Heart Blade: Blade Hunt Chronicles Book One

by Juliana Spink Mills

  Andrew nudged the vampire’s head with his foot. He looked up at Ash and Jordan. “Come on boys, let’s go hide a body. You both have gloves on? Good.”

  Jordan and Ash wrapped the corpse in a tarp as Andrew grabbed a shovel from his truck. The vampire would disintegrate eventually, but not as fast as a demon. They’d have to bury him. Deacon, golden energy still coursing through him, set off to wheel the broken motorbike into the woods as lightly as if it were a child’s bicycle. Everyone else followed, carrying the vampire like a macabre funeral procession.

  By the time Ash and Deacon picked up their own truck from the church parking lot, it was almost four in the morning. Ash leaned his head back, exhausted. He watched the streets flash by as they drove through Hartford. The city was all but deserted at this time of night.

  Tired as he was, his mind kept going back to the vampire’s death and the gory sight of the headless body. He swallowed to keep the nausea down. Beside him, the night bled his father of all color, but highlighted the dark shadows beneath his eyes and the deep lines that pain and worry had etched into his skin. Ash wondered if that was what he’d look like in twenty years, when duty and loss had taken their toll on him as well.

  “Dad?” His voice was quiet, barely audible over the hum of the engine and the whisper of tires on the road. “Why are we doing this?” Deacon gave him a sideways glance, and Ash hurried to explain what he meant. “I know what you’re going to say. You’ve told me already, a thousand times. It’s our job. Our duty. I know that. But we spend our time hunting rogues and outcasts, playing guard dog for the Court of the Covenant. Enforcing their rules. But rogues and outcasts didn’t kill mom. The Covenant laws did.”

  There was more that he wanted to say, so much more. The words threatened to spill out and never stop, but he caught sight of his dad’s face, drawn tight with that cold anger he’d carried around since her death. He shut up and looked away, back at the empty streets.

  Deacon was silent for a long while. As they pulled into their driveway he said, “The laws are ours to protect. But they bind us, too.” He parked the truck and turned to Ash. When he spoke again, there was an urgency to his words. “There’s a beauty in it, in serving. You need to find that beauty, or serving the Covenant will tear you apart. And I can’t lose you, too.”

  Later, when Ash was in bed, Deacon stopped by his door. He stood there for a while, a shadow in the dim hallway. But the only thing he said was, “Goodnight, son.”

  Ash, staring at the ceiling, never answered.

  Chapter Three

  Del

  Del drummed her fingers on the library desk, frustrated. The only mention of the Guild was on Internet forums, and it was barely news. More like rumors or gossip; stuff she wasn’t even sure was written by preternaturals or by humans who had brushed against the secret world around them.

  The only thing that surfaced, again and again, was the Saint Peter’s Institute for the Arts in Toronto. The one with the fake-looking website. She clicked on it and clutched the mouse hard as she read the institutional texts. Could this be something? Or was she jumping at shadows?

  The librarian tapped her on the shoulder, and she jumped for real.

  “I’m sorry, that guest pass I gave you is only good for three hours of Internet use. It’ll time out in about five minutes. But you’re welcome to come back tomorrow.”

  Del thanked her and trudged back out into the hot afternoon sun. She had nothing to show for three hours of research. Maybe she should just hitch that ride to Toronto and start there, instead. She stopped to rest in a small, shady park where a listless woman watched over three small kids on a swing set. It was almost four PM, and she was wasting time. The pack could be after her already.

  She shivered despite the heat. Shade wouldn’t willingly let one of her children go. She’d handpicked every one of them, according to pack lore, each one chosen to join her in immortality, bound to the pack by blood ties and ancient laws. Del had asked Diana once why half-demons couldn’t have independence. Why rogues were punished. They were the only preternatural creatures forced into groups. Sure, the witches had their covens and the sentinels their own organization, the one she could never remember. Chapters? Yeah, that was it, Chapters. But they were allowed to live apart, if they wished. The vampires didn’t even have a pack equivalent, just a loose affiliation to something called the Blood Council.

  “Demon law,” Diana had answered, “is centuries older than the Court of the Covenant. Our full demon Lieges wished to bind their children into pack allegiances, and it has been this way since the dawn of our kind. Accept this, Del. It’s the demon way, and they’re not going to change it for you.”

  The woman and the kids had left. The deserted park felt ominous. Del looked around, nervous, but there was no one in sight. She almost ran the last five blocks, and arrived back at her hideout disheveled and sweltering. She climbed the stairs and opened the door she’d wedged with a piece of paper. It wasn’t until she had barred the door that she caught her breath, leaning forward to rest her forehead against the faded paintwork.

  There was a sound. A scuffed footstep. Del whirled around, legs flexed, body tense, ready to move. At the top of the spiral stairs, the copper-haired boy from the coffee shop was glaring at her. She stared back, confused.

  “Are you following me?” she snapped.

  He spoke at the same moment, their words colliding. “What are you doing here?”

  “What am I doing here?” She straightened, still wary but less scared than she had been a second ago. Not demons. Not Shade’s pack. Something else. Something with a golden aura.

  The boy was still waiting for an answer. Steps rang out on the stairs below him, and a second guy appeared, dark-haired and handsome. This one had a golden aura, too. Del frantically ran through the lists of preternaturals until she came up with a match. Shit. They were angel-bloods.

  “Sentinels.” She crossed her arms, trying to match the coppery boy’s aggressive stance and not show how nervous she was. “So you are following me!”

  “I was not following you,” he answered crossly. “And you shouldn’t be here. You’re a demon. You shouldn’t be in Hartford at all.”

  The dark-haired boy climbed another step, peering over the other’s shoulder. He had green eyes, Del noticed, green as new leaves. But his smile was cruel. “She’s a rogue,” he said. “Has to be. You know what we do to rogues.”

  “I am not a rogue,” said Del. Not yet she wasn’t. Couldn’t be. She’d been gone a day! No way had Shade already declared her outcast to the Court.

  “Well then, little demon, what are you doing in our city,” taunted the green-eyed one. He made to push past Copper. But Copper shook his head.

  “I’ve got this. This is my property. I’ll deal with it.” He climbed the last stair onto the mezzanine and took a step forward. He was big, bigger than Del had realized back in the coffee shop, strong and solid like a high-school linebacker. Sunlight whispered through a dusty window and brushed his lightly freckled cheek, highlighting golden-brown eyes. He had a faint bruise across his chin, like a fingerprint. But although he was frowning, his eyes were kind and he didn’t feel sharp and wild like the other one.

  And the sorrow! So much of it, washing off him in great, thundering waves. She staggered, and so did he, before she pulled in her urge to feed and locked it tightly away inside.

  “What did you just do to me?” he asked quietly, eyes wide.

  “I’m sorry,” she answered, just as quietly, his sadness a momentary bond between them. “I’m still working on control.”

  “But what was that?”

  “Your emotions… I… I pick up on certain emotions and amplify them. But it’s not supposed to just happen like that.” It was a lame apology, and a lame explanation. But she felt oddly shy, like she’d intruded upon some great secret. She didn’t want to talk about his sorrow in front of Green Eyes. It was a private thing, and not hers to share.

  He clearly felt th
e same, as he dropped the subject and frowned again, forehead creasing the same way it had in the coffee shop. “Look, if you’re not a rogue, then you’re with a pack. The packs have been banned from Hartford. This is sentinel country, and you have no business being here.”

  Damn. Sentinel country? No wonder Diana’s directory had no demons listed for Hartford. She’d gone and dropped herself in the lap of angels, and if she were declared an outcast they’d kill her on the spot.

  Green Eyes walked up to Copper. He was just as tall, but built lean and sleek like a hunting animal. The star quarterback at school, she was willing to bet, and the darling of the cheerleading squad. But she didn’t like the way he looked at her. He had a mercenary hunger to him that she just didn’t trust.

  “Hey, check it out,” he said, nudging Copper and pointing at her stuff. “It’s a regular little camp-out. S’mores and all. How cute. Shame we can’t kill her. I say we knock her out and call it in.” He cracked his knuckles and took a step forward.

  Copper held out an arm, holding him back. “I said I’ve got this.” He turned to Del. “Look, you can’t be in Hartford. And you certainly have no business in this property. It belongs to my family. If you’re not a rogue, then you’ll need to be brought before our leader. You’ll have to state your case and ask his permission to be here.”

  “No!” It burst out before she had time to think, and she clapped a hand over her mouth, frightened.

  “No?” Green Eyes advanced again, and Del backed up until she hit the exit door, sliding one hand behind her back to reach for the handle.

  “Dang it, Jordan!” Copper shouted. “Let me talk to her!”

  “Oh, nice one. Just give the demon my name, why don’t you? Want to give her my address while you’re at it?”

  The two boys glared at each other, some unspoken struggle going on between them. Finally Green Eyes — Jordan — shrugged. “Fine, do it your way.” He walked over to the desk and perched on it, watching them.

  “Okay, let’s start over,” said Copper. “I’m Ash. That’s my cousin, Jordan. How about you tell me what you’re doing here, and why you don’t want to see my da— our leader?”

  So their leader was his father. Del had been trying to remember what she could of angel lore. She knew they were an ancient people, one of the oldest races of preternaturals. Their powers descended through bloodlines…. How did the naming song go? Angel-blood, the sword-sworn, shields of Michael, upholders of peace. There was more but she couldn’t remember it. She gripped her forearm, thinking. She needed a cover story, fast.

  “I’m Del. I’m here on a special undercover mission for my pack. Nothing to do with sentinels! I’m only passing through Hartford; I’ll be gone in a day or two.”

  “You’re lying,” Ash said calmly.

  Del huffed in irritation. “And how would you know?”

  “I just know.” He looked over his shoulder at Jordan. “What do you say?”

  “Yup. Lying,” answered Jordan with a smirk.

  “See,” Ash continued, still annoyingly calm, “we’re good at sensing these things. Comes with the blood.”

  “Fine. Yes, I’m lying.” Del shifted from one foot to the other, her sneakers leaving marks on the dusty floor. The door handle was firm and solid in her hand. She could be out of there in a flash, and with her demon speed she could outrun them easily. There wasn’t much that could catch a demon, apart from maybe a werewolf. But her stuff was between the two boys, and without money and her journal, she wasn’t going far.

  She made up her mind and let go of the door handle. “Okay, I’m going to trust you. But only because I have to.” She took a deep breath. “Look, I’m not a rogue. Not yet. But I’ve run away from my pack, so I will be one soon. I intend to be gone from Hartford by then, so I’m really not your problem.”

  Ash and Jordan exchanged glances, and again there was that sense of a wordless conversation. Ash nodded. “Fine, you’re telling the truth. So how soon can you go?”

  “I just need another day, just to get some more information.” Del remembered something she’d read about Covenant law. “Sanctuary!” she blurted out. “I invoke Sanctuary.”

  Jordan snickered. “Oh, that’s rich. The demon wants Sanctuary.”

  “It’s Del,” she said. “And yes, I do. You’re sentinels, you have to take the laws seriously. Right?”

  “Actually, that’s not a bad idea,” said Ash. He turned to his cousin. “If we allow her Sanctuary rights, they’re reciprocal. She’s bound by the Covenant not to hurt us or our families. ‘No harm shall come to kith or kin’, I believe the words are. We give her Sanctuary, and she promises to get out of town as soon as possible.”

  “Dude, you’re not seriously thinking of keeping this from your dad? He’s going to be so pissed.”

  “She hasn’t broken any laws yet. I don’t want him involved. Not until I know more about why she’s here.” Ash turned to Del. “If I grant you Sanctuary, you need to be honest with me. I don’t trust you. I don’t trust your motivations. I’ll tell you that straight out, so you don’t get any ideas that we’re suddenly friends. But if you level with me, I’ll help you if I can. Deal?”

  Del held her hand out, and the angel boy took it. His grasp was warm and firm, and as his fingers wrapped around hers she felt a tingle that ran all the way up to her shoulder. She wondered briefly if all sentinels felt like that, or just Ash.

  They shook hands, solemnly. “Deal,” she answered.

  Chapter Four

  Alex

  Alex moved sleekly through Meyer’s cutting drill, his sword Redemption a graceful blur in the wall-length mirror. Oberhau, left unterhau, unterhau, left oberhau. The first sequence flowed into the second, and then into the third and fourth. His cell phone buzzed halfway through the last set, and he completed it before setting down his sword and reaching for the phone.

  It was the abbot’s private number. He returned the call. “Tom?”

  “Alex, he’s arrived. Where are you?”

  “The gym. Give me ten minutes.” He examined himself briefly in the mirror, face and arms shimmering with sweat in the faint light of his red bloodborn aura. “No, make that fifteen.”

  Alex packed away Redemption in the lacrosse bag he used to carry it around the city, and headed for the showers. The locker room was empty in the afternoon calm before the evening rush. He washed fast, soaping sweat out of his shaggy blond mane of hair, and toweled off briskly.

  The faded ink of his many tattoos caught his eye as it always did. As it was supposed to: necessary reminders of years and centuries gone by, of multiple identities lived out among the humans. It had been almost a millennium since he had set out with Richard on that ill-fated Crusade, a young knight barely eighteen years of age. Alexander of York had returned from Cyprus a changed man. No longer natural, but preternatural.

  He pulled on jeans and a plain black t-shirt, laced up his battered Converse sneakers, and then tugged his monk’s robe over his head. Dragging fingers through his wet hair, he picked up his lacrosse bag and left. The gym owner, who was part troll, gave him a cocky smile on the way out.

  “See you tomorrow, vampire?”

  Alex grinned back. “Maybe, maybe not. Keep your head on, troll.”

  Outside, the city heat slammed him in the face. The street was bustling, busy in the pre-lunch rush. Alex walked the short distance to the Abbey of Saint Martin of Tours and rang the bell. One of the novices let him in.

  “Brother Alexander, they’re waiting for you upstairs.”

  “Thank you, Paul.” He knew he must be a puzzle to the novices: a visiting monk who looked even younger than they did, but who was held in high respect by Father Abbott himself. Only a couple of the humans at the abbey knew the Guild of Saint Peter existed, or that Alex was not mortal.

  Father Tom Brown was in his office, seated in the comfortable embrace of his favorite wingback chair and surrounded by shelving that bowed under the weight of hundreds of books. The harsh morn
ing light caught his white hair and turned it into a silvered halo. When did he get so old, Alex wondered. It seemed like just the other day that Tom had preferred climbing trees to books and study. Daniel was here, too, dressed in a layman’s outfit of jeans and a button-down shirt, silver cross twinkling against the plaid. He’d also aged, becoming gaunt and grizzled sometime over the last decade.

  Alex could still hear the clack of wooden training swords in young hands. He smiled at his former squires from the doorway. “Tom. Daniel.” He set his lacrosse bag down and turned to close the door, coming face-to-face with the novice who’d let him in. The novice scurried past, ducking under his arm.

  “Father Abbot, can I get you anything?”

  Tom stirred. “Ah, Paul. Yes, please. Have the kitchen make up a tray. Coffee for myself, tea for Father Graham. Brother Alexander?”

  “Coffee will do nicely.”

  The novice departed on his mission, and Alex shut the door firmly. Daniel was palpably tense, face creased in worry, hands clutching his knees tightly. As soon as they were alone, he erupted.

  “Alex, the child! How is she? I got here as soon as I could.”

  “And I appreciate that. We’re a long way from Japan. Have you rested?” But he saw the answer in the shadows beneath Daniel’s eyes.

  There was a knock at the door as their refreshments arrived. Tom’s novice bustled around, setting things up, and then finally left them alone once more. Alex crossed the room and sat on the sofa beside Daniel. His sword-callused fingers picked up the priest’s long, elegant hands and he patted them like he used to when Daniel was ten and woke up screaming after yet another nightmare.

  “You must rest. You’re no use to your goddaughter like this.” He forestalled Daniel’s next question. “And yes, Rose is fine. She’s at the safe house in Queens. Marla’s keeping an eye on her.”

  Daniel sat back, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. “Do we even know who’s behind the attack?”