Blind Hearts and Silenced Passion

by Anya Byrne

  Baqir gaped at Reynard. It wasn't like the other werewolf to skip something that could be important. "What?"

  "Stop looking at me like that. There was no further clue on the body, although you're welcome to see it yourself—it's down in my lab. But we did find something else, a note."

  A note. Baqir didn't know if he was shocked or disappointed by the revelation. A note was not included in the previous pattern of their killer. Until now, they had assumed the deaths of the silencers were strictly related to the investigation. It was easy enough to figure out they'd stumbled onto something or someone they shouldn't have touched. What purpose could a note serve?

  Well, there was only one way to find out. "Show me."

  Reynard retrieved a simple piece of paper from his coat. It was in an evidence bag, but Baqir didn't even have to remove it from inside. One glimpse over it made his muscles freeze up.

  The message wasn't much. "Come out and play." Simple, taunting, only four words that told them nothing of their killer. Addressed to Baqir, maybe? They couldn't be sure. The Gathering could very well be the target, perhaps likelier than Baqir, since by all accounts, he was already playing the game.

  But one distinctive element he had not expected was the penmanship. The letters were blocky but sharp, tilted slightly to the right. Baqir had made it his business to recognize the writing of all the people who'd once belonged to his guild, and this had definitely been written by Jean—the very same man whose dead body Baqir and Reynard had been discussing mere moments earlier while studiously trying to avoid thinking about his identity.

  "So let me get this straight. This person made him write the note before killing him?"

  Reynard blinked. Obviously, he hadn't realized that, but then, he had never been as good at deciphering writing as Baqir. "That... That doesn't make sense."

  "And yet, here we are."

  What the fuck? What the actual fuck? The writing showed no signs of strain whatsoever, no tremor or anything that could have suggested Jean had experienced any suspicion of what would happen. But any silencer worth his salt would have alarms blaring in his mind if asked to pen a note like this. The assumption was that he must have written it before the GHB had entered his bloodstream, but if that was the case, surely Jean would have retreated. There would have at least been signs of struggle on the body.

  Baqir shared a look with Reynard, and he knew his friend was thinking exactly the same things he was. "This isn't good. Pull everyone out. No one touches this investigation until we figure out what we're dealing with."

  They were silencers. First and foremost, they had a duty to their people. But recent events had destroyed everything they'd thought was right. Baqir had painstakingly managed to keep the trust of some of his guild members—largely because those particular individuals had nowhere to go and no other family—but that also meant they had to stick together and be far more careful than they used to be. Granted, some of the people he'd recruited to his cause had actually been former members of Florent's recently disbanded guild, and others who he'd hoped he could count on had left him. Whatever the case, they couldn't afford rashness, not anymore, not now that the whole basis of the silencer system was shattering and breaking.

  Reynard let out a sigh, although it didn't seem to hold any relief. "That's probably for the best, but to be honest, I don't think it will keep anyone safe."

  "No, it won't," Baqir agreed, "but if we continue this way, we'll just be cannon fodder." The silencers who'd been killed so far had been killers themselves, but also people Baqir had known for decades. "If the message is aimed at me, I will find this person on my own. If it's not, the rest of you will still be killed for no reason."

  Baqir's mind automatically went to Remy, to the mate he'd left behind in the apartment they could have, under different conditions, shared—a place with laughable security that could easily become Remy's tomb. His mouth dried and his heart started to race. Cortisol, epinephrine, norepinephrine—the words did nothing to describe actual terror, the dreadful fear he felt at the idea that Remy might be the next victim of this killer.

  So far, the murderer had stuck to silencers, but what was to say he wouldn't change targets? Baqir almost wanted to take his command back, to leave his own people at the killer's mercy as long as it threw this mysterious person off Remy's scent. But he couldn't do that, not anymore, so he needed a different plan.

  "I... I have to go," he somehow managed to say. "I'll keep in contact with you. Let me know when you manage to send messages to the others."

  Reynard looked confused, but let him go without protest. It was fortunate, because Baqir didn't have time to further debate the previous matter. He had just left Remy alone, and while his mate might not want to have anything to do with him, while their relationship could quite possibly be destined to fail, Remy's safety mattered more than the whims of Baqir's battered heart.

  He made the trip to Remy's apartment in no time. Really, he couldn't have been gone for more than an hour. Baqir reminded himself Remy was not helpless, and that hour was nothing compared to all the time Remy had spent alone before he and Baqir had met.

  Those reassurances might have been more of a relief had his mate answered his intercom. There was no reply, though, and Baqir fumed in a mix of anger and fear. Fortunately, the less than ideal security systems of the building served him well this time around. A nearby alley provided him with a level of privacy and an escape from the CCTV. While for a human, it would have been impossible to scale the wall—no fire escape in sight on this side of the building—he managed, pulling himself up through the sheer strength of his arms and the liberal application of claws. The task was physically demanding, but Baqir was nothing if not determined. His advanced senses guided him to his mate's apartment, and after a good amount of effort and clever maneuvering, Baqir was inside.

  The place was completely empty, but Remy's scent was still just as strong, combined with that of another person—a stranger, a woman. She smelled like gun oil, flowers and metal, and Baqir's senses immediately screamed 'danger'.

  There was no point in trying to use his nose after that. There were no signs of a struggle, which meant that his mate had left with the person willingly. If he'd gone through the front door of the building, Baqir would have sensed it going in, but that was obviously not the case. That meant they must have taken the car from the underground parking lot.

  As much as Baqir hated it, in situations like this, not even silencers could do things alone. He retrieved his cellphone and dialed a number he'd hoped he'd never have to use.

  ****

  Remy didn't have a lot of time to develop his new and quite possibly insane plan. Twenty minutes or so after Baqir's departure, his intercom sounded. Remy rushed to the door, hoping his mate had changed his mind and had returned so they could talk out their differences.

  No such luck. The new arrival was, frustratingly, Blanchefleur. Remy consoled himself with the reminder that he likely needed her for the success of his tentative plan. He would have much preferred to see his mate instead, but he'd make do.

  Of course, since nothing was ever easy for him, Blanchefleur instantly knew something was different. The moment she entered the flat, her entire demeanor—previously relaxed—shifted. "What's wrong?" she asked without preamble.

  The 'nothing' was on Remy's lips, but he didn't insult either of them by actually uttering it. His relationship with Blanchefleur was tricky on a good day, but he respected her intelligence and she gave him the same credit. Still, he wasn't comfortable talking about Baqir just yet, so he decided on a vague response. "It's a long story, and very complicated."

  "How long can it possibly be?" Blanchefleur scowled fiercely, pushing past him to stalk into the apartment. "When we last saw each other, you were perfectly all right, and I don't think I need to remind you my mission didn't exactly take ages."

  That was true, which was sort of befuddling since Remy felt completely different from the man she'd left behind. How was
it possible that he could change so much within the course of twenty-four hours?

  Shaking himself, he straightened his back and faced Blanchefleur. "I want you to teach me how to be a silencer."

  Blanchefleur's eyes widened, and Remy experienced a level of satisfaction at actually surprising her this time around. That tiny victory didn't last, because it soon became obvious he should have been far more tactful and gradual in his approach.

  The silencer didn't immediately respond to his request. Instead, she scanned his living room and kitchen, sniffing the air. She zeroed in on the mugs of tea—the ones he and Baqir had used the day before, not this morning—and tensed even further when she bent over to sniff them. "There was someone else here." She turned toward him, and she was paler than Remy had ever seen her—or had thought she could be, outside an incident related to her son or her dead mate. "Remy, what happened? Did someone force himself on you?"

  "What?" Remy goggled at her. "No! What could possibly make you say that?"

  "Oh, maybe the obvious drugs in your drink, and the fact that I can still smell him on you," she snapped bitingly. "Not to mention that you're suddenly hell-bent on revenge and becoming a silencer when you've only ever showed resentment for my kind."

  Now that she put it like that, Remy could see why she'd drawn the wrong conclusion. And of course she could still scent Reynard's tea even if he'd washed every mug in this place. Fate was laughing at him.

  "That's not it," he quickly said. "Yes, there was someone. I... It was complicated, and we were going to talk about it, but we both got carried away. The tea is a special blend, nothing harmful, nothing like what you're thinking. The effects were more like what alcohol would do to a human. I needed something to calm down. We both did."

  "So, he didn't force you." Blanchefleur still didn't look convinced. "Why all this silencer business then?"

  Okay, so maybe he'd phrased that wrong, even in his own head. Remy bit his lower lip and carefully considered his reply. "Because he's a silencer and he needs my help. And because he's my mate."

  Blanchefleur stared at him, her hand still hovering over the tea mug she'd likely wanted to inspect further. "Your mate."

  "That's what I said." Remy didn't back down, since she was the last person in the world who could possibly judge him for this. His brother was a different story, and he might genuinely have trouble convincing Laurent that he was in his right mind, but Blanchefleur would understand.

  And indeed, she did. She dropped down onto the couch and rubbed her eyes. "Well... That must have been awkward. Anyone I know?"

  Remy shrugged. He wasn't sure if Blanchefleur and Baqir had ever met. There was still a lot about the silencer world that he did not understand, since the last time he'd poked his nose into something so serious he'd lost his eyesight. "Maybe. Anyway, he's also trying to get to the bottom of this problem with the humans. I won't just sit here twiddling my thumbs if there is any chance that I could help." What Remy had been trying to do so far was not enough. If he wanted to truly provide support, he needed training, insight he could only get from someone like Blanchefleur.

  "Oh, Remy." Blanchefleur sighed heavily and patted the spot next to her. Remy reluctantly joined her and was rewarded with a smile that almost looked kind. For a few moments, she hesitated, but then she seemed to make a decision and started to speak. "Do you know why you survived that day, why we didn't kill you? We saw something in you. Most everyone does, really, if they look closely enough. You're not silencer material. Being a silencer, it's not just about training, about knowing how to shoot a gun or how to wield a sword. It's about actually having the strength—no, the ruthlessness—to do it whenever it is needed."

  "I'm not weak," Remy fumed. He would have probably been more convincing if he hadn't been fiddling with his glasses, and he stopped himself when he realized what he was doing. "Why does everyone keep saying that?"

  Blanchefleur gave him a knowing look. "You're not weak, no. In fact, in some ways, you're stronger than I'll ever be. I'm aware of what you lived through—what we put you through so that you could live. And yet, here you are, receiving me into your home. That kind of fearlessness and ability to forgive—it doesn't appear in just anyone."

  Remy let out a bitter laugh. "It's all futile if all I'm ever going to be is the blind guy."

  "No, Remy, it's not. Listen. If I had a choice, if anyone had asked me, I would have never wanted this life for Sylvain." Her voice trembled slightly when she said her dead mate's name, and Remy reminded himself to appreciate that she seemed to be making a genuine effort for his sake. "He would have never wanted it for me either. I don't even know who your mate is, but I'm sure that he would feel the same way."

  She was right, since Remy himself would have much preferred it had Baqir been spared the hardships of a silencer's existence. But that didn't mean he could just give up. "I came here for a reason, Blanchefleur. This is my life too. But everyone is keeping secrets—my brother, my ally, my mate—and I'm not a pup. I can help."

  Blanchefleur's expression shifted into something tight and dark. "Remy... There are people dying. No one knows why. Silencers drugged and murdered as they investigate."

  Drugged. Remy remembered Blanchefleur's pale face when she'd taken in the tea mugs, and the earlier phone call Baqir had received. "In other words, no training would keep me safe."

  "Indeed not, and if you do anything stupid, your mate, and quite possibly your brother, would be inclined to follow your example."

  "Fair enough." Remy clenched his fists, still not ready to give up. "Look, Blanchefleur, I know the silencer world is a mess right now, and I don't particularly want to get involved in what you guys are supposed to do. That doesn't mean I can't investigate in other ways, as long as I have the strength. You have leads, I know you do, but you keep me out. There will be files on these murders, and I'd be able to do research, but not if I'm being held back—by you, my brother or my own inability to act."

  "I don't actually have those files. I've only heard about the murders through the grapevine. As for my leads... They haven't really led anywhere so far."

  "No trace of him, then?"

  She shook her head. "I always knew it was a long shot, but every time I fail, it gets worse. I feel like I'm running around in circles. Sometimes, I think back to that day, and I almost believe it was all an illusion."

  Silence fell. Remy didn't really know what to say. Blanchefleur had pointed out more than once that she needed to find the werewolf who'd told her about the contents of the original Secrecy Accords, therefore giving her the leverage she'd needed to keep her son safe. Beyond that, the man was a complete mystery, as was the reason why he had that kind of knowledge to begin with. Meeting him had nonetheless cost Blanchefleur the life of her mate, so he definitely existed.

  "Maybe we're looking in the wrong place," Remy mused. "Where did you even pick up these leads? Are you sure they're for real?"

  "We can't be sure of anything when it comes to such situations. The underground is not a place filled with trustworthy individuals, so things we find there can only ever be taken with a grain of salt."

  "The... underground?" Remy repeated.

  "Ah." Blanchefleur made a sound of realization. "You're not familiar with the term. Well, it's pretty self-explanatory. There are always... seedier sides to any society, and ours is not exempt from that rule. Silencers sort of hover at the edge of the paranormal underground, although we're not quite allowed to enter it."

  "What does that even mean?" Remy was frustrated, not only because this was the first time he'd ever heard such a thing existed, but that it hadn't occurred to him that it might be the case. It was stupid, given everything he'd done in the past. "Are there... gatherings? Special locations? Clubs?"

  Blanchefleur scoffed. "Clubs? You watch too many human movies. I will never understand how the humans think anyone can keep a part of their world a secret while broadcasting their permanent location. No, Remy, there are no clubs. But there are, inde
ed, gatherings, meetings, parties, fights. Nothing is ever certain or stable, not the location or the organizer or even the timeline between events. There is no balance, nothing to guide it. Mostly, there's just one rule—keep outsiders out."

  "That sounds... unpleasant," Remy admitted. "And you're taking information from these people?"

  "I've mingled with them in the past. I was an exile for a long time, so it put me in a unique position. But even then, they were reluctant and now that my sentence has been revoked... Well, to be honest, I'm not surprised I was provided with a lead that ended up with me having to fight for my life."

  Remy didn't know what he'd been expecting, but it definitely wasn't that. He realized that must have been the reason why Blanchefleur had kept him from going with her on her mission. He supposed it made sense from her point of view, since she didn't actually know him well enough to trust that he could hold his own and actually help.

  Either way, this might be something he could work with. "Well, if they're trying to keep you away, they must definitely know something. We just need to find a better way to approach."

  Blanchefleur shot him an amused look. "And I suppose you have the solution."

  Remy deflated. If he'd known what to do, he'd have already acted by now without asking for anyone's permission. Blanchefleur seemed to be aware of that, and further, she was not above using it against him.

  When a speculative glance appeared on her face, Remy knew she hadn't been completely truthful with him and did, in fact, have some ideas she had yet to reveal. "I will make a deal with you, Remy. You show me what you found that day, and I'll include you in my following steps."

  Remy went cold. He should have been thrilled that she was willing to include him in her investigation, but the way she said the words left no question as to what particular moment in time she was referring to.