Shaedes of Gray: A Shaede Assassin Novel sa-1

by amanda bonilla

  Xander placed his palms on the surface of the table and leaned down, eyeing the member of each delegation before he spoke. “If my nation is conquered, who’s to say yours won’t be next?” He pointed to the opposite table. “Or yours?” He pointed to his right. “Mine is only the beginning of a much larger problem.”

  A murmur ran through the seated delegates.

  “We live on the precipice of discovery. The balance between our kind and the humans could be tipped by the slightest shift in power. Can we afford discovery? Are you willing to put your people at risk?”

  “What do you propose, High King?” The faerie master of ceremonies asked from the center of the square.

  With his palms on the table to prop him up, Xander slowly spread his hands outward, lowering himself into a humble position. He bowed his head to show respect for the delegates seated around him. I held my breath, my pulse strumming in my ears. He was magnificent—playing to the crowd, playing to their egos, sacrificing his own pride for the betterment of his kingdom. I felt as though I would drown in the aura of his presence.

  “An enemy to one of us is an enemy to us all. We have lived peaceably these many centuries. I see no reason for our lives not to continue in peace. Consider our position in this matter . . .” Xander continued to plead his case, and my gaze wandered to Tyler, who watched the spectacle with deep interest. In turn, I studied his facial expressions. And then he looked at me. He stared right at me, his hazel eyes pools of warmth and feeling that conveyed a thousand words without speaking. I saw in his eyes the words I hoped I’d never have to hear because I didn’t know how I’d respond. I’m in love with you.

  I broke free from the powerful hold of his stare, and the emotions that caused my own to swirl with uncertainty, to train my eyes on the other delegates seated at the tables. Xander was gaining ground; I read it on most of their faces. One by one, I recognized a change in their attitudes with the softening of their expressions. The Lyhtan delegate shimmered in the light of day, the many facets of dancing color almost grotesque as it mocked the ugliness of the creature itself. I shuddered as our eyes locked and a trail of spittle dribbled from its leering mouth. It would have been much more appealing as the tiny glittering insect I’d seen on the day of my attack. But all the beauty in the world couldn’t mask the ugliness of their character. I continued to stare, and it snapped its strong jaws twice, the sound popping loudly in the mostly quiet building. It alone seemed untouched by Xander’s humble act.

  The Shaede King straightened and his smooth, wonderful voice boomed in the huge warehouse. “My friends, I would never ask you to fight a battle that isn’t yours to fight. I ask only that if the need arises, you send aid.”

  As Xander’s pomp and circumstance drew to a close, the growl of an engine announced its presence just outside. Tires squealed and came to a stop, and four figures dressed head to toe in red, complete with face masks, rolled aside the massive doors. Sunlight streamed in behind them, shading two more ominous figures.

  “It seems a representative is missing from these proceedings!” one of them called out. They cast a tiny bundle to the concrete floor. It rolled once and landed like a sack of rocks several feet from where I stood. The hooded party crashers backed away from their cargo and turned to run. Car doors slammed in the distance before the screeching of tires signaled their hasty departure. We stood in stunned silence, listening as the sound of the fleeing vehicle grew fainter by the second.

  A collective gasp broke the peace, and not a soul dared to move toward the bundle. I rolled my eyes. What a bunch of cowards. I drew the katana from behind my back and approached the object with measured steps. I heard a soft moan that wouldn’t have been detected by human ears; mine barely picked up the sound. I rushed the last few feet, sheathing the sword and going to my knees. Quickly, I fumbled with the ropes tied around the rough burlap sack and pulled it off a tiny girl beaten so badly, she was almost unrecognizable.

  Oh, my God. I sucked in a lungful of air, and milky blue eyes rolled in her head, which cocked very slightly, moving toward the sound of my inhalation. I’d found one thing I’d been looking for.

  Chapter 20

  Tyler slid down beside me on his knees and bent over Delilah’s limp and almost lifeless body. His fingers glided to her throat and he sat, statuelike, while he searched for a pulse. I knew he’d found one when his body relaxed.

  “We’ve got to get her out of here,” Ty said, turning to me.

  “Take her to my house,” Xander said. His warm voice actually made me jump, and a moment later his palm came to rest on my shoulder. “Raif and Anya will take her in the other car. There’s plenty of room.” I could sense the reluctance in his voice when he added for Tyler’s benefit, “You can come as well.”

  When Ty looked at me, his face was a mixture of rage and sorrow. Delilah had moxie, but her tiny little body couldn’t have held out for long. And she’d taken one hell of a beating. As if he were lifting a newborn child, he took her in his arms. Her head lolled back, lacking even the strength to rest on his shoulder.

  “Where?” he asked, and Raif led the way to the car.

  Delilah’s dramatic entrance brought the Summit to an abrupt end. The crowd of delegates dispersed in a quick and disorderly fashion. Only the Lyhtan seemed to take his . . . her . . . its time in leaving. It sauntered out into the afternoon sun with a strange confidence despite its grotesque appearance, flashing a jagged-toothed smile in my direction before its body dissolved. A shimmering insect dropped to the ground like a pearl where the Lyhtan had stood, and scurried away.

  I hadn’t noticed that I sat in the empty building alone until Xander’s voice cut through the silence surrounding me. “Darian, we should go.”

  “Huh?”

  He bent and wrapped his arms around my waist, gently pulling me to a standing position. I couldn’t wipe the image of Delilah’s battered face from my mind. It hit too close to home and reminded me of my human life, where I’d been weak, susceptible, abused. I compared her injuries to my own the night Henry almost killed me—the same night Azriel became my savior. The prickling of tears stung behind my eyes, and I fought the emotion with everything I had. Weakness wouldn’t do me any good. I wasn’t going to kill whoever had done this by crying in my beer. And I was going to kill the person responsible.

  Xander’s house buzzed with urgency. The very walls hummed with discord, and the air had become oppressive and grim in the wake of the day’s events. Delilah’s injuries weren’t life-threatening, but she had a broken arm, two broken ribs, and a dislocated shoulder. In addition to the many cuts, bruises, and abrasions, I didn’t think a square inch of her body had been left untouched by her attackers.

  I don’t know if it was the woman in me or simply the creature that thirsted for revenge, but I marched straight for Xander’s suite and informed him of my intention to hunt Delilah’s kidnapers.

  “No,” he said in a calm and simple way.

  “No? Why not?”

  “It’s not your job to avenge her.”

  I couldn’t understand how he could sit there, so calm and collected, after what had happened. I opened my mouth to assure him that maybe it wasn’t my job to avenge the poor girl, but I was, in fact, still in charge of my own life, when Xander crossed the room and gently shut the door.

  “I can’t risk your safety,” he said quietly.

  Again, the words that tried to form died behind my lips. “What?” I finally said.

  “You understand so little.” He stepped closer and in a very deliberate way threaded his fingers through the curls of my hair, caressing my scalp with each of his fingertips. The contact sent rivers of chills along my flesh, and an exasperated sigh escaped my parted lips. Was I the only one here who thought there was something seriously wrong with this picture?

  “I know what you’re trying to do,” I said, my tone laced with warning, “and it’s not going to work.”

  Xander put his lips to my forehead and murmured, “What a
m I trying to do, Darian?”

  My senses were awash with the most miniscule detail. The feel of his fingers as they raked through my hair, the smell wafting from his skin, even his warm breath as it tickled my temple. The air in the small space became almost heady, and my heart raced. I looked at his face, youthful despite the passing of years. He didn’t look old enough to be any grown man’s father. In fact, he had so little in common with Azriel, I had a hard time believing they were related at all. The soft glow of his eyes burned into mine. The heat from his gaze was unmistakable, full of passion and longing.

  “I don’t mix business with pleasure,” I said. “And you’re a little overconfident if you think I’m going to fall for this bullshit seduction. Xander, don’t you think you’re crossing some serious boundaries here?”

  One of his hands came free of the tangle of my hair and, with deliberate precision, traced the side of my body to settle at my hip. The tension between us was palpable, like a big, thick blanket that wrapped our bodies together, suffocating me, and I realized he didn’t care. Azriel or no Azriel, he had serious entitlement issues.

  “I want you,” he said. “Regardless.”

  “What you want and what you get are two completely different things, Xander.”

  My heart leapt from my chest into my throat, and I swallowed hard, as if I could force the damn thing back down where it belonged. Xander was everything I should have wanted: gorgeous, powerful, sardonic in that romance-novel sort of way. Figure Ty into the mix, and I was more confused than ever. If Xander had come along a year or even a few months sooner, there might not have been a decision to make. And aside from a past I couldn’t forget or overlook, I knew I’d never be anything more to him than a possession, paid or not. And like I’d told him before, some of my services were not for sale. “Do you think you can just snap your royal fingers and I’ll fall into bed?” I asked. “You can’t have it all. I’m hired to do a job for you and that is all. Period.”

  “This is about the Jinn,” he growled under his breath. “Send him away. It’s that simple.”

  This so wasn’t just about the Jinn. An image of Tyler’s face loomed in my mind, loyal, loving, and glorious. Maybe it was about the Jinn, a little. “I can’t do that,” I said, putting a good arm’s length between us. “I won’t.”

  Xander’s body stiffened, his expression that of jealousy and passion. He knocked my outstretched arms aside and cupped my face in his hands, forcing me to look up. He paused and dipped his head. Could I stop him if he chose to follow through? Would I want to? I didn’t pull away, but my hand twitched toward the dagger strapped to my thigh. If a poke in the ribs was what it took to get my point across, so be it. But I was saved from any acts of violence when a knock came at the door.

  Rather than let me go, Xander held me fast. “I’ll send whoever it is away.”

  “Don’t bother,” I said, brushing his hands from my cheeks. “I know you’re used to getting what you want, Your Highness, but not this time. I am not for sale.”

  “Xander,” Raif’s voice called through the door. “The girl is awake. I thought you’d want to know.”

  I fingered the hilt of the dagger once more, gave Xander a pointed and meaningful stare, and headed for the door. He managed to secure a grasp on my hand and tugged me back toward him.

  “Please,” he said. “Don’t go.”

  I freed my hand, and without looking back headed straight for the door.

  “Darian.” Xander’s velvet voice hinted of command.

  I pulled open the door and rushed out, closing it before he could employ any more of his seduction tactics. Jesus. What had I done to deserve this kind of attention? I wasn’t charming by any standards, and my sarcastic quips couldn’t possibly be that attractive. I did not have time for these ridiculous, dramatic, soap-opera moments.

  Raif gave me a knowing look that I wanted to slap right off his snarky face.

  “Has she said anything?” I asked as we walked down the hall, away from temptation.

  “Not yet. She’s weak. It looks like she was starved in addition to the beatings. There’s not much to her—just skin and bones.”

  “Believe me, there wasn’t much to her before she was kidnapped.” I listened to the sound of my footsteps on the thin hallway carpet, letting the rhythm pound torturous thoughts from my mind. Delilah needed all the help she could get right now. She needed me. “Are you going to tell me about the Enphigmalé now?” I asked, just as we approached the door to Delilah’s room.

  “Afterward,” Raif said.

  I gave him a look that said You’d better, and, from the hard expression on his face, I knew he’d tell me. He could taste vengeance, just as I did.

  Poor Delilah. I doubt she wanted my pity; she never struck me as that type of girl. But as she lay half-conscious, buried in the heavy blankets of the queen-sized bed, she looked as close to death as she could get. Someone had cleaned her up, and what was left under the crusted blood and grime wasn’t much better. Whoever had done this to her had been doing it for a while. The bruises marked her face in different degrees of color and severity. Some had already begun to yellow. But others were fresh, nearly black. One milky eye had started to swell shut, while the other stared blindly at the ceiling. A shudder swept over my body as I watched the barely noticeable rise and fall of her chest and heard the almost-imperceptible rasping sound that came from the involuntary act.

  Raif looked down on her with a mixture of bitterness and compassion. Oracles in general weren’t exactly on his list of favorite creatures. However, Raif was a warrior right down to the tips of his toes. A warrior’s job, first and foremost, is to protect those weaker than himself, and you couldn’t get any weaker or more helpless than Delilah. He stood for about as long as he comfortably could before leaving. “I’ll wait for you outside,” he said as he pulled the door closed behind him.

  Just as Raif left, the bathroom door swung wide and Tyler stepped into the room. I thought of Xander’s earlier play for my attention, and guilt swept over me. Clearing my throat, I tried to banish the feeling that I had somehow betrayed him. He looked my way briefly before moving to Delilah’s side, where he placed a cool cloth on her forehead.

  “She’ll be all right,” he said, as if he’d been repeating the mantra since she’d been brought here. “Anya says she’ll be in and out of consciousness for a few days, maybe, but she’ll live. You know”—Ty gave me a bitter smile—“in the all the years I’ve known Delilah, this is the first time I’ve ever seen her helpless.”

  “How did you two meet?” I asked, wanting to take his mind off his sorrow.

  “We traveled in the same circles. The older supernatural community tends to stay close. The world is constantly changing, and life can get lonely when you live so long. It’s nice to have something or someone to ground you. We all sort of keep in touch. Delilah and I would run across each other every twenty years or so. I was living in upstate New York in the eighties. She was hanging out with a CIA contact I’d done some freelance work for.”

  “CIA? What’s that all about?” I couldn’t help my wry tone. Good lord, Ty had played with some big-time heavy hitters.

  He laughed. “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you. Delilah’s the one who convinced me to move to Seattle. She was headed out this way, and she told me that my future awaited me here.” His expression was heated as his eyes bore in to mine. “I guess she was right.”

  “I’m going to find whoever did this,” I said, speaking more to Delilah than Ty. “And when I do, I’m going to kill every last one of them.”

  Tyler’s head snapped up and he stalked around the bed. He grabbed my upper arm, giving me a little shake. “You are not, under any circumstance, going after whoever did this. Do you understand me?”

  Did Xander and Ty share a brain or something? Since when did I become the damsel in distress anyway?

  “Who are you to tell me what I can or can’t do?” I said, none too calm. “I’m not that
breakable, Ty. I can’t sit here and do nothing.”

  “I care, okay!” Tyler’s voice was rising to the point that every Shaede in the house would hear our conversation. “I don’t want you to get hurt, or worse. It would kill me if something happened to you.”

  Literally, I thought. If this was about saving his neck, then I could fix that problem with little fuss. “If you’re worried about yourself, Jinn, I can release you from whatever bond we have right now. You won’t need to die for me or anyone else.”

  Tyler’s face went blank and he looked at his feet, shaking his head. When he looked up, his eyes met mine with a fierce intensity. He grabbed both of my arms just below the shoulder and gave me a rougher shake with each word, “I. Love. You!”

  “Shut up!” I said, not caring who heard our exchange now. “Shut up, Tyler! You have no idea what you’re saying.”

  “Keep telling yourself that, Darian. Do whatever you have to do to keep from feeling what you know is there. Play your games with Xander, run from the truth, put yourself in danger. Kill every last thing on the fucking planet if you think it’ll keep you from the truth. It’s not going to change anything. It’s not going to change how I feel. And sooner or later, you’re going to have to admit that you love me too.”

  His words were flavored with something I didn’t recognize, couldn’t understand. He trembled with emotion. I don’t know what he wanted to do—hit me, kiss me, or maybe take me outside and throw me off the balcony. My arms tingled, his tight grip biting into my skin, cutting off the circulation.

  “Tyler.” My voice had grown quieter, but I couldn’t do anything about the hard edge. “You’ve known me for a long time. I’m not made for that. Love isn’t in my vocabulary. I don’t even think I really know what it is. You’re not doing yourself any favors by trying to convince yourself otherwise.”

  I broke free from his grasp and paused at Delilah’s bedside, putting my lips to the one tiny spot on her forehead not marred with cuts or bruises. “Don’t worry; I am going to kill the bastards that did this.” I shot one last murderous, albeit confused, glare at the back of Tyler’s head, and left.