Iron (The Warding Book 1)

by Robin L. Cole

  I supposed that would change soon, as Seana had cleared me to resume fighting, but in the interim I had done a good job of pretending our estrangement didn’t bother me. Fuck him and his holier-than-thou attitude. Even if I had deserved some of the riot act he had read me that night, he could have softened up just a bit when he saw that my whole world had pretty much just gone to shit.

  The image of my decimated bedroom flashed through my mind.

  My stomach churned.

  I hadn’t been able to make myself go back. Filing a report with the police, knowing full well that it would be a fruitless search, had been hard enough. Going back there and seeing again the proof that my days of blithely pretending I was leading some cool, secretive double life were over? I just couldn’t handle that. Not yet. Thankfully, Mairi knew and understood. She had gone back for me and had picked up a bunch of clothing without my even having to ask. Living in a borrowed home was bad enough. I don’t think I could have handled having to wear borrowed underwear too.

  I don’t know how long I laid there, stuck on my internal merry-go-round of anger and despair, but I must have dozed off at some point. When a hand gripped and shook my shoulder, accompanied by a whisper of my name, I went into DEFCON 3 mode and nearly clocked the figure looming over me in the dark.

  “Jesus, Caitlin, it’s me. Stand down,” Gannon said. He had taken a step back to avoid my wild swing. Damn his preternatural speed; I bet I had almost had him. He turned on the bedside lamp, as if I needed visual proof that he was who he said he was. I was momentarily dumbfounded to see that he was dressed in his hunting leathers, sword sheathed across his back and everything. It took me another moment to realize that if I was puzzling over his choice of pajamas, that meant he could also see me. In bed. In my lack of pajamas.

  “Gannon!” I yanked the sheet up to my chin as I scrambled to pull my bare leg back beneath it. “What the hell?”

  He started to say something, but appeared to think better of it; biting his lip. He barely kept the grin off his face as he said, “You’re not… indecent, are you?”

  I could feel the heat flooding my face. That boyish charm was like kryptonite, damn him. Something in that single word that went straight to the core of me. Traitorous core! We didn’t like him much at the moment, remember?

  Thankfully I wasn’t; not really. I had fallen asleep in a ratty old V-neck t-shirt that had seen far better days and a slightly embarrassing pair of orange and black striped panties that said “Tiger” in gold across the rear. Not something I wanted anyone to see me in, but at least my naughty bits were covered. Since I had fallen asleep on my back and the sheets had remained largely at stomach level, my secret was still safe. I strove for indignant and ignored his question, countering it with one of my own, “Is there a reason you’re barging into my room at”—I glanced over at the alarm clock, rounding up a smidge—“3:30 in the morning, dressed, quite literally, to kill?”

  That earned me another one of those smirks; the ones where he eyed me from under one raised eyebrow, looking all confident. And cocky. And stupid. He jerked his head toward the open door, the hallway beyond dimly lit. “I found him. Get dressed. We leave asap.”

  I stared at him, slack-jawed, and tried to put two and two together. Maybe it was the remnants of sleep, or maybe it was just the distractions of my traitorous core and the thoughts that smirk of his made it think, but I kept coming up with five. “Him? Him who… Wait, do you mean the troll?” My voice rose to a squeak on the last word.

  He waved a hand, shushing me. “Of course ‘the troll.’ Who the hell else have I been scouring the city for? And his name, by the way, is Argoth.”

  “He has a name?” I was still speaking in tones suited for dolphins, my adrenaline having kicked in to high gear. How dare a vile creature like that have a name? Knowing his name, rather than just calling him Goliath or Ugly or half a dozen other insulting nicknames like I had in my head all along, humanized the monster in a way I couldn’t accept. My fists were balled up again, shaking.

  “Of course he has a name. Now, come on. I found where he’s been holed up but I don’t know what his next move will be. He could make a run for it any time, so we need to do this quick.”

  There was no way in hell I was giving that beast a shot at getting away from us, not when we were finally so close to ending the reign of terror he had inflicted upon my life. I shot out of bed, scrambling to untangle myself from the sheets that tried to follow me. My mind was mind racing. Where had I stashed my leathers? Were my shitkickers in the closet or under the bed? Had I sharpened the girls before putting them away after the last hunt? I didn’t know if I trusted my dexterity to do so in a moving car on the way. Hell, would I even be able to grip them again, now that my hands had healed? It would be my first time fighting since…

  “Caitlin.”

  I froze; spine gone ramrod straight. There was something dangerous in the calm of his voice. I turned, hands still gripping the edge of the dresser drawer. He had his arms crossed, those icy eyes fixed on mine. “This could go bad real fast. I need to know you will listen to every word I say tonight, and will do every single thing I tell you to do. No arguing. No hesitation.”

  We could not have a repeat of the black dog fiasco. It was unsaid, but I heard it loud and clear. I nodded, lips pursed. “Understood.”

  He nodded once in return and turned toward the door. “Then get ready—and do it quietly. The others would have a fit if they knew I was taking you along on this.”

  Something smart-assy tried to make its way out of my mouth but I swallowed it down. I knew this hunt was out of my league. I had already seen firsthand how big and strong trolls were. I held no illusions that I was anywhere near a match for that, and it was no surprise that Kaine would have put the kibosh on me tagging along. Squatting at the fae house had made me privy to some very loud shouting matches coming from Kaine’s office. The danger his treasured Lynx Detector had put herself in had not gone unnoticed by the Lord of the Manor. While I had secretly gloated over knowing that Gannon had gotten chewed out way harder than he had done me, it had to have left an impression on my teacher. Which made me wonder why he was sticking his neck out for me again at all. I had to know. “Why?”

  The one word was enough. He paused, hand on the door-frame. I could only see him in profile. He was chewing at his lip again. “He’s your nightmare. You need to see this through to the end.”

  As often as I wanted to kick him in the nuts, Gannon understood me in a way few ever had. I swallowed hard, my throat tight. My eyes stung. “Thank you.”

  He turned ever so slightly and smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “You’re welcome.”

  I yanked opened the drawer and dug for my gear.

  “Meet me at the car in five, Tiger.”

  I whirled around, clutching at my butt like that would somehow help the situation, but he was already gone. A faint chuckle echoed down the hallway. My face was on fire again. I snarled; fuck him. I would get him back for that later. Right now, we had more important things to do.

  I had a troll to kill.

  ~*~

  “You’re fidgeting.”

  “Of course I’m fidgeting,” I snapped, glancing over at Gannon from the passenger’s seat. “We’re finally going to nail this bastard. How could I not be excited?” And scared damn near shitless. I left that part out but I was pretty sure he already knew. He kept his eyes on the road, never sparing me a look, so I tried to do the same. Companionable silence was a-okay by me. We were almost there. My frenzied mind was racing over the possibilities of what lay ahead of us again and again.

  It was hard not to be equal parts excited and scared. I had been waiting for this very moment for so long. The promise of safety and the ability to breathe again were damn near at my fingertips. Yet, the danger we were walking in to was pretty damn frightening too. I knew how freaky strong that troll was. A girl didn’t forget the night when she had been picked up by the scruff of the neck like a newbor
n kitten. I held no illusions: Goliath wasn’t going to go down easy.

  I refused to call him Argoth. Fuck him and his having a normal name and a life and a history. He didn’t get that right, not after having ruined my life.

  I took a deep, slow breath to steady myself. I gazed out the window at the slowly passing scenery, but that wasn’t exactly calming either. We were trekking deep into Riverview’s only truly “bad” neighborhood, a low-rent district not far from where the black dog hunt had taken place. It was a place the sunny little Caitlin Moore of six months ago would never have dared gone even in broad daylight, never mind at 4 in the morning, armed or no. The litter lined streets around us were dark and abandoned, lit only by the dull, yellowed light of the intermittent street lights. The storefronts here had no lighting of their own, though they had plenty of barred windows and heavy iron shutters. Bad mojo hung thick in the air. Swords and stilettos wouldn’t be worth dick if we ran afoul of whatever gang called this block home. Gannon’s dislike of guns wouldn’t stop one from putting an end to either of us quick.

  We pulled up half a block away from our target. I could barely make out the crumbling stairwell that lead down to the basement apartment below a closed and shuttered store whose faded awning promised fancy dresses at a deep discount. My heart hammered in my throat. I said a quick prayer to whatever higher power might be floating around up there. I just wanted us to get in and out quickly, with one less troll on my tail.

  Gannon hadn’t moved to exit the car. He sat very still, except for where his fingers were drumming lightly on the steering wheel. That was another of his nervous ticks that I had picked up on over the past few months. While I liked that I was learning to read him more and more, stoic expression or no, it didn’t bode well that even he was nervous about what we were about to do. I kind of needed him to be my calm and unflappable rock.

  “What’s the plan?” I asked, licking lips suddenly gone dry.

  “You’re not going to like it,” he said, voice low even though there was no one around to hear us.

  “I figured that.” A nervous laugh escaped me. “Lay it on me.”

  It was his turn to let out a long, low sigh. “I need you to go in first.”

  My jaw was literally hanging open as I gaped at him. Had he lost his mind?

  He seemed oblivious to my shock as he continued, “I don’t like using you as bait, but it’s the only way we’re going to get in there and not have this go down on the streets.”

  “He’ll make mincemeat out of me.”

  Gannon shook his head. “No, he won’t. You’re more valuable to him alive. Dead? The King won’t believe a word he says. It’ll be just another tall tale told by someone trying to get in good with royalty. Tiernan would have him executed on sight. Trolls might be slow, but they’re not stupid. Even Argoth has to know how fickle the King’s moods can be. He needs proof the Warding is alive and well, and being passed down to descendants here in your world.”

  I took a deep breath and held it for a moment. That made sense. Damn. I scrubbed at my face and grimaced at how sweaty my palms were. “Okay, fine; I’m bait. I go knock on that door and then what? Sit him down for tea and cookies?”

  “I’ll be right behind you, as close as I can be without him being able to sniff me out. All you need to do is get in that door and distract him—and then get the hell out of the way.”

  “Whoa, whoa, wait a minute! I didn’t come along just to do nothing! This is—”

  He turned and fixed me with a hard stare. “Out of your league.”

  “Maybe, but I—you said—” I spluttered.

  “I said you needed to finish this and I meant it,” he snapped, words so hard they were almost a growl. He looked away and for a heartbeat all I had to see was the back of his head and its tousled hair.

  When he looked back at me, my stomach clenched. The concern there took me out at the metaphorical knees. “Caitlin, you are not ready for this fight. I’m probably a fool for taking you along in the first place. I know how important seeing Argoth defeated is to you but, please, believe me: you’ll only be a hindrance if I get distracted worrying about your safety. I’ll stick to my word and let you have the killing blow if I can. But I also need you to hold true to yours. Promise me you’ll stay out of the way until Argoth is down.”

  It wasn’t a question. It was a command. My upper lip twitched, wanting to snarl but he was right. Again. I nodded. “Okay. Deal.”

  He reached for the door handle, then froze. “One last thing.”

  I already had my door open, one foot on the pavement. “And from your tone I take it it’s not something I’m going to like.”

  “Probably not.” He smirked that smug, infuriating, endearing little smirk of his but it didn’t reach his eyes. He removed the keys from the ignition and tossed them to me. I caught them with a minimal amount of fumbling. “If it looks like I’m going to lose, run. Don’t try to be a hero. Get the hell out of here, go back to Kaine, and tell him what happened.”

  I had known all along that we were walking a thin line, flirting with death in trying to take down a troll on its home turf, but in that moment the scope of just how badly the night could end became crystal clear to me. All the anger, all the snide, stupid little things I had ever thought about him suddenly melted away. I wanted to curse myself for having been an even bigger fool than Gannon ever could be. A hundred thoughts zipped through my mind and I wanted to say them all, but it wasn’t the time or the place. We didn’t have the luxury of distractions, no matter the possible regrets, so instead I nodded. “I promise.”

  I rounded the front of the car and froze, hands jammed in my pockets; eyes ahead. The street seemed darker than it had a moment before, every shadow cloaking evils beyond my worst nightmare—who, of course, lay just ahead. I was shaking and hated myself for it. I knew Gannon was fast. I had seen him move with breath-taking speed, yet that didn’t do shit for my nerves. I couldn’t stop trembling. Walking those last couple feet to that doorway became the hardest thing in the world. A hand pressed against the small of my back. It was impossible for me to feel its warmth through the layers of leather and cloth, but I swore I did. His voice was low, whisper close in my ear. “You’ve got this.”

  I nodded and flashed him a tight smile. The stoic mask was back on his face, and it gave my confidence the tiny bolster it needed. I took that first step forward and refused to let myself stop. I kept my head high. Sweaty palms or no, I wasn’t going to let a rational little thing like fear stop me. I stopped myself from looking back over my shoulder as I approached those crumbling cement steps. Gannon had my back. I had to trust in that. All I had to do was find the opening; he would do the rest. I could do this. I had to do this. There was no room for failure.

  The stairwell was dark and dank, far from the nearest street lamp. All sorts of muck lingered in the darkened corners, adding a cloyingly sweet note under the general stench of mold. Gross. I took the stairs slowly, careful to place each step so as not to slip or dislodge any of the crumbling mortar, ears straining to hear the slightest sound coming from within the apartment. There was no window, no porch light—just darkness and a silence that seemed eerie to a city-dweller like me.

  I had no clue what awaited us inside, or if Goliath was even still there. I hated going in to something as dangerous as this blind. I stood in front of that door—so damn normal looking, that door—and closed my eyes, letting everything else fall away. You can do this, I reminded myself. This was what I had been waiting for; the moment I had been chasing for the better part of a year. It was time for ballsy, brash Hunter Caitlin to earn her keep.

  My knock sounded like a gong breaking the silence.

  For a moment I stood there, barely breathing, and wondered if we had missed our shot. I couldn’t hear any movement from within. I bit my lip and raised my hand to knock again, just as the door swung open. Goliath stood before me in all his stooped, seven foot glory; still big, still ugly, still—now that we were up close and
I was downwind—stinking worse than all the garbage lining his vestibule. Beneath his furrowed Herman Munster brow, those piggy little eyes went wide, mastif jaw slack in confusion to see my standing on the other side of the door.

  Go time.

  I put on my best shit-eating grin and said brightly, “Hello, Ugly.”

  I shouldered past him and strode into the apartment. It was a rundown pigsty, sparsely furnished with dilapidated dumpster dive finds and chock full of empty take-out containers as far as the eye could see. Three steps in I was bum-rushed by a dank, rotten stench that made it hard to suppress a gag. Oh Lordy, I was going to use every bit that single year of high school drama club had taught me if I was going to keep this act up. I cased the joint in a heartbeat: two doorways out, one behind me (most likely the kitchen, given the wafting odor) and another to the right, leading to a hallway; a dim light coming from beyond the open door of a side bedroom. No sounds of movement. It was unlikely anyone else was home.

  Good.

  I turned to face him. In the thirty seconds it had taken for me to get my bearings, he hadn’t moved except to turn around and gape at me like a confused dog. My eyes flicked to his left, around one massive, muscled arm. Dumbshit had left the door open behind him. Good—I had been counting on that. Now, I just had to keep his attention. “Nice place you’ve got here. Smells a bit like ass and feet, but the ambiance is very you. What would you call this decor? Crack house chic?”

  That seemed to penetrate his stupor. Goliath narrowed his eyes and snarled, revealing those huge, yellowed canines as he took a step toward me. I backed up a step, careful to shuffle so as not to slip on any of the trash littering the floor, and told myself to get ready to draw. Those meaty paws rose in the air and stretched out toward me, and the sight of them triggered all types of remembered panic. In that second I forgot every goddamned thing I had learned in practice; not a single form or move could get past the jibbering fear of those hands coming at me, threatening to hoist me up into the air like a sack of potatoes again. Fuck, this had been a stupid idea.