The Mark of Kane (A Thaddeus Kane Novel Book 1)

by LW Herndon

  She paused in front of the fireplace and turned to me, disbelief written across her face. “I am no threat to anyone, much less this…Consortium. What do they think I’ve done?”

  I sat on the arm of the couch and faced her. “The Consortium wants power, and they collect it by taking the blood and souls of people with certain abilities.”

  “Mr. Kane, this is absurd. I’m a middle-aged nurse, widow…and mother. My skills are health-care related. No one would benefit from my death.”

  “You remember that guy in your house, the one without vital internal organs?”

  She shook her head, not in denial, but it seemed an effort to remove the image.

  “You didn’t hallucinate, and I don’t group-dream. Trust me, he wasn’t there by accident.”

  “So you say. Why should I trust you?”

  I wondered lately why anyone should trust me. “I want to help you learn to protect yourself.”

  “I can go learn karate at the local dojo, or I can call the police. Again, why should I trust you?”

  “Because I can help you develop skills no one else realizes you have.”

  “I see. So you think you’re what, some kind of Yoda?”

  I ignored her sarcasm. “You promised me twenty-four hours. Don’t you trust yourself that long to find out what you might have that others would kill for? To learn a skill to save yourself?”

  She raised her eyebrow but remained silent.

  I went to the shelves and brought back one of two leather-bound books, a small wooden bowl, a small carafe of water, and a folded piece of cloth. I laid them all on the wooden table before her.

  The book I left on the shelf had been the one item I appropriated from a clan assault on the Consortium. A volume the sorcerers had left behind, discarded in a trash pile as an item of no consequence. I’d hidden the book in my jacket, feeling a brief disloyalty to Shalim for not delivering it, but I’d needed to know, to understand.

  In the privacy of my own loft, I learned why the sorcerers had discarded this volume. The book held a treatise for respect and reverence from the perspective of a wizard acolyte. Sentiments neither valued nor cherished by the Consortium.

  It had been my first realization that the world held black-and-white viewpoints for those humans born with the magical ability. My exposure to humans with magic, up to this point, had been relegated to the horrors sorcerers imposed on Shalim’s clan. Evidently not all humans with power wished to subscribe to the Consortium’s view of the world. I had hopes for people like Anne. And Aisha. My assessment was still out on Marco.

  Anne looked at the objects suspiciously and then to me as if I’d grown two more heads.

  “Pour the water into the bowl.”

  “Look, I’m not…”

  “The water, into the bowl.”

  With clear annoyance, she picked up the water, poured it, and placed the carafe down with a resounding thud.

  “Now, unfold the cloth.”

  She flipped back each fold with brisk, angry movements until the last fold revealed the contents. The silky material of the last fold dropped from her fingers. “Look, I think this isn’t a good…”

  “You promised to hear me out. Now, open the book to the page marked.”

  “But…”

  “Open the book.”

  She glared at me.

  “Read the first line.”

  “It’s in Latin. I can’t read Latin.”

  “Do your best. Read the first line.”

  She pursed her lips and fisted her hands on her hips. “I may not go to church every Sunday, but I’m a God-fearing woman, and this—”

  “Is not what you think. Read it and finish this and you will see you are making something out of nothing.” Well, not actually nothing, but at least it would become clearer. Human beings with unnatural powers need the binding and protection from a power greater than mine, than Shalim’s. While I didn’t put much stock in Caulder’s God, this rite drew a definitive line between Anne’s survival as a wizard and the death of her soul as a sorcerer.

  With a strong, deep humph that belied her willingness to proceed, she stumbled through the first line in the book.

  “Now, take the cross and chain and place it in the water.”

  She picked up the chain from its cloth wrapper and scrutinized it. Her struggle to see how this would turn into a devious plot was obvious. Delicately she placed the cross first in the water and inch by inch lowered the remainder of the chain until she released the last bit. She looked up at me, tilted her head, and smiled when nothing obvious happened. Smugness followed her relief.

  I moved to the table. She retreated as I picked up the remaining item on the cloth, an ornate silver blade. Small, intricately crafted, and detailed in design, the blade itself fit in the palm of my hand, but the edge was finely honed. I looked at Anne, who continued to back up, and quickly jerked the blade across my hand. I dripped the blood into the bowl and started to speak.

  “Awaken with patience, reverence, and duty your loyal servant, Anne Kidd, daughter of Sarah, daughter of Rebecka, daughter of Patience, daughter of Silas, son of Patrick, son of Arron, son of Rachel…” I recited through the years of Anne’s lineage as she watched me. Astonishment gave over to dread at the details of her family history, which I extolled while my blood layered, drop after drop, into the bowl. “Descended from daughters of Solomon. Accept her path and future into your hands. May it be guided by compassion, justice, and peace.”

  She watched me for a moment longer and gave a strangled laugh. “You forgot ‘the American way.’”

  I wanted to smile for her. I truly did. As the water and blood in the bowl began to mist and steam and swirl its way into the air, I almost regretted bringing her here.

  The mist turned from translucent droplets in the atmosphere to shimmering colors. First gray, then black, then lighter into shades of indigo, blue, and purple. Swirls of white, yellow, and orange joined and twirled in a colorful cord of living, pulsing power. Anne’s expression changed from one of sarcasm to one of fright when the cord rose and swayed and then elongated in warm taffy form. She had little time to move or scream when the cord swung out, grabbed her wrist, and engulfed her in its pulse. For seconds the pulse held her immobile, and then she swayed with the vibration of the cord. Almost as quickly as it began, it was over.

  The power, the light, the cord, all gone. Anne was on the floor on her knees, gulping in great gobs of air. She fell back on her rear and stared at me in shock, holding her wrist. “You tried to kill me.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “If I had wanted you dead, you would be.”

  “What the hell was that? What was in that book?”

  I reached across the table and picked up the leather-bound volume. “This—the one you read from—is a very old version of the Bible.”

  “Like hell it is.”

  I placed the book back on the shelf and brought back the second. “Cross my heart.”

  “What was that all about? How did you know all those people in my family? I don’t even know most of those people.”

  I laid the book down, took a second bowl and a candle, and lit the candle. Picking up the small knife, I cleaned it with the remaining water in the carafe and ran the knife through the candle, wiped it, and rewrapped it in the cloth.

  “Those people are your legacy. It is from them that you have inherited your abilities. It is through their spirits that you will control the power you have. The ritual to protect you, using the Bible, is from this second book. It contains what you need to know to safely harness your powers.”

  “You’re crazy! I don’t have any power.” She struggled to her feet and headed for the door. She tried to pull it open, but it wouldn’t budge. “Let me out of here.”

  I finished putting everything back except the bowl. “You promised me twenty-four hours. Now come back and take the cross out of the bowl and put it on.”

  “No way. I’m not going near that bowl.”

&n
bsp; I went into the kitchen and pulled two beers out of the fridge and came back to sit down at the table. I opened one and waited for Anne to stop pouting at the door.

  “I want out. Now.”

  “Not until you have a grasp on your powers.”

  “You’re insane.”

  “I wish.”

  She paced back and forth before the door like a trapped animal. “So, now what?”

  I turned in the chair and rested my bottle on my knee. “I want you to try to light the fire in the fireplace.”

  She raised an eyebrow, stared at me for a minute, and then headed for the fireplace.

  “From where you are.”

  She stopped. “You are a lunatic.”

  I let go a heavy sigh. “Look, I’m really more than a little tired, and is it really so much to ask for everything not to be a battle?”

  “Fine, just don’t ask for ridiculous things,” she snapped

  I turned to the fireplace and reached out my hand. Flames burst forth from my fingers, lighting the logs in a sparkle of white and blue.

  Anne stepped back a bit. “Yeah, forgot for a moment you can do that.”

  I waved my hand, and the flames went out. “You can do that, too.”

  “Um, no I can’t.”

  “You aren’t trying.”

  Her lips pursed as her gaze burned with her anger, and I had to hold back a smile. She was finally where I needed her to be, hostile enough to try.

  “Fine, then. Here.” She waved her hand in exaggerated motion and nothing happened. “See?”

  I put my head in my hands and gave my scalp a brisk rub. “You have to focus. You have to think about the fireplace with the fire visible in your mind and focus.”

  Anne blew out a short breath and shook her head. “Fine.” She closed her eyes and rolled her shoulders in some insane prep for yoga or boxing. With her eyes still closed, she waved her hands around.

  “Open your eyes, damn it. Watch what you’re doing.” I grabbed a towel from the kitchen and batted out the sparks on the shelf and the arm of the couch.

  Anne opened her eyes in shock. “I didn’t do that.”

  I finally got the various sparks smothered and glanced at her. “You would know, if you had your eyes open.”

  She looked truly perplexed and shook her head, mouth open, ready to refute. The look on my face must have stopped her. She stood still for a moment. Then, squinting, her head slightly turned as if flame would recoil and engulf her, she waved slowly at the fireplace. A small, light spark of white danced along a log and caught fire. It moved in a slow, merry rhythm to the other logs.

  Anne stood there, frozen. Her arm dangled, fingers still pointed toward the fireplace. Her face turned to me where I stood with my arms crossed and the singed kitchen towel tucked in one fist. “You?”

  I shook my head.

  “I—” After a second, reality intruded, and her eyes widened in fear. She turned to me again. “This is why they want to kill me?”

  I nodded and handed her the bowl with the cross. I waited for her to loop the silver chain around her neck. “This power is how they tracked you, though here you’re safe. You always had this ability, but n you know you have it. If you can learn to control it, you have some options.”

  She was silent for a few more seconds. “What do you get out of this?”

  I thought honesty was best. “One less person lured to evil that I have to kill. So, are you good to take a few days off from work?”

  CHAPTER 12

  I left Anne with the book, the wizard’s compendium to safe-and-eco-green magic. At least safe for the parts I’d skimmed in the volume. The contents revolved around moderate-level healing rituals, use of plants for balms and meals, and holistic magical cleansing, which ran the gamut from simplistic to the water’s edge of deep magic. Most wouldn’t cause her harm or tempt her. She didn’t strike me as power hungry, but her fate would rest on her decisions, not my oversight.

  For the remaining exercises, I’d left her with a modest framework of rules. Keeping her eyes open for each exercise and remaining inconspicuous were at the top of the list.

  We’d run through how to shield her vibration from detection and an explanation that the energy she used, that I used, was traceable. The most important defense in staying alive was not to be found in the first place.

  The cabin’s perimeter would provide camouflage. Once she left the cabin, she would need to maintain a shield at all times. It would take practice. If she spent time and monitored herself, she could get comfortable enough with the routine.

  I hoped.

  She wasn’t a freshman fledgling, and her age and maturity might help her assimilate faster than a youngster. She also had her talisman, the cross, instilled with the legacy of her forebears. That and a fair measure of common sense would go a long way. With two days off, she was free to practice and dabble in rudimentary skills involving all the elements.

  I hoped she and the cabin would both be there when I returned. For now, I had other concerns. Leaning against the back of the elevator, I barely noticed the concrete, garage level of my old firehouse disappear from view.

  I paid a bit more attention to the second floor, the architecture still wide open with more construction material littered around the mostly cavernous space. A bathroom and kitchen to match my own accompanied rough framing for several more rooms to keep a vacant feel from the space. Though I doubted I would get time to work on anything in my building until I’d eradicated all the problems on my list. The timeline was questionable, given my problems dealt with live beings, instead of an easy, static to-do list.

  “Such a look, baby boy.”

  “Thought we were past that term.”

  Decibel sat on my coffee table, trim legs crossed at the knee. The short skirt of her tailored navy suit showed just enough tempting thigh to leave me no doubt she was testing my resolve. The tap of a glossy red nail against her lips signaled her moderately peeved level since I’d left her to flounder through the murky waters of Team Irin.

  Sliding down on the couch, I placed a boot on the table next to the edge of her derriere. Encroachment? Perhaps, but she seemed to need some sign from me that I considered our affiliation more than just a business arrangement. Proximity was the closest thing I would offer. Though I found her determination to mimic a young urban professional humorous and let it show a bit too much on my face.

  Her scowl ended the finger tap.

  “I gather Jez survived her reconnaissance of Markowski’s house?”

  “Disappointing, but no hidden remains of brutal slaughter. The mother died of cancer several years back. The father and adult daughter are out of town on a business trip. Not enough family to wipe out.” She gave a quick shrug that passed for indifference, but she was too quick with her gestures and too pointed in her reluctance to meet my gaze for me to believe she didn’t feel for the boy’s death. “Definitely not smart to canvass the scene, but I saw no indication she or Sol were spotted.”

  Because Miss Casual had kept an eye on them the whole time. Decibel’s emotions had all the transparency of Sol’s.

  “Those two are stingy on information,” she added. “If Solomon continues to keep her hidden somewhere, we can’t monitor her safety. We could lose her as easily as the rest.”

  Great point. “He didn’t give you any indication of where they were, some way to reach them?”

  She shook her head. “What did he speak to you about?”

  “Nosy much?”

  “He made the call from here.” Her forefinger waved toward the elevator. “Rather obvious. I’m surprised he left her with me to go speak with you.”

  Perhaps Sol trusted Decibel more than he’d let on, but he’d made a point to extract the promise from me. He trusted her, yet sensed a lack of commitment on my part and needed to secure a firmer investment on my soul in the cause to safeguard Jez. “Interesting combo, those two.”

  One of her brows flashed up and back, rapid thoughts ob
viously processing behind the movement. I waited, not divulging Sol’s confidence, and hoped Decibel would beat me to the reveal.

  “I understood Irin don’t usually flock together,” I added, not having hours to push for information.

  Her eyes locked back on mine as she tilted her head, searching for more details in my expression. “Been doing research?” Breaking the contact, she shrugged. “You’re right. The group is very low-key and usually impossible to detect. Though he is very protective of her.”

  “Just like demons, at least the males.”

  “Really?” I had caught her off guard and she paused to consider the new detail. “I was led to believe producing progeny was impossible in the Irin.” She flicked an invisible piece of dust off her skirt and looked away. “Your comment’s a blatant stereotype, Kane. Some demon mothers are very vicious defenders of their young.”

  “Not from what I’ve heard.”

  “You haven’t lived long enough to hear all the facts.” A quick hop to her feet and the pacing started. “Hiding his relationship, not a good sign for his kind.”

  I nodded in agreement. Sol had gone to lengths to keep Jez hidden from his own people. Whatever the problem in the Irin community, it ranked lower than the Consortium threat, for the time being, but not enough for him to trust them.

  “Our field of enemies continues to grow larger.” She let out an exasperated huff.

  “I can safely rule out demons wanting to destroy the Irin.”

  She turned slowly. “According to you, the demons involved haven’t volunteered.”

  “Three from my clan were summoned, added to those on the list you’d already compiled. Two terminated. Bad karma.”

  Her eyes flickered with a quick shot of fire. I watched the delicate frogs that buttoned the lapels of her jacket at the hollow of her neck rise with her effort to control her breathing. Annoyance with my withholding information hadn’t dissipated, but at least she stayed calm. She had wanted complete disclosure. I’d avoided that, though I would give her what loyalty I had left, within reason.

  “Jez is determined to find more of her own kind. I gather it’s some misguided guilt trip for her family’s death.” Decibel paced again. “That’s going to be a problem. Youngsters have so much energy; they jump at the first thought. Makes it hard for them to see logic.”