“I know.” Gray took a deep breath. “I just moved here, but I thought this was a safe haven.”
Mira snorted. “If you want safety move east. You won’t find it here.”
“I didn’t expect it to be safe. I just don’t want to be constantly fighting for my life.” Gray fingered the dagger. “I’ll pull my weight, but you might not like the way I do things.”
Sam’s white teeth glistened in the darkness. “I don’t care how you do things as long as you do your part.”
Gray caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. Brenna stood in the doorway. Dressed in worn gray sweat pants and a white tank top, she held a wine bottle with no label and a bottle of Jack in one hand, three glasses in the other. Gray looked over the length of her body, her long lean legs and taut abs. All of his senses went into overdrive whenever she was near. He could practically feel the smoothness of her pale skin beneath his fingers. He pinched the bridge of his nose. He had to get some self-control.
“Making friends?” She moved inside the room. “I thought we could have a toast.” She held out the bottles. “To civility.” She gave an apologetic look to Sam. “I just brought Jack Daniels. Want me to get you something else?”
“No need.” He pulled a small bottle of Southern Comfort from his pocket. “I came prepared.”
Brenna moved around the room, handing a full glass of warm burgundy liquid to Mira and one full of whiskey to Gray. He took it, bemused. They were all insane. Attempted murder followed by a welcome party.
“All right,” She held the glass before her in salute. “Here’s to not killing each other, and trying not to die.”
It was not the most eloquent toast, but glasses and whiskey bottle clinked together. Gray let the Jack Daniels slide down his throat, enjoying the burn.
Gray glanced at Sam and Mira. Glasses drained, they grinned back. “Does this mean I passed?”
Brenna chuckled. “With honors. And you made friends with Mira. You get extra credit.”
Mira stuck out her tongue.
Gray leaned back on the bed, glass in hand. “It was an interesting welcome, I’ll give you that.” He watched the haze in Brenna’s eyes clear and felt a slight pang of regret.
“Don’t let them fool you. They are both deadly. Be glad they didn’t fight you. I wasn’t so lucky.”
“I hate Shadow Bearers,” Mira hissed, the stain of blood still on her lips. “I wanted to kill you.”
Brenna responded, “Aren’t you glad you didn’t? You love me now.”
“Love is a strong word.”
Brenna shrugged. “Okay, we tolerate each other.”
Mira snorted.
“Anyway. Welcome to Hell’s boarding house. You’ll fit right in.” Yawning, Brenna moved back to the door. “It’s almost dawn. You should get some sleep while you can.”
Gray leaned on the bed, watching as they filed out. He still had to earn their trust, as well as their respect, but this was a start. Brenna had respected him once, maybe even loved him, but that was then and now…well now she didn’t even know who he was.
Though he had no choice but to hide behind his glamour, it was infuriating. But soon the truth would be told. He wished the old adage ‘the truth will set you free’ applied. If anything, the truth would kill them both.
Marissa was waiting when Brenna returned to her room. Silent, she stood by the window in the far corner, arms crossed.
At first Brenna ignored her. She sat the empty bottles on the dresser, her limbs heavy with exhaustion.
“You need sleep.” Marissa moved from the shadows, her eyes glowing in the darkness. “You’ll burn out if you don’t rest soon.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Brenna sighed and rested her head against the wall. “I am only one person.”
“Stop trying to be an army,” Marissa said, though not unkindly. “This new man of yours is a Shadow Bearer. That should make things easier.”
“Maybe.” Brenna closed her eyes. “We’ll see.”
If she could trust Gray, he might very well be the answer to her prayers. Her blood held the power that drove her magic, but if it wasn’t replenished regularly it would lose its charge. And only Shadow Bearer blood could fuel her power. Without a living donor, she had been forced to create her own blood bank downstairs. It was a poor substitute. Fresh blood packed a more powerful punch. Without blood she would still recharge, but it took a considerably longer time. And, as a hunter, she couldn’t afford to be weak. There were perks to her condition. At least she didn’t rely on blood for food like a vampire.
“You don’t trust him.”
It was hardly a question she could answer. Instead she turned with an exaggerated yawn.
Instead of taking the hint, Marissa made herself more comfortable. “Are you sure it’s safe to have him here?”
Brenna groaned inwardly. This was not the time to have this conversation. “What other choice do we have? I can’t be everywhere at once. He’s dangerous, but he may be the only chance we have to keep everyone safe.” She settled, cross-legged, on the bed beside Marissa.
“The murders are getting closer together and the targets more carefully chosen. The Kenaz killer only kills powerful supernatural creatures. It’s only a matter of time before the bastard sets his sights on this house. The others are strong, but he’s taken down stronger.”
Marissa nodded. “I went into the Underground today and stirred up some of my contacts.” She grinned. “It felt good to do something useful for a change. Sitting in this house babysitting can be tedious.”
Brenna felt uneasy. “You can’t put yourself at risk. If something were to happen to you, the others would be lost. You provide structure for their insanity. They depend on you.” She paused. “I depend on you.”
The gleam in Marissa’s eyes faded. Her head dropped. “I left the IRT because my magic faded.” She raised a hand, a spark of blue light danced on her palm. “But I’m still stronger than most.”
She flexed her fingers and the spark turned to a ball. The wind of her magic swept back the loose strands of hair that had escaped her braid. For a moment, Brenna saw a glimpse of the powerful witch she had once been.
They had been friends for almost fifty years, but never before had Brenna seen Marissa exhibit a glimmer of self-pity. She had retired with grace, convinced her place as housemother of reprobates was her next calling. Did Marissa regret her choice?
Marissa rose to her feet. “I won’t sit by and wait for a fanatic to murder my friends. I caught a lead in the Underground, and I plan to follow it.”
“Seraph told us to stay out of it. He assigned a team.”
“He assigned Miles and Shepard. They couldn’t find a murderer if he danced a jig in front of them screaming, ‘I did it!’ I learned more in a day than Seraph’s team has in six months.”
Brenna worried about the defiance in Marissa’s voice. But how could she chastise her for doing something she’d planned to do herself? For all the IRT’s power, they ran within the confines of a financially strapped government that cared more for public opinion than solving crimes. Decisions were made based on politics, not results.
“At least take someone from the house with you.” Brenna pressed her palm against the pain taking root in her forehead. “Take Sam. He’s not hard on the eyes, and he’s the strongest.”
“I know what I’m doing, Sam will just cause trouble.”
Brenna was getting sick of her pigheadedness. She considered arguing, but Marissa’s tone told her it would be pointless. So instead she lay back on the bed, and prayed for patience.
Marissa turned to leave, her high heels tapping on the wooden floor. “I will give Gray his key tomorrow. Maybe you should work together to find this monster, so the rest of us can relax.”
Eyes closed, Brenna didn’t respond. As the bedroom door shut with a clap, she swung her bare legs over the bed and stepped barefoot onto the cold floor.
Marissa always had the makings of a drama queen, but
now was not the time for it to rear its ugly head. Seraph may have officially tied her hands, but she and Xavier had been working behind his back for months, months of dead ends and frustration. The sole result of which had been a desperate need for sleep. It was maddening.
If only she could trust Gray. But for all she knew, he had played a part in the crimes. Stranger things were a matter of course in the Taskforce.
She went to the window and pulled back the curtain, lifting her face to the light of the moon. It was times like these she missed the privileges she had enjoyed in her former life before being disowned and banished. A snap of her fingers and scores of men had run to do her bidding. All the powers of her world had been at her disposal. There was no waiting, no wanting. Now, despite her desperate desire to protect those she loved, she was powerless. It made her feel…lost.
Chapter Four
Tomorrow she would be married. Brenna stepped onto the balcony of her bridal suite, reaching blindly for the railing. The night covered her in darkness. Normally she found the moonlight soothing, but tonight she was glad the cloud cover kept it hidden. On tiptoes, she stared at the ground beneath her. It was close enough that she could easily jump down and run away. But, if she did, the civil war would never end. More of her people would die. She had no choice but to suffer through what lay ahead.
Sighing, she leaned against the stone banister. It had taken her years to feel comfortable in her own skin. She wasn’t the prettiest of Lord Garrick Baudouin’s daughters, or even the most powerful. Her father had made it clear her only use to their clan was as a sacrifice. A pawn.
She squeezed her eyes shut, too late to stop the tears. This wasn’t how a warrior should feel. And marriage wasn’t supposed to be like this. She should be overwhelmed with joy, not fear.
A noise caught her attention, and she turned to the open doorway. Dunham was here. Her intended. Tall, with white blond hair that brushed his shoulders, he wore his authority around him like a cloak. His every action demanded respect. But there was also a warmth about him that radiated good will. It was clear why he was both loved and respected by his people.
Her stomach clenched. Although she had been raised on stories recounting the atrocities of his clan, she was well aware of the sacrifices he’d made to broker this peace. This was a man willing to do anything to save his people. It was impossible not to respect him, maybe even trust him a little. But that didn’t allay her fears.
He stopped before her, determination in his violet gaze. “I wanted to make sure you were all right. You’re a fighter, not a peacemaker. This must be hard to accept. ” He brushed away a stray curl that had fallen across her forehead.
She flinched, stepping back. “Of course it’s hard. But just because I’m trained to fight doesn’t mean I want to. We both know what we’re giving up. And what everyone stands to gain.”
His eyes narrowed, and he grasped her shoulders. “I am sorry, Brenna. I understand the sacrifice you are making, and I promise I’ll do everything in my power to make you happy. But this war has to end. Too many people have died, on both sides.”
“I know,” she whispered. It didn’t make tomorrow easier.
He watched her carefully. “If you don’t want to go through with this, I won’t force you. This has to be your choice.”
She laughed bitterly. “My choice is made. I want this war to end.”
Dunham nodded. “We both do. And we can end this together. Build something new, something wonderful.”
“I want to believe you, but I don’t even know you.”
A light shone in his eyes. “Then let’s get to know each other. We have all night.”
Day dawned far too early. Lately, her dreams about Dunham were coming more frequently. Not only did they disturb her sleep, but she woke filled with acute loss. Not a great way to start the day.
Brenna stumbled into the kitchen, following the smell of strong coffee and the orange rolls Marissa always prepared. At the first sip of java, the haze began to clear. Despite the time of day, the kitchen remained dark. Electricity was still at a premium until the new power plant went online next year, so candles had been placed strategically throughout the room to compensate. They didn’t provide much light, but most of them didn’t need it anyway.
She dropped like a rock onto a hard wooden chair at the chipped and battered dining room table. Sam and Marissa were already there and Gray sat across from her, his long frame crammed into one of the chairs. Looking at him made her back knot up with tension. He seemed at ease, however, his legs covered in worn jeans matched with a thick black sweater. His black duster lay draped across the chair at his side. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, holding the twin to her coffee cup. Both read, “Bloodsuckers Rock.”
Staring down into the thick black syrup Marissa generously called coffee, Brenna tried to gather her words.
Gray saved her the trouble. “What’s on the agenda today, partner?” Startled by the sound of his voice, she looked up. Humor danced in his violet eyes, as if he knew he did nothing but frustrate her. Cursing him under her breath, she looked around to see who else had heard.
“He’s Taskforce to boot? Bloody hell.” Mira slipped into the room. She winced when Marissa slammed a wooden spoon against the ceramic stove. “I suppose it’s too late to kill him.”
“Of course he’s IRT. He’s a freaking Shadow Bearer. The powers that be would never let him out without a leash.” Sam rose from his perch on the window seat. “I don’t see that it matters, as long as he’s loyal to us.”
Brenna stared at him in amazement. Sam hated rules, regulations and curfews. Most of all he hated cops, especially supernatural ones. She was the exception of course. She liked to think it was her charm, but more likely it was her substantial breasts, which he tended to stare at a great deal.
As Brenna stood, puzzled by Sam’s easy acceptance of Gray, Hilda coalesced in the middle of the room. Brenna imagined she had overheard everything.
“Another cop?” Hilda said with glee in her eyes. “Hope you’re as hardcore as Brenna. I love field trips.” She let her feet touch the floor and walked to the counter.
Brenna watched her stuff a whole sweet roll in her mouth. For a dead girl she could eat a hell of a lot.
Mira grabbed the plate before Hilda could take another. Sticking her tongue out, Hilda disappeared again.
Mira sat the plate back down only to have it hover above the counter then disappear, along with everything on it. “That ghost is a menace. She’s an overgrown child.” She took a long sip of her drink. “So are we killing Gray or aren’t we? I have places to be.”
“I gave him a key,” Marissa said from the stove. “If you kill him, be sure to get it back.”
“I say he stays,” said Sam. “Anyone oppose?”
If indifference were applause, the roar would have been deafening. It appeared Gray was staying.
Brenna reached into the side pocket of her duster and pulled out a folded piece of paper. She slid it toward him.
“Two demons, then several stacks of paperwork,” she said as he scanned the assignments. “The first is a manticore. That could be a bitch to exorcise.”
He chuckled then pushed the paper back. “I think we can handle it.”
She drained the rest of her coffee. “Let’s roll.” She blew a kiss to Sam who had settled back down in the window seat. He flipped her off.
Out in the vehicle she kept parked behind the house for emergencies, Brenna tried to ignore the pounding in her head from the sunlight. She was about to ask Gray how he was holding up when her phone broke in like a fog horn.
“How do you stand that?” Gray glared at the offending piece of metal as she handed it to him. “And when did we get cell phone towers working out here?”
“We didn’t. The witches in the Arcana Techna lab found a way to imprint a magic user’s personal signature on phones and use them like they do out east. All the Taskforce agents do it. Better than radios, better range. She grinned. “
Don’t worry. I’m sure Seraph will give you one.”
“I hope not. It’s annoying.”
“Answer and it will stop. I’m driving.” Brenna started the engine and pulled out onto the broken road.
He frowned, but took the phone. “Yeah?” Maybe it was something in the carriage of his body, or the look in his eyes, but she knew it was not good news. Dread settled in her stomach as he set the phone down.
“We need to get to headquarters.” He didn’t look at her. “Something’s happened.”
Her hands tightened around the wheel. Silent she kept driving, unwilling to ask, her gut warning her it was bad.
“Xavier’s dead.”
A wall of ice erected around her heart. Brenna went numb. For a moment she lost touch with reality. Xavier was her partner. They had been together for years. She had misheard. She had to have. The wounds the demon had given him weren’t fatal. Yes, they had weakened him, but that’s all.
No. Xavier had a sick sense of humor. He was probably pissed at her for changing partners and this was his payback. Once they were at the station, he’d be there and everything would be fine. Then she’d knock his teeth out.
Her hands shook on the steering wheel. She barely felt Gray’s hand on her arm. “Pull over and let me drive. I’ll tell you the rest on the way.”
She kept driving. If she pulled over that would make it real. It wasn’t real. Couldn’t be.
“Brenna, pull over before you wreck.” His tone brokered no argument.
The vehicle coasted to a stop at the side of the road. Brenna slipped from the driver’s seat then fell back against the door. She couldn’t move. Gray came around and stood in front of her.
“Get yourself together.” His words were like a slap in the face. “You can’t help Xavier, but you can find the bastard who killed him.”
Shadows of Fate (Shadow Born) Page 4