“It’s not possible, Mazik. You and I both saw them… hell, I killed them. They’re dead. They didn’t get up and walk out of there, so someone carried them out.”
“You don’t think that wasn’t my very first thought? Come on, love, I’m better than that, even got myself a mess of cameras set up around my gaff to prevent such things.”
“So you’re telling me that they got up and walked out?” I said incredulously.
“Not exactly…” He paused, and a frustrated sigh escaped me.
“Just spit it out already.” I dropped down onto the edge of the bed, tank top in hand. The ginger kitten seized its opportunity and climbed onto my lap, its plaintive meows making my headache grow at least ten sizes.
“There’s some kind of disturbance on the cameras, and when they come back on the bodies are just gone…”
“So someone knew about your cameras and switched them off? It’s really not that complicated, Mazik.”
“And I’m telling you that never happened. No one else went in or out of my place. That, I promise you. Whatever happened was enough to screw with the cameras without setting off the motion detectors. It didn’t set off my wards, either, and I don’t mean to brag but my wards are bigger than yours.” He gave me another wide grin that only made me groan.
But I couldn’t exactly dismiss what he was saying. If the Saga Venatione had truly gotten up and walked out, then there was something much bigger at play than just some religious zealots pretending to be God.
Tapping into that kind of power would be seriously bad news for everyone the Saga targeted… well, it would just be bad news regardless of who they targeted. That kind of power wasn’t something to be messed with, not by humans or the supernatural.
Many humans liked to believe that the Bible was filled with lessons, and that the fantastical stories from the Old Testament existed to teach the true path. It was a lovely theory, but I knew the truth—and I’d seen the consequences of messing with god-powers without actually being a god. That kind of power could do only one thing: corrupt. Manann had come damn close to it, and in the hands of the Saga that power would be devastating.
“Look, there’s nothing I can do about it right now,” I said. “If they’re gone, then good riddance. If they come back and I get the chance to ask them what’s going on, I will. But until then, I have a bounty to collect on. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to get changed.”
He opened his mouth as though to argue with me, but then seemed to change his mind. Without another word, he stalked into the living room. The kitten hopped from my lap and trotted after him.
“Traitor,” I whispered after her, but she just lifted her marmalade tail high in the air and disappeared around the door.
Flopping back on the bed, I stared up at the water-stained ceiling. My vision blurred as tears slid from my eyes, running down my cheeks and into my ears.
Clary was gone. Really and truly gone. The half-breed would pay. Clenching my hands into fists, I felt the blood well beneath my fingernails. By blood, she would pay for the life she had stolen. I wasn’t a full banshee anymore, but I would avenge Clary’s death… even if it was the last thing I ever achieved.
Chapter Twenty-Six
When I emerged from the bedroom, I was surprised to see Mazik standing in the kitchen doorway and watching the ginger kitten eat. I watched him, holding my breath as he leaned down and tenderly petted the kitten’s ears. The expression of affection in his eyes rendered me speechless. The ginger bombshell purred in contentment as he stroked its head.
“I think she has worms,” he said, jerking me from my silent observations.
“What?”
“Well, she just keeps eating and eating. This is the second tin of kitten food I brought over, and her appetite never seems satisfied. You’ll have to get her tagged and wormed, make sure she’s up to date on all of her shots…”
“She needs shots?” I asked, mentally calculating how much that would cost me. I didn’t have many expenses, but that was because I didn’t make a whole lot of money. The last thing I needed was the added expense of another mouth to feed.
“Well you seem to like her so much, so why don’t you have her?” I grabbed my jacket from the back of the chair.
“Nah, she’s well and truly yours. And, anyway, the demons I have dropping by my place would probably just eat her.”
My stomach churned at the thought of anything happening to the kitten, her plaintive meows for attention forever silenced.
I grabbed a newspaper from the coffee table and spread the pages around the floor haphazardly. Baby animals weren’t exactly known for their control, and the thought of coming home to an accident almost made me want to reconsider my position on the kitten’s future as a Happy Meal for demons.
“You owe me two bodies,” he said, returning to our previous conversation.
“I don’t owe you jack. If you were stupid enough to lose the two I gave you, that’s your problem.”
He didn’t answer me, simply continuing to observe the kitten.
“Well, don’t leave the door open when you leave this time,” I said, tugging on my leather jacket as I slipped the Bone Blade into the sheath on my hip.
He didn’t answer, and so I left the kitten in his capable care.
The bike was waiting for me on the curb, and I settled myself over the saddle, hitting the kick-start and sighing as the motor roared to life beneath me. At least this was one constant in my life. As I peeled away down the street, the hairs on the back of my neck prickled and I had an overwhelming urge to look back over my shoulder. But I held my attention on the road ahead and tried to ignore the feeling that I was being followed.
If Mazik was following me, he was going to be in for a nasty surprise once I reached my destination.
Parking the bike outside The Dearg Hand, I tugged my helmet free and waited for Mazik to pull up alongside me.
“You didn’t know I was behind you?” he asked, his infuriating grin making my palm itch to slap him once more.
“I knew the moment you started following me. You better have shut my door.”
“Cross my heart.”
“Are you ever serious?” I asked, climbing from the motorbike.
“Rarely.”
Pausing with my hands on my hips, I gave him my full attention. “What do you want, Mazik?”
“I told you, you owe me two bodies. I’m simply here to collect.”
“So, what, you’re going to follow me around in the hopes that I kill someone whose body needs to disappear?”
“Something like that, but I know I won’t be waiting too long. Death follows you, dogging every step you take. It’s only a matter of time before I have what I want, and I’m betting that the closer I stick to you the faster I get it.”
“You’re nuts. You know that, right?” But his words had struck a chord within me. He wasn’t wrong. Death did follow me, but I couldn’t help who I was or what I’d been born to do. Having my nose rubbed in it didn’t make it any easier.
Mazik shrugged, his grin fixed in place, but there was an almost imperceptible flinching around his eyes that told me that calling him crazy didn’t sit right with him. It was interesting, but not particularly helpful.
“Fine, any unclaimed bodies are yours. But don’t count on it, because I’m just here to get information.”
I didn’t wait for him to answer; I could already feel his scorn sliding along my back under his heated gaze. He was hungry—I could feel it—and that realisation made my skin crawl.
I’d never asked what he did with the bodies, never wanting to know the grim details, but it wasn’t a stretch to imagine him eating them. Not a stretch, but gross as all get out.
Crossing the sidewalk to the front door of the bar, I pushed against it, but the chains holding it closed on the inside rattled in protest. Chains weren’t an issue; banshees had access to wherever they needed to go, and this would be no exception.
Stepping back, I closed my
eyes before laying my hands against the door. I imagined the chains dropping away, and then shoved the door with every ounce of my strength.
The door rattled in response, but the chains remained firmly in place.
“What the hell…” I muttered beneath my breath as I rammed the door more forcefully.
“Losing your touch?” Mazik asked, moving up next to me.
“It’s not possible,” I said, shoving against the door hard enough to cause the rattling chains to echo.
“Let me help.” Without waiting for an answer, he pushed past me and slammed his body into the door. Wood splintered and the sound of grinding and screeching metal bit into my ears as the door flopped open and the chains fell away. “Built special, crafted by hand…” he said, reaching down to scoop the nearest chain from the floor. “I’d say whoever lives here knew you were coming, love. This is a custom job built to keep a banshee out.”
“That’s not possible. There’s nowhere I can’t go.”
“Arrogant much? There’s plenty of places you can’t go if one has a mind to keep you out. You don’t have your full powers, remember? Easier to put a kink in the plan of a banshee who’s only working at half capacity.”
His words made sense, but I didn’t have to like them. I shouldered past him and into the bar without giving him the satisfaction of an answer. His laughter followed me inside, causing the tension in my shoulders to tighten. I was going to have one hell of a headache when this was done.
Silence crept in around me, but I let my senses wash outward. Mazik’s presence instantly spiked, his scent filling my head with its usual smell. Casting further, I found what I was searching for and strode forward, my steps faltering when Mazik’s hand closed around my upper arm.
“If you go running in there with guns blazing, it’ll be your body I’ll be taking as payment,” he said, and I halted my progress.
Again, he was right. If Daster had enough sense to get custom locks to keep me out, then he would likely be armed with something to permanently stop me in my tracks. If I didn’t slow down and really think about what I was doing, I would get myself killed. It wouldn’t help anyone if I allowed my emotions over Clary to get in the way of what I needed to do, and winding up dead in the process certainly wouldn’t avenge her death.
“What do you suggest?” I asked, sucking in a deep breath through my nose.
“They’re expecting you, but not me. That will throw them off, and gives you the element of surprise when I send them scurrying for the hills.” The smile on Mazik’s face was far from friendly; in fact, downright cruel was a much more apt description for it.
“If you screw this up—” I started to say, but he shook his head and laughed.
“Me screw it up? Love, I’ve been a demon for a lot longer than you’ve been alive. I’ve done worse than scare the crap out of a leprechaun. Screwing up isn’t really in my wheelhouse.”
He sauntered away, leaving me to stare after him.
Pulling the Bone Blade from its sheath, I crept along the edge of the wall. The silence I’d been so aware of when I first walked through the doors closed in on me again, and I waited for the sound of Mazik’s attack.
Seconds ticked by, and my skin crawled with barely-contained energy. This was the time I hated most—the breaths between the action and the end. I desperately wanted to follow Mazik and burst through the door.
The low sound of a shout and the splintering of wooden crates told me to move. Picking up my pace, I rounded the corner in time to see Daster scrambling to his feet. He lifted a gun in his shaking hands and fired several rounds in the direction of the room he’d just exited. Mazik’s cruel laughter filled the air, and Daster’s expression shifted to one of terror as he darted toward the back of the bar.
Something huge and hulking dashed from the darkness and crashed through the wall of the room I knew Mazik was inside. The troll from earlier had reverted to his true form, and he was a sight to behold.
Mazik’s laughter cut off abruptly.
“You never bloody said there’d be a troll!” he shouted with a grunt of pain.
Reaching the doorway, I paused and glanced inside as the troll plodded in Mazik’s direction.
“Hey, mountain man!” I taunted, and the troll turned the full force of its anger toward me.
Its roar reverberated around the tiny room, causing several glass bottles to crash to the floor. Mazik pulled himself from the wreckage of a wooden crate, grabbing an iron bar from the floor as he darted toward the troll.
“You got this?” I asked as I dodged the troll’s first blow. Its aim was off due to the anger rising from its body like steam.
“This body will be payment enough,” Mazik said, and I dodged another of the troll’s wild, flailing arms.
“You can’t murder him,” I said.
Mazik shot me a pitying look and slammed the iron bar into the foot of the troll. “Murder is messy,” he said, jerking the bar up as the troll roared in pain. “But if he doesn’t get his shit together, then I will kill him.”
I couldn’t argue with Mazik. Daster was in the process of escaping, but he had a point. Nobody would consider it murder if the troll kept up its attack. But I would know better, and that realisation didn’t sit right with me.
“Don’t kill him, Mazik, or you’re next,” I warned, before darting from the room in the same direction as Daster.
Of course, him actually not killing the troll was pretty hit and miss, but I had to believe he wasn’t an idiot. Everyone knew the price of killing one of the Fae, and it wasn’t one you paid willingly. Certainly not over something so stupid.
The back door to the pub stood wide open, and I slowed my pace, creeping to the edge of the frame and peering around it.
Daster’s fist glanced off the side of my jaw as I tried and failed to duck out of reach. The Bone Blade fell from my hands and skidded out into the alley. He hadn’t caught me full in the face like he’d obviously intended, but it still hurt like a son of a bitch. Bloody leprechauns and their luck.
Diving to the side, I dodged the next blow he attempted to rain down on me and brought my own fists up in a perfect double tap below his ribs. My punches stole the air from his lungs, and he fell backwards into the alley, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
I followed him out and scooped up the Bone Blade once more, twirling it in my grip as though it were nothing more than a baton and not a wicked, soul-sucking, life-stealing weapon.
“Whoa, Darcey, there’s no need for that.” Daster raised his hands in surrender, the Irish lilt in his voice lending him a charm that usually melted any woman he came into contact with . The glint in his eye told me he was simply awaiting his chance to grab the blade with both hands, come what may. It was one of the leprechauns’ biggest failings. They believed in luck, and that you could create a certain amount of it simply by being willing to take crazy risks. It didn’t guarantee success, though, and many a leprechaun had ended on the wrong end of a blade. But that was just the price you had to pay… at least, that’s what they believed.
“There’s every need for this,” I said. “I saw the chains on your door. I can still smell the iron from the bullets you used… the ones you fired when you thought I was walking through the door.”
“Darcey, no. I swear, I didn’t think it was you. I thought she’d come back…” He trailed off and glared down at his sneakers. “I’m not supposed to tell you anything, but you followed her out of here earlier… and, well, if you’re here and she’s not, I’m hoping that means you killed her?”
“You mean the half-breed?” I asked, the memory of her Bone Blade sinking into Clary flooding my mind before I could stop it. “She’s not dead.”
“Ah, shit.” Daster slowly climbed to his feet.
“You’re working with her and MacNa. I know you are.” I tightened my grip on the blade.
Daster swallowed hard as he watched my hands. “I swear I’m not… I’m not working with her, anyway. She
came here demanding to know where MacNa was, and I didn’t tell her anything.”
I could taste the untruth on the air, a sourness that coated my tongue and made me want to cringe.
“Don’t lie, Daster. You know the penalty for a lie.”
“Bending the truth doesn’t make it a lie. We both know that.” His smug voice reminded me just how much I used to dislike him, and still did.
“What did you tell her?”
“I can’t say…”
“Then tell me where MacNa is.” I took a step toward him.
“I can’t do that.”
Flipping the blade to my other hand, I grabbed the front of Daster’s jacket and rammed him into the wall, pressing the Bone Blade tight against his throat.
“I swear, I can’t tell you. He has my oath… He’s my best friend, Darcey. You know I can’t say anything.” The panic in his voice spoke volumes. If he was telling the truth and had given MacNa his oath, then he really couldn’t share his whereabouts with me without suffering some pretty heavy consequences.
Pressing the blade a little closer to his neck, I leaned in toward him. “I know what’ll happen if you tell me, and I don’t care anymore. There’s more at stake here than your goddamn reputation, Daster. So either you tell me now, or I start carving your soul from your body…” To emphasise my position, I let the tip of the blade draw a tiny, quivering drop of his blood.
“Press it closer and I’ll pull the trigger,” Daster said, and I felt the hard edge of the gun he’d kept out of sight.
It was a stupid mistake to make. I hadn’t checked him to make sure he’d dropped the gun when Mazik chased him, and I’d allowed myself to get too close. This was the moment he’d been waiting for.
“Bloody leprechauns,” I said beneath my breath.
“Don’t shoot her, Daster.” MacNa’s voice came from somewhere behind me.
I sucked in a sharp breath and fought the urge to face him. MacNa was the one I wanted. He was the one with answers, but having him just turn up out of the blue was anything but good. Luck was for the leprechauns… so whatever he was doing here, I wasn’t going to like it.
Banshee Blues (Bones and Bounties Book 1) Page 17