Blood Before Sunrise

by amanda bonilla

  “Tired,” he said, “but not too bad. Really. It’s just exhausting to put up such a strong shield. I’m getting better at identifying the assaults when they happen, though.”

  “Ty, are you sure this”—I racked my brain for the right words—“magical attack is aimed at me? I mean, how can you tell?”

  “I can tell. I told you, the bond flows through you into me. Since I can feel you, I know where the attack is coming from.”

  Jesus Christ, the whole “bond” thing confused the hell out of me. “Maybe someone’s using me to get to you?”

  Tyler shifted and sat up a little straighter. “It’s possible, I suppose. But I doubt it. Something to look into anyway. All I know is that whatever this is, it triggers all of my protective instincts to the point that it’s all I can think about. Anyone who’s close to you is suddenly a potential threat. When I find out who’s responsible for it—the bastard is as good as dead.”

  Amen. And I was going to be the one to do the deed. I chewed my bottom lip, knowing what I needed to speed this business with Fallon along, and yet knowing I shouldn’t venture down this path. Weakened, Ty could barely keep himself upright; I didn’t want to add to that by drawing further on his powers. I opened my mouth, ready to speak the words—no warning, just wish. And then I came to my senses. The wards on Reaver’s house would surely protect its contents as well. There was no point expending Ty’s precious energy on a wish impossible to grant. I’d have to get Fallon’s hourglass the old-fashioned way.

  “What are you thinking about?” Tyler asked.

  The age-old question. I would have thought it cliché from anyone but Ty. “I’m thinking about time. How it seems to slip through my fingers. I wish I could slow it down.”

  “Why?” Tyler said, softly. “You have all the time in the world.”

  “Maybe.” Maybe not. Warmth pulsed from my pocket, spreading outward, the emerald’s call. What if I was sucked into that strange place again and couldn’t get out? What if one of those damned girls kept me there for an hour—or a year or ten years? How much time would pass in the real world; how many decades, centuries? I could lose Tyler. He’d forget all about me while I ran around after a trio of raven-haired beauties, unable to find my way home.

  “I think I’d like to live on a deserted island.” I slid my hand under Tyler’s shirt so I could caress the ridges of his muscled stomach. “Just you and me and coconuts.”

  “Coconuts,” Ty laughed. “You think we could live on that?”

  “I could, if I had you.” I meant it too. I’d eat coconuts boiled, baked, shredded, and fried every day for the next five thousand years if Tyler was there with me, safe and sound. “Couldn’t you?”

  “I don’t know,” he mused. “Just you and coconuts? I think I’d need a steak every once in a while.”

  “Thanks.” I pulled away and gave him a playful swat.

  “I could do it.” Tyler kissed me and pulled me close. “Coconut stew every day. And you.”

  As the sun rose, we sat entwined on the couch, devising the many ways we’d eat our imaginary coconuts. If only life could be that simple. But I knew better.

  “There’s no fucking way.” I paced around my bathroom, my voice muted. Tyler and I had spent eighteen blissful hours in my apartment, and I dreaded what I knew had to be done once Reaver left his house for the night. “The place is locked down with wards. I can’t get past them.”

  “What about your Jinn?”

  If Fallon mentioned Tyler one more time, I was going to gut him. I strangled my cell phone in both hands, as if it would make me feel better, before bringing it back to my ear. “This isn’t a fair trade. I can’t use Tyler. He’s…sick.” There I went again, divulging information he did not need. “You’ll just have to find another way to get your piece of junk. I can’t do it.”

  “Relax.” Fallon’s power seemed to snake right through the phone. “We won’t need your boyfriend. The wards aren’t aimed at you. You’ll be able to get past them without incident.”

  Alarms bells blared in my head. “How would you know that?”

  “That’s none of your business. But I can say in all confidence, you are only one of three people who would be able to pass the wards unharmed.”

  “I won’t do this if you don’t tell me how you know that.”

  Fallon laughed. I closed my eyes, the sound so sinister, it made my limbs quake. “No. You know the terms of our agreement. You bring me the glass; I deliver the Oracle.”

  I stomped my foot like a three-year-old and kicked at an abandoned shoe, sending it sailing into the shower. Tyler’s footsteps approached, and he knocked on the door. “Everything okay?”

  “Fine!” I called. “I just—ah—tripped on the toilet!” Oh nice, Darian. You couldn’t think of anything better than that? Idiot. “I’ll be out in a sec.”

  His footsteps retreated, and I waited until I could hear him moving around in the living room once again. “I’ll have it to you tomorrow night,” I seethed into the phone. “And if you even think about double-crossing me, I’ll cut you open from stomach to sternum. You got that?”

  “Tomorrow night then,” Fallon said, and hung up.

  I walked into the living room, favoring my right foot. Don’t ask me why; it wasn’t as if any damage I would’ve sustained in even a lethal toe-stubbing wouldn’t have healed instantly. But I was so wrapped up in keeping Tyler out of my dealings with Fallon that I put my thespian skills to work and went the extra mile.

  “Were you talking to someone?” Ty asked as I rifled through the refrigerator. I stiffened and leaned forward, wishing like hell I could disappear in it. “I thought I heard voices.”

  “Just talking to myself.” I grabbed a soda and popped the tab. “I swore a bit when I stubbed my toe. Hurt like hell.” I hated lying to him. And worse, I hated that the lies seemed to tumble from my lips with such ease. Was this what happened when you were trying to protect someone? Even the most unimaginable things became acceptable? Hell, I was about to commit larceny to help someone I cared for. What was a lie or two in the name of love?

  “I might have a lead on who’s messing with our bond,” Ty said over his shoulder. “I was thinking about going to check it out tonight, see what I can find out. So I won’t be around; is that all right?”

  It was more than all right. Again it seemed Fate was clearing a path for me, making the tasks at hand easier to accomplish. No babysitter for Ty. No answering to Raif. No Dimitri. And no wards for me to worry about. A cakewalk. “Of course I want you to go.” Anything that would help Tyler was worth exploring. “If you get any useful information, call me.”

  “You’ll be the first to know,” Ty said, heading for the door. “Promise to stay out of trouble while I’m gone?”

  I drew a cross over my heart. “I promise.” To try, I added silently.

  “I’ll be back in a few hours. Don’t go anywhere.”

  Didn’t give me much time for a B&E, but I could make it work. It was almost midnight, and with any luck, Reaver would be gearing up for another night on the town, and if Fallon’s information proved correct, I could slip in and out with one half of a broken hourglass, and payment for a charm-free Delilah. “I’ll be here when you get back,” I said.

  “I’m serious,” Ty said. “Stay here.”

  I beamed in his direction, hoping my smile was the reassurance he needed.

  I swallowed down the bitter taste of deceit as Ty walked out the door. Damn, I was getting good at this whole deception thing.

  Too good.

  Chapter 17

  “Have you ever wondered why an assassin’s life is so lonely?” Azriel asked.

  “It’s not. Not for us anyway. We have each other.”

  Azriel traced a pattern between my bare shoulder blades, curling down my spine before stopping at the small of my back. His lips followed suit, bringing delicious chills to the surface of my skin. I buried my face in the pillow, smiling as his tongue teased the area his lips had
just been. “True, my love. True.”

  He seemed worried, which was out of character for his usually cavalier attitude. Lorik’s father, Vasily Egorov, had finally met his end. And from what Azriel had told me, it hadn’t been a peaceful one. We hadn’t received any postcards for a couple of months, so it stood to reason that Lorik was no longer around to ascend to his father’s seat of power within the mob. I’d never understood why Az cared. And as for work, we’d land on our feet. We always did. Plus we had enough cash and valuables to keep us afloat and living comfortably for a good, long time.

  “You’re so very special,” Azriel said as his lips found my shoulder. “But if anyone should find out about you, not even an entire Shaede Kingdom could keep you safe. It’s for the best that Vasily is gone. Lorik as well. Fear not, my love. I’ll protect you until the time is right for your presence to be known.”

  I let him speak his nonsense. He had a tendency to talk in circles. I rolled onto my back, and his mouth caressed mine, his tongue sliding warm and welcome through my parted lips. Let the world rot, I thought as his hand cupped my breast. Vasily and Lorik too. As long as I had Azriel, I didn’t need anyone else.

  My mind swirled with innumerable thoughts and memories, clouding my focus. Azriel had known all along that once my existence became public knowledge, a shit storm was soon to follow—understatement of the century. Rather than slow down, my world spiraled out of control, rotation upon rotation, problem upon problem. And as I made my way to Reaver’s empty house, I laid out my troubles like strands of thread, each representing a singular nuisance in the braided bullshit of my life.

  The Man from The Ring, the raven-haired Shaedes, and the pendulum became a single strand. And next to that lay Delilah, Raif, Brakae—and unfortunately—Fallon as well. The third strand represented Tyler, his strange behavior, the attempts on his life, and an unknown threat—aimed at driving him out of his mind. Somehow, they all came together, weaving in and out, constructing a solid length of rope. But who or what wove them together was lost on me.

  Reaver’s house, only a few blocks from Volunteer Park, might well have been considered a mansion by someone who’d never seen Xander’s impressive estate. The residences had one thing in common, though: They both favored old-world elegance. Perhaps it connected the owners to their pasts, to eras they couldn’t reclaim. The Victorian beauty of Reaver’s three-story home struck me as almost too elegant for someone who came off as menacing with the potential for great violence.

  After checking the garage to make sure that Reaver had, in fact, gone out for the evening, I hovered near the front door, pacing along the tiled covered porch, sensing the powerful wards designed to protect his property. My body hummed with energy, like an itch just under the skin that I couldn’t scratch. The pendulum in my pocket responded as well, heat pulsing from the emerald warming my thigh. I should have dropped the damned thing in the middle of Puget Sound, but for the life of me, I couldn’t bring myself to part from it since the falcon had returned it to me.

  Wondering if I should trust Fallon’s word, I continued to pace. “You are only one of three people who would be able to pass those wards unharmed….” How did he know? The sound of my teeth grating against one another resounded in my ears. I stretched my neck from side to side, unclenched my fists, and inhaled a deep, cleansing breath to release the tension that pulled my entire body taut. I would find peace only by unraveling the mysteries strand by strand; finding Brakae was the first step.

  I decided believing Fallon was my only option, so I closed my eyes, taking a leap of faith as I passed through Reaver’s front door as nothing more than a wisp of darkness. The wards slid over my incorporeal form, like hunting dogs tracking scent. Magic snaked around me, twining and searching, pausing for the briefest moment before retreating and dissipating into nothing.

  The air left my lungs in a great rush of breath, and muscle by muscle, I began to relax. Though I felt the presence of the wards, they seemed to ignore me, as if I belonged in the house and posed no threat to the secrets Reaver was trying to protect. Fallon had been right. I could pass through the house without harm. With any luck, he’d tell me why that was, once he had his prize—and I had Delilah.

  Five thousand square feet was a rather large amount of space to search for something no bigger than a drinking glass. If Reaver was smart, he would’ve hidden his bauble in a safe, behind a false wall, as I did. But then again, I deduced Reaver’s cocky, deadly attitude, coupled with the wards, might offer him the peace of mind to leave his half of the hourglass on display somewhere that he might look upon it.

  I didn’t take solid form, but rather swept the house as a wraith, moving from room to room. Reaver kept an especially tidy house. I doubted dust particles dared to rear their ugly heads in his presence. From the foyer, I wandered through the kitchen, formal and informal dining rooms, the sitting room and the living room. The media room, complete with home theater and a sixty-inch flat-panel TV, led to a library and a small office. Two bathrooms were completely uninteresting, and a coat closet—again, boring—was empty, save a couple of jackets; it wasn’t exactly piled with board games and playing cards. I got the impression Reaver didn’t host many “family game nights” with the neighbors.

  A search of the upstairs proved equally fruitless. He kept the six-bedroom second floor as immaculate and uninteresting as he did the downstairs. The master suite, predictably sporting a king-sized bed and attached sitting room, looked Architectural Digest ready. I marked the passage of thirty-three minutes and cradled my head in my hands. I was running out of time, and still I had found no sign of anything more than human, let alone made of magic. Tyler would be back soon. If I wasn’t there when he got home, I doubted I’d be able to keep my plans secret any longer.

  Drifting through the floor, I found myself once again on the first floor of the house. I had one more area to search—the basement. Another flight of stairs led from a small door beneath the staircase down to the bottom floor. I expected old and musty and rickety wooden stairs and crumbling concrete walls. What I saw instead blasted me with the force of magical energy. The basement was the only floor of the house that hadn’t been kept true to its period design. Marble stairs and marble-lined walls glowed with silver and gold symbols, the shapes swirling and moving, illuminating my path deeper into the basement.

  Magic burned hot and heavy here, the sensation of thousands of tiny feet traveling the highways of my skin driving me to the point of near distraction. The emerald in my pocket blazed, no longer pulsing with warmth but almost searing through my pocket and screaming for me to notice. At the same time, the sound of time quieted within me, and I didn’t need to gaze into the emerald or stand in another world to feel it. Iron butterflies swirled in my stomach, much too heavy and foreboding to be light jitters of nerves. I’d need hip boots to get out of this mess because, as I suddenly realized, I was wading in deep shit.

  As I descended lower into Reaver’s basement, my body became corporeal, the sound of my boots echoing eerily on the marble steps. All around me gold and silver light led the way, runes flashing and symbols swirling. The wards that protected the house felt stronger here, mingling with the already present magic and causing my teeth to chatter. But as before, whatever protected the Sidhe’s property paid me no mind.

  I took the last step, a feeling of finality stealing my breath as a soft glow of light that seemed to come from nowhere pulsed from the ceiling. Finally, I could see the full scope of the basement, and what a room it was. At first sight, it reminded me of something out of a decadent 1950s reenactment of Cleopatra, or some other epic tale. But as I took in the whole of it, I realized it held to an older tradition, dating to pre-Christian civilization—Celtic more than likely. Beautiful didn’t begin to describe this room. Reverent wouldn’t do justice to the emotions swelling in my chest. This sacred place assaulted my senses, my emotions. I’d never felt so safe, or so right. Somehow, a kinship formed between me and this place; I was meant to be h
ere. I had to stop, shrinking to my knees as I caught my breath and stilled my quaking limbs.

  Trees lined the walls. Growing out of nothing, they were yet vibrant and living. Rowan, alder, ash, birch, cedar, and other trees I couldn’t name shot up into an impossibly tall ceiling—too tall not to be an illusion. Like the sky, it twinkled with stars and then changed, showcasing a dark sky and a full opal moon. White candles burned, the wicks never seeming to diminish and the flames unwavering with the disturbance of my passing. A long, rectangular pool ran the length of the room, splitting it down the middle, and sparkling orbs of different colors swam about in light blue water.

  As I walked, the false sky changed again, lightening by slow degrees, streaked with pinks and deep burnt oranges. The basement became bright with the light of morning sun, and I could sense the leaves of the trees shifting and reaching toward sustenance. In the full light, I could finally see to the end of the room, its length and width again too vast to be real. And at the end of Reaver’s basement, atop a granite column, sat the hourglass.

  It looked like any other, really, except that it was one half of a whole. Grains of golden sand glistened inside it, gathering at the bottom as if they poured from the top half that used to be there. When at last the glass filled, the flecks of gold reversed their path, floating upward and disappearing into nothing. I watched in awe as the cycle repeated itself once more, my hand resting at my thigh, cupping the pendulum in my pocket.

  As I stood there staring at the broken—and somehow functional—hourglass, I had an Indiana Jones moment. But I didn’t have a bag of sand to trade with the relic, and I wondered at the possibility of setting off an epic set of booby traps, rolling boulder and all. But I thought of Raif: friend, loyal brother, and wronged husband. I thought of his grief, the lengths he’d been willing to go to find his missing child, and the lengths he refused to go to despite his pain and need for answers. And goddamn it, if someone needed a ray of sunshine in his life, you could bet your ass it was Raif.