Vowed

by Liz de Jager

  ‘Kit?’

  I look up from the computer screen to find Aiden filling the doorway. I pull my earphones out and pause Torsten’s playlist.

  ‘Hey.’ I beckon him in and he bends down to drop a kiss on my forehead, as he usually does. I breathe in the fresh scent of him and offer him a smile, my normal response. ‘What are you doing here, wolf boy? I thought we were fighting.’

  ‘I’ve missed you, sparky. I don’t like it when we fight. No, I lie, I like it when we fight and it’s not for real. What happened with the whole Glow thing and you walking out – that was too real.’ He surveys the chaos that is my bed. ‘Move your stuff.’ He climbs onto my bed and I have to grab wildly at my papers to prevent them from sliding onto the floor. He flops down, stretching himself out lengthways so he can look at me where I sit cross-legged, against the headboard.

  ‘So, solved your case yet?’

  ‘No.’ I close the laptop and slide it beneath my bed, out of the way. ‘Figured out what’s going on with the Glow yet?’

  He grimaces and crosses his arms behind his head.

  ‘Don’t. Leo and I have been out all night with some of his dad’s guys in tow. There is so much crap on the streets, Kit, it makes me sick.’

  ‘When you say crap, do you mean Glow or something else?’

  ‘Just all of it. The stuff kids and people sniff and inject and smear on themselves.’ He waves a hand dramatically. ‘Is being human such an issue that you have to try and break yourself to be something else? To forget everything you’ve ever been?’

  The question makes me feel sad. ‘I don’t know, Aiden. I’m talking to a werewolf boy right now whilst trying to figure out what faerie creature is stealing human children for some dodgy reason. My issues aren’t normal human issues.’

  He snorts a laugh as he scrutinizes me.

  ‘Come on, talk to me. Tell me what you got.’

  ‘Okay, so I’m trying to find more info about a group of people called the Faceless. Have you ever heard of them?’

  ‘No. They sound like the world’s crappiest super villains. Who are they?’ Aiden leans over me to grab the open packet of biscuits on my nightstand, before lying back again. I’m about to complain about crumbs but then he hands me one too.

  ‘The Faceless worked for the Elder Gods. I know!’ I grimace at him as he huffs. ‘Them again. According to this crusty old book Aunt Letty’s assistant showed me, the Faceless acted as their servants. They went out and found the most delicious morsels of human and Fae to feed their masters. When the Elder Gods had their asses handed to them, the Faceless all but disappeared. But the lore books reckon they still exist, as they are as immortal as the gods they served.’

  ‘Are they our bad guys?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ve got Kyle trying to find out more about them, but I’ve done a few of my own searches via the Internet and I can’t find anything. Drawing a complete blank.’

  ‘What does Dante say?’

  I stare at him blankly and realize that in all of this I’ve completely forgotten about my partner. Everything about him, including the mess he’s pushed us into because he’s a bloody changeling.

  ‘I, uh, don’t know. I’ve not had a chance to talk to him yet. He was out at a meeting.’

  I sense that Aiden doesn’t quite believe me but he lets it drop. ‘What else have you got?’

  ‘I also have Kyle checking the possibility that the families of the kidnapped kids all have something to do with a music festival up north.’

  ‘Pagan sacrifices, like in The Wicker Man?’

  ‘Aiden, seriously.’

  ‘What? The world is a weird place, Kit Blackhart.’

  I roll my eyes and I can’t help but laugh.

  ‘Why are you here? It’s after midnight.’

  ‘I was in the neighbourhood so I thought I’d stop by to check if you still hated me.’

  ‘Only first thing in the morning, before I’ve had coffee. Go home, Aiden. I need to get some sleep.’ I lean closer and he does the same so our faces are a few centimetres apart. ‘You look tired. What’s been going on in your life?’

  ‘We have our annual conclave of wolves coming up at the end of the month. I’m running all kinds of errands for my dad and I’m looking into the Glow case. Plus, an assistant in the British Museum woke up an angry spirit, so I was the lucky guy nominated to go help Shaun put it back to sleep.’

  ‘How did that work out for you?’

  In answer he pulls up his shirt so I can see four neat claw marks across his muscled abdomen. I reach out and run my fingers across the raised welts without thinking, curious that the cuts look so sore. He hisses and grips my wrist.

  ‘Do you mind not pawing me like some piece of fruit?’

  I snatch my hand back and feel colour rush up my cheek at the note of annoyance in his voice.

  ‘Sorry. But that looks sore. Why haven’t you healed up yet?’

  ‘I’ve not had a chance to shift properly,’ he says, holding a protective hand over his stomach. ‘Sorry I startled you but you surprised me.’ He quirks his lips at me. ‘Unless you’d like to do more than touch?’ He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and I laugh at him, relieved that I can breathe again because he was being stupid and himself. I’m not sure I like the serious-eyed boy he’d become.

  ‘No, I’m sorry. I should have been more careful.’ I sit back and dig my offending hand into the bedding. ‘Do you want me to go for a run with you? Where’s Shaun that he’s not been around?’

  ‘Busy with stuff for my dad and the conclave. Why are you this jittery?’ He takes hold of my trapped hand and spreads my fingers out, pressing his own down on top of it. ‘You actually look out of it. What’s got you so wild eyed?’

  ‘I don’t know. This case. None of it makes sense. I’ve been having really weird dreams. Every time I close my eyes, I dream I’m being chased by these people and huge dogs. Sometimes Thorn’s there and we talk briefly and he tries to tell me to be careful but he can’t tell me why I have to be careful because there’s a geas on him. Then I’m running from wild dogs again and then I eventually wake up.’ I shrug. ‘And then there’s this job. Aiden, I have never felt so clueless as I do on this case, struggling from one place to the next. I really wonder if I’m doing any good.’

  ‘And Dante? How’s he been?’

  I shrug. ‘He’s been okay, I suppose. I mean, he’s got this job but I worry that he’s even more helpless than me really. Did you know the SDI only have a handful of agents? Some of their new recruits walked out on them. Right now there are fewer than ten of them in their department.’

  ‘Do you fancy him?’

  ‘No.’ I glanced at him. ‘Why do you keep asking that? He keeps asking me the same thing about you.’ I watch him for a few seconds, my brain slotting things into place. ‘Wait, do you like him?’

  Aiden’s head comes up in surprise and he blinks at me for a moment. ‘No. I mean, sure, he’s a nice-looking guy but . . .’

  ‘Aiden. You’ve dated guys in the past. Plus, you have eyes. He’s all kinds of cute.’

  A light flush creeps across Aiden’s cheeks but then he laughs. ‘No, you know what? It’s nothing. There’s something about him, Kit, that makes me think we’re not seeing the whole picture.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘When I saw him in your kitchen, making those pancakes . . . I had the weirdest feeling that I knew him. Like I knew him really well, you know?’

  ‘Déjà vu?’ I make a face, teasing him. ‘Did you love him in a previous life, Aiden Garrett?’

  ‘Now you’re being ridiculous.’ He lies back down. ‘I don’t know what it is about him. There’s something, though.’

  I bite my tongue. ‘I know what you mean. Dante’s not . . .’ I clear my throat. ‘I think in the next few days I need you to come hang out with us. I think there’s something he needs to tell you.’

  ‘Colour me very intrigued,’ Aiden replied, giving his most infuriating smile, and
I get that familiar feeling of annoyance and fondness. If he ever settled on a serious partner, he or she’d need all the help they could get. Thank God it will never be me.

  ‘So, back to my offer. Do you want to go for a run?’

  ‘I thought you wanted to get some sleep.’

  ‘Running would help tire me out more.’

  ‘Then yes.’ He rolls off the bed. ‘I’ll see you downstairs.’

  He closes the door softly behind him and I hear his footsteps go down the short attic staircase. I pull on a pair of shorts and my hoodie and strap my baton to my wrist.

  By the time I get downstairs, the front door is open and Aiden in wolf form is sitting on our top step. Kyle’s on the sofa in front of the TV, a laptop lighting his face. ‘Have a good run. Try not to get in any fights.’

  ‘Ha ha,’ I say, closing the door behind me.

  The thing I like best about running with Aiden in his wolf form is that I never get hassled. There are no whistles or catcalls or comments. There are people who stop and stare. Usually it’s because of Aiden’s size and his loping run. There’s that primitive part of your brain that tells you the ‘dog’ that the girl’s jogging beside is maybe a bit too feral-looking, a bit too large to be your normal canine companion. We’ve been stopped and questioned in the past. I’ve alluded to him being a wolf-hybrid (not wrong), a government experiment, just a big dog made up mostly of mongrel bits, and various other things, much to his annoyance.

  Tonight’s run takes us through Camden and we pass darkened houses and late-night eateries. Occasionally a house has its windows open and we catch a glimpse of the people inside. In one window a sleepless tousle-haired young woman stands cradling a small baby to her shoulder. Then we’re past, my feet hitting the pavement and Aiden’s nails clipping the concrete.

  We run for over an hour at a steady pace before turning back to the house. Kyle’s gone to bed by the time I pull open the front door. Aiden opts to change and have a shower downstairs and just crash out on the sofa for the night. I wait until he’s done and make us each a mug of tea. He wraps me in a brief hug and kisses the top of my head.

  ‘Thanks for that. You’re a good mate, sparky. I’m all better.’ He lifts up his T-shirt – one of Kyle’s that he borrowed from the clean washing in the passage. The four claw marks across his abdomen no longer look as deep or as red. By tomorrow they’ll be pink lines and possibly gone the day after.

  ‘You just like showing off your abs,’ I tease him when I’m halfway up the stairs. ‘No wonder your ex-girlfriends and boyfriends stalk me.’

  ‘Mates before dates, yo,’ he says, lifting a hand in salute as he settles onto the couch, pulling the spare duvet over him.

  ‘Freak.’ But I laugh, feeling relaxed and strangely upbeat. I sleep and I don’t dream.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Dante pulls open the door as I swing my leg off the bike. He’s dressed in jeans and a sweater that’s seen better days. His dark hair looks glossy in the early morning light. He looks wholesome and there’s no sign of the small horns I spied the other day.

  ‘Hey,’ I say. ‘How’re you doing?’

  ‘Better.’ His smile is wide, showing off his white teeth against his tanned skin. ‘Thanks for asking.’

  ‘How’s the . . .’ I make circle motions above my head. ‘The horn situation?’

  ‘I tried to make them invisible.’ He tilts his head forward so I can see. ‘What do you think?’

  I reach a tentative hand and run my fingers through his hair. I can feel the nubs there but I can’t see them. I bring my other hand up and do the same, until it looks like I’m just standing there running my hands through his hair. My thumbs feel the pattern of the swirling horn and I hiss when I feel how sharp the points are.

  Dante’s gone very quiet beneath my ministrations.

  ‘Yeah, they definitely look gone.’ Even to my ears my voice sounds husky and breathless.

  He looks up at me from beneath his lashes and I wonder how I’ve never noticed how silky they are. His skin is warm beneath my hands and I run my thumbs along his cheekbones, down towards his mouth.

  I sway towards him until we’re millimetres apart. I’m mesmerized by the soft darkness in his gaze and I wonder what it would feel like to be kissed by him. I drop my hands to his shoulders, feeling the width of them, the strength of them. I’m peripherally aware of his own hands spanning my waist, hooking into the loops of my jeans, drawing me ever closer. The tips of his fingers graze the skin where my jumper’s become untucked beneath my jacket, and my breath hisses out as a jolt of energy goes through me.

  And he smells so good. Like rich honey and chocolate with hints of vanilla. The boy is sexy as hell and there is something I should be remembering, possibly someone, but right now I really don’t want to think about anything except being close to him. Because, really, Dante is the most divine thing ever.

  ‘Kit? What’re you doing?’

  His voice is dangerously low, and I am so close I can feel the sound vibrate through his chest. I focus on the shape of my hand pressed against the expanse of his chest, feeling the rapid beating of his heart.

  He’s only a tiny bit taller than me, but even so I lift myself up on my toes until our lips are a hair’s breadth apart.

  My heart is thundering against my ribcage and I know that when this kiss happens I’ll be lost forever and I’m not sure that would be such a bad thing. Would it?

  I’m nestled so close to Dante that I have difficulty trying to remember why I’ve not pressed myself to him like this before, because – God, he feels so good. It takes an eternity for the full implication of the thought to wriggle its way into my brain.

  Alarm spikes through me and I gasp, breaking away from Dante. As I do, I instantly mourn the loss of his hands holding me close, of not being near him, breathing him in.

  I walk away and my hands are shaking so badly I cross my arms tightly across my chest and clamp my hands under my armpits.

  Oh my God, what was that about? A shudder goes through me and I lean against my bike, my knees suddenly too weak to hold me up.

  ‘Kit?’ Dante looks bereft, standing in front of his house. He’s staring at me as if I’ve just ripped his heart out and tried to eat it in front of him. ‘I’m not sure . . . what just happened?’

  I try to inhale but the air is thick with the scent of him, the need to press myself against him. My legs are far cleverer than I am, moving me away from him, and I hold my hand up, stopping his advance.

  ‘Stay,’ I say, my voice sounding as if I’ve just run a marathon and I hate it for its breathless quality. ‘Just stay there. Where I can see you.’

  He halts and raises his own hands. ‘Did I do something wrong?’

  ‘Yes.’ My breathing feels almost normal again. ‘No. I don’t know. Just give me a second.’

  My magic flares to life around me, suffusing me with its warmth, steadying me. I sharpen my gaze and look at Dante.

  The ring Thorn wore all those months ago, the one his mother gave him and since then passed on to me, lightly influences people to make them feel better inclined towards the bearer. I use it, but not often, because I don’t like messing with people’s emotions. But occasionally, as with Marvin and the Scott brothers, it helps calm them down. It’s a small thing, no great magic, but the whammy Dante just hit me with is something similar. Yet it was altogether more powerful and far more to do with attraction and want and need. Heavy stuff. And from the way he’s looking at me, he has no idea what he’s doing.

  My magic skims him and I can see there’s now a golden hue to his magic. It’s glowing, like rich amber in sunshine. The scent of his magic reaches me again and I feel myself relenting and wanting to be wrapped in his arms. It would feel so amazing and I’m tired and nothing would be nicer than being held by him.

  I clamp down heavily on the feeling, refusing the suggestion that maybe now would be a good time to put my head on his chest and ask him to kiss me a little. I concen
trate on my magic, fixing it to my aura like armour, panels overlapping, bolted tight against Dante and whatever it is that he’s doing. When I’m clearheaded enough to speak in my own voice I clear my throat and call out to him.

  ‘Dante? What was that?’ I look over to where he’s standing watching me with hurt and confused eyes and realize that he has no idea what almost just happened and how this was his fault. ‘What are you feeling right now?’

  He takes a step closer and my fingers curl up my sleeve of their own volition, hovering over the release button of the baton. It gives me some comfort.

  ‘I’m confused. A little bit hurt. I’m not sure what just happened or why you stopped. But I’m glad you did.’ He takes a breath and looks horrified at what he just said. ‘I mean, that’s not what I mean. Oh God, Kit. I don’t know what I’m thinking. What was that, even?’ He scrubs his hair backwards in a gesture of annoyance. When he speaks again it’s as if he’s reasoning with himself rather than talking to me. ‘I can’t like you like that. You’re a friend, my partner on this job. I can’t screw this up. Besides, you’re too young for me to even think about you like that. I don’t understand what’s going on.’

  I watch the conflict of emotions and how his magic responds to it and nod to myself. Okay, he is telling the truth. He genuinely has no idea what is going on.

  ‘Are you wearing the ring you showed me? The moonstone ring?’

  Dante shook his head and held up both hands. ‘No. I left it on my bedside table.’

  ‘So this is all you.’ I gesture at the amber light surrounding him. ‘Great. Just great.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘You think I wanted to act the way I just acted towards you? That’s not normal.’

  He looks offended for a second but then his brow clears and he looks horrified. ‘I did that?’ He backs away in horror. ‘No way, I didn’t do anything weird. I didn’t want you to walk up to me and you know . . . try and kiss me.’

  ‘Well, I’ve definitely not wanted to do it before, either, so this makes me think that this heritage of yours comes with a few extra gifts we’re not sure about. Whatever you are, you make people feel attracted to you in quite a primitive way.’ I’ve gone from shocked to scared to amused in such a short space of time, purely because he looks so genuinely taken aback and deeply uncomfortable. ‘We need you to, uhm, how do I put this? Get you to tone down the love vibe.’