Iron (The Warding Book 1)

by Robin L. Cole

  “No shit. I can see that! I mean, what the hell is it doing in your living room?”

  I looked over my shoulder, dying a little more inside with each passing second. “I, ah, figured it was time for me to get in shape. I’m tired of getting my ass handed to me so I thought a home gym would help.” I tried not to choke on my words and hurriedly added, “You know, at my, uh, self-defense class.”

  The set of her jaw told me that was the wrong answer. “So, let me get this straight. Even though you keep getting the snot beat out of you at this ‘self-defense class’ of yours—nice lip, by the way—you refuse to consider switching to my gym, where I’ve never seen anyone leave with a black eye. On top of that, you suddenly decided that you needed to run out and buy yourself a home gym today, of all days. And that’s why you forgot the most important night of my life?”

  I took a deep, shuddering breath and counted to ten. I didn’t blame her for being mad. I would have been, had our situations been reversed. To make it worse, when spelled out that way, it really sounded like I had fallen off my damn rocker. So, yeah; she had every right to be angry. The hysterics were a bit much though, and they grated along my last nerve. I didn’t need her to make me feel like I was the worst friend in the whole world; I was doing a fine job of that all on my own. I took another deep breath. That sinking, swirling feeling gripped me again. Normal seemed so very far away and I just didn’t know what to say to get myself out of hot water this time.

  At that moment—at the worst possible moment—a clatter rang out from my living room.

  Jenni jumped, eyes wide. “What was that?”

  It sounded like the precariously stacked pile of DVDs on my coffee table falling to the floor, but how the fuck did I even begin to explain that? Instead, I sputtered and panicked. I took far too long to think of an excuse. With an angry sound that was half snarl, half sigh, Jenni pushed past me and stormed toward the living room. I tried to grab at the arm of her jacket, a strangled sound of alarm caught in my throat, but she evaded me. My chest seized up as I stumbled after her, waiting for the next outburst when she saw Mairi sitting on my couch.

  She stopped just inside the doorway and jerked back a step. She combed back her hair with one hand, sounding more baffled than irritated when she said, “Now I know you’ve lost your mind. When, and more importantly why, the hell did you get a cat?”

  I froze my face before it could betray me. Instead, I poked my head around the corner and faked a cough to stifle a chuckle at what I saw there. Peeking out from beneath a tent of cardboard upon my sofa was a curious-looking little calico. She looked back and forth between me and Jenni, giving us that squinty-eyed look I think was supposed to express feline affection. She even rewarded our continued attention with an adorable little “mrrrow.”

  Jenni gestured to the cat and gave me an expectant look. I shrugged. “Well, after that night at the bar I was a little uncomfortable being all alone at night, so…” I trailed off, hoping that she would let such a sensitive issue drop. (God, I was a shitty excuse for a friend.)

  My ruse worked. Instead of harping on the crazy depths of my current behavior, she fell silent. She put her purse down on the end table and leaned over the couch, offering an outstretched hand to my new “pet.” Mairi played along, slowly creeping forward to sniff at it before accepting some light scratches behind her ears. “What’s her name?”

  “Cali.” Not incredibly original, but I was proud that I managed to respond without stuttering. Score one for the home team.

  “It does make me feel better knowing you’re not all alone here,” she said. “Not that a cat is really much protection.”

  “Well the landlord would have had a kitten of his own if I got a dog, and I’d hang myself before getting a bird. It was the best I could do.”

  Jenni patted Mairi on the head and picked her purse back up, tucking it up high on her shoulder. “She’s a cutie. I bet your mom will go bonkers when she hears you got her.”

  My mother was one stray shy of being her neighborhood’s crazy cat lady. I had long bemoaned her penchant for taking in every bedraggled creature that crossed her porch. The I-told-you-so smugness would never end once she heard that I had adopted a four-footed friend. The thought made me groan out loud. “Yeah, I haven’t told her yet.”

  Jenni snorted. “I figured. I ran into her at the mall the other day. She would have said something if you had.”

  “I can only imagine.”

  She tucked her hair back behind one ear. She had straightened it for the show; it glimmered like gold. “She said she hasn’t heard from you in a week or so.”

  That was as close to a chastisement as she had ever given me. I let it slide thanks to the overwhelming guilt I was wallowing in. Jenni knew my history with my mother. To say that our relationship was rocky was like calling a hurricane “a little rain.” It was true though. My strained weekly phone call to hear mom complain yet again about how loud the neighbors were or how she had caught my father sneaking midnight snacks despite his diet had fallen by the wayside in the previous weeks. “Yeah, I know. I haven’t had much to say. I’ll call her soon. Promise.”

  “Okay.”

  That awkward silence stretched on between us. Mairi did a good job of pouncing and stalking through the garbage on my couch, giving us something to focus on. Still; I couldn’t just stand there forever, feeling like shit. “Jen, I’m really so, so sorry for forgetting about tonight. It was terrible of me and I hate myself for it. I hope you know that.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s fine. Shit happens, right? Besides, you’ve had a lot on your mind.” Her smile was weak. I guess I wasn’t the only one feeling the chasm stretching between us. I wanted to cry. She glanced over at the clock. “I really need to get going.”

  “Okay. Do you want to grab some brunch tomorrow? You can tell me all about it over mimosas. My treat.”

  She nodded. “Sure. I’ll call you in the morning.” She gave me a quick hug and headed out the door. I stood in my living room doorway and watched her go, my throat tight. It occurred to me as the front door clicked shut that she had never urged me to throw my ass in a quick shower or asked me if I was going to show up later, to catch any bit of her performance that I could. She already seemed to know what the answer to either of those questions would have been: another half-assed excuse.

  I was a world-class heel. I heard rustling behind me as Mairi untangled herself from the packing she had been curled up under. She said, “I’m such a klutz! I was trying so hard not to make any of the stupid cellophane crinkle that my fat ass took out half the table.”

  Fat ass, my ass. She looked like she weighed ninety pounds, soaking wet. “No need to apologize. My stupidity caused this mess in the first place. Quick thinking with that whole cat thing though. Thanks.”

  “Seemed like that would be easier to explain than things mysteriously falling over by themselves.” I could see that she had perched herself on the back of the couch, human-looking once more, out of the corner of my eye. “You’re not the greatest at this double-life thing, huh?”

  I cracked a smile that I didn’t really feel. “Nope. I’d make a terrible secret agent.” When I turned around, the sight of my destroyed living room sucked the last of the energy right out of me. I just wanted to leave it that way and let “Future Caitlin” deal with it, but I’d hate myself even more in the morning if I did. If that was even possible, of course. I hated myself pretty bad at that moment.

  “You okay?”

  “I’ll be fine. I feel like shit for letting her down but I’ll make it up to her. Somehow. The sooner we find that damn Lynx and I can get back to my normal life, the better.” I didn’t believe a word of it. Mairi’s lopsided smile didn’t meet her eyes. That look told me I wasn’t exactly convincing her either. Whatever. I didn’t want to talk about it and the only other thing I could do was ignore it. I heaved a deep sigh and gathered up an armful of bubble wrap. “Come on. Let’s get this place cleaned up and then I’ll take you h
ome.”

  There’d be enough time for self-loathing later.

  ~*~

  It was hard for me to follow Mairi back into the fae house later that evening. Humility is not something naturally coded in my DNA. If my mother’s overly dramatic tales were to be believed, I had been stubborn from the cradle on. I was known to hold onto my pride longer than was necessary, even in the face of having been proved unequivocally wrong. So, knowing full well that I was going to have to swallow that pride not once but twice made each step up the walkway to that house incredibly hard. It was a small favor when Mairi hung back with Seana in the living room, after the latter directed me toward the kitchen. It was hard enough to be contrite without an audience.

  I stopped in the kitchen doorway, holding my purse on my shoulder with a sweaty grip. The scene before me was so commonplace that it struck me as bizarre. A large pot bubbled away on the stove, giving off the luscious scent of tomatoes and garlic. Kaine, seated at the kitchen table, had his head inclined over the newspaper spread out on the table before him. A sweating half-empty bottle of beer stood at his elbow and he was chewing absently on the capped end of a ballpoint pen. Apparently, the freaky fae Lord of the Manor who made blood pacts like they were nothing also liked to cook and to do crossword puzzles. While drinking Sam Adams. I stifled a chuckle. Okay. Nothing weird about that. Nope; nothing weird about that at all.

  “Can I help you, Caitlin?” he asked, never looking up. That deep baritone shot through me like Cupid’s arrow yet again, making all sorts of things inside me vibrate in response.

  I hated how he could do that every single time he spoke. Bad enough that I felt like a moron for having to deliver a heartfelt apology to a near stranger, but the way he set my hormones buzzing was an added insult that set my teeth on edge. I traced the checkered pattern of the floor tiles with my eyes, face red. I cleared my throat and aimed for deferentially polite. “Is this a good time? I could come back another day, if you’re busy.”

  I heard the rustle as he folded the newspaper. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him sit back in his chair. “No, no. Please; sit.”

  I pulled out the chair opposite his and sat; clutching my purse in my lap. It gave my hands something to do other than fidget. I knew he had me fixed with that calm, unwavering stare; those eerie eyes like calm waters in some Caribbean sea that I had only seen on the Travel Channel.

  Okay, scratch that; I hated how poetic his eyes made me even more than I hated his voice’s panty-dropping properties.

  He chuckled softly. I wondered how much my expression was giving away. “Is there something on your mind?”

  “Uh, yeah. Sort of.” I cleared my throat—far too aware of how awkward I sounded—and dove in. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I never thanked you for saving me, that night the troll attacked me.”

  I glanced up at him from beneath my eyelashes and saw that he had his head cocked slightly to the right; a smile playing on his lips. He looked amused, which tickled my libido’s fancy just fine. He held up a hand to forestall any further rambling apologies I could make. “There is no need to thank me. I acted as any man worth his salt would, seeing a lady in peril.”

  I swallowed a reflexive snort at his Shakespearean gallantry. He probably would have taken that as rude. I still couldn’t get over how quickly my internal pendulum could swing from horn-dog to know-it-all bitch with this guy. I shook my head. “Yeah, well, maybe where you’re from they do. Here? Not so much. Strangers don’t just go risking their lives for one another.”

  “They do not?”

  Now his head was cocked full force, something troubled rippling in his eyes; like wind ruffling the stormy seas. (There was that goddamn poetry again.) I bit my tongue and gave myself a sharp reminder of where I was and who I was with. This was so not the time or place to get sappy. I released it so I could continue busting his chivalrous bubble. “Ah, no. Not generally.”

  He frowned, brow deeply furrowed. I had never seen him look so disturbed, so confused, so…Human. For some reason, that bothered me on a level I couldn’t even begin to explain. He said, “I could walk this world of yours for a hundred years and understand it no better. Is that not a lonely way in which to live?”

  “Uh… maybe? I’m not really the one to ask. You kind of get used to it when it’s all you know, I guess. In any case, I’m pretty sure I would have become sidewalk pâté if you hadn’t come along that night, so thank you.”

  He inclined his head, every inch the stately lord once more. I had to resist the urge to drop into a curtsy. Not wanting to get into a debate about the miserable mess that was modern day humanity, I threw myself to the wolf and asked, “And where would I find Gannon tonight?”

  ~*~

  I really hated that back staircase.

  Every time I ascended it my heart leaped in my throat, pounding so hard I felt like I would choke on it. Kaine made me uneasy, with the way he sent my thoughts spinning and had some primal part of me panting like a dog in heat from a sideways glance. That was bad enough. Yet somehow that particular uneasiness seemed oh-so-much more manageable than the foreboding I felt at the mere thought of entering the same room as Gannon. Maybe the inherent moral code I had sensed in Kaine from day one, even before his genuine dismay at the folly of man, had made him feel safer, somehow.

  Gannon? Nope. No safety net there. Not even a bungee cord to pull me back. When I was left alone with him I felt like I had been thrown into the pit, an impromptu gladiator with a blunt stick facing off against a hungry lion. There was something about him, something feral and downright dangerous, that made my insides quake on a completely different level. I sensed anger in him; a seething force that bubbled just beneath the surface every time we traded blows. Hell, I saw a flash of it every time our eyes met.

  Still, if I didn’t nut up and face that fear, I knew I would never be able to walk into that training room without a cloud of defeat hanging over me. Eau de Failure was not my preferred perfume. I truly wanted to learn what he had to teach me, if I were capable, and we would never get past Lesson One if I didn’t make some sort of an attempt to salvage the rapidly crumbling rapport between us.

  Just as Kaine had promised, Gannon was in his little inner sanctum of torture. I’d promised myself I’d stop calling it at the bottom of the stairs but, well… Shit happens. Only one of the overhead lights was on, its beam focused dead center in the middle of the room. Moonlight flooded in from above, creating wide swathes of pale silver across the floor.

  He was seated in the center of the Red Ring of Doom, nothing but a small square cushion between him and the floor. He was dressed in one of those white uniforms straight out of a Karate Kid movie; legs crossed, hands resting palm up on his knees. I teetered in the doorway, mentally cursing. Interrupting his midnight meditation seemed a piss-poor way to start making amends. I had nearly turned to go when he said, “Is there something you need?”

  His voice was deep, steady; unruffled. For a heartbeat, I thought I heard an echo of Kaine in that voice. Maybe all that meditation mumbo jumbo wasn’t the steaming load I had always thought it was. Of course, that could have just been his normal speaking voice too. It wasn’t the gruff tone I had grown used to hearing as we sparred, but as the few words we had exchanged hadn’t exactly been pleasant ones, it was possible that my opinion was slightly skewed.

  Okay; it was likely that my opinion was more than” slightly” skewed.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt you.” I tried to aim for that same deferential neutrality I has used with Kaine, but I’m pretty sure I came off sounding like I was two seconds away from cowering in fear instead.

  He unfolded himself from his seated position in one slow, fluid movement. Once on his feet, he turned with practiced grace and crossed the distance between us. He stopped a foot away from me, feet spread in an even stance; arms crossed. He was so close that his hair looked black in the low light and I could see that his high cheekbones shimmered with a faint remnant of sweat. He waited, his b
lank expression never wavering. Not another word was spoken.

  I took a deep breath. It was hard for me to find my train of thought when his presence brought up a wellspring of emotions: awkwardness, resentment, nervousness, embarrassment. I hated, hated, hated the way his mere presence intimidated me. He made me feel like a child asking a parent to indulge some frivolous whim. As much as I loathed facing him, I hated fearing the walk to my car every evening and the nightmares over what could be lurking in the dark outside my door each night even more. I swallowed the lump in my throat along with my pride. “I came to apologize.”

  I finally summoned the courage to meet his eyes. It was like having a bucket of cold water dumped over my head. I had grown so used to seeing them regarding me with calculating ferocity, when they weren’t narrowed in anger or rolling in disappointment, that to see them emptied of all that exasperation shocked me. Instead, there was a deep, centered sense of calm there. It was unlike anything I had ever seen before. I’ll be damned if it didn’t make me instantly jealous.

  He compounded my astonishment when he said, “There is no need for you to apologize.”

  I snorted. “Uh, yeah there is. I made a deal with Kaine and you got roped into it. I never thanked you for agreeing to teach me and I certainly didn’t show you the respect any teacher deserves. We got off on the wrong foot, and that it was largely my fault. I’m hoping I can change that.”

  He smiled, the first real smile I had ever seen on his face. “I am Kaine’s Guardian, Caitlin. I do as he bids; it’s my duty. There is no need for you to make amends for him.”

  For a moment I wondered if I had been better off with the hostile, aloof Gannon. He was speaking civilly to me—and I was both surprised and pleased to hear how normal he sounded when not barking orders or swinging a pole at my head—but the casual dismissal of everything I had agonized over all day long was a bitter pill to swallow. “Still, I feel the need to do so. If not for having made the bargain in the first place, then at least for my bratty behavior.” He watched me, not budging a single step in the direction of accepting my penitence. I wanted to scream. I let a small growl of frustration slip out. “Come on Gannon, for Christ’s sake, I’m trying here. Will you give me just a little back, please?”