Crave the Darkness: A Shaede Assassin Novel

by amanda bonilla

  Eyes focused on the Range Rover, I sent out a blanket of invisible feelers. Nothing out of the ordinary tripped my senses. Anya’s step faltered, and she looked nervously behind her, reaching back to lay her fingers on her left shoulder blade. She shrugged as if trying to shake something away and paused—looked right, and then left—and quickened her pace toward the car.

  “Anya.”

  I heard her name on the wind, like a whisper.

  “Anya.”

  A little louder this time.

  “Anya!”

  Roared like a battle cry, her name echoed off the walls of the surrounding buildings.

  Liam stopped dead in his tracks, and Anya crouched behind him like a rabbit hiding from a predator in tall grass. I saw nothing. Felt nothing. Focused all of my concentration on my surroundings and still: nothing.

  “Get in the car, Anya,” I commanded. “Get in the fucking car, now.”

  Had no one else heard the voice? We all sure as hell had, but the humans passing by seemed totally unfazed.

  “Gun!” Asher shouted from behind me. “To your left!”

  Liam spun on the balls of his feet, quick and agile despite his size, and seized Anya around the waist. He tucked her against his body and ran toward the car. Robert’s door flew open, and he ran to open a door for Liam, flinging it wide before jumping back behind the wheel.

  “Don’t wait for us,” I shouted. “Just get her the hell—”

  Before I could finish my sentence, the shots rang out. People screamed and scattered, brakes screeched, and the sound of metal crunching and glass shattering added to the cacophony. I drew my dagger from behind my back and hit the ground, turning as I fell so I could identify the shooter.

  Shooters.

  Fuck.

  Four of them—and each one human. What the hell was going on? “Don’t fire back,” I warned my team. “Just get Anya out of here.”

  I rolled to my left and took a chance, merging with the light. No one noticed; the humans on the street were all too busy looking for cover. I watched as Liam threw Anya in the backseat of the Range Rover, climbing in after her. Asher was gone, but I didn’t have time to worry about him—he was a big boy, he could take care of himself.

  “Darian, where do you want me?” Louella asked in my earpiece with the calmness of a trained soldier.

  I paused to take stock of the situation. One shooter was situated thirty yards away, his torso hanging out of an older model sedan. Another stood across the busy street, standing at the edge of the sidewalk as if ready to run straight through the buzzing traffic for a shot at Anya. The third shooter waited farther down the street, blocking our way out, and the fourth . . . well, the fourth shooter had burst through the doors of the Columbia Center, racing toward the Range Rover in a full-out sprint.

  “Robert”—my breath came heavily, keeping pace with my pounding heart—“watch out for the gun at the crosswalk. I don’t want any innocents taking a bullet because of us, but get through the intersection—fast. Louella, take Julian and Myles and comb the area—half a mile radius. Our guy’s here somewhere, the humans are just a distraction.”

  I had no doubt about that. I’d seen humans under the influence of magic before. Lyhtans could compel humans, and under the right circumstances, so could the Fae. I’d experienced compulsion firsthand. And these people had no idea what they were doing or why.

  My business had always been killing. Innocent lives were saved inadvertently because I took out the bad guy. But I’d never had to play the hero and act with the sole purpose of protecting someone.

  Until recently.

  I didn’t have time to devise a game plan. Guns were firing from all directions. The bullets wouldn’t kill us—or Anya—but again, our assassin must have known that. Today’s objective: chaos. Rattle Anya as much as possible. I had a feeling it worked. Starting down the street, invisible in the cover of daylight, I headed for the human whose body was half out of his car. He wasn’t looking at anything but Xander’s Range Rover, a nine-millimeter clutched in his hands. I became corporeal as my elbow swung, catching him in the temple. His head jerked back, his eyes unfocused and blank. It didn’t stop him from squeezing off a couple more shots. With a quick jerk, I wrestled the gun out of his hands and delivered another blow to his face, harder than the first, but not hard enough to do too much damage. He slumped out of the car’s window.

  One down, three to go.

  The wail of sirens sounded in the distance. I didn’t have much time. If I couldn’t neutralize the threat, someone would be killed. “Darian!” Asher’s voice came through loud and clear in my earpiece. “I’ve got the shooter across the street. You’ve got one behind you, running like hell for the intersection.”

  I turned, and sure as shit, the woman who’d come out of the Columbia Center hightailed it down the street as fast as her Jimmy Choos would carry her. I took off after her, no longer concerned with being unseen. The Range Rover’s tires squealed as Robert dodged through traffic, and the windows of a nearby cab shattered as a spray of bullets pelted its way from trunk to engine.

  As I leapt toward the woman—she was shooting as she ran—I said a silent prayer of thanks that I hadn’t worn my duster. I crashed into her, ramming my shoulder into the middle of her back and wrapping my arms tight around hers. I rolled to my back, taking the brunt of the unyielding sidewalk, protecting the woman from any unnecessary breakage. The air left her chest in a whoosh and she gasped, fighting to regain control of her lungs. Her gun skidded down the sidewalk, and she flailed against me, her fingernails breaking and biting into the concrete as she scrambled for her weapon. Compulsion is a scary fucking thing.

  I knocked her out, just tapped her head against the sidewalk. She’d maybe come out of it with a slight concussion, but it was a hell of a lot better than dead. Across the street, Asher dodged in and out of the terrified crowds of pedestrians, taking out shooter number three in a football tackle similar to mine, though I had no doubt his had been a thousand times more graceful. The kid moved with the fluidity of a hunting cat, and it almost mesmerized me to watch him in action.

  One shooter left.

  And the son of a bitch was standing in the crosswalk, legs braced apart with a monster .38 pointed at the Range Rover like he was Dirty fucking Harry. Just great. My boots pounded on the cement, thundering in my ears with each stride. I’d never make it, even with my preternatural speed. Robert couldn’t stop; he had orders to get Anya out of here. He couldn’t dodge any more traffic without causing a nasty wreck. He’d have no choice but to plow right over the human.

  Shit.

  Out of nowhere, Myles leapt into the crosswalk, grabbing the shooter by the shoulder and flinging him to the other side of the street. Not quite as gentle as I would have liked, but it got the job done. Myles straddled the gunman and ripped the .38 from his grip. Using the butt of the gun, he delivered a punch to the guy’s face, and then another. He sagged to the pavement, blood running in a steady stream and dripping off his chin. Myles raised his hand high to deliver yet another blow. . . .

  “No!” I’m not sure why I shouted, the whole team could hear me just fine in their earpieces. “Myles, I said no casualties.”

  I continued to run as he raised his hand higher, and I let a string of swear words fly that would’ve made a construction worker blush. Myles was going to feel that human’s pain firsthand if he didn’t stand down in three . . . two . . . one . . .

  As if he’d sensed the threats inherent in each and every curse I’d muttered, Myles lowered the gun, tucked it into his waistband, and stood.

  “Get your ass back to the house,” I called, changing course and heading back toward the Columbia Center.

  The Range Rover sped down the block, turning the corner in a drift of squealing tires, and disappeared out of sight. I could almost let out a sigh of relief.

  Almost.

  Supernatural energy snaked across my skin—faint, almost too subtle to identify—and I stopped dead
in my tracks. A man stepped out from the shadows of the towering Columbia Center skyscraper, and I reached for the dagger I’d tucked back into my waistband.

  Beautiful. Angelically so with golden blond hair and icy blue eyes that backed up his connection to something heavenly. He strode right up to me with a confident swagger that only enhanced his perfection. A soft blush painted his cheeks and his lips spread into a sweet, cajoling smile. Good lord, he was damn near blinding to look at.

  “You’re trouble, aren’t you?”

  Not the worst thing I’d ever been called.

  “And not a Shaede, either. Not exactly.” He reached up with his right hand, palm facing me as if he were feeling the air around me. “Delicious energy. Powerful.”

  Okaaaay. “You must be the asshole I should be introducing to my dagger right now.” I allowed a glance behind me; the sirens were getting too close for my comfort. A slew of human police would converge on the street in a matter of seconds. This was not the time or the place for a supernatural showdown.

  The angel’s smile didn’t fade. “Tell Anya her past has caught up to her. She knows what I want and tell her to watch her back.”

  Without thinking, I lunged, thrusting the dagger in front of me. I stumbled, stabbing nothing but air. I spun a circle, ready for anything and expecting an ambush. The bastard vanished, leaving nothing but a shimmer in the fabric of reality with his passing.

  Don’t you just hate it when your day goes to shit?

  Chapter 11

  “He knew you.”

  “So, a lot of people know me.”

  I stepped close enough that I could almost smell Anya’s discomfort. “You’re not helping me to protect you, Anya. Who is he?”

  She averted her gaze. “I don’t know.”

  “Bullshit.”

  The door to Anya’s suite swung wide, and Dimitri rushed to his wife’s side, checking her over for even the tiniest scratch. The only parts of her body not covered in leather were her hands and face; you’d think Dimitri would have been put at ease.

  “I’m fine,” she said, brushing his concerns aside. “I wish everyone would quit treating me like I’m going to break at any second.”

  That made two of us.

  Dimitri turned, and without a word, wrapped me in a bear hug, squeezing me so tight I doubted I’d be able to take a normal breath ever again. “Thank you,” he murmured, giving me an extra-tight squeeze.

  “No—oof!—problem,” I replied through clenched teeth. I actually liked Dimitri. He was a good guy, despite his taste in women, and he’d been there for me as well as for Tyler when he’d been suffering.

  “Anya,” I said, as I took a deep breath to replenish the air Dimitri had squeezed out of me. “Help me, so I can help you.”

  “You can go now, Darian.” I could tell by her warning tone she didn’t want Dimitri to know about her mysterious admirer. “Thank you”—she almost choked on the words—“for being there today.”

  “If you want real help, Anya, you know where to find me.” I pinned her with a stare, hoping she’d get that I meant business. She may not want to come clean now. But she would. Even if I had to rat her out to her husband to get the truth out of her.

  I closed Anya’s door behind me, only to hear the sounds of angry voices floating up the staircase. I strained toward the sound, my preternatural hearing homing in on something I doubted to be real. But the closer I got to the head of the stairs, the more the truth sank in. My heart hammered against my rib cage, fighting for a way out. Legs weak from the sudden adrenaline rush, I crept down the stairs one at a time, listening.

  “I will not tolerate your presence in my house!” Xander’s voice was a controlled burn.

  “I don’t give a shit what you’ll tolerate, Xander. I’m not leaving until I speak with her.”

  Oh god. His voice speared me like a dagger. I couldn’t breathe. Just hearing him turned my stomach into a tight knot of nerves.

  “You’re a nuisance,” Xander said, disgusted. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough already? You can’t just show up here after months and demand to talk to her. Where were you when the PNT attempted to bring her to justice when her secrets forbade her from speaking on her own behalf? What did you do to help gain her freedom from the Judicial Council? Do you know what she’s been doing for the past three months?” Xander continued to rail. “How she’s been holed up in her apartment? You’ve certainly kept her safe and sound, haven’t you, Jinn.”

  I couldn’t bear to hear another word. I backed slowly up the stairs, ashamed to look Tyler in the eye. Terrified that Xander would continue to lay out for him—in detail—the train wreck I’d become. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? A vividly painted picture of my weakness to reinforce Ty’s decision to leave me.

  “Xander, I suggest you shut up before I shut you up.” Tyler’s tone was dead calm. The air temperature dropped about twenty degrees and stirred with energy. Not a good sign.

  “And I suggest you leave before I kill you with my own hands.”

  The backs of my calves hit the top stair, and I tripped backward, falling right on my ass. This moment just couldn’t get any better. Silence descended, my graceful maneuver no doubt audible to both Xander and Ty. I held my breath, willed my pulse to slow its frenzied pace. I could stand toe to toe with any badass with a weapon. But put me in a room with those two men, and I tucked tail.

  I bit back the tears stinging at my eyes. Jesus Christ, why couldn’t I get my shit together? I wished they’d both leave before I lost my grip entirely.

  “It’s time for you to go,” Xander said, sounding suddenly distracted.

  “Go. To. Hell.”

  Sounded like Ty wasn’t going to take no for an answer. I doubted my shaky legs would carry me down the stairs. And if they did, then what? Confront Ty and let him know how much he’d managed to hurt me? I didn’t think I could handle that. A spark of power lingered, Tyler’s magic weaving with the air, drifting up the stairs as a cold draft toward me. I could try to wish him away. He was still my bound genie and had to grant my wishes. But despite everything that had changed between us, one thing stayed the same: I didn’t like to exercise that kind of control over him. Which made me the world’s biggest hypocrite, because it hadn’t seemed to bother me the last few times I’d wished him into uselessness.

  “Darian, I know you’re up there!” God, the way he said my name. It would’ve brought me to my knees if I hadn’t already been flat on my ass. “I need to talk to you! Please.”

  I grabbed on to the banister for support, hauled myself to my feet. I could do this. I could face him.

  “Get out!” The control was gone, Xander’s words infused with pure malice.

  Tyler ignored him, his voice carrying up the stairs. “You need to look in the envelope that Marcus gave you—”

  “I said, get the hell out of my house!” Xander railed.

  I stopped midstep. This was about the job? The sounds of Xander and Ty arguing became nothing more than white noise in the back of my mind. Really, what did I expect? That he’d come over to beg me to take him back? Acting on instinct, my body merged with gray twilight, the transformation wrapping me in stifling warmth.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” a voice said from behind me.

  “You know, I’m getting sick of you,” I hissed, becoming my solid self as I turned to face Raif.

  “I don’t doubt it,” Raif countered with a smile. “Want me to handle that?” he asked, jerking his head toward the stairs.

  I wondered what would happen if he didn’t handle it. Ty and Xander had been itching to take shots at each other for almost a year. If left alone, the situation could get messy pretty damn fast.

  “I suppose you’d better,” I said with a sigh. “I can help, if you want—you know, diffuse the situation.”

  Raif laughed. “Darian, the last thing your presence would do is diffuse the situation. Stay. Put. If you run, you’d better run fast. Because I will come after you.”

&n
bsp; No escaping Raif, it seemed. He refused to let me chicken out. He brushed past me, descending the stairs with an infuriating calmness. Xander and Ty continued to argue, their voices rising and boiling like a coming thunderstorm.

  “Tyler.” Raif sounded casual, though not accommodating. “Haven’t seen you in a while. How are you? I don’t suppose we can talk outside. Just you and me.” Raif never asked anyone to do anything. Every word spoken was a gently urged command. “I’d hate to have to replace another door, you know.” I heard the latch let loose on the front door, the hinges sighing as it opened. “Darian isn’t available at the moment . . .”

  The door closed again, shutting out the sound of their voices, now just a dull muffle in my mind. I leaned over the banister but saw nothing. I sunk to the floor and closed my eyes. Darkness followed on the heels of twilight, cool and smooth, like satin flowing over my skin. I felt a presence behind me, but didn’t turn around.

  “Let me take you away from here for a while.” Xander’s breath caressed my ear, bringing with it a ripple of chills.

  I nodded my head. Anywhere was better than here.

  * * *

  We traveled as shadows. Quick, quiet, sliding through the city like an indiscernible breeze. I let Xander lead the way, and he was much faster than I’d expected. Faster, even, than Raif. I made a game of it, keeping up with him, and I think he knew it because he took me throughout the city: up, down, in, out, over, under, and through. I barely had time to calculate my next move. I needed this, to be out in the open air, unhindered and unburdened. I felt fifty pounds lighter, the tension melting away by slow degrees like icicles in the sun.

  Once we’d left the city behind, Xander’s pace slowed. When we finally stopped, spring blossomed all around us. I’d been here before, but never this early in the season, and never under the silver glow of the moon.

  “I like it here,” Xander said. He walked to the handrail of one of the arched wooden bridges of Kubota Garden, looking at the water below. “It’s quiet at night. I thought you might need to be somewhere calm. Drama free.”