Heart Blade: Blade Hunt Chronicles Book One

by Juliana Spink Mills

  She settled into her seat for the flight, pulled her seatbelt tight in her lap. By now, the pack would be gathering. She closed her eyes and ran through the list of Hunters and Huntresses at her disposal.

  There were two problems to solve: a girl to find, and Del to retrieve. The girl, Rose, would get the pack’s full attention, of course. Diana wasn’t sure how she felt about the prophecy. But Shade believed, and Shade was timeless, older than old. If she wanted Rose, Diana would find her.

  Then there was Del. A flutter of anxiety blossomed in the pit of her stomach. Shade had asked for discretion. That made sense. After all, the Lady wouldn’t want the word to get out that one of her offspring had deserted the pack. But Diana knew in her heart that there was more to it.

  Diana’s fingers wandered to the rope scar around her neck. She’d lived a year with Del, longer than she’d shared a roof with any of her pack siblings. At Shade’s request, she’d kept her apart from the preternatural world. And in doing so, she’d allowed herself to grow too close. But there was something different about Del. Something fierce and determined, but also strangely pure and untouched. Shade’s version of Del’s Gifting had always been short to the point of obscurity, and not for the first time Diana wondered if there was more to the story than her Liege had shared.

  Bringing Del in shouldn’t be a problem. She had only the most basic training, and she couldn’t have much money on her. The problem was finding her in the first place. Diana needed a tracker. Someone she could trust. Snakes, she thought.

  She mentally sifted two names from her list: Theodore Raven and Camille Darkwing. Theo was a competent tracker, and could be trusted to keep quiet. However, the handsome demon was already Diana’s second-in-command, and one of Shade’s favorites. She wasn’t sure she wanted her lieutenant getting any ideas.

  Camille was a Huntress from a lesser Canadian family without a Hunt of their own. The Darkwings usually pledged to one of the two Canadian packs, minor insignificant things, but Camille was ambitious. She’d transferred to the East Coast Hunt three years ago. One of Diana’s best trackers, but her feeding habits set her apart, and that might be a positive in this case. She was unlikely to share Shade’s business with the other pack members. And as an outsider, she could never threaten Diana’s position within the pack. Camille it was, then.

  And if Camille was the snake, it would give Diana a chance to observe her from a distance.

  The plane touched down in Bradley, and Diana took a deep, calming breath. No more room for doubts. It was time to be the Huntress and lead her pack. Time to work.

  The twenty or so hunting elite in her pack had been arriving all day. Diana left them to Theo’s competent command and pulled Camille aside.

  “This is a confidential mission, do you understand? The Lady expects complete discretion.”

  Camille bowed her head briefly in acknowledgement. Dressed in a short coral-colored skirt and jacket combo that made her look like a college student at her first job interview, the Huntress was a petite, curvaceous blonde. And easy to underestimate: Diana had seen Camille fight. Gifted in the 1930s, if Diana recalled correctly.

  The Darkwing Huntress must have been seventeen or eighteen when she was chosen. Most full demon Lieges had a penchant for youth. Here they were: the teenage suicides, the gang murders, the nation’s lost. Snatched from the edge of death, the weak spark of life too far gone to protest at the intrusion of demon blood.

  Camille was looking through the photos Diana had texted her. “Shade’s famous youngster, the one you’ve been keeping away from us all. And now she’s gone. Are you sure it was of her own free will?”

  “You think she was taken?” Diana narrowed her eyes. That would solve a lot of problems, and keep Del safe from Shade’s wrath. But then she sighed and shook her head. “No. She definitely made the choice to leave. I found her cell phone under her mattress. She doesn’t want to be found.”

  “Very well, then. So she’s a runaway. Do you know why?”

  Camille’s face was all innocence, but there was an undertone to her question that Diana couldn’t quite figure out. Once again, Shade’s parting words prickled, a splinter working its way deeper by the minute. Snakes. But Camille was pledged to the East Coast Hunt for the price of three souls, and to break that oath was a death sentence. No demon family would take in a blood traitor.

  She answered curtly, making her displeasure clear. “That information belongs to the Lady alone. I don’t question her orders, and neither should you.”

  Camille held up a deceivingly delicate hand. “Peace, Huntress. It was merely a request for information. So she boarded the bus to Boston, and neither girl nor luggage made it to the other end. The bus stopped in New York and Hartford, right? Well, New York is the obvious choice if you want to get lost. I’ll start at the bus station. Full funding?”

  “But of course.” Diana held out a corporate credit card for one of the companies that fronted Shade’s affairs, and Camille pocketed it. “Keep the receipts. You’ll file expenses later with Theo.”

  Camille left in a swirl of gravel, her neat, compact SUV heading south in a hurry and soon swallowed by the dark. “Good luck,” whispered Diana, and then shook her head ruefully as she realized she didn’t know if the luck was for Camille or for Del.

  Theo called out to say the Hunt was gathered and waiting for their Mistress. Diana straightened her back, hardened her heart, and walked toward her pack.

  Chapter Eight

  Rose

  The car squealed to a stop outside the tiny townhome that served as a Guild safe house. Rose reached forward from the backseat and slapped Seb’s head. “Idiot. You’ll wake the old lady.”

  “Hey! That hurt,” he said. “So, you really have to leave? We’re going back to my cousin’s house, maybe listen to some music. Jonny, tell her to stay.”

  The guy next to him in the front passenger seat twisted around to look at her. “C’mon, Rose. Don’t be a spoilsport.” He was cute — not as cute as Seb, though. But there was a glimmer of light behind the heavy drapes of the living room, and Rose realized with a sinking feeling that she was probably already busted.

  “No, I really have to go.” She got out. The sidewalk had finally cooled down, but even at one in the morning it was warm for late August. She stared up at the bland, anonymous house, putting off the moment of entering. The abbey had sucked, but it had been her whole world and now it was gone. Dissolved into a puddle of dark red blood the night the man in her room was killed. No, not man. Vampire. She shivered, despite the heat. She now lived in a world where vampires existed.

  The car was still idling at the curb. Rose had met the Argentinians a year ago, when she sneaked out of the abbey one night. They were refreshingly human. At least, she thought they were human. Nothing felt real anymore. Or maybe everything felt too real.

  Seb’s twin Pilar scooted over on the backseat and stuck her head out the window. “Rosie, are you okay?”

  “Yeah, thanks. I’ll be fine.”

  Pilar hesitated. “Well, if you say so. Call me!” And then they were gone, and the night was too quiet even in the middle of the city.

  Rose pulled off her combat boots and slung them around her neck by the laces. She climbed up the side of the house neatly and easily, her fingers and bare toes finding holds that looked impossible from below. She pushed up the window she’d left open a crack, and slid quietly into Marla’s spare bedroom. She dumped the boots in a corner, brushed dirt from her black jeans and tank top, and crept out onto the upstairs landing.

  The downstairs light was on, and a murmur of voices came from the living room. The priest had arrived.

  For one wild moment she was tempted to call Pilar and take off with the Argentinians. Lose herself in Jonny’s god-awful Brazilian funk songs and maybe finally get Sebastian to kiss her. Normal seventeen-year-old things. She didn’t want to talk to the priest, didn’t want to hear about the Guild, and vampire hit men, and some complicated thing that Marla call
ed the Court of the Covenant.

  But it was going to happen, and putting this off would just make it worse.

  Rose ghosted down the stairs, avoiding the one with the creak. The living room door was shut. She pressed her ear to the stripped pine surface and listened without shame.

  “She’s impossible!” Marla was in full swing. “All prickles, and now this. Sneaking out, like there isn’t a war on.”

  “So she’s a handful.” The priest’s voice was rich and warm. “I can’t say I’m surprised. How did she react when you told her about the preternatural community?”

  “Pretty much as you’d expect. Surprise. Denial. The usual.” There was a deep sigh. “Will you talk to her now, Father?”

  “I will. Could you send her in? And maybe give us a moment alone?”

  Rose hastily retreated to the foot of the stairs. She was just in time. Marla came out, her mouth a thin line. She didn’t look surprised to see Rose. “In you go. Father Graham wants to talk to you.”

  “How did you know I was back?”

  Marla shook her head, but the flinty look in her eyes mellowed a little. “Kids. Think they know everything.” She gave an unexpected grin, her teeth slightly too pointed to be human. “Also, the upstairs floorboards are old and noisy.”

  Inside, the priest was waiting. He was tall and gaunt, with graying hair and a light beard. A silver cross glinted against the plaid of his button-down shirt. He smiled as she walked in. “Hello, Rose. I’m Father Dan Graham. Would you mind shutting the door?”

  She closed the door, but she didn’t sit and neither did he. He looked her over, appraising, as though evaluating her in some way. Then he nodded once to himself. Rose felt she’d been judged, and she didn’t like the feeling. She crossed her arms and stared him in the eye.

  “You needn’t look so defensive,” he said. “All right, so Marla isn’t very happy with you. But you know that already. Did you catch the whole conversation?”

  Rose’s cheeks burned but she stood her ground, chin raised defiantly. “Only the last bit.”

  “Well, at least you’re not afraid to tell the truth. That’s certainly something. Look, Marla is—”

  “Part goblin, I know,” Rose interrupted.

  Father Graham gave her a reproachful look and continued as though she hadn’t spoken. “—a kind and generous woman. She puts herself at risk, helping the Guild, and your nighttime escapade with your human friends threatens to expose her. We have many enemies in the preternatural community who would love to know the location of one of our safe houses.”

  “Oh.” She didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t thought she was putting Marla in danger. She barely knew the woman, and she was a fussy, exasperating thing, but she’d been kind enough when Rose had been dumped here suddenly in the middle of the night.

  “Those friends of mine? The ones who dropped me off?” she said in a rush. “I just wanted to see them one more time. They have nothing to do with this.” She spread her hand to mean him, Marla’s house, and the whole disaster her life had turned into.

  “I’m sure they don’t, but you can never be too careful. Rose, let’s start over. Sit, won’t you?” He sat on the sagging sofa and she perched at the edge of one of Marla’s hard, lumpy armchairs. “Have you been told who I am?”

  “You’re my godfather. You’re with the Guild of Saint Peter. You help protect humans who are being wrongfully hunted by preternaturals.” It all sounded mad when she said it out loud, even though she’d been going over and over the whole thing in her head the last couple of days.

  “Humans, and preternaturals too. We help them all.” He gave her this weird look, like he wanted to say more but wasn’t sure how to start. “I know it all sounds strange. Believe me, when I found out about the preternatural world, I found it strange, too.”

  “So you’re not preternatural.” It was a statement, but also a question, and he smiled gently.

  “No. I’m human. But I was brought up by the Guild. I have so much to tell you, but for now, what you need to know is that we can’t stay here in New York. Rose, you don’t know me, though I’ve kept an eye on you from far away since you were a tiny baby. But will you trust me?”

  She fiddled with a hole in her jeans, working a finger in and tugging it roughly. She didn’t want to trust him, but what else could she do? She wanted to shout, to say something horrible, something hurtful. She peeked up at him from under her curls, and he looked so kind and so sad that she found she didn’t have the heart for it. Instead, her voice was a hushed murmur, almost a whisper, and he had to lean forward to hear her. “You’re my godfather. But you left me alone all those years.”

  “It was for your protection.” He paused. Then, “Rose, I need you to trust me. I promise I’ll tell you everything. But we need to go. I’ve been here too long already. If I’ve been followed…. No, we have to go.”

  The hole in her jeans she’d been teasing with her finger tore wide, the noise loud and angry. She left it alone and clutched her knees instead. “I’ll go and pack.”

  An hour later they drove out of one of the airport rental companies in a dark blue hatchback. They left JFK behind, winding in and out of the sparse late-night traffic. Father Graham took a detour, driving for a while through a quiet residential neighborhood before hitting the highway once again. A sign flashed by: New Haven 70 miles.

  His hands on the steering wheel were white-knuckled, and he kept checking the rear-view mirror. Finally, Rose couldn’t stand it anymore.

  “Father Graham, are we being followed?”

  He glanced at her, startled, as though he’d forgotten she could speak. “You don’t need to be so formal. I’m your godfather. Just call me Dan. Most of my friends and colleagues do. And no, we’re not, but it pays to keep an eye out for these things.”

  They ducked in and out of large urban clusters, always going through the same pattern: leave the highway, drive aimlessly around for a while, head back onto the highway. It would take forever to get wherever they were going at this rate. Rose’s stomach gave a loud growl. She put a hand over her middle to hush it, but he just nodded.

  “I’m hungry, too. Look, there’s a rest stop coming up. Let’s get a bite to eat. We’ll be at the New Haven safe house soon, but the owner is a pixie, and Finn’s idea of a meal tends to be powdered donuts and sugar-frosted cereal.”

  “A pixie?” Rose grinned. “Like a fairy? An honest-to-goodness fairy?”

  Dan smiled back. “More like an adult-sized piranha. You’ll see. And it’s good to see your smile. It’s just like your father’s!”

  “Wait, you knew my parents?”

  He nodded. He wasn’t smiling anymore. “I did. They were good friends of mine. They left you in my care. They were with the Guild too.”

  “Marla never told me.”

  “She didn’t know. We never told her who you are. She thinks you’re a human who got in the way of the Court.”

  His words were a hammer-blow. She thinks you’re a human. She turned away to stare, unseeing, out the window. Her heart beat so loud she could hear the pounding in her ears. Thinks you’re a human. Not human.

  “I’m preternatural? What am I?” She had to force the words out, and her voice sounded distant, like someone else was talking.

  “Ah, there’s the catch. I don’t know. We warded you as a baby for your protection. For all intents and purposes you’ve grown up as a human. Your preternatural nature has been slumbering.”

  She turned her head slowly toward him as he took an exit ramp to an all-night fast food place. “You don’t know. How can you not know?”

  “Your father was a witch and your mother was a werewolf. We don’t know which of their bloodlines you’ve inherited. We’re here. Burger and fries sound good?”

  They went to the drive-through window and then pulled up in a well-lit spot in the parking lot, not too close to the buildings, but near enough for safety. Rose took a bite of her burger. She wanted to know more about herself and he
r parents. She wanted to know everything that she’d waited her whole life to hear. But she was terrified to ask, terrified of what she’d find out.

  “You have your mother’s coloring,” Dan said between bites. “Your hair, your eyes, and your skin. Just like hers.”

  Rose set her burger in her lap and pulled down the sun visor to stare at herself in the tiny mirror. She’d always been told her eyes were amber, which seemed like a dumb name for yellow-brown. She tugged at a lock of her hair. Tawny, that’s what people said she was. Golden-brown all over, like her werewolf mother. She got a crazy urge to laugh. Her mother was a werewolf. That just didn’t happen in normal life. This wasn’t normal, though, none of it. Not Marla with her pointy teeth, not the headless vampire on her bedroom floor, not the blond monk with the dripping sword who’d killed him. The urge to laugh faded away and she shuddered instead.

  Dan’s eyes were once again gentle and sad. “Too much, too fast. I know. Listen, I’ll find you some pictures of them. I have a whole box of things I’ve been keeping for you, but it’s in my apartment in San Francisco and I flew straight here from Japan when I heard about the attack. You do look so much like her, though.” Dan pointed at her hair. “But your curls, you get those from your father. They tumble around just like his did. I always thought Jon was a lion. You’ll be a little lioness. He had the same smile and the same pig-headed look of determination to him.”

  She squinted in the mirror, trying to piece together her lost parents. “Jon? Was that his name? And he was a wizard.”

  “A witch. A powerful seer. He could see visions of the future and the past. Rose, you know that your real surname isn’t Grace, right?”