Against the Dawn

by amanda bonilla

  Again it unnerved me how much Kieran knew about me. Though, I’d never been Xander’s consort. How did these rumors get started? Kaii’s eyes widened a fraction of an inch before narrowing dangerously. Maybe the Reaper wasn’t a fan of Xander. God knew he had a tendency to rub people the wrong way. Either way, I wasn’t about to deny anything at this point. I needed whatever upper hand I could get. “Look, this is fun and all, but I’m not really in the mood for games. My patience is running sort of thin. Pay what you owe so I can get the hell out of here. Okay?”

  “Oh, I’m going to enjoy having you on the payroll. Even if it is for only one job.”

  It always made my day to be disregarded. And no matter what Kieran had up his sleeve, I was going to be sure to come out on top. Because there was no way in hell I was doing a damned thing for him now or ever. “Yeah, well, don’t count on it. I don’t usually lose.”

  “Since you’re the guest, Darian, I’ll let you choose the weapons. It shouldn’t matter; Kaii is proficient with just about everything.”

  He expected us to fight? Well, that wasn’t going to happen. I pulled one dagger from the sheath and it sang as the blade scraped against the leather scabbard. My corporeal form dissolved in a cloud of dark shadow and I regained my body right behind Kieran’s chair, the dagger held to his throat. “My house. My rules.”

  The abalone chip burned in my pocket, searing my skin through the fabric. I pulled away with a hiss, stuffing my hand in my pants to pull out the chip before the damned thing burned a hole clean though my leg.

  “Lorik really should have explained the rules to you, Darian,” Kieran remarked as he reassumed his relaxed position in his chair. “The chip allows you entrance, but in accepting it into your possession you made an unspoken agreement to follow the house rules. My rules. You fail to do that—” he exchanged a knowing, yet intimidating glance with the other players at the table “—let’s just say the chip exacts a less than pleasant punishment on the holder.”

  I was so going to connect my fist with Lorik’s jaw when I saw him tonight. No way was I willing to find out what sorts of less than pleasant punishments the chip would dole out. “Seems a little barbaric, doesn’t it? A fight to the death over something as trivial as a debt.”

  Kieran shrugged his shoulders. “Not to the death. I’m not a complete barbarian. But I am bored and I have to admit, I’m curious if the rumors about you are true.”

  Again with the rumors. What was this, supernatural high school? “If not to the death, then how will you determine a winner?” Seriously? I needed to shut up before he changed his mind. Note to self: do not help the sociopathic asshole put you in the ground.

  Kieran shrugged. “A test of skill, that’s all. I’m sure you can restrain yourself from the delivery of a killing blow.” He gave Kaii a pointed look. “Both of you.”

  That look didn’t instill me with a lick of confidence that Kaii knew a hell of a lot about exercising self-control. But since I didn’t have much say in the matter, I supposed voicing my concerns wouldn’t do me much good.

  “Weapons?” Kieran asked.

  My lips curled into a sweet smile. “Daggers.”

  Kaii’s eyes narrowed, only accentuating the Reaper’s feral appearance. Head cocked curiously, I had a feeling that if Kaii could sense the magic in my daggers, I was about to be called out for cheating. But much to my surprise, I was answered with silence. Thankfully, Kaii wasn’t much of a conversationalist.

  As though duels like this occurred on a daily basis, a random henchman appeared moments later carrying four daggers laid out on a gleaming silver tray. Since I was the guest, the weapons were offered to me for first choice. I waived the guy away and said, “Brought my own. No worries.”

  He shrugged his indifference and approached Kaii, holding the tray aloft for the Reaper. With much the same disinterest, a pair of gold daggers with onyx black handles was chosen and Kaii gave them a few practice swings, testing the weight of the weapons in a series of flashy tosses and twirls that boggled the mind.

  Welp, so much for having the upper hand.

  With a shallow nod, Kaii accepted the weapons and in an instant, the Reaper took a defensive stance, left leg bent and the right stretched out in front. I stood, mesmerized at the grace of Kaii’s stance, the fluidity of movement reminding me of a sleek cat stalking through tall grass. I suddenly felt clunky and awkward in my combat boots and I shrugged off the length of my duster and katana to give me a better range of motion. There was no point in trying to intimidate with my long coat and big boots, Kaii managed to show me up with nothing more than a few artfully placed footsteps. So much for my badass attire.

  I drew the second dagger from its sheath and a thrill of raw magic traveled the length of my arm. Invincibility: plus ten. Holding both daggers was an instant power-up that I tasted on the back of my tongue—a metallic tang of awesomeness that trickled down my throat and into my belly, spreading outward into my extremities as though some mystical force was juicing up my internal batteries.

  It probably wasn’t the best time for an earworm, but as Kaii sidestepped me in a predatory circle, all I could think about was the Blue Oyster Cult’s Don’t Fear the Reaper. I swallowed down the laughter that threatened—I couldn’t help myself, the daggers made me feel almost tipsy—as I entered into the circular battle dance Kaii had initiated.

  Around us, a crowd began to gather, the sick anticipation of the spectators thickening the air. Raif’s instruction banished the song playing in my head, and I relaxed my fists, letting the daggers rest naturally in my grip. A weapon was merely an extension of the warrior and I needed Raif’s guidance to remain sharp. “I’m curious, how do you breathe all wrapped up like that?” Maybe I could distract Kaii with my smart mouth while I allowed myself to adjust to the strange sensation of magic as it traveled the invisible conduits of my body.

  My opponent was unflappable. Those canary yellow eyes zeroed in on my face, an unrelenting stare that I found more than a little unnerving. The daggers infused me with another burst of confidence and I abandoned all hope of luring Kaii into distraction as I prepared to win this damned fight so I could get the hell out of here. “Are you scarred under all of that?” I waived the daggers around to indicate the Reaper’s face. “Or maybe you have an extra nose or something weird that you don’t want anyone to see?”

  Kaii continued to circle me, completely unfazed. Damn it. “I know,” I said, as I moved in tandem. “You have a secret identity. You’re like Bruce Wayne. Gotham royalty by day, dark knight by…well, night.” Kaii’s step waivered and a surge of triumph chased through my veins. “I’m right, aren’t I? What are you protecting under that mask?”

  Kaii came at me in a graceful rush, the wide sweep of the Reaper’s arms almost as distracting as the gold glinting from the daggers heading straight for my face. Guess I’d touched a nerve. I became one with the shadows, releasing my corporeal form the moment Kaii launched at me in one of those Matrix-type moves that defied the laws of gravity. I regained my corporeal form at Kaii’s back, but my opponent had me beat in the intuition and reflex department. The Reaper spun, a whirlwind of limbs and flashing gold, both daggers poised, blades crossed, at my throat and stopping short of slicing my head right off.

  Damn it.

  The room erupted into applause. A polite golf clap that unnerved me more than the fact that Kaii had me by the proverbial balls. “Point to Kaii,” Kieran announced.

  The Reaper backed away slowly, lowering the gold daggers to his—or was it her?—sides. My curiosity got the best of me as I examined my opponent more closely, searching for something, anything, that might belie a gender. But I wasn’t getting anything—not even an inkling of what might be hidden beneath the head-to-toe covering.

  Though my disadvantage burned, it was nothing compared to the annoyance that flared from the enchanted daggers in my palms. Jeez, talk about sore losers. Another surge of confidence swelled within me and I reacted without thought, letting insti
nct—and magic—guide me where I usually relied on patience and level-headedness, and a healthy dose of fear. I might have been a bad decision maker in my personal life, but I never took chances in a fight. I doubted my mindless assault would’ve impressed Raif much, but the daggers didn’t give a shit about playing it safe it seemed. No, they wanted me to win. To triumph over my enemies. Kick ass and take names!

  My actions exceeded my training as the daggers’ mojo snaked up my arms, spreading through my chest and extremities. Even my brain grew fuzzy as magic pinged and fired my synapses, as though I was merely operating on auto-pilot, totally incapable of controlling my own movements.

  Oh fuck.

  The daggers didn’t seem to understand the concept of a friendly sparring match. Kaii’s eyes widened in surprise as I attacked, retreating with every one of my advancing steps. A murmur rippled through the crowd of spectators as I spun, cutting down sharply with my right hand only to have Kaii deflect before my blade could slice into the Reaper’s left shoulder. I blocked an upward swing and thrust with my left hand. Kaii jumped back and I merged with the shadows as though jumping through time to regain my solid-self mere inches from delivering a killing blow. On and on it went, a frenzied battle dance that didn’t allow for any of Kieran’s gentle applause or the awarding of points. This was no longer a friendly contest of skills.

  It was war.

  Inside my pocket, the abalone chip burned, a not-so-gentle warning that I was close to violating house rules. Somehow, the daggers didn’t seem to care, and my assault on Kaii continued with the frenzied passion of someone fighting for her life. Kaii held her—or was it his?—own, matching my speed and agility with lithe graceful movements that had to be nothing more than a blur of color in the spectators’ eyes.

  “Hold up magic dagger type persons. No need to go off the deep end. Skin barbequing, here…”

  Did sentient weaponry ever answer back?

  Kaii gave me a look like I’d lost my mind, which probably wasn’t too far from the truth. Seriously, who talked to their weapons? During a fight? But I was starting to get worried as the battle wore on, one: because I wasn’t even a little winded, and two: I had a feeling that if I couldn’t stop myself, I’d kill Kaii which would definitely violate Kieran’s rules. But the daggers didn’t give a shit about rules, or whether or not all of this was only for show. They didn’t bother with the fact that the Reaper certainly wasn’t my enemy and hadn’t done me any true harm. No, killing was the order of the day and I didn’t get a say on whether or not that was fair. Xander’s gift was turning out to be a little more than I could handle.

  Command them.

  The whisper of voiceless words echoed in my mind, slogging through my consciousness like chunks of ice drifting down a frozen stream. You gotta love the Fae and their telepathic tricks. Citrine eyes focused on my face as Kaii’s thoughts invaded my mind. They belong to you, not you to them. Command them.

  Hmmm. Easier said than done, Reaper.

  Those creepy yellow eyes crinkled at the corners and I could’ve sworn that Kaii was smiling. Despite our mental conversation, the physical battle raged on, both of us spinning, thrusting, dodging and stabbing. And all the while not a single contact had been made. The room had grown deathly quiet, the eager spectators now rapt as their evening distraction turned into a scene right out of Gladiator. Are you not entertained?!

  I’d tried the gentle approach, sending out a mental suggestion that my magic accoutrements were perhaps taking this a little too far. But maybe the solution to my problem lay less in thoughts and actual commands and more about my will. After all, if they were in fact, an extension of my hand, it wasn’t direct thought that made me move my fingers, but an instinct in my brain that willed them to move. A simple electronic impulse…

  I pulled my thoughts back into that hazy state of magical influence, just enough to lose a tiny bit of focus. The trick was to not overthink, but to command the daggers subconsciously. My own fear and insecurities had triggered the aggressive kill or be killed response from the enchanted weapons. I needed to convince myself—and thereby the pesky little Terminators in training—that there was no threat. This was simply a game.

  Kaii’s left arm feinted for attack and I anticipated, parrying the right stab. In turn, I struck out with my own right hand, catching the Reaper in the side with my blade, making purchase on nothing but thick fabric. Thank. Fuck.

  “Point, Darian!” someone yelled from the crowd to the reception of a round of applause.

  The daggers sang with elation, sending a pleasant tingle the length of my body. Yeah, yeah, good for us. At this point, I was just glad we hadn’t managed to kill anyone. I forced the anxiety from my mind, the feeling of being cornered that had less to do with my current predicament and more to do with my recent attack six months ago. It was hard to feel safe when Kade’s assault still felt so fresh. The thought triggered a visceral reaction and I left my body behind, appearing behind Kaii in less than the time it would take to blink an eye. My left hand was poised at the Reaper’s ribs, while my right held the dagger tight to my opponent’s throat.

  “Point, Darian!” Another raucous shout spurred the crowd into applause.

  My arms shook with the restraint it took not to deliver a killing blow. A simple constriction of muscles would simultaneously eviscerate Kaii’s liver and cut the Reaper’s throat. The abalone chip screamed in the confines of my pocket, white-hot pain ripping through me as a dead serious warning not to move another inch. I took several cleansing breaths and found a scrap of positive energy to latch onto. One of unusual hazel eyes, haphazard bronze curls, and a warm smile that could melt my heart. This was my safe place. With Tyler, and inside of that feeling, nothing could harm me.

  You’re in control.

  His reassuring words came back to me and I felt the magic of the daggers ebb, sucking from my limbs like water at low tide. I released my grip on Kaii, and brought my arms to my sides, sliding the daggers back into their sheaths. Whether or not Kieran was satisfied with our little exhibition, I was done.

  I stepped away from Kaii feeling for the first time since starting this fight, the effects of my physical exertion. My breath labored in my chest and my limbs ached from the speed and intensity of my movements. I’d pushed the boundaries of what even I was capable of and I knew I’d be paying for it in the morning. Kieran’s eyes narrowed as he studied me and I dug in my pocket, retrieving the abalone casino chip. I tossed it in the air and he caught it in midair and rolled it across his knuckles.

  “Impressive.” His voice carried a suspicious edge as he stood. Kaii’s head dipped in a bow and the Reaper took several steps back, leaving me all alone in a room full of curious eyes. Kieran approached slowly, that same suspicious expression etched onto his face. “It would seem that for once, the rumors were not exaggerated. In fact, dare I say you’ve been greatly underestimated, Darian?”

  I held back a snort in response. If I was impressive at all, I had Xander’s daggers to thank for it. From the way Kaii had fought, without the aid of magic, I would have been put in my place. Big time.

  “No more games. Just give me what I came for so I can get out of here.” I was beginning to think it was time to ditch the excess testosterone in my life and find a girlfriend or two. Surely a BFF wouldn’t send me into the lion’s den to get something for her or give me an enchanted gift that bordered on homicidal.

  With the excitement over, our audience dissipated, most of the patrons going back to whatever they’d been doing before my spectacle with Kaii started. Kieran gave me an apprising stare and said, “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Darian, but I have nothing to give you. Lorik has sent you on a fool’s errand. I owe him no debt.”

  Son of a bitch.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “What?” The word burst from my lips in an incredulous bark and I was surprised that steam hadn’t billowed from my ears. I was going to kill Lorik. Kill him. “If you owe him nothing, then what was the poin
t of all of this?” The thought that Lorik might have set me up sent me into a rage, one that the daggers recognized as a threat as they hummed angrily in their sheaths.

  “Your fiery disposition wasn’t exaggerated, either,” Kieran remarked. “What Lorik wanted from me wasn’t money, assassin. I owed him information.”

  My ears perked at the admission. “What sort of information?”

  “The kind that he won’t enjoy hearing, I assume. Tell Lorik that his marker is irrevocable and non-transferable. There is nothing I can do about it.”

  “That’s it?” What did it even mean? Talk about your cryptic message. It grated that I’d had to go through a public spectacle, not to mention I’d damn near killed someone who didn’t deserve it for that little tidbit of nonsensical information. “I’m supposed to go back to him and tell him that?”

  “I realize it’s not what you thought you’d be delivering to your friend, but it is, in fact, all I have to offer. I can’t be blamed for Lorik’s misleading of you. I am simply the messenger.”

  Then what did that make me? “And the exhibition I was forced to participate in?”

  Kieran hiked a shoulder. “I was curious. You know, I could offer you a far better salary than anything Tyler is paying you. Perhaps you’d consider a change of employment?”

  “Thanks, but Ty’s got a great dental plan.”

  That earned me a laugh but Kieran wasn’t easily deterred. “I would think that his royal highness would be pleased to find you no longer under the Jinn’s thumb.”

  There he went, making assumptions. I wasn’t Xander’s to worry about. And even if we were together in the way everyone assumed…I still wouldn’t be his to worry about. “I decide who I keep company with.” My lips curled in a complacent smile that contradicted the heat of my words. “And no one else.”

  “Well, the invitation stands,” Kieran said with an incline of his head. “Whenever you’re ready, my doors are open, assassin.”