Shaedes of Gray: A Shaede Assassin Novel

by amanda bonilla

  “But, Xander,” I crooned, my voice dripping with honey, “don’t you want me to do my job? Don’t you want Azriel to shut up once and for all? It would be a win-win for you if I go, wouldn’t it?”

  “Darian.” Raif laid a hand on my shoulder, and I shrugged him away. “We need to strategize, collect ourselves. Forming a plan will serve Tyler better than charging off like this.”

  “We don’t have time, Raif.” I tried to keep my voice level, controlled. But it quavered with anger and fear. “They’ll kill him. He’s bound to me, and it will be my fault if he dies. Mine!”

  Xander brought his fist down on an end table near the foot of the stairs. The wood splintered and cracked, sending a vase of flowers spilling into the foyer. “This is ridiculous!” he bellowed. “You. Can. Not. Go! That is an order from your king.”

  “You are not my king!” I walked right up to him, my head held high. “And I am not yours to command.”

  “Darian—” Raif tried to interject, but I ignored him, my anger focused solely on Xander.

  “I’m going to go get Tyler. Then I’m going to find Azriel, and I’m going to kill the fucker. And after that . . . you can go to hell.”

  Raif’s fingers grazed my shoulder as he tried to stop me, but he was too late. I had already passed into shadow.

  The beveled-dome fountain at the Seattle Center looked different in the dark. A bit surreal and almost magical, it appeared to hover over the pavers. Round lights ringed the dome, illuminating it from beneath, making it look like a flying saucer. Water sprayed in a tall plume from the top of the dome, while smaller jets fanned out from the base. The Space Needle loomed in the background like a sentinel watching over the city. I wondered if it watched over me.

  Staying in the shadows, I crept along the buildings, making sure to blend in with the scenery. I felt the energy of unrest all around me, my assassin’s senses alert and tuned in to the faintest sound or movement. Azriel had taught me to be stealthy, but Raif had taught me to be deadly, and I didn’t plan on going down without a fight.

  The area usually swarming with people resembled a ghost town this early in the morning. Even the usual scattering of the homeless had taken their leave and found another place to haunt. The Seattle Center Monorail sat dead on its track as it waited to take the normal rush of tourists and travelers to their destinations. I missed the whooshing sound of its motion among too much silence. A strange and unwelcome stillness settled over me, and the peace did little to encourage my hopes that this would all end well. I tasted danger, smelled it as it raced to me on the blossoming wind, and felt it all the way to my bone marrow.

  As the sky began to lighten, I left the cover of shadow and paced around the fountain, edging the wet pavers heel to toe, heel to toe, keeping my path confined to the dry area that marked the boundary of the water jets’ reach. Stealth would do me little good once the sun rose. The Lyhtans wouldn’t come until the sun peeked over the eastern horizon, thereby securing a weakened Shaede. Keeping myself hidden would only help so much, and if it came to a fight—which it assuredly would—I needed to be in an open enough area to properly defend myself. Sybil’s rhyme looped in my mind as my hand relaxed and clenched around the hilt of my dagger. Her words taunted me with newfound meaning and renewed confusion. Once alienated from the world, I’d been gathered into the folds of my own kind, only to be cast out and marked as something else.

  I must have been on the home stretch of my fiftieth lap around the fountain when the first reddish streaks blazed a path across the sky. I stood at the ready, no longer an assassin stalking the shadows for her prey, but as a warrior, proud and facing battle head-on. Through the quiet, a sound raced to me on eager wings. The many-faceted voices of Lyhtans echoed across the empty space, many more than I’d ever heard. One by one, they emerged from behind buildings and sculptures, out of the cover of darkness and into the unforgiving gray morning. They kept their distance, wary of me while the sun still hid behind the horizon, but with every passing minute, they closed the gap.

  “Where’s Tyler?” I called out to the group at large. My heart thumped so hard against my ribs, I thought it might burst right through my chest. Adrenaline coursed through my body, rushing outward toward my limbs, shaking with every movement. “You offered a trade,” I said. “So here I am. Where is he?”

  As dawn burst upon the world, I feared the worst. One by one, the Lyhtans’ laugher rang out, thousands of tones surrounding me in a cacophony of assaulting sound. The morning became brighter, and with it the Lyhtans’ skin glowed and shimmered and some became less solid as they joined with the light, while others shrank to the ground as glimmering insects. I knew, though, that the ones I should fear had chosen to remain in their true forms. I looked around me, spun to guard my back, and drew my sword in one hand, my dagger in the other.

  I heard the sound of a scuffle somewhere behind me, shouts that seemed friendly, though I didn’t have time to identify the voices. A heavy-handed blow came out of nowhere, and the skin above my eye split. A trickle of thick warmth ran into my eye, blurring my vision in a haze of red. I stabbed with the katana and followed through with a slicing motion of the dagger. The pained shrieks of the Lyhtan cut through the morning air, its rust-orange blood running in rivulets down the grooves in the pavers.

  Shouts from my left mingled with Lyhtan screams, and I recognized the sound of battle. Leave it to Xander to always have his way. He’d had me followed, and those Shaedes were going to suffer for nothing. We were outnumbered by at least ten to one, but I didn’t have time to count my backup, as a clawed fist came whirring toward me. Another strike and I reeled backward, pain exploding behind my cheekbone. Cowardly bastards didn’t even fight fair. Something knocked me from behind, and then something to my side. A rib cracked, and my stomach heaved in retaliation. A battle cry erupted from my throat and I lashed out, thrusting, slicing, stabbing. I watched a few of the bastards drop to the ground, but for every one I injured, two more took its place. Something rammed the back of my thigh and I buckled, falling to my knees. I tried to fend off the blows, protect myself from the impact. I reached for my pocket, for the bottle that was my only defense. But before I could wrap my hand around it, something struck the back of my head and an unwelcome darkness swallowed me whole.

  As I came to, visions of Henry floated through my consciousness. There’d been several times when he had knocked me out cold, and every time I woke, I felt like I was fighting my way back through a murky sludge to awareness. Soft swaying soothed me, and I almost succumbed to the darkness once again before awareness took hold. The deep, hollow sound of waves lapped against the hull of a boat, and the clean scent of water carried on the morning breeze. Bound at the wrists and ankles, I’d been rendered completely helpless, my face pressed uncomfortably into a prefabricated floor. The vinyl had been fashioned to allow for sure footing and the sandpaperlike surface scraped against my swollen cheek with every lurch of the boat.

  I sensed someone or something, unlike anything I’d felt before, with me. A slow burn deep inside my chest, I could almost taste the sensation, acidic on the back of my tongue. My stomach heaved, and I quelled the nausea before the bile could make its way up my throat.

  I blinked my eyes, crusted with blood, and the details of the boat came better into view. Midday sun shone straight down on my face, and my eyes watered. From what I could tell, the boat was maybe fifteen feet in length, a small recreational fishing vessel with an outboard motor. Wedged between two bench seats, I was invariably drawn to the center of the craft, where the two halves met in a V. I tried to turn so I had a better view of my captors, but thanks to my bound state, I could only stare at their feet. Their voices carried, more than three, and they spoke low in a strange language resembling Latin in many ways, though I couldn’t interpret a single syllable.

  Helpless, I was pressed deeper into the boat by the sun, which beat down, mocking me with the weakness its presence caused. Moments passed, and the metallic echo of lappi
ng water turned into the hard scrape of the hull against a rocky shore. The boat came to an abrupt halt and I slammed into one of the benches, adding to my collection of bruises.

  The boat was pulled higher onto the shore, and my captors stepped out. Hands, small and with thin fingers, reached over the edge, wrapping around my arms and legs. I didn’t expect the strength that lifted me like a feather from in between the benches. They dumped me unceremoniously onto the wet, sandy shore. I squinted into the light until four bodies leaned over me to block out the offending sun. The burning pressure in my chest intensified.

  Two boys and two girls who appeared no older than fourteen or fifteen stood above me, studying me like I was some alien life form that landed in their backyard. Their black, feathery hair curled around their pale, cherubic faces, and their amber eyes stared at me with a trace of innocent wonder. Their strength belied their slight bodies and thin, bony arms. My hands were untied and resecured in front of me, and like a fresh kill, I was hauled through the trees and foliage toward some unknown destination and, perhaps, my death.

  Chapter 25

  If my captors’ strength had been surprising, then their stamina was an absolute feat. They carried me for what felt like hours, weaving their way through boulders, stepping over fallen logs, and negotiating streams. At least they were kind enough to lift me high so my head wouldn’t submerge or bang against some obstacle. I supposed they were keeping me unscathed so they could kill me properly later.

  “Hey! Aren’t you late for the prom or something?” I shouted, if only to hearten myself. “Shouldn’t you be off buying acne cream? When I get out of these ropes, you’re gonna get more than a fucking time-out!” They ignored me. My world was topsy-turvy as they carried me like a hunk of meat. I dropped my head back to discern my surroundings when we entered a large clearing.

  The grass appeared manicured. Like a carpet of artificial turf. Its shape reminded me of an arena. I felt a sense of reverence deep within me, and I realized we must have come to an ancient, sacred place where rituals had been held for centuries. I fought against my bonds, twisting and arching my back. The creepy adolescents moved forward, unconcerned with my struggles. A gray figure caught my eye, and I twisted my head to get a better look, noticing first the large stone feet and then the bodies of nine statues. Almost as large as mature bulls, and much more menacing, the beasts stood at attention with claws dug into low stone pedestals, as if waiting to pounce. Snarling mouths gaped wide in a silent roar. Tongues curled in frozen waves within their mouths. Gargoyles, ferocious and ghastly. They faced the clearing, bent toward its center, watching with vacant, staring eyes the size of softballs. Their batlike wings wrapped protectively toward their bodies like billowing capes, and sharp, fanglike canines jutted down from their jaws. In groups of three they spanned the clearing, leaving an opening between each grouping.

  In the first of the open spaces sat a large cage, and inside paced a huge, golden-furred bear. The poor animal bellowed to the sky and thrashed its head wildly before snorting and pawing at a large metal collar secured around its neck. It took two long paces back and rammed its massive shoulder into the cage before flopping to the ground, tucking its muzzle beneath its paws.

  The second space was occupied by a low stone dais. Moss grew up the sides, covering three-quarters of the table, giving it the appearance of an ornate and wonderful bed. I could picture a faerie princess sleeping there, her silver hair flowing to the green earth.

  In the third space from where we’d entered the clearing stood a bower of willow branches growing up from the ground, bending over one another to construct a green, leafy archway. Like a gaping black hole that opened to nothing, it was something I could neither see through nor beyond.

  My kidnappers tossed me to the ground and stepped back a few paces, and the burning sensation in my chest eased. Relief washed over me until a new sensation took its place. I found it difficult to draw a breath with the invisible Lyhtan spectators weighing down the atmosphere around me. Slowly they took form, their glistening, praying mantis bodies leaving the light, becoming solid. I’d never seen the creatures en masse to this extent. Not even by the fountain did I feel their presence as severely as I did now. Their wide smiles and drooling mouths watered in anticipation of bloodshed. Looking me over with greedy eyes, they sniffed the air with anxious noses and fought among themselves. Several of the snarling creatures left the clearing to lick their wounds. The air tasted of violence.

  A breeze cleansed the awful Lyhtan smell from my nostrils and replaced it with a welcome, comforting aroma. A scent that spoke to my soul filled me with emotion I didn’t understand. My chest swelled, and I said a silent prayer of thanks, my spirits instantly bolstered.

  Tyler never disappoints.

  He walked into the clearing of his own free will, and my heart, which suddenly floated near my throat, dropped into the pit of my stomach.

  “What’s going on?” I said, slow and disbelieving, as my brain struggled to keep up with my eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, walking past my child guards to stand before me. “I had to.”

  My body grew cold and I felt like I wanted to throw up. I’d been betrayed by everyone in my life. My parents when they’d dumped me on Henry. And, of course, by that same human husband, who’d used me as his personal punching bag. Even Azriel, who’d once claimed to care for me, and Xander, who’d proclaimed his desire for me, had both used me to suit their needs. But not him. God, please, not Ty. Not the one person I’d grown to trust. Not the only man on this earth I didn’t think I could live without. “You used me?” I choked on the words, forcing them past my lips. He’d professed his love, tended my wounds, and bound himself to me just so he could . . . kill me?

  A dark, black hole opened in my heart, emptying a place I never realized existed. He said he loved me. No man had ever said those words to me before. I couldn’t help but remember how it felt to have his hands on my skin, caressing me, giving me pleasure. The connection, the sense of rightness between us, as if it has always been meant to be. I thought we’d joined on a level that transcended the physical. Tyler made me feel safe, protected. For the first time in my life, I’d felt complete. My soul ached from his betrayal. I rose on my knees, and Tyler ran his fingers through my tangled hair. I couldn’t bring myself to look into the hazel eyes that had so easily fooled me. Instead, I reached out and swung at him with my bound fists, catching him in the ribs. He grunted, rocking back on his heels before standing straight and taking a cautious step back.

  “I’m sorry it has to be this way,” he said. “But we’ve waited for you a long time. Xander made sure that no one would know about you, but he couldn’t keep you hidden forever. Lucky for us, you’re ambitious and easily bored.”

  “You bastard!” I screamed. “This was a setup all along?” I tried to stand, but my bound ankles tripped me up and I fell to the soft grass. “So, what? You’re in league with the Lyhtans and whoever this Enphigmalé is? What about Azriel? Is he hiding around here somewhere too?”

  Tyler laughed. It sounded so out of character, hard and unfeeling. “Azriel did what was asked of him,” Tyler explained. “He was easy to manipulate. I’ve promised him Xander’s throne, once the king and his brother are dead. He’s been in exile for years, and I guess he’s tired of being overlooked.”

  “What are you going to do with me?” I felt like I had a right to know.

  “Nothing, yet,” Tyler said. “Stone will become flesh, but not until light becomes dark. You’ll just have to wait.”

  He motioned to the four teenagers. They took me up again and carried me to the large cage, where the bear had resumed its pacing. Two of them used iron prods to keep the bear at bay, while the other two opened the door and tossed me in. I landed squarely on my face, and blinding pain stole my breath for a moment. When I managed to sit up, blood ran warm and sticky from my nose. I scooted to the far corner of the cage, away from the bear, which sniffed at the air before licking his lips i
n a disturbing and hungry manner. I shrank as tightly into the corner as I could. The bear snorted again—a snuffling, cute sound—and padded toward me with slow and measured steps. I jerked back, smacking my head smartly against the bars, and I closed my eyes for a moment, sucking in a lungful of air through clenched teeth.

  The bear’s warm breath blew in my face, and I have to say it had a surprisingly pleasant odor. A large, wide tongue flicked out and licked my nose, cleaning the blood away, before going the extra mile to wash the rest of my face. I peeked through one eye and then the other. The bear retreated, giving me a view of his backside, not to mention gender, before curling up in a ball in the corner farthest from me. He sighed heavily and rested his chin on his huge paws, now and then whining like a nervous dog.

  I pulled up my knees and examined the rope around my ankles. I’d been bound with Lyhtan hair, so freeing myself was out of the question. As for the cage, I kicked against it again and again, but after my tenth attempt, I threw in the towel. Like the rope that bound me, the cage held against my preternatural strength.

  My cellmate stood, turned in a circle, and lay back down. He looked at me with a sad, hopeless expression, and a mewling sound escaped his vibrating lips. Once I was pretty sure he wasn’t going to eat me, I actually felt sorry for the poor thing. “What do you think they’re going to do to us?” I asked. He snorted and pawed at the grass.

  The bear lumbered over to my corner of the cage and rubbed his cold, wet nose on my cheek before settling down beside me. I placed tentative fists on top of his massive head, bigger than two dinner plates set side by side. He sighed, and I wriggled my fingers free enough to scratch behind his ears.

  While the two of us sat—me contemplating my current state, and the bear contemplating whatever bears think about—I took in my surroundings with perverse interest. This was the place where I would more than likely die. Maybe for good. If I wasn’t a run-of-the-mill Shaede, I doubted I could expect to pass into beautiful shadow for all eternity. So maybe my death would be better, or worse, depending on the circumstances. I hoped they’d kill me quickly, maybe a knife to the chest or an ax through my neck. I didn’t know if I could take a slow, painful death, and my pride demanded that I stand brave no matter the situation. I wanted to die like a warrior. A death Raif could be proud of.