Damon

by J. C. Daniels

  That was the problem with having too many memories and I wasn’t even old really. I just had…too many secrets, juggled too many agendas and tried to wear too many faces.

  Not to mention that some of those agendas had put me and Chang out there digging around in the world, trying to uncover secrets and seeing too many faces.

  “Secrets,” I muttered.

  I was damn tired of them. Mine, Chang’s. And now it turned out Doyle probably had more than his fair share.

  “Secrets.”

  I slid away into sleep finally. But it wasn’t restful. I fell straight back into the last time I’d seen Doyle—we’d been sitting right here in this house.

  “Why do you want to talk now?” Doyle glared at me. “You didn’t really want to talk before. It’s too late now.”

  “It has nothing to do with not wanting to talk to you, kid.”

  He shoved back from the table and got up to pace. “You’ll talk. You’ll tell me what I gotta do, keep my head down, don’t draw attention. Don’t cause trouble. But you won’t tell me what I really need to know—how am I supposed to stay away from her?”

  “Doyle…” Now, with the knowledge of what he’d been planning burning in me, I got up and went after him.

  But when I went to touch him, he turned around, knocking my hand off and all that anger I’d seen in him came exploding out. “Don’t!” he snarled. “You won’t help me in the only way you really can, so don’t think patting me on the head will work.”

  “Then what will?” I demanded.

  A ghost of noise came from behind me but I didn’t turn, didn’t look. Just a dream, right?

  Doyle’s eyes flicked to a spot behind me, right where I heard the noise. Some of the anger faded, replaced by confusion. “Who is that?”

  I glanced over my shoulder, but didn’t see anybody. “It’s just you and me, kid. Listen, I’ll figure something out. Annette isn’t going to mess with you, okay?”

  “Yeah.” He laughed, but the noise was desolate. Sad. “That’s what you think. But I know better. Don’t be mad at me, Damon. I just…I can’t stay here.”

  I heard that sound again. This time, so did Doyle. We both followed it, him walking behind me as I moved into the small living room of the house where we lived. I stopped in the doorway, Doyle wedging himself in the narrow space to the left so he could peer in as well.

  She stood there.

  A slimly built, but seriously muscled girl.

  Then she glanced over her shoulder, like she was studying her surroundings and I saw her face.

  No. Not a girl. Young, yeah. But she was definitely a woman.

  And I knew her.

  “Let it go, Damon,” Doyle said when I took a step toward her.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  She walked toward the closet close to the door and opened it, staring inside.

  “What the hell are you doing? What are you looking for?”

  “Damon.”

  This time, when Doyle spoke, I looked back at him, ready to tell him to shut up, to just shut up, so I could think. This was important. My brain was trying to tell me something, but I couldn’t figure out what.

  But the words lodged in my throat, choking me.

  He was no longer the thin, skinny kid he’d been a few days ago.

  He was a man grown, in his prime.

  And he stared at me with utter hate.

  “I told you to let me go,” he said, voice deepening to snarl. He lunged for me and I twisted to the side.

  Mind already shifting to battle-mode, I grabbed him, but he evaded. He came for me again and we went down.

  I twisted, turned—finally threw him.

  An inhuman snarl ripped out of him and I jumped up, mind gone red with fury.

  But when I reached him this time, it wasn’t the man who’d just attacked me.

  It was…Doyle. Just Doyle.

  And he lay slumped against the wall with a silver sword piercing his heart.

  “Let it go, Damon,” he said again, blood bubbling out of his lips as he looked up at me. He smiled, too. The little shit.

  Rage, misery, all of it tore through me as I knelt down next to him. “Doyle.”

  “Let it go.” His eyes darkened.

  “Fuck…don’t you…damn it, Doyle!”

  “It’s being kind, really,” a soft voice said from a few feet away.

  Jerking my head up, I stared at the pretty blonde. “What the fuck?”

  “Why would you want to let her take him? All she wants to do is make him into a twisted version of herself. And you can’t stop it. You can’t do anything.” She stared at me, head cocked.

  “The fuck I can’t.” I got up, staring at Doyle’s body. That wasn’t him. I was dreaming. I knew what was real, what wasn’t. I was dreaming and all I had to do was find him.

  “And how are you going to find him?” she asked. “He’s not even in the city. You know that, but you can’t even admit that to yourself.”

  She turned then, walking out the door.

  I went after her, tripping over Doyle, then half sliding in the blood pooling out from under him.

  “Who the hell are you?” I shouted after her.

  But she was already gone.

  And when I turned to look back at Doyle, so was he.

  I heard the echo of his voice, though.

  “Let me go, Damon.”

  I came awake, hearing those words, that familiar voice.

  The dream, crystalline at first, danced in my head and I got up, pacing to clear the fear it had brought to life in me.

  Being afraid pissed me off.

  Being afraid of a dream was even worse.

  But being afraid and knowing that maybe the dream had been a warning of sorts…that made me want to put my fist through something. Or my claws, so I could rip it out, tear it to shreds.

  Those claws were itching inside my skin, trying to push out and threatening my control.

  There was some sort of warning buried in that dream. And maybe a message. My mind was nothing chaos right now. It had been this way before and a time or two, my subconscious would get fed-up, find another way to talk to me. But I couldn’t see the message yet.

  And the warning was scaring me shitless.

  Breathe…

  I’d controlled that beast inside me for too long and I wasn’t going to give into it now.

  The image of Doyle lying broken and bloody on the flood, all but begging me to let him die, though…

  I reached for the dream again, tried to pull it back to me. It fell apart and I dropped down on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing.

  Let me go.

  * * * * *

  I got to Dair’s too early.

  After the dream I hadn’t been able to get back to sleep.

  I wasn’t about to start beating the streets again. At least not yet.

  After I talked to Dair, I’d head over to see Chang and we’d figure out…something. Hell, maybe he had an in with one of the witch houses and they could help us figure something out.

  I was running out of options and patience.

  “Mr. Lee.” There was a young wolf on guard at the door.

  Too young, I thought. Usually there was an enforcer here, but if she was an enforcer, then Dair was bringing them in barely out of school.

  She gave me a nod and a polite smile as I came to a stop.

  “Is Dair running low on muscle?”

  She flashed a grin at me. “No, Mr. Lee.”

  At that moment, one of the enforcers I knew ducked through the door and took position next to her. “Carry on, Elizabeth.” He nodded at me and leaned against the door frame.

  His words made it clear she was taking point.

  I wasn’t going to buck whatever they had going so I directed my attention back to her. She still struck me as being awful young to be standing guard at the wolf Den. She was petite and slender and
I’d bet she wasn’t more than a couple years older than Doyle.

  She didn’t look weak really. Just…young. It didn’t help that she had her light brown hair pulled up into a tight ponytail that revealed her heart-shaped face, dominated by big blue eyes.

  “I’m Elizabeth.” She glanced at the man next to her. “This is my trainer, Jeremiah. The Alpha told us you’d be coming.”

  “Elizabeth.” I returned her nod, then glanced at the other enforcer. Trainer. Interesting. I hadn’t seen this set-up before. But I’d only been to the Den a couple of times. “Jeremiah.”

  “You’re early. He’s in another meeting. You’ll have to wait.” Elizabeth’s voice drew my attention back to her, and the smile she offered this time managed to be apologetic and reproachful.

  I pondered those words a moment, then looked over at Jeremiah. “Was she this good when you took her on or can you take any credit?”

  Jeremiah’s only response was a wide grin, but it told me nothing. But Dair and his people had an uncanny level of discipline, one that made the cats look even more pathetic, in my opinion.

  I’d never been smacked down so politely in my life. Because of it, and because she was so…young and cute and sweet while she said it, I managed to give her a polite nod when what I wanted to do was storm past her and tear up the steps. But how could I growl and scare the hell out of a kid who had more spine and discipline than half the cats I knew?

  Instead, I nodded. “It’s pretty urgent. I came by hoping he’d be free sooner, but I can wait.”

  “Of course.” She gestured down the hall. “I’ll let Megan know you’re here. If he’s available sooner, she’ll come get you. Head on down the hall. There’s a lounge at the far left. Somebody will come get you when he’s free.”

  A scent in the air had my nose twitching as I stepped inside. “Think he’ll be long?”

  “He’ll take however long as he takes,” somebody said from inside a room off to my right, his tone arrogant.

  Slowing my steps, I turned my head and met the gaze of the one who’d spoken.

  He cocked a brow and opened his mouth.

  Elizabeth was between us in a blink, her soft voice no longer so soft—or polite. Instead, it held a deeper edge, one of warning. “Do us both a favor and stop trying to play the tough guy, Ryan. You’re not very good at it. He’s here because the Alpha agreed to meet him. Being an asshole reflects badly on all of us.”

  The wolf who’d spoken had stepped out to glare at me, but now he was ducking his head. He was also clearly deferring to the obviously younger woman.

  I didn’t have to question why, either, although I had to give props to Dair and his people for instilling the discipline she clearly had. But the strength was all hers.

  “Of course…of course.” The wolf glanced at me and gave a quick nod, then retreated into the room.

  The young enforcer-in-training shook her head, then looked at me. “My apologies. I hope you’ll excuse him.”

  “No problem.” I couldn’t afford to take offense over shit like that. It didn’t matter if I could clear this entire floor without breaking a sweat. That wasn’t my goal, and that wasn’t going to help get me into see Dair any faster.

  “I’ll be at my post if you need anything, Mr. Lee.” Elizabeth gave me another nod, then turned, striding back down the hall, moving with near military precision in her steps.

  “Kid can’t be much older than Doyle,” I muttered, bemused. Seeing that kind of discipline in the wolf pack was almost…disheartening. But then again, there was next to no discipline in Annette’s clan. Just fear.

  Pushing that out of my head, I moved on toward the lounge. That scent lingered in the air, still, teasing me. Taunting me.

  Without thinking, I followed it to where it was the strongest and sat. Near the window, the chair with the back to the wall.

  Closing my eyes, I slid deeper into the seat.

  Another wave of exhaustion washed over me and I fought it down, thinking back to the argument with Doyle. Not much an argument, really though. He’d been mad. I’d been mad. I’d been exhausted and aching too, pissed off because I’d sucked it up and taken another beating from that bitch.

  I’d take a hundred before I’d let her hurt him.

  You let her…

  “Shit.” I got up to pace the floor, scrubbing at my face to stave off the fog of weariness. It didn’t do much good.

  Spying the kitchenette on the far side, I went to see what I could find. I couldn’t rest up the way I needed to, not yet. But there were other ways to stockpile energy and I hadn’t been doing much of that either.

  The refrigerator was filled with any number of solid proteins and heavy carbs, the kind of food shifters needed. We burned calories fast and I hadn’t been exactly resupplying my body with what it needed.

  A few minutes later, I’d slapped together two huge sandwiches and while I ate it, I made a milkshake.

  Ten minutes had passed.

  By the time I was done with one sandwich, it was fifteen.

  The gnawing ache of hunger let up and I made a mental note to send Chang a message, see if he could stock my kitchen while I was out working this job. Not that he’d do it himself. He might have fairies hiding in the closet that did all the small tasks like that, but he could take care of it and I wouldn’t leave the house starving in the morning.

  Twenty-five minutes later, I’d finished the second sandwich, cleaned up my mess and was draining the rest of the shake when that scent tugged at me again. Stronger now.

  I followed, but no sooner had I started toward the door leading out to the main hall than the side door opened.

  “Lee.”

  I hesitated at first, then looked over to see a tall, stacked brunette watching. A brow lifted as she eyed the glass in my hand. “Making yourself at home, I see,” Megan drawled.

  “Isn’t that what the purpose of the food is for?” I finished the shake and rinsed the glass out, wishing she’d waited another minute. Thirty seconds even.

  “Of course. Still, whatever happened to courtesy? Naturally, I wouldn’t expect you to ask. It’s like your mama never taught you any manners.” She tsked under her breath.

  The comment hit home. Hard. My mama never had a chance to teach me much of anything.

  She’d been too busy being dead.

  I’d had nearly forty years to deal with it and one might think I’d do the smart thing and move on.

  But vengeance, protecting the family, all of that is pretty much coded into an Alpha’s DNA. Even a twisted Alpha like Annette’s. She was protective of those she saw as her own—in her own, sadistic way.

  Me, I don’t know how sadistic I was, but I was definitely twisted. An Alpha, too, even if I didn’t want to be.

  And no. I hadn’t moved on.

  I hadn’t forgotten.

  But I didn’t let any of that spill out as I turned to look at Megan. “You’re a funny one to troll anybody on manners, Meg.”

  “I know.” Her eyes glinted. “Don’t be such a hard-ass, Lee. You’re the only cat who doesn’t piss me off. Let me have my fun.”

  “You’re such a flatterer.” I picked up a napkin from the supply on the counter and made a show of wiping my mouth and hands. “There. Hope I made myself presentable for His Highness.”

  “Cute, Damon. So very cute.” She strolled closer. “You’re early. Elizabeth said you’ve been here almost a half-hour. You weren’t even expected for another thirty minutes.”

  “It’s important.” I shrugged it off. I didn’t want her curious though. “The kid on the door…how old is she, fifteen?”

  “Elizabeth?” Her brows arched up and she gave me an amused smile. “Hardly. She’s almost nineteen. One of my protegees. She’s one of the first of a new group of trainees, too. I finally talked the Alpha into letting some of the stronger youth begin training earlier. They get bored early on. I imagine you could relate…you’ve got a few of th
em yourself in the cat clan, don’t you?”

  I made a noncommittal grunt, but nothing else.

  The only one who’d be on level with Elizabeth was Doyle, at least that I knew of.

  “Elizabeth is my favorite. But…don’t tell.” She pressed her finger to her lips.

  “I was thinking about posting an ad.” Balling up the napkin, I tossed it into the recycler. “Am I going up to see him or not?”

  “And here we were, having an actual conversation.” She rolled her eyes and gestured. “Yes, you’re going to see him. You know he’s not likely to shut the door in your face—you’re one of the few sane voices over in that crazy clan of yours.”

  I frowned at her, letting her know I wasn’t pleased with the insult, but it was more out of propriety than anything else. The clan was crazy. Hard to knock on anybody for stating the facts.

  “So what brings you here?” she asked as I crossed to join her.

  Restless, I shrugged, casting a glance around the room to avoid meeting her eyes. “That’s a matter…”

  I stopped.

  My eyes had landed on the window and now, I turned, moving over to stare outside.

  It was her.

  That blonde.

  It was her scent that had been teasing me.

  And she was the one I’d dreamed about last night.

  Normally dreaming about a hot little handful like that would just mean I needed to get laid, but this dream was…different. “Who is she, Megan?”

  Megan joined me, her shoulder bumping mine as she edged close enough to peer out the window. “That’s Kit Colbana.”

  Colbana—

  Memory hit home.

  That problem with living long, traveling hard, and forcing yourself to put on a mask for a life that wasn’t really yours—you compartmentalize too much sometimes and it’s easy to forget the non-essential things.

  “She’s the one who went after the witch’s kid when the Assembly wouldn’t,” I said flatly. “The one who should have gotten chewed up and spit out. Part human, right?”

  “One and the same,” Megan said, laughing. “One of the vampires stepped in and helped, otherwise she probably would have been chewed up. Doubted Eddie would have spat much of her out though. She’s just his taste—or was. But that one wouldn’t go down easy. You’re right that she’s got some human in her but she’s tough enough, even considering that.”