Shaedes of Gray: A Shaede Assassin Novel sa-1

by amanda bonilla

  “Let’s go,” I said to Raif, closing the door behind me and walking down the hall.

  “Where?” he said, trying to keep up.

  “Anywhere but here. Is there someone who can look after Xander while we’re gone?”

  “I’ve got a detail posted outside his suite and I doubled the personnel around the perimeter of the house. He won’t be going anywhere tonight. The place is in total lockdown.”

  “Good,” I said, and bounded down the stairs, straight for the front door.

  “What the hell is it with men, anyway?” I asked Raif over the music and chatter as I settled onto a chair in my favorite corner of The Pit. “Do you guys have some kind of internal wiring problem, or what?”

  “I take it you’re talking about my brother and his competition?” Raif laughed and then looked around. “Do you actually like this place?”

  I quirked a brow. Competition? “There’s no contest. Besides, it’s just too strange. I feel like I have the starring role in some Arthurian poem or Greek tragedy or something.” If the situation was so obvious to Raif, everyone in Xander’s inner circle must’ve known about our little . . . situation. I wanted to gag. “Is it all about wanting what you can’t have? The thrill of the chase? Or what?”

  “Darian.” Humor lingered in Raif’s voice. “Time means something different to us. You’re still young, but you’ll soon understand. Xander is more than four hundred years old. You can live many lives in the course of a lifetime that spans so long. What does he care who you chose to spend your nights with a century ago? He’s still a man, and you’re still a beautiful woman.”

  Oh, so now this is my fault? I wasn’t getting the coolheaded logic I’d expected, but was instead getting the runaround from him too. “Okay, fine. All of this is because I’m just so goddamned irresistible. It must be my shining personality and lighthearted spirit. I feel so sorry for them both.”

  Raif laughed good-naturedly, at once an awkward and icy sound. But now, in our camaraderie, I found his laughter comforting. He didn’t offer any further commentary, which was just fine by me. I was sick to death of the whole situation, and I didn’t care if I saw either one of their sorry asses ever again. I was in the mood for a fight, and Raif would help bring one to me.

  “Enphigmalé,” I said, slapping my palm down on the table. “I want to know everything.”

  Raif stood and took up his chair, spinning it around and scooting it close to me. He straddled it and rested his arms on the high back. An expectant gleam, the bloodthirsty sort, shone in his eyes, and I waited for him to speak.

  “As the legend goes, when the British Isles were a wild, nameless place and the human race was in its infancy, the land belonged to the extraordinary. Change came, as it always must, and the human population exploded. We hid ourselves as best we could, but even then there were humans who could see us for what we were. Sometime in the years before Christ’s teachings, I believe, it’s said that a group was gathered and formed. A collective to . . . police the supernatural community, and keep the natural order, you might say. They called themselves the Enphigmalé, which, to tell you the truth, doesn’t mean much to me, but it could have meant something then.

  “Anyway, the stories say they were a ruthless bunch of bastards, and even took it upon themselves to regulate us as they saw fit, if it seemed like our populations were increasing to an uncontrollable number.” He snorted in disgust. “They had a full arsenal of members: theologians, scholars, warriors, high-ranking politicians, and influential businessmen. A mixture of human and nonhuman members, from what I’ve been told. Their reach was far, and there wasn’t much they didn’t have at least a finger in.”

  “The Lyhtan said, ‘The Enphigmalé will see to the end of your kind,’” I reminded him. “What do you think that meant? That they’re planning on exterminating us?”

  Raif shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. Lyhtans aren’t exactly eloquent speakers, as you already know.”

  “What about Azriel, then?” I tucked a leg up underneath me and leaned forward, resting my chin on my fingertips. “He has to have at least a finger in this. Could his ambition to seize Xander’s throne have to do with the Lyhtans and the Enphigmalé? And what about Delilah? How does she fit in to all of this? Shit is raining down on us. There’s no way it’s not all connected somehow. But . . . why beat the shit out her and then dump her in the middle of a supernatural political rally? Why not just kill her?”

  Raif shook his head in that disappointed-father way that always drove me crazy. “Why kill her?” he asked. “She has value.”

  “As what?”

  He raised a brow.

  “An Oracle,” I said, answering my own question.

  “Perhaps.”

  “So apparently they weren’t willing to make the sacrifice to buy Delilah’s services. From the looks of her, they decided to beat a vision out of her. Maybe they didn’t see anything at all,” I said, more to myself than to Raif. “Maybe the Lyhtan was just blowing smoke—or propagating something.”

  “Could be,” Raif agreed.

  “What else do you know about them?” His little story couldn’t possibly be all there was to the elusive group. There had to be more.

  “Stories, for the most part,” he said. “Conjecture, guesses. Faerie tales passed down from one generation to the next. They’re a tight group and very secretive. Not much is known about them. Over the years the legends change; their role increases or diminishes. Who’s to say if there’s any truth to the tales at all?”

  “What are the other versions of the stories?” I asked.

  “I’ve heard some say the Enphigmalé aren’t human at all. That they’re something else entirely, and the stories of secret societies are nothing but a smoke screen meant to scare the supernatural community. Boogey-men. It was once rumored that they were the guardians of something. Something so ancient it predates history.”

  “Like what?” I could barely contain my curiosity. It burned like a forest fire, to mingle with my rage and need for vengeance. “What could they possibly be protecting? And what are they? Do you think they’re like us?”

  “No, not like us. But who knows? Maybe they’re something dark and evil—a creature that answers to a specific master. Maybe the group itself is named after the animal that served them.”

  “I don’t exactly consider us bringers of the light,” I said ruefully. “Would you?”

  “Since when is everything black and white, Darian?” Raif asked in a reproachful tone.

  Since when . . . I was the self-proclaimed Queen of Gray. Black and white had no place in my world. Since when, indeed.

  “You’re forgetting another important question,” Raif said.

  I raised a brow in question. Am I?

  “How do you fit in to all of this?”

  I suppressed a shudder. Somehow, I was a part of this, though I had no idea why. Azriel wanted me . . . for something. But what? “Will you help me?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

  “Find them?” Raif said. “Yes. And kill every last one.”

  I smiled. Finally, someone who wasn’t insisting I hide and protect myself. “And what about Azriel? Are you certain he’s orchestrating all of this?”

  Raif smiled back. “I hope so.”

  Chapter 21

  I’d stopped at my apartment to grab a few things for the night, fully intending on returning to Xander’s to help Raif stand guard. Somehow the thought of being housed up with Tyler and Xander, not to mention the reminder of poor Delilah and her battered body, slowed my efforts. I wasn’t afraid of the danger. Cutting your eyeteeth in battle has a way of making a person swell with pride. And truth be told, I’d have much rather gone one-on-one with an enraged Lyhtan than spend the evening in the company of Xander, Tyler, or both. Hell, even Anya would have made a better companion, as far as my current circumstances were concerned. I just needed some time to clear my head. Get my shit together. But rather than think about anything, I curled up in
a ball on the couch and fell asleep.

  It must’ve been around midnight when I sensed a disturbance in the air behind me. I lay suctioned to the surface of my couch, barely breathing. I refused to wish for help. More than capable and deadly, I wasn’t about to go down without a fight. I tried to calm the shallow drafts of breath, slow the brisk thrumming of my pulse, as I waited for my guest to formally make his presence known.

  “Hello, my love.” That cool, seductive voice snaked into my soul, pulling me unbidden into memories I’d tried to banish. He’d found me. I hadn’t been able to track him down, not for decades. And he’d found me. I hoped Azriel hadn’t come to kill me, because despite my claim of strength, I wasn’t sure I could kill him.

  My voice froze inside my throat. Words formed on my tongue, but something prevented me from pushing them through my lips. My heart hammered inside my chest, and I suddenly felt the urge to swallow more than usual. I had often wondered how I’d feel if I ever came face-to-face with him again. Well, in this case, face to back of couch, but his voice was enough to send me over the edge. My nerves crumbled like dry bread, and I tried to make myself believe he’d leave if I could only manage to stay still for a moment longer.

  Azriel’s soft laughter rippled over me like rings on a pond. I tried to clear my throat in an effort to jump-start my vocal cords, and the sound came more like a whimper than anything with force behind it. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to sit up.

  “I was expecting the Big Bad Wolf, and instead I get Red Riding Hood. I have to say, Darian, I thought I made you tougher than that.”

  I tucked up my knees closer to my chest. As if that could save me. I took three deep breaths, the kind deep-sea divers take, and I pushed myself to a sitting position. My back was still turned to him, and I felt more than heard the rise and fall of his chest behind me. His presence burned like an open flame in the center of my existence.

  Turn around. Just turn around, Darian. Fuck. My brain was working, so why wasn’t my mouth or why weren’t my feet, for that matter? Why couldn’t I just turn around and face him?

  I thought of leaving my corporeal form, but knowing it wouldn’t do much good, I remained frozen where I sat. Left with no choices, it was either turn and face my maker or sit like a mute fool and wait to die. With considerable effort, I stood. And even though I felt like I was standing on a metal floor in a pair of magnetic boots, I shuffled my bare feet against the hardwood, inch by inch, until I turned to face the man I’d been hired to kill.

  The moment my eyes met his, every memory of our time together crashed over me like a tidal wave. Every moment. Every kiss, every touch—all of it.

  He smiled and his eyes wrinkled at the corners, sparking to life with the light that had stuck in my memory over the many lonely years without him. He rested his right hand over his heart and rocked back on his heels, putting me instantly under his spell.

  “If it’s possible, you’re even more beautiful than I remember,” he said.

  “You left me,” I blurted like an idiot. At least my mouth was working again.

  He laughed his cold and humorless laugh, causing a dread chill to race down my spine. I’d never understood just how much power he held over me—until now. Because I had the strange feeling that I’d leave with him in a second if he asked me to. I’d forget my promise to Xander and disregard every sweet word from Tyler’s mouth for an ounce of affection from him.

  “Azriel,” I choked, as if the word burned my throat.

  “Darling,” he answered.

  I was in trouble. Big trouble.

  And then . . . I remembered myself. Bullshit. He was nothing but a low-life, lying piece of shit. Savior or not, he was dangerous, a threat to my existence. I shouldn’t have been thinking about where we could run away together. But I should have been counting the steps from me to my sword. What was wrong with me? I’d succumbed to the glamour of my own kind for the last time. Azriel had tried to have me killed, or at the very least poisoned by his Lyhtan lackeys. Not to mention the fact that he’d dropped me cold, leaving me alone with nothing but lies to structure my existence. Screw him and his perfect GQ face.

  “I’m going to slice your sorry ass into little, tiny pieces,” I snapped. I wasn’t completely confident I could kill him. I hated being on the defensive. My plan had been to ferret him out, bring the fight to his door. Start with the ball in my court. So much for planning.

  Azriel threw his head back in a burst of chilly laughter. “There’s my girl,” he said. “You had me worried for a second.”

  “I have nothing to say to you.” I matched his tone in temperature. “You’re a dead man.”

  “I only wanted to see how you were doing.” He smiled another model-worthy smile as he walked around my couch, closer. Too close. “Not too bad, from the looks of it.” The heat from his presence bathed me in balmy air. I was suddenly overcome with a desire to reach out and touch . . .

  “What brings you here?” I asked, turning my gaze from his glowing features. “Haven’t had a good ass beating in a while? Feeling suicidal? I can take care of that for you.”

  “Ah, but I’d rather die by your hand than live by anyone else’s,” he said, laughing at his own lame attempt at humor. “I think you said that to me once, if I’m not mistaken.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” I said, lying through my teeth. “I’ve forgotten everything about you.”

  “If you say so.” He laughed and plopped down on one of my chairs like I’d invited him to settle in.

  “I hear you’ve gone into the business of waging war against your own people,” I said, inching closer to the kitchen, where I’d left the katana.

  “And I hear you’re shacking up with the king,” he said. “Doesn’t that make him sort of like your grandfather or something? Pretty sick, Darian.”

  “Oh, I’ve already done pretty sick—about a hundred years ago.” I couldn’t let him get the upper hand. I knew too well that I could easily succumb to his charms. He’d kept me under his thumb once, but it wouldn’t happen again. “Are you disappointed your Lyhtans didn’t finish me off the other day? I owe you one, you know. Actually, if we’re getting down to business, I owe you two or three.”

  “I didn’t come here tonight to fight you, Darian.” He said my name with such ease, something I couldn’t bring myself to do. His name was like poison on my lips, a curse.

  “I suppose you didn’t.” I was within feet of the katana now. All I needed to do was shed my corporeal form and I’d have it in my hand. “You came here to kill me, quick and easy. But that’s not going to happen tonight or any night.”

  Azriel laughed, and the sound of it tore at my heart. The pain of him leaving me was as fresh as if it had just happened.

  “Are you in league with the Enphigmalé?” I asked. “Should what happened to Delilah fall on your shoulders?”

  His eyes danced with mischief. “I never wanted to leave you, you know.”

  It was the wrong thing to say. The anger rose in me and I’d made my decision. He was going to die—right here, right now, in my living room. I’d worry about cleaning the carpet later. “Liar. You intended to leave me just like you intended to lie to me. Why? You didn’t need to keep me in the dark. Why keep the truth of my existence from me?”

  He looked sad, if only for a fleeting moment. It wasn’t enough to soften my hard-boiled soul. “My hand was forced. The less you knew about yourself, the better. And after a while, I liked it that way. You were my secret and mine alone. If my father hadn’t exiled me, we might have conquered him together. You could have ruled at my side. But it’s too late now. What’s done is done, and now that you’ve been found and others understand the importance of your existence, there’s no going back. You can’t run from Fate. I might not have you at my side, but you’ll still get me what I want.”

  What a load of bullshit. I felt my body drift into shadow, and as I became solid, my hand wrapped around the grip of the ancient katana. I freed it from the scabbard with b
lurring speed, but before I could put the blade to good use, Azriel had passed into shadow and was gone.

  “Fuck!” I screamed, slicing through the air.

  Sleep would’ve been impossible after Azriel’s visit, so I strapped the katana to my back and headed out in search of trouble. The Pit seemed as good a place as any to start, and with only a few more hours to go until closing, I’d be able to pin down Levi for a minute to talk. At the very least, he may have heard a rumor or two that could come in handy. Either way, I didn’t want the night to end without a little bloodshed.

  The club smelled like stale alcohol, cigarettes, and sweat. I wrinkled my nose in disgust and walked through a couple groups of drunken slobs, parried a few friendly hands, and kicked one brave soul in the shin after his palm made contact with my ass.

  It was unusually crowded for so late in the night. The counter was strewn with discarded glasses that Levi and a cocktail waitress were hurrying to throw in the dishwasher while wiping down the bar and restocking the bowls of peanuts, popcorn, and other nasty-looking snack foods. The TV was tuned to ESPN, and a few guys were catching up on scores from throughout the night while their dates crowded together and whispered in a tight circle.

  Levi steered me in the right direction. “See that girl over there?” He pointed to a petite blonde, standing alone and swaying her hips in time to the music. “She’s just what you’re looking for.”

  I tipped him a hundred-dollar bill (it was worth it), and made my way through the die-hard partiers to where the girl danced by herself. She couldn’t have been taller than four-eleven, and her long blond hair looked wild and uncombed, swirling in a knotted mass to almost her knees. Her eyes were closed, and in a dreamy sort of way she rocked to and fro, her arms waving like tree branches in a strong breeze. She seemed completely oblivious to everything around her. Only the music held her attention as the haunting beats dictated the sway of her hips back and forth, back and forth, like the tide washing up on shore.