Shaedes of Gray: A Shaede Assassin Novel sa-1

by amanda bonilla

  “I’m done with this shit,” I said between gritted teeth. I doubled my fists, still wrapped around the dagger’s grip, and brought the pommel down on Azriel’s head. He fell to the grass at my feet, and I stomped a booted foot down onto his neck.

  “Raif!” I called toward the house. “Get the fuck out here!”

  “He’s secured for now,” Raif said, dark and serious.

  I pushed myself from the table where I’d been pretending to eat. Xander remained in his seat, a dark look of regret marring his handsome face. He scowled and threw his fork across the dining room. It stuck in the wall just to the right of Anya’s head. It just seemed I couldn’t catch a break.

  Azriel could have run. But instead he’d waltzed right into the lion’s den. He had no choice now but to face the consequences of his actions. “I want to see him.”

  “I thought we’d let him stew for a while,” Raif said. “Then we’ll pay him a visit.”

  “Don’t do anything without me,” I warned, and took my leave.

  The quiet dark of Tyler’s room seemed appropriate. I thought he’d like it that way, for some reason. I should’ve let the light in every once in a while, but for the life of me I couldn’t bring myself to pull the curtains aside. I wanted him back. Now. Awake and smiling and filling me with comfort I hadn’t dared to feel. Henry had left me craving affection, and Azriel had led me around by a ring in want of it. But Tyler had given it freely and without anticipation of anything in return. He’d bound himself to me, tied his life to my very existence, and had never held that fact over my head. Unconditional—that was Tyler. And when I didn’t think I was worthy of love, or contained the capacity to feel it, Tyler had taught me that I’d been wrong. I loved, deeply. I loved him.

  “You know,” I said as I planted myself in a chair beside his bed, “I really want you to wake up so you can explain your little animal act to me.” I’d taken to talking to him, whether he was awake or not, hoping I could coax him from whatever held him. “Have you always been able to do that? Xander says that Jinn can change shapes, and it embodies their protection. The bear suited you. You could have saved me a lot of trouble, though, if you’d stayed in human form. Did you even think about that, Tyler? You are such an idiot!”

  His wounds refused to heal, seeping blood and pus, infection pulling him closer to death every day. Rage and frustration blossomed from the pit of my stomach. I kicked the side of his bed, jostling his body. “Wake up!” I stood and leaned over him. “Wake up, damn you! Don’t be so fucking weak! Get. Up!”

  “Darian,” Raif’s voice called from the doorway. “Maybe you should take a few days away from here.”

  I spun around, mad as hell and ready for a fight. “He can wake up! He just won’t! Why the hell not? What did I do?”

  Raif came to me and laid a comforting, albeit stiff, hand on my shoulder.

  “Fuck!” I cried. “What the hell is wrong with me?”

  Raif laughed quietly. “You’re feeling something,” he said. “I know you think you’re immune to such tender things, but you’re not as damn hard as you’ve convinced yourself you are.”

  “I love him,” I whispered.

  “Yes,” he said. “I think that’s pretty obvious. I’m going down to Azriel. Are you coming?”

  I paused, looked back at Tyler’s still form on the bed.

  “Let’s go.” He tilted his head toward the door. “Don’t go easy on him either.”

  The corners of my mouth tugged into a reluctant smile. “Don’t worry,” I said. “I won’t.”

  Indignant and full of fire, Azriel laughed in our faces. He’d been afforded better treatment than his Lyhtan associates, given a prince’s imprisonment in a huge suite of rooms.

  Though my wounds had healed since our fight, Azriel’s were still fresh. His wrists had been bound with silky strands of Lyhtan hair and tied behind him. Raif may have treated him like a prince, but he was still a dangerous prisoner. “You think this is over?” He laughed, spitting blood from his cut lip. “You think because only one of the Enphigmalé lives and the others are either dormant or dead that this is the end of it? You’re wrong.”

  I didn’t need to hit him again, but I wanted to. It made me feel better to rattle his brain a little. Besides, I had a month’s worth of built-up tension to release. “That one’s for Tyler,” I said, shaking out my hand.

  “The iron collar did the trick, didn’t it? Kept him locked in his animal form. He was with you all the time, and you were too stupid to see it. You actually thought Delilah was him!”

  I backhanded him, nice and hard.

  “Hit me again,” he said, “and again and again and again! It won’t change anything. It won’t change who or what you are! It won’t change your purpose.”

  “Don’t speak unless you have something worth saying,” Raif snapped from near the doorway. “Repent now, Azriel, and perhaps this will end well for you.”

  “This is only the beginning,” he said. “My father can’t stop it, and you can’t stop it either, Uncle. The floodgates are open. And if you think Delilah’s failure is the end of it, you’re wrong. She has more reason to hate you than I do.”

  Raif shrugged, quirked a curious brow.

  “Why did my father send the pair of you to deal with me?” His voice became cold, detached, hollow. “Not man enough to face me himself, I suppose. I’m insulted, actually, that he sent his servants to clean up his mess.”

  Beating him wasn’t going to do any good. Keeping him captive seemed futile as well. He’d gone mad with his need for vengeance and power. A need founded from years alone, separated from his own people. I knew just how he felt. He’d done the same to me. “I’m surprised at you, Darian,” he said, spitting more blood. “This is the thanks I get for everything I did for you. You would have remained a human punching bag if it hadn’t been for me. I saved your weak and sorry ass.”

  “Get out, Raif,” I said, low.

  “Darian—,” he warned.

  “Now. You don’t need to be party to this. Leave.”

  I waited for Raif to close the door, which he did reluctantly. I’d been paid to do a job, and it was finally time to go to work. “Listen, you slimy sonofabitch. I don’t owe you a fucking thing. You got that?”

  Azriel gave a crooked, swollen-lipped smile. His eyes narrowed in calculation, and that was enough to earn him a black eye. I shook out my fist, looked at the tiny cuts on my knuckles, which closed before the blood could spill over my skin.

  “Delilah left you high and dry,” I said. “Your little coup failed. You’re all alone, and it’s time to settle your tab.”

  “Do you want me to beg for forgiveness?” he asked, his voice turning seductive and sweet. “Is that what you want, love?” He approached me slowly and warily, his eyes roaming hungrily over my body. “Well, it’s not going to happen. I refuse to beg him for anything!”

  Jesus, I wish he’d shut up. How I’d spent twenty years in his company, I’ll never know.

  “You’re still as stupid and ignorant as you ever were. You and Raif. Serving my father like his lapdogs.” He snorted in disgust. “But he’ll trip up sooner or later, and you’ll both regret your allegiance. Fools, both of you.”

  At least now I knew where Azriel had gotten his dramatic tendencies; seems it ran in the family. My fingers caressed the dagger’s hilt, protruding from the sheath at my thigh, and my conscience hitched for a brief, intolerable moment.

  “You can’t talk your way out of this one, Az.” I wondered what could have made him hate his father so much, what skeletons lurked in his closet. “Besides, I don’t give a shit about Xander’s kingdom. When I finish this, I’m done with him.”

  Azriel laughed again; his rope was seriously unraveling. “You know, now that I think of it, I should have killed your little pet. He fell hard for you, though I don’t blame him. You are extraordinary. But you—you surpassed my expectations. Delilah knew your love for him was deep, and I doubted it. You were right—I a
m jealous. You certainly didn’t love me as much. How’s your true love doing, by the way? Not much of a wish granter anymore, I hear.”

  I never said my moral compass pointed due north. My own skeletons needed a walk-in closet. I’d been paid, plain and simple, and I always followed through on a job. Always.

  The dagger slipped from the sheath, quiet as a lover’s whisper. I choked up on the grip, the guard biting bitterly into my skin. Twenty years I’d spent with him. He’d seduced me and I’d thought I loved him. He could have been honest with me. If he’d told me the truth all those years ago and defied Xander, I would have taken his side. I would have followed him anywhere, and we might’ve been happy. Looking into the cold light of his eyes, though, I saw the truth. He wanted me dead. Me and every last person who’d wronged him. He could never be stopped or restrained or imprisoned. Raif was right. He was simply too dangerous, and I held to my standards: Never kill the innocent. I sucked in a breath, looked deep into the fathomless depths of his black eyes, and reached behind him, my face brushing his as I cut the Lyhtan hair with my dagger, freeing his hands.

  “I’d rather die by your hand than live by anyone else’s,” he said, almost too low to hear. He reached for his boot, for the knife I’d seen hidden there.

  Mercifully quick, I stabbed at his jugular, severed the carotid artery.

  Bright crimson gushed from the wound, and the air tinged with copper. Eyes large and disbelieving, Azriel stared. He twitched, bent forward, and lurched upright. “That’s . . . my girl,” he said in a gurgling breath. The spark drained from his eyes, and he slumped to the floor.

  I stumbled and found my back against the far wall. Sliding to the floor, I sat with my knees drawn up and the bloody dagger dangling from my hand. I’d always thought he was dead. And now he was. Once and for all, Azriel was gone. And my hand had dealt the blow.

  Anya rounded the corner at a full sprint. She wore a canary-yellow jumpsuit in her signature leather. I wondered how much I’d have to pay her to get her into a nice pair of cotton Dockers. “What happened?” she asked, curiosity watering down her usual condescension. “I’ve never seen Raif so unsettled.”

  “It didn’t go well,” I said, using the wall as leverage to push myself from the floor.

  “You think?” She motioned to the door.

  Three Shaedes entered, looking more afraid of me than the mangled and bloodied body lying on the floor. They skirted me by way of the opposite wall, and I did them a favor by getting the hell out of there.

  Not confined to time of day, I became one with the very air and appeared at Raif’s back as he hurried toward the second flight of stairs. I drifted into my corporeal form and laid a hand on his shoulder to stop him. “Raif, there wasn’t any other way for this to end. You know that, right?”

  “Do I?” he said, taking my hand and removing it from his shoulder. “I’m not so sure. Do you think he was telling the truth in there?” He jerked his head toward the stairs. “I always knew that Azriel had designs on Xander’s throne. But more than that? ‘This is only the beginning.’ That’s what he said. I was stupid to hope that merely killing the fool would put an end to this. And, frankly, I don’t need the headache.”

  “Azriel was a liar. We both know that. There’s always hope, Raif,” I said.

  “Oh, really?” His jaded tone screamed hardened, battle-weary warrior. And, perhaps, grieving uncle? “Do you have hope now? You’ve been wandering around this house for weeks like some sort of damned ghost, waiting for Tyler to wake up. Is that hope? Knowing there’s not a single thing you can do for him, but staying here anyway—is that hope? Living for a dead man—is that hope? Or is it just pathetic?”

  Ouch, Raif. He’d stung me with his words, but deep down I knew I wasn’t pathetic. I did have hope. I hoped that Azriel’s plans died with him. I hoped we’d have some peace and quiet for a while. And I had to hope Tyler would be okay. And as Raif’s words came back to me, my hope transformed into a plan.

  “I’ll show you what hope can do.” I disappeared, and like the ghost they all thought I was, drifted up the staircase to Tyler’s room.

  I burst through the door and knelt beside him, put my mouth to his ear. “Tyler, I’m not letting you leave me. I’ve been alone for too goddamned long, and I refuse to allow you to break our bond.” I’d told Delilah, disguised as Tyler, that I loved him. But had I told the real Tyler? “You said I didn’t have to love you back, but I do. I love you, damn it. I love your smile and your smell and the annoying way you follow me around. I love that you love me despite my faults, what I’ve done, and who I am. And I love that you’re not afraid of me.” I laid my lips to his temple. “I. Love. You.”

  If anyone was going to drink my oh-so-special blood, it was going to be Tyler. It had turned stone to flesh, and what I wanted right now was less a feat than that. He’d bound us by magic, perhaps something deeper still, and I was going to bind us by blood. I could heal almost instantaneously. Could my blood heal Tyler as well? I took the dagger stained with Azriel’s blood. I wiped it clean on my shirt and swiped it across my pants for good measure. Drawing a breath, I sliced the blade across my palm and waited for the ribbon of blood. It welled up and I made a fist, holding it over Tyler’s mouth, which I pried open with my other hand. Crimson droplets splashed against his teeth and dripped into this throat.

  I healed so much faster now, I had to reopen the wound three times. Squeezing my fist each time, I willed every drop I could, and it came faster, running in a tiny stream. I didn’t know how much to give him. I wasn’t even sure if it would work. A few seconds passed, and I pulled my fist away and watched as the wound closed before my eyes. I marveled at the changes in me, but I didn’t have time to worry about it. I closed Tyler’s mouth and massaged his throat to aid in swallowing. I said a silent prayer, and then I waited.

  Maybe I needed to chant a set of magic words, or something. My love for Tyler had been the ingredient needed to create life. Surely my love for him now was all I needed to save his. I sat for what seemed like an eternity, but nothing happened. He lay still and peaceful, his chest rising and falling as it had every day for weeks.

  “If you don’t wake up in thirty seconds, I’m outta here—for good,” I said.

  Turning on a heel, I walked toward the door, my steps in perfect time with the passing seconds. Three . . . two . . . one . . .

  “Is there anything in your wardrobe that isn’t black?” Tyler’s voice was little more than a whisper, calling out from behind me. “Don’t get me wrong. You look great. Sexy in a badass sort of way.”

  My heart swelled in my chest as I turned to face him. I smiled, finally wanting him to see the trace of warmth his nearness caused in me.

  Tyler never disappoints.

  Amanda Bonilla lives in rural Idaho with her husband and two kids. She’s a part-time pet wrangler, a full-time sun worshipper, and only goes out into the cold when coerced. When she’s not writing, she’s either reading or talking about her favorite books. For more about Amanda, visit www.amandabonilla.com.

  Read on for a peek at the next novel in the Shaede Assassin series,

  BLOOD BEFORE SUNRISE

  Available from Signet Eclipse in July 2012.

  “What are you looking at?”

  I tore my gaze from the delicate curve of the dagger’s blade, my eyes drawn to Azriel’s dark, handsome face like a magnet to metal. “Nothing, ” I said, though that wasn’t entirely true.

  “Ever lacking patience,” he said with humor. “You’ll never make it as an assassin if you can’t wait more than a few minutes to get a job done.”

  True enough, I supposed. I liked to wait about as much as I liked to be doused with gasoline and set on fire. “Lorik’s late,” I said. “It’s not like him.”

  Azriel stroked his finger along my jaw and his eyes burned with an intensity that had nothing to do with business. “It matters little to me if he shows or not. Either way, my night won’t be wasted.”

  I flushe
d at the innuendo, knowing all too well where a jobless night would lead us. Not that I’d complain . . .

  An engine growled in the distance, followed by the squealing of tires. The Cadillac LaSalle Roadster came to a halt inches from where I stood, and the driver’s expression was full of adrenaline-infused excitement. Lorik loved flashy cars, and despite the fact that he needed to lay low, he could never resist showing off. What’s the point in not putting that engine and sleek body to use? He’d consider it a waste. Besides, I had a suspicion that the combination of fancy car coupled with his pinstriped suit and fedora pulled low over his brow made Lorik feel like he’d just pulled a bank caper. Driving into the sunset and immortal glory would be the icing on the cake. And I’d be willing to bet a Chicago typewriter rode shotgun to round it all out. I mean, what self-respecting gangster didn’t have a machine gun in the front seat?

  “Looks like your clothes will be on for a while longer, my love.” Azriel leaned down and pressed his mouth to the pulse point just below my ear.

  I shivered at the contact, suddenly not caring whether Lorik’s life was in danger or not. Though the guy’s father did pay our bills, I supposed I could put my erotic thoughts on hold. But if he didn’t get down to business—and soon—he could rot in hell for all I cared.

  “What are you looking at?” Tyler asked again, his tone bemused when I didn’t answer him right away.

  “Nothing,” I finally said as I stared at the spot near the alley where that LaSalle had come to a skidding stop all those years ago. “Not a damn thing.”