Banshee Blues (Bones and Bounties Book 1)

by Bilinda Sheehan

  “They are the Saga who have given themselves over wholly and completely to what they are,” Samira continued, “They will eventually become elders, and their eyes will forever remain the white colour for which the Saga are known.”

  Her words sent a shiver of revulsion running down my spine. The ones I’d just faced were nothing like the two brothers I’d come across in King City. In fact, the two brothers had been practically normal, although their strength and ability in combat had been nothing to underestimate.

  “This wasn’t your first time running into them?” she asked, her question drawing me from my thoughts.

  I nodded. “I’ve met a few before, but nothing like those guys from tonight. They were nothing short of fanatical…”

  “You have no idea.”

  I couldn’t imagine what it must be like to live with those who constantly wanted you dead, but I also couldn’t figure out what the Saga were getting out of the arrangement. They’d always despised witches, or at least they’d led everyone to believe that they did. To think that they had been taking witches and keeping them captive this entire time... Well, it didn’t bear thinking about.

  “The hunters have been the scourge of my kind for centuries.”

  “I still don’t understand what they’re getting out of it? They always seemed like the type to stick pretty firmly to their guns, but this…” I took in the destruction in the room. “None of it makes any sense.”

  She didn’t answer me, and I took her silence to mean that she didn’t understand their motives any better than I did.

  As I brushed the broken pieces of wood into the middle of the room, my shoulder decided to start up its game once more and a wave of nausea washed through me. The iron had not yet left my system, although thankfully the rush of adrenaline had gone a long way toward ridding me of it.

  “Are you all right?” Samira asked, as lights danced in my vision. The open doorway still needed to be secured, but judging by the way I was feeling my chances of getting it sorted were pretty slim.

  Stumbling to the kitchen, I tugged open the fridge and stared into the sparse space. “Shit,” I muttered to myself as Samira paused in the doorway.

  “You’re hurt?”

  “Shot, actually,” I answered, and Samira’s small gasp made me smile. For someone who had spent her time as captive to a bunch of sadistic lunatics, little things really seemed to shock her.

  “Sit,” she said, pushing me toward the tiny table at the far wall of the kitchen. “I will find something.”

  I didn’t fight her. There was nothing to eat anyway, and the iron was really beginning to sap my energy. I at least needed sleep, but I still had to fix the door. The thought of getting off the chair and wandering around the building’s many abandoned apartments in search of a spare door just wasn’t causing me to jump up from my seat in joy.

  My eyes drifted shut for what only felt like a moment before the smell of cooking food filtered through to my nose and I jerked back awake.

  Samira stood over the stove, her back to me as she hummed a tune I didn’t recognise and stirred something in a pan.

  Scrubbing my hands across my face, I stared a little harder. The pan was a wok. Where the hell had she gotten one of those? I was pretty sure I’d never owned a wok in my life.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, stretching in the chair in an attempt to see inside the pan.

  “Cooking up what I could find,” she said vaguely.

  Reaching into the cupboard, she pulled out a plate and tipped the contents of the wok onto it. The strong scent of chilli and garlic washed over me, and my stomach growled in response.

  When she put the plate of fresh vegetable stir-fry, chicken, and noodles in front of me, I shot her a confused glance. There was no way she’d found this in the fridge or the cupboards.

  “I don’t understand, there was nothing in the house.”

  “Witch, remember?” she said with a smile. “It was something I picked up from one of the other girls in captivity. It was the only way we would be able to eat anything.”

  Without saying another word, I picked up the fork and stabbed a piece of broccoli. The explosion of flavour across my tongue caused my mouth to start watering.

  “So you never have to shop?” I asked, trying to resist the urge to shovel the food into my mouth. “You can just conjure things from thin air?”

  “It all comes from somewhere, so I try not to do it too often… It’s basically stealing.”

  It made sense. The ability to conjure from nothing at all was extremely complicated and took more magic than Samira possessed. Transplanting items, on the other hand, was way easier. Even some of the humans who worked as Las Vegas magicians had managed to work out how to perform a simple transference.

  “Do you want me to have a look at the wound?” Samira asked.

  “No, it’s fine, the bullet is out… It’s just a little iron.”

  “Who shot you?”

  I scooped up another forkful of food and rammed it into my mouth, giving myself a moment to contemplate what I should say to her. I couldn’t really share the details of the Archer case, but then again something more than a little weird was happening. Mrs Archer shouldn’t have known what I was.

  Humans knew of the Fae’s existence. Or they sort of did—the Elite certainly knew—but most of the human populace were so enamoured with vampires and shifters that they didn’t really pay much attention to the Fae. It helped that the Fae preferred to stay in Faerie, rarely wandering beyond the Between and generally avoiding any contact with humans.

  Then there were those Fae like me who lived among humans, but I’d tried to behave as human as possible. And those who knew I was more than human assumed I was some sort of shifter or daylight vampire. Not that those creatures existed.

  “I was working another case, and it became a little more complicated than I’d first anticipated,” I said, trying to keep the details to the bare minimum.

  “So why would they shoot you if you were working the case for them?”

  I shrugged, and the movement alone was enough to send a ricochet of pain through me. “I have no idea.” I gritted my teeth against the pain winding its way down my arm.

  I’d been wondering that myself, but I was still no closer to figuring out the answer. I only knew for certain that Mrs Archer had known what I was, because the bullets she used were too unusual to be a coincidence. But why, exactly, was she targeting me? Although there were groups intent on wiping out the preternaturals, as far as I was aware the Archers had no connections to such extremists. But, then again, despite having a passing knowledge of the Archers, I hadn’t really known anything about them until Nancy had approached me.

  “Look, it’s late,” I said. “You should go and get some rest. I’ll take the couch and make sure no one attempts to come through that door.” I couldn’t hide the exhaustion from my voice.

  Samira nodded and headed for the bedroom, pausing in the doorway but not turning to face me. “Thank you, for Ana…” she said, and then stepped into the bedroom, closing the door softly behind her.

  Dragging my sorry ass off the kitchen chair, I made my way into the living room and dropped onto the couch. Dried blood stained the floor and the cracks between the floorboards. It would be a bitch to clean, but I wasn’t going to worry about that until morning.

  I dropped back against the couch cushions and closed my eyes. I could keep watch and rest… All I needed to do was make sure I didn’t fall asleep.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sunlight streamed in through the exposed windows and I cringed as the strong smell of coffee tickled my nose. For a second, I felt utterly lost. I threw my hand over my eyes as the sound of purring jerked me fully awake, and I pushed off the blanket covering me. I hadn’t remembered using a blanket, but now I was someone tangled up in one as a small, frizzy, marmalade ball crawled across the couch toward me.

  I had an overwhelming urge to hiss at the kitten, but I bit my tongue as it
bumped its tiny face against my hand and then proceeded to lick my fingers.

  Samira’s laugh drew my attention to the kitchen doorway, and I picked up the tiny ball of orange fluff and sat it on the far end of the couch.

  “What is that thing doing in here?” I asked, doing my best to keep my disgust to a minimum. I didn’t have anything against cats, but the life I led didn’t mix well with caring for something so dependent.

  “She was sitting on your chest when I got up this morning,” Samira said.

  Glancing down at my T-shirt, I noticed tiny, marmalade-coloured hairs covering the front of the bulldog’s face. The irony was not lost on me.

  The kitten let out a small, pitiful mewl that tore at my heart. It crossed the couch toward me once more, its small steps awkward and uncoordinated as its intelligent green eyes met mine.

  “I thought maybe she was yours,” Samira said, and I hopped to my feet before the kitten could climb onto my lap.

  “Well, she’s not. I’ve never set eyes on it before.”

  The kitten found the edge of the blanket and decided now would be a good time to begin playing. I watched for a few seconds as it toyed and clawed at the tassels before a misjudged pounce sent it tumbling off the edge of the couch.

  I caught it before its tiny, fragile body hit the floor, and it mewled at me as though the fall had been my fault. Its green eyes judged me as I set it safely back down on the floor.

  “I made coffee,” Samira said, holding a steaming mug in my direction.

  “Oh, thank Goddess.” I crossed the floor, narrowly avoiding stepping on the tiny kitten as it weaved in and out between my legs.

  “I think she’s hungry.” Samira disappeared back into the kitchen, leaving me to face the tiny, four-legged terrorist that had decided the best way to get my attention was by climbing the side of my jeans.

  Needle-like claws sank into my skin, and I sucked in a breath through my teeth before picking up the kitten and staring into its face.

  “You don’t belong here,” I said.

  The kitten mewled at me, the sound grating on my ears.

  “You’re not going to win. Being cute is vastly overrated.”

  It swatted its paw in the direction of my face, and I cocked an eyebrow at it.

  “I’ve got some chicken left over from last night…” Samira emerged from the kitchen with a tiny plate covered in shredded chicken pieces.

  “Can it eat solid food?” I asked, staring at it.

  “Only one way to find out. And, anyway, we don’t have any kitten milk.”

  “Kitten milk? Can’t it just drink normal milk like the rest of us?”

  “It will make her sick,” she said, holding out a tiny piece of chicken to the kitten, who sniffed at it and squirmed in my hand like a worm.

  I placed the kitten on the floor. Samira put down the plate, and the kitten threw itself on the chicken, using its body to shield the pieces from the rest of us.

  Dropping down onto the floor beside it, I reached out and ran my fingers down over its head, smiling as I heard the kitten’s growls. It was a savage, wolfing down the food as if it had never eaten anything. For all I knew, it hadn’t.

  “I think she likes you,” Samira said with a grin as she sat down next to the kitten. It snapped at her fingers as she lifted a piece of chicken toward its mouth.

  “Likes me? Doubtful. It’s too young to know better.”

  Samira didn’t answer me, and I swallowed the last of my coffee.

  “I need to go out for a while, get another ward for the apartment and check in at the office.”

  Samira stiffened and shot me a panicked look. “What if they come back?”

  “It’s all right, I wasn’t planning on leaving you alone. I’ve got someone who can come over and keep an eye out for any trouble.” I dragged out my cell phone and typed a quick message to Clary.

  I knew her from Faerie. Clary was a wood Fae who had come to the human realm as soon as she was old enough. She wasn’t a fan of trouble, but I knew I could always rely on her in a pinch. This was definitely one of those times. Plus, Clary wasn’t someone to be messed with; I would much rather have her fighting with me than against me.

  The cell phone beeped her response. I didn’t bother reading it, because I already knew her answer.

  “I could come with you,” Samira said in a hopeful voice, and I shook my head.

  “I’ve got a lot of ground to cover today, and I can’t risk having you out there with MacNa and the witch hunters searching for you. Clary will keep you safe, and if she feels the need to she can always open a door to Faerie and hide you there.”

  Samira’s eyes widened, and I couldn’t help but smile.

  “She’s like you, this Clary?”

  “Nope, she’s a wood Fae, which makes her way more dangerous than me. But, ultimately, they’re peacemakers.”

  “Don’t you think maybe a peacemaker is not the way to go with the witch hunters involved?”

  “Trust me, if anyone turns up here and Clary doesn’t like them, she’ll make short shrift of them.” I remembered all the times Clary had saved my ass in a tight spot. “I need a shower,” I said. “When she gets here…” I paused. How was I supposed to prepare Samira for Clary’s appearance?

  Samira gave me a pointed stare, and the kitten climbed off the chicken plate and made a beeline for my lap. Pushing the kitten away, I sighed as it ignored me and climbed back on anyway.

  “Look, Clary is a little different, and staring tends to offend her…”

  “Different how?” Samira asked, and I picked up the kitten and plopped it into her hands.

  “You’ll see.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but the kitten’s high-pitched mewl was enough to distract her, giving me the opportunity to escape for a shower. Needing to escape for a shower in my own apartment sounded ridiculous, but it seemed every time I turned around I had a new resident.

  I’d never seen any cats in the building before, and it seemed unlikely that the kitten had wandered in through the door all on its own. Someone had clearly left it there, but I couldn’t think of one person who would consider leaving a living, breathing creature in my care to be a good idea.

  Stepping into the shower, I let the hot water run over my head, washing away the aches from the previous day’s fight. The iron wasn’t completely gone from my system, but I could tell it was well on its way. As long as I didn’t get shot again, everything would be just dandy.

  Well, if you could call someone trying to frame me for murder dandy…

  Chapter Twelve

  My hair was only a little damp by the time I was fully dressed. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I tugged on my black, army-issue boots and laced them up the front. Straightening up, I ran my fingers through my locks and wrapped the strands around one another in a makeshift French braid.

  The sound of raised voices coming from the living room caught my attention, and I hopped to my feet and strode from the bedroom. Clary stood in the centre of the living room, her arms folded across her chest as she narrowed her violet eyes in Samira’s direction. Her rich, oak-coloured skin shimmered beneath the sunlight that fell in through the window. Each time she moved, the jewel undertones of her skin sparkled a deep emerald colour that gave her an otherworldly presence.

  Green hair so dark it reminded me of the colour of rich moss fell down her back in curls. It was dotted with delicate, twig-like branches that shivered softly with each angry breath she took.

  Samira stood near the door, the marmalade kitten in her arms. From the wide-eyed stare she was giving Clary, I could tell I’d missed something important.

  “I see you’ve both met,” I said, cocking an eyebrow.

  “Since when did you get involved with witches, Darcey?” Clary asked, managing to make the word ‘witches’ sound much worse than it was.

  “Since the Faerie Court ordered me to be one of its enforcers. I go wherever they want me.”

  I’d forgotten tha
t Clary had issues with witches. Well, it wasn’t so much that I’d forgotten as I’d hoped she’d gotten over them.

  “What are you?” Samira asked. Her question was innocent enough, but it merely fuelled Clary’s rage. I watched the wood Fae roll back her shoulders, the twigs in her green hair beginning to stand to attention like the hairs on the back of a cat.

  “Excuse me? What am I? I could ask you the same thing!”

  “Ladies, come on, we’re all grownups here. No need to get personal with one another. Clary, I really don’t think Samira meant any harm by asking you what you are. I don’t think she’s had a whole lot of contact with our kind before… and her introduction to the Fae was MacNa.”

  Clary shot me a surprised look. “You mean he’s still around? I thought that old slimeball would have disappeared a long time ago.”

  “Nope, he’s still very much around. He’s the reason I met Samira. The Court wants me to bring him in, and he bought Samira so he could use her gifts to keep himself hidden.”

  Clary’s expression darkened, her violet eyes practically disappearing beneath the black of her pupil.

  “Bought?”

  “Yup,” I answered, and Samira nodded in agreement.

  “I didn’t mean to offend you, it’s just…” Samira paused, and my breath caught in the back of my throat. Whatever words were about to leave her mouth would either be wonderful or the worst possible thing she could say. Clary was as changeable as the seasons, and her ability to take offence at the little things had always baffled me. “You’re so beautiful,” she continued. “I have never seen anyone like you.” I bit my lip as I waited for Clary’s reaction.

  The wood Fae seemed to consider Samira’s words, and finally grunted in response.

  “There aren’t many of my kind left.” I could hear the sadness in Clary’s voice.

  Her kind were dying out as humans destroyed the natural forests, devastating the habitats of more than just the animals that inhabited the trees.