forward into the fumes, the scent growing stronger at double speed as if the owner of the perfume moves toward me at the same pace I am moving toward them… or her.

  The gap closes rapidly. One more step…

  My fist flies out.

  I connect with something solid. It’s metallic, some sort of blade. My other fist flies out, grabbing and holding tight to a wad of material encasing some sort of harness.

  I unleash my rage. My killing power sizzles through my hands. I sense a scream in the air, a quiet hiss, before whatever I held is yanked away from me. I’m ready for that, using my boot to land a solid hit, sensing something break before the presence retreats.

  The sickening scent of roses recedes in a rush.

  The door rips open so fast that the wooden surrounds crack and splinter, hitting the wall and shattering the glass panes.

  I race through the room after her, my boots crunching on broken glass. Her presence retreats up the street, taking with it a fading scream. I want to chase after her but I can’t. My strength is draining with every passing second that I maintain the blur. I let it go, materializing, my chest heaving with frustration.

  She’s going to get away.

  Five shops down, a figure stops in the middle of the street, broad shoulders, massive physique, all imposing male.

  I’ve never been so glad to see Cain Carter in my life.

  He drops the package he was holding, braces, pauses as if he’s sensing… and then charges left. He slams into the presence hard enough that it hits the bakery window, thudding against the window surround and cracking one of the panes. At the same time, Vlad storms from Tansy’s house, charging down the street. He barrels straight into the spot where gravity dictates that the intruder would land, his arms closing around something that he forces to the ground.

  His head snaps back as if she thumped him. He tips to the side, grabbing at air. Cain launches into the space above him, grabs at her… but comes up empty.

  As Vlad recovers, Cain casts around. Both of them are tense, paused and searching, before they shake their heads.

  She’s gone.

  Cain offers his hand to Vlad, a warrior’s grip to help him to his feet. As I lean against the broken doorframe, I try to harness my ability to hear their conversation but it’s like listening through mud. All I get are muffled snatches.

  “… got away…”

  “Wh… was it?”

  Cain points. “… Hunter… shop…” He retrieves the package he dropped and they both stride in my direction.

  I use the last of my strength to turn toward the inside of the shop and call out, “William! It’s safe now.”

  Then I brace against the doorframe and try to make it look like I’m leaning there because I want to.

  William clatters down the stairs behind me, appearing so quickly that I suspect he wasn’t safe in his room the whole time after all. His hand flies over his nose. Even with the door open, the room stinks.

  He asks, “What is that smell? Are you okay?”

  I lean in the open doorway, my fists clenched, my blood pounding.

  William’s eyes widen at the damage to the door. “Hunter?”

  Cain and Vlad reach us, both speaking at once. “What was that thing?”

  I say, “It was Lady Tirelli. I’m sure of it.”

  A dark frown descends over Cain’s face. “Then she knows how to blur.”

  Vlad growls under his breath. “She hijacks our ledgers and she blurs. She has to be a trained assassin.”

  Cain nods. “Which means there will be records of her somewhere. You said she started in your Faction. Could she have been a Dominion assassin?”

  “It’s possible. I’ll see what I can find.” Vlad gives me a quick once-over, pausing for the slightest moment, eyes narrowing. He glances at Cain, exchanging some sort of silent communication before he spins on his heel and strides back up the street.

  Cain imposes the full force of his stunning green eyes on me. “Vlad thinks you’re too proud to accept help, but I’m not afraid to offer. You’re hurt. Let me help you.”

  “I’m fine. I’m angry. She came here to threaten me.” There’s no point showing him my ledger—he can’t read it.

  Cain reaches out for me. “Anger is understandable, but you’re not fine. Let me…”

  I evade his hands with a quick backward step. Leaving the support of the doorframe was not a good idea. Pain shoots through my side as soon as I move. But I don’t need anyone’s help right now. What I need is to end that woman. “No.”

  He shakes his head at me and keeps advancing. For some reason, William doesn’t try to stop him, hurrying out of the way instead.

  What are they…?

  The pain in my side jabs again. I press it and… liquid. My hand comes away coated in blood. One of the bullet wounds must have opened up. Maybe more than one.

  Using my power just now must have tipped me over the edge.

  Dammit. I’m supposed to be invincible!

  I stand still, fixating on the ceiling as Cain veers toward the counter to place the package on it, then drops to a kneeling position in front of me and lifts the bottom of my shirt to examine the patched wounds.

  My heart sinks when I give them a quick glance. All of them are bleeding.

  He says, “William, do you have a medical kit?”

  William rushes away upstairs but I demand, “How do you know William?” To my knowledge, he and Cain have never met.

  “I’ve been here before.” Cain waves my question away. “Where do you want to do this, Hunter? Here on the floor or upstairs in your room?”

  I exhale. “Upstairs. But I can walk.”

  “I don’t believe you, but I’ll let you try.”

  “Oh, you’ll let me, huh?” I turn on my heel to prove my point and take each laborious step until I reach the top. Cain supports my back with one firm hand so I don’t topple backward, deftly producing his phone at the same time. “I need repairs at the Tomb Bookshop on Saber Lane immediately. The bakery window was also damaged. Glass and wood. Yep. Good.”

  When we reach the top of the stairs, he says, “My people will be here in the next few minutes to clean up and repair the damage. You can trust them.”

  “I… uh…” I scowl at him, disliking my sudden reliance on him. “Thank you.”

  He arches an eyebrow at me, wrapping an arm around my waist without asking my permission and supporting me along the hallway. “You’re welcome.”

  I push him away when I reach my bed, leveraging myself onto it. He lets me go, but only for a second, taking the medical kit from William as soon as he hurries into the room. Cain pulls out a pair of scissors and brandishes them at me. “Do you love this shirt or can I cut it?”

  “I’m not stripping off for you.” I’ve already done that once today. Not again.

  “Then I’m cutting it off.”

  “No, you are not cutting—”

  Rip.

  He snips the bottom of the shirt and tears it up to the neckline in two seconds flat.

  I grit my teeth at him. “You’re lucky I’m too tired to punch your lights out, Cain Carter.”

  He doesn’t respond, lifting the patches away, staring at the wounds beneath with widening eyes that quickly darken to a frown. He appears
genuinely upset.

  “Hunter… why weren’t these stitched? You can’t throw patches over wounds like these and expect them to heal.”

  It’s a good thing he’s not Slade or I’d have to answer his question. I meet William’s eyes across the top of Cain’s head. William’s worry hits me hard. He knows that I shouldn’t need stitches. My wounds have never opened up before. I’ve always healed quickly. Mom never needed stitches. I can only put it down to taking the death blow yesterday. It must have sapped my power more than I thought.

  Cain produces a needle and thread with a stony expression. “Slade and I are going to have a serious disagreement if he thinks he can send you home with a shoddy patch-up job like this.”

  I grab Cain’s arm, putting more strength into it than I can afford. “It wasn’t Slade’s fault. I wasn’t exactly a willing patient.”

  “Hmm.”

  I fixate on the ceiling again. “I’m not used to people helping me, Cain. And I’m not good at accepting help. You can’t blame Slade for that.”

  His expression softens. “Hunter Cassidy, if you were my woman, you wouldn’t think of it as ‘help.’ Loving someone is not about obligation.”

  I blink at the ceiling. There’s a speck in my eye. A hot, watery speck. Damn, he’s going to make some woman very happy one day.

  He squeezes my shoulder. “Alright, then. Do you want to do this with painkillers or without?”

  I’ve had enough of toughing it out. “With, please.”

  “Good choice.”

  Half an hour later, my body is dotted with clean patches, I have a new shirt on, and I’m in a very happy state of mind. “Those are great painkillers.”

  Cain finishes cleaning up. The sound of repairs floats up to us from downstairs. William is down there instructing the repair team and so far he seems happy with what they’re doing. He has popped up to check on me several times.

  “You need food.” Cain disappears and reappears with the brown paper bag he was carrying earlier, along with plates and cutlery. He props me up against my pillow so I can sit.