“I don’t understand,” I said.
“We do not age the way the other humans do. I am vulnerable in much the same way, but my power keeps me young.”
“Will you ever age?”
Samira smiled and nodded. “Eventually, and faster if I ever find the man I’m supposed to fall in love with and marry. I will give up what I am for love.”
Again, I found myself staring at her. The thought of giving up what I was for a man just felt wrong. If he couldn’t accept me for who I was—well, more importantly, for what I was—then why the hell would I ever want to fall in love with him?
“You do not approve?” she asked, her voice meek.
“Hey, who am I to question it? It’s your life, Samira, and once we get that collar off, you can live it however you see fit.”
Moving across the room, I headed for my bedroom.
“Where are you going?” Samira’s voice sounded more than a little frightened, and I poked my head back out into the living room.
“I’m going to see if we can’t do something about that collar.”
Heading into the bedroom, I gingerly picked my way through the piles of clothes on the floor. I hated being dirty, but that obsession definitely didn’t extend to my housekeeping abilities. There was a wardrobe leaning against the back wall of the bedroom with half-open doors that displayed the pathetic lack of clothes actually inside it.
That might make me a slob, but I was pretty much okay with that label.
Tugging open the doors, I pressed my fingers against the back wall of the wardrobe and popped out the false panel. It was a pretty shitty hiding place, but I also didn’t really need to hide the blade that well. There wasn’t a hope of it ever going anywhere… at least not while I was alive.
The Bone Blade lay against the closet wall, its sharp edge glinting in the dull light. The second I lifted it free, I felt its power coursing in my veins, strong enough that I sucked in a deep breath and closed my eyes.
This was my heritage, who I was. Losing most of my powers meant nothing as long as I had the blade in my hands. With it by my side, there was nothing I couldn’t do, no soul I couldn’t sway… Nobody was immune from my call. I was not death; I was his harbinger. The mourner at the graveside. I wept for those who had no one.
I swallowed down the power and opened my eyes, knowing that they shone with the light of what I was. Of course, heading out into the living room while the power was riding me wasn’t a good idea. Samira was already spooked enough, and frightening the crap out of her just didn’t sit right with me, no matter how much the Unseelie side of me wanted to indulge in such cruelty.
It was harder than normal to hide what I was. It had been too long since I had allowed my true nature to emerge, and if I wasn’t careful it was going to start bleeding out at the most inopportune times.
After getting a tight rein on myself, I stalked out into the living room. Samira scooted away from me.
“What are you doing?” Terror lit her eyes with the magic she carried within.
“Relax, I’m not going to hurt you. I want to see if the blade can pop the lock on your collar.” I carefully studied the collar.
I avoided her gaze, keeping it focused on the diamond. She was so afraid that I knew if I lifted my eyes to meet hers, I wouldn’t be able to contain what I truly was. Something about extreme emotions sent my glamour off course. The pain I’d endured to crush down my nature would have all been for nothing. And there wasn’t a chance she had enough strength to withstand my cries for a second time in one day.
“It can’t, only the key will work,” she said, her knuckles and fingers whitening with tension against the edge of the couch.
“We haven’t tried this,” I said with a smile.
“What is it?”
“Something really old.” I suddenly felt uncomfortable telling her the truth. Telling others of the power possessed by a Bone Blade was asking for trouble. They didn’t need to know it was one of the few items truly capable of killing a Fae, of killing a banshee… And they definitely didn’t need to know that it trapped within it the souls of those whose lives it took, absorbing their power and making it its own.
Spilling secrets had led to the little incident in King City, which had very nearly been a catastrophe.
“It looks as though it’s carved of bone,” she said, releasing her hold on the couch and moving closer for a better look.
“It is…” I said, biting down on my tongue.
“The bone of what?”
“It’s a little complicated.” It wasn’t a lie. Explaining how the Bone Blade was carved from my bones, and from the bones of my ancestors, wasn’t a concept most people could wrap their heads around.
Samira lifted her hands to the collar around her neck. “This, too, is complicated, far more than I think you realise. There are only two ways to remove it.”
“Yeah, I know about the key, so what’s the other way?”
Samira’s eyes widened, and I understood without the words leaving her mouth. The only other way to remove the collar would be for someone to cut it off… Specifically, cut off her head and lift it free.
“Christ, who are these assholes?” I said, more to the air than to Samira.
“Men of power,” she answered simply.
“Why doesn’t that surprise me,” I said in a dry voice, and when Samira cocked her head in question, I added, “that they’re men. For some reason, men have this urge to control and condemn the women around them. Those who don’t get on board with their little power trips tend to find themselves at the wrong side of their wrath.”
Samira nodded and smiled. “It has always been that way. I don’t believe there is any changing it.”
I sucked in a deep breath in surprise and felt my shoulders tighten with tension. “There is always a way to change something, but we need to stop accepting the status quo. I’ve watched the humans, and they have a tendency to blame each other, and those who have been wronged, instead of the guilty…”
“There are many who would blame me for what has happened. The ones who held me said it was my fault, that if I wasn’t an abomination they wouldn’t have touched me.”
“They would have found another reason, Samira—that’s the problem with those who are truly evil. They always have a reason, an excuse as to why they’re not to blame. Why their way is righteous… There was a time when it wasn’t so, but it was before even I existed.” I stared down at the blade in my hands.
I might not have existed, but the blade certainly had, and it remembered.
Gripping the blade more firmly, I dropped down beside her on the couch. “We need to at least try it. If it doesn’t work, then we’ll find the key.”
Samira’s eyes darted between my face and the sharp edge of the blade. Fear rolled off her in waves, and I could only imagine what she had already endured to feel such terror.
“All right,” she said, turning her back to me and lifting her damp hair away from her neck.
As I ran my fingers along the edge of the collar, I could feel the first prickle of power, but it was faint. The lock looked just like any other lock, and I didn’t think anything of it as I lifted the tip of the blade to the clasp.
The second the Bone Blade touched the clasp, power flared bright enough to send tiny star bursts of light behind my eyes. Samira screamed, and I jerked away from both her and the collar.
Dropping the Bone Blade onto the table, I stared over at Samira’s tiny frame curled into a ball on the couch. Her thin shoulders shook with sobs, and my nose picked up the faint traces of burnt flesh.
“What happened?” I asked, moving closer.
When she continued to sob without answering, panic clawed at me. My intention had not been to hurt her. Crossing to her side, I crouched down next to the couch and carefully rolled back her shoulders so I could take a better look at the collar.
Her skin beneath the metal was reddened and blistered, areas of it blackened as though they’d been lit on
fire. Samira whimpered as I moved the collar, lifting it away from where it was stuck to the skin on her neck.
“Goddess help us,” I said, staring down at the scorched ring of flesh. Whoever had designed the collar had done a good job of making it impossible to remove. Samira’s words rang in my head. There were really only two ways to get it off… I’d never come across anything that could withstand the Bone Blade and the power it wielded.
“Samira, I’m sorry… I didn’t mean…” I trailed off, because there was no point in saying the words. They were just a pathetic attempt on my behalf to absolve myself of my wrongdoings, which I didn’t deserve.
Pushing up from her place on the couch, she scrubbed her hands across her eyes and cringed as the collar brushed against her damaged skin.
“Hold it here,” I said, urging her to take the collar. The second my hands were free, I hopped to my feet and darted for the tiny bathroom.
Being an enforcer for the Faerie Court meant I got my fair share of bumps and bruises, some worse than others, so I had learned to heal almost anything. But it also helped to have a well-stocked first-aid kit.
I carried it back to the living room and plopped down next to her, then popped the lid on the box. Grabbing a handful of gauze, I ripped open the sachets of sterile water and soaked the gauze in it before gently applying it to the wounds. Samira flinched each time my hands touched her, but gradually subsided as I moved quickly and deftly.
“Thank you for trying,” she said quietly, her eyes focused somewhere on the other side of the room.
“Don’t thank me for hurting you,” I said.
“You’re the first to hurt me and not mean it,” she whispered, and her words froze the blood in my veins. It took all of my willpower not to crush my hands into fists.
“We will get them,” I said. Samira smiled, but didn’t answer.
As I worked on her wounds, I couldn’t help but wonder if I had said those words to convince her, or if I’d said them to convince myself. Either way, it was a promise. I would find them, and I would make them pay.
I knew what it was like to be a victim, to have others hurt me for their own amusement, and I had done all I could to banish my demons back to Hell where they belonged. If I could help Samira do the same to hers, then I would be happy.
Chapter Six
Waiting until she’d fallen asleep seemed a little mean, but I still had to work and she was afraid to be alone. I couldn’t blame her, but at least I was sure she’d be safe in my apartment. The place was warded, and if anyone who wasn’t welcome so much as tried to poke their nose beyond the doorway, then they were going to get a rude awakening. Faerie magic still had more benefits over human technology, but the little app on my cell phone that would alert me to any trouble at the apartment? Well, that was something not even Faerie magic could do without involving gaudy, glowing jewellery or more useless crystals than I cared to carry with me.
Moving silently across the street, I paused outside the apartment belonging to Mr Archer’s mistress. Martina Ricer lived in a small but extremely expensive apartment on the upper side of the city, the place where all the rich gits hung out. I wondered how she’d managed to pay for a place like that on a secretary’s salary. I was clearly in the wrong line of work, but if sleeping with your boss was part of the job description then I definitely wasn’t cut out for the corporate world.
Moving around the side of the building, I stared up at a window without curtains. The fire escape was only accessible by the residents. I tested my fingers against the brick wall of the building, then dug my boots into it and dragged myself upward. I climbed quickly, not wasting any time.
Reaching the level of the fire escape, I jumped, my body twisting as easily as a cat as I locked my hands around the iron railings. Pain lanced through me as my stomach slammed into the iron, and I fought to keep my grip. Pulling myself over the top, I dropped to the grid platform and stared down at the long, ragged burn across my abdomen. The edges of my bulldog T-shirt were still smoking where the iron had burned through my clothes.
The T-shirt had been inappropriate for meeting clients, but that didn’t mean I disliked it.
With a sigh, I crept forward and peered through the darkened window. The room beyond was in darkness, but the vague outlines of the furniture told me it was the living room.
I tugged up on the window and swore under my breath at the sound of the lock popping. I’d been hoping it was already unlocked, but clearly luck was not on my side today.
I ducked inside the apartment and paused. The air was drenched in the stench of death. I’d have known that smell anywhere, and it sent my senses into overdrive.
Creeping forward, I followed the worst of the smell. It wouldn’t have been as strong to a human nose but death was kind of my thing. The smell led me straight to the bedroom, and I paused outside the door.
I’d seen enough dead bodies to know that whatever lay beyond the door would be bad. The prickle of energy in the air skittered across my skin, and I could taste a mixture of lust, terror, and sweat on the air. It was stale, almost overpowered by the stench of death, but it was there nonetheless.
I pushed open the cream double doors leading into the bedroom and did a double-take. The room was decorated in muted tones of creams, silvers, and deep purple. But the blood spattered around the room definitely wasn’t part of the decor.
Martina Ricer lay across the bed, her body a mottled mess of bruises and cuts. If I didn’t know better, I’d have said she’d been attacked by a troll or something equally nasty—the only problem with that theory was that trolls ate their victims, and from what I could tell Martina was still intact.
Moving into the room, I glanced into the darkened corner. Henry Archer sat naked with his back against the wall, his knees drawn up to his chest as he rocked back and forth, his breathing so quiet I’d almost missed it.
“Mr Archer, what happened?” I asked, my voice dropping oddly into the room.
He lifted his gaze to my face and stared at me as though it wasn’t the first time he’d seen me.
“You killed her,” he said, his voice breaking across the words.
“Excuse me?” I repeated. I must have misheard him, because there was no way he’d just said what I thought he’d said.
“You crazy albino bitch, you killed her!” He hopped to his feet and launched himself at me.
“Whoa,” I said, catching his arms and twisting him away from my body as he tried to crash into me.
His arms were slippery with blood, which didn’t make any sense. Any blood from her wounds should have long since dried. I’d searched for her essence hours ago and she had already been dead…
Henry stumbled to the bed and turned to face me once more, the look in his eyes crazed as he threw himself back in my direction. I caught him again, but he latched on to my arm and sank his teeth into my skin. I screamed and raised my fist, smashing it into his eye socket in an attempt to loosen his grip on me.
He went down, his hold falling away as he slumped to the floor with a whimper.
The bite wasn’t serious, but he’d still pissed me off.
“What happened? And before you accuse me of killing her again, get your facts straight. I didn’t kill her… but from the looks of things in here, I’d say you did.”
“I loved her. We were together and now she’s gone…” His voice was gurgling with unshed tears as he dragged himself across the floor to the bed.
“Truly, I’m sorry,” I said, but he cut me off with a sharp look.
“No, you’re not,” he said. “I watched you slaughter her. You’re nothing but a monster! The things you did to her, it wasn’t human…” His voice broke over his words.
Sighing, I clenched my hands into fists. My ability to keep my temper in check was rapidly fading with his constant accusations. I’d be the first to admit if I’d murdered someone, but this time I knew for certain I was innocent…
“You saw someone who looked like me,” I said.<
br />
A noise from the living room caught my ear, and I turned my head in time to see Mrs Archer striding into the centre of the apartment.
“Henry! Where are you?”
I didn’t move, holding my breath. This was going to look really bad…
“He’s in here,” I said finally, letting my breath out in a long whoosh. There was no point in pretending we weren’t there; she was in the apartment and would find us sooner rather than later.
She crossed to the doorway and stepped inside, her eyes widening as she took in the scene surrounding us.
“I asked you to find him,” she said, her voice strained.
“And I did, but what you see here is what I walked in on.”
“Nancy, she killed her,” Henry said from his place on the bed.
When had he crawled up next to the body? Didn’t he realise he was ruining evidence?
With a shake of my head, I turned back to face Mrs Archer and found myself staring down the barrel of the gun she had pointed in my direction.
The room fell silent. I didn’t move. I didn’t even breathe as my body took on the stillness of a predator right before it strikes down its prey.
“It took you long enough to get here,” Nancy said, tossing her handbag to one side.
“You asked me to find your husband.”
“Yes, but I’d hoped you’d get here sooner… I’ve been waiting all day for this gruesome business to be over with.”
The urge to close my eyes was almost overwhelming. I was missing something, that was for certain, and the only way I would figure it out was if I had the chance to really catch my bearings. Nancy Archer was no mastermind, and there wasn’t a hope in hell she had the smarts to pull off something this complicated.
Of course, I had one good thing on my side. She had no idea what I was…
As I moved toward her faster than any human eyes could follow, I felt it the second she pulled the trigger. My world slowed to a crawl, and the scent of iron hit my nose moments before the bullet reached me, giving me just enough time to turn. The bullet lodged in my shoulder, and pain ripped through me hard enough to cause me to stumble.
Banshee Blues (Bones and Bounties Book 1) Page 4