Heart Blade: Blade Hunt Chronicles Book One

by Juliana Spink Mills

  As Theo crashed past, running fast, she launched herself at his back. He whirled at the last possible moment, but she still managed a good slice across his arm, and he yelled in rage. He kicked out, catching her in the knee and sending her spinning to the ground. But Diana had danced to this tune before. She tucked her pain into a small corner of her mind and rolled to one side, out of reach of his blade.

  She came to a crouch and dived under his outstretched arm, landing in a stand of bushes. Theo had overbalanced himself, and he stumbled forward and away from her. Instead of pressing her advantage, Diana crawled deeper into the leaves, dropping to her stomach to shimmy along in the tall weeds and grass. Then she froze, keeping as still as possible.

  “Damn it, Diana!” Theo’s roar of frustration made her jump. “Stop playing games! Have some pride.”

  Diana remained silent, her every sense on alert, wet hair getting in her mouth and sticking to her damp cheeks.

  “Fine. Have it your way,” he snarled. “I’ll catch Adeline first, then. Maybe slice her up a little. Some bloodletting should remind you what your duty to the pack is, blood traitor!”

  It was all talk, but she couldn’t risk it. She had to buy Del as much time as possible. The ghostly chorus had started up again; she could just make out their shapes in the shadows and the endless chant of shame, shame, shame. She didn’t need the ghosts to tell her that. She carried shame enough without their taunting.

  She leaped out of the bushes, sweeping a leg behind Theo’s knees to buckle them. She felt his center of gravity skew and slid an arm around his neck to smoothly roll him, using her own body as a pivot point. He went down, but grabbed her arm and pulled her with him to land sprawling in the dirt. He punched her once, twice, hard, and as Diana backed away on all fours and clambered up, her ears were ringing.

  The faint flicker of lightning still flashed above the treetops as they raised their swords again. Diana spat blood on the ground from a split lip. She didn’t say a word, not to Theo, not to the circling ghosts. She was tired of it all. Tired of the ghosts, tired of the guilt. And worn out from blood loss and the toll her demon healing had taken on her body. She put all of her remaining strength into her next move, but Theo caught it neatly on his own blade and with a twist of his wrist sent hers flying. It traced a faint silvery arc into the dark woods and then shimmered out.

  Diana fell to her knees. She could go no further. Theo kicked her in the chest, knocking her onto her back. He set a foot at her throat, pinning her against the dirt. “Smile for my pack,” he told her, his sword a scant inch from her cheek. There was a blinding flash of light as he snapped a photo with his cell phone.

  As she struggled for air, the ghosts moved in, reaching greedily for her. But Emily’s phantom was there, too, and she shone brightly in the black night. No, she told them. She has paid. The other ghosts faded away, leaving Emily behind. Emily reached down to stroke Diana’s cheek, her fingers surprisingly warm. Diana knew she wasn’t real, couldn’t be. But she was strangely comforted by the phantom’s touch.

  You have done well, said Emily. Now you can rest.

  Theo increased the pressure from his foot. Diana gasped, lungs on fire and vision darkening. She saw him invert his grip and raise the hilt with both hands, point aimed at her silver demon eye. He brought his soul blade down hard toward her. Somewhere, someone was screaming in triumph. Probably Theo. But the last words she heard were Emily’s.

  Thank you.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Alex

  Alex paced the cabin. He checked their defenses, yet again. Door: locked and barred. Windows: shutters bolted shut. Every possible nook and cranny big enough for a person to climb in through: taken care of. The heavy brick and cement structure of the Den should have reassured him. The storm that had lashed at the windows for most of the night had finally abated, but Alex still couldn’t sleep.

  He was jittery, on edge, as if on the eve of a battle. It was Constantinople all over again. He hadn’t slept then, either. Or at the siege in Compiègne. He felt for the tattoo at the crook of one arm. His fingers found the inked sword and cross, trapped for eternity in a delicate ring of flames, and he bowed his head. He’d lost Jeanne in Compiègne, but he was not losing Rose.

  He drew Redemption from its sheath and held it up. The single-grip broadsword was old, much older than Alex himself. It glittered redly in the pallid lantern light, thirsty for the blood Alex had sworn never to consume himself. Almost a thousand years now he’d upheld his vow, Redemption keeping his bloodborn thirst at bay.

  Alex leaned his forehead gently on Redemption’s cool blade. “Mercy, Father,” he prayed under his breath. “Deliver me from temptation and strengthen this weak vessel to serve as your weapon against evil.” There was no answer, there never was. Instead, his distorted reflection stared back from the polished blade. The high cheekbones and piercing blue eyes were a legacy of his mother’s Viking ancestry, and the yellow locks from his lordling father’s Saxon blood. Long gone, the two of them, dust to dust and ashes to ashes many centuries since.

  A distant rumble of thunder promised more rain. Alex stilled, listening for wind. Instead, he heard a faint scrape against the outside of the cabin. He was instantly on full alert. An animal, perhaps? There were plenty of nighttime scavengers around. Raccoons, possums. The woods had foxes, coyotes. Bears.

  He tensed and drew nearer to the wall. There was a cough outside, muted but unmistakable. Alex backed away, staring. That was no animal out there. He went to the bunks and shook Daniel by the arm, placing a hand over his mouth. Daniel woke up all at once, lying still under Alex’s hand while his eyes asked questions.

  Alex placed a finger on his own lips, signaling silence, then pointed at the wall. Intruders. At least one, maybe more, he said in sign language, hoping Daniel had kept up his practice. Apparently he had, for he replied, Demon?

  Maybe. Alex went back to the wall to listen. Daniel sat up and laced up his boots as quietly as possible. He had been sleeping in his clothes. They all had. Better to be ready than caught out in pajamas.

  The doorknob turned once, twice. And then, all pretense at stealth gone, the door shook as whoever was outside rattled the handle hard. Rose woke up, eyes wide in fright. Daniel went to her, gesturing for silence. He pulled out a bag from under Rose’s bunk and dumped the contents on the floor. Inside were several black vests: bulletproof tactical gear, Alex noted with satisfaction.

  Daniel fitted himself and Rose out, though the girl’s vest was too large on her slim frame and left a worrying amount of neck exposed. Then he tossed a vest to Alex, standing by the door. Alex might have a bloodborn’s endurance, but he wasn’t stupid. He put on the vest.

  The rattling had progressed to kicking. The stout door, wooden on the outside and reinforced with steel plates on the inside, wasn’t going to give in that easily. But it was clearly time to engage.

  “You are on private property,” Alex called out, loud and clear, startling Rose. The door stopped rattling and there was silence from outside. “Leave immediately,” said Alex. “The authorities have been notified.” He hadn’t rung the police. Of course not. How was he supposed to explain the Armageddon-worthy bunker, Daniel’s illegal weapons cache, and the assortment of false identities they carried between them? There was absolutely no way to explain something like that. Whoever was outside must have had the same thought, for a voice spoke up, cool and collected.

  “You haven’t contacted anyone, priest.”

  Priest. So the demons were out there. He’d guessed as much. He cleared his mind, reaching for his battle focus, feeling for the simmering rage that was always in there, always waiting in the darkest pit of his soul. The rage that gave him strength when all else failed.

  “This is Brother Alexander,” he said, “once Alexander of York. I speak for the Guild of Saint Peter. The Court will not protect you from the consequences of this breach of the Covenant. Desist, and leave. Order your pack home, Hunter.”

 
The calm voice was now tinged with amusement. “Oh, this isn’t my pack. I’m just keeping an eye on things, so to speak. The interim Master of the Hunt is otherwise engaged and has ordered us here to retrieve the girl. Our Lady demands it.”

  “You don’t want to tangle with me, Hunter.”

  “Probably not. I have heard of you, after all, Alexander of York. How could I not? You are a preternatural legend.” There was respect in the voice but, under that, still that trace of amusement. Alex frowned. Interim Master? A Hunt without leadership? Where was Diana Raven?

  While they spoke, Alex was aware of windows being rattled, walls being tested, steps circling the Den and skittering across the roof. Daniel waited, tension in his shoulders. Rose, at his side, no longer looked scared. She looked angry. “Is this the pack that killed my parents?” she whispered to Daniel. Alex’s keen hearing picked out every word. Daniel simply replied, “Yes.”

  “We’d like the girl now,” the demon said. “And then we’ll be on our way.”

  “And if I refuse to hand her over?” Alex asked.

  “My Lady would be most displeased,” the demon answered. “And I’m afraid I’ve put too much work into tracking you down to simply give up.”

  “How did you find us?”

  “Now, now, Sir Knight. Stalling does not become you.” The voice was gentle, reproachful. “Why do you resist? You can’t win this. You’re surrounded. Do you really expect this heap of concrete and timber to stand forever?”

  Ah. So the demon had noticed the heavy foundations and support pillars. Daniel had more cement and metal threaded through his walls than a small skyscraper. It was virtually impregnable. But something in the demon’s voice made Alex falter. A certain cocky assurance. Had a weakness been spotted?

  There was a scrabbling noise from above, then a loud bang. A mallet, or a crowbar perhaps. Judging by Daniel’s sharp intake of breath, there was indeed a weak point and it lay right overhead. Alex turned to Daniel. “Really? The roof?” he hissed.

  “It’s only one small area,” Daniel whispered back as he pushed Rose into the bathroom and backed in after her, his shotgun at the ready. “I designed it as an escape hatch, an easy place to break through in case I needed to get out. I have no idea how they spotted it.”

  Alex pushed the table slightly so it was under the place in the roof where the banging was coming from. He jumped up on the table, waiting, Redemption resting lightly on his shoulder. The tip of a crowbar broke through, and when it pulled back an entire section of roof went with it, large enough for Alex to see a flash of dark sky, and a face looking in.

  The leader’s voice rang out, surprisingly masterful for all his calm way of speaking. “Do not harm the girl. The Lady wants her alive. But kill the priests. No witnesses.”

  “You can try,” Alex snarled. Redemption glowed, ready.

  The first demon died as soon as he tried to climb in, lowering himself head-first into the hole. Alex didn’t bother with niceties. He simply beheaded the demon in one clean sweep of his sword. Blood sprayed everywhere, splattering Alex. He heard Rose cry out as the head thudded to the floor and bounced off into a corner before it began to flake away into dust. The dead demon’s broken soul blade clattered in pieces to the floor.

  Alex wiped his eyes clean of gore and residual ash in time to meet the next challenger, an athletic woman who dropped in feet-first. Daniel shot her in the back as she landed, and she fell forward onto Alex’s sword. He had his knife out in an instant, stabbing her through the eye. Her aura winked out immediately and her human vessel began to crumble. Her soul blade materialized and he kicked the shards aside.

  The demons had only managed to break open a small section of the roof. Daniel’s “escape hatch”, Alex guessed. So now there was a bottleneck of demons above, waiting to face a seasoned warrior below. Cage matches evidently weren’t their thing: the demons retreated hastily, aware their tactic wasn’t working.

  “Guns,” Alex called out to Daniel as he jumped off the table and flipped it on its side. He took shelter as, predictably, the first bullets ripped into the wood, clanging off the reinforced steel plate beneath. Alex had built that table himself. It would hold. So would the bathroom door that Daniel sheltered behind.

  There were three guns fastened under the table. Alex set down his sword and grabbed one, returning fire. A bullet narrowly missed his face, carving a groove along his forehead. He gritted his teeth as blood coursed down, and took the shooter out with his next round — wounded, not dead, unfortunately. He blinked blood from his eyes.

  The demons pulled back, giving them a temporary respite. “All well?” Alex called out.

  “Minnesota,” Daniel answered, opening the bathroom door carefully to peer out. Alex grinned. Minnesota had been an easy job. This was Daniel-speak for “piece of cake”.

  They heard most of the demons jumping down from the roof. One remained on watch. She ducked her head into the opening and out again, lightning fast. “Jude,” she called out. “It’s just the three of them, that I can see. The old man has the girl in a room, must be the bathroom. The vampire’s behind a shield.”

  The demon began rattling off the weapons she could see along with the defenses on the door and windows. Alex tried to shoot her, but she drew back. He thumped the table, denting the steel. Frustration fed his anger, and Redemption shone brighter, practically humming. The demon in charge was good. When the roof attack failed, he simply turned it into a surveillance point. And they were sitting ducks in here, trapped.

  Alex caught Daniel’s eye. Need to get out, he signed. Get to car. He had a sudden flashback to a huddle of men in a muddy trench in the Somme. Trapped like rats, and he’d been the only one to walk away alive. Another tattoo. Another burden to bear. He wiped mud from his eye. No, blood. The Somme had been a long time ago. The cut on his forehead was already healing, the flow halting.

  His fingers tightened around the gun. Out loud he called, “Jude!” That’s the name the girl demon had used, and he guessed it belonged to their leader. “You have a good pack here. Obedient. You’ve already lost at least two Hunters. Do you really want to do this?”

  “It’s not my pack, Sir Knight,” Jude replied, polite and cautious. Alex narrowed his eyes at that. It might not be Jude’s pack, but he had it in the palm of his hand. Alex knew a player when he saw one. Or heard one, in this case.

  “The pack belongs to our Liege Lady, Shade Raven,” Jude continued. “And it’s my Lady’s wish that we bring her the girl known as Rose Grace. The Pietrowicz child. I strongly suggest you give her up. She will be safer away from this. We won’t kill her.”

  No, thought Alex. Only half-kill, and then Gift. And then Shade would control Rose, and the Heart Blade when she eventually summoned it. “That’s not an option, as you know,” he answered, trying to sound cool and collected in the heat of his anger. He would never let Shade have Rose. Not if he could help it.

  “What a shame,” replied Jude. “I was looking forward to meeting the legendary Alexander of York under different circumstances. Is this your final decision?”

  “It is.”

  “Very well, then.” There was a pause before the demon spoke again. When he did, his words were cold, decisive. “Smoke them out,” he ordered. “Now, before the rain starts up again.”

  Alex looked at Daniel. “Any fire-retardant wards worked into your walls? No? Well, then. I guess we have a problem.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Rose

  Rose peered over Dan’s shoulder. Alex was making hand signs at them. “What did he say,” she whispered.

  Dan turned his head to speak directly into her ear, his words barely a breath. “He’ll distract them. We go out by the door. Be ready.” He was anxious. Rose could tell, not just by the tight lines around his mouth, but by his smell. Ever since her first shift, her senses had heightened. They weren’t equal to the wolf’s, but they were so much keener now than her own had been.

  “Here. Take this.” Dan pr
essed a knife into her hand, a wickedly long thing. “Army issue. It’s a good one,” he said. “I’d give you a gun, but you have no training. If they get too close, don’t hold back. Remember, stab them in the eye, if you can. The right eye, the silver one.”

  He moved out the bathroom door to grab weapons and ammunition from the storage shelves, strapping a holster to his waist. Rose watched the preparations, her attention half on Dan, half on the sounds from outside. She heard liquid splashing up against the cabin walls, and smelled gasoline.

  “They’re really going to burn us?” she asked Dan.

  “Of course not. They just want to draw us out. The cabin’s lost, though.” He laid a hand on the wall. “Shame.” He turned to Alex, eyeing his sword. “Need any more weapons?”

  Alex grinned. “Just Redemption.” It was a predator’s grin: half smile, half snarl. One that raised his lip and exposed his eyeteeth, slightly longer than a human’s and much sharper. Rose stared. It was one thing learning that Alex was a vampire. It was another seeing the truth. There was something wild and feral about him, and although she couldn’t smell his feelings, she noticed his sword glowed a bright red.

  Alex noticed her watching. “Anger is a tool. Use it wisely.” She wondered if he was talking about himself, or about her. She didn’t feel scared. She was pissed off. She was furious. Out there, the demons that had killed her parents were gathered, trying to burn down the cabin and kill Alex and Dan.

  “But not me,” she muttered. “Dan?” she said, louder. “You told me that Shade wanted me dead. The demon outside, he said I wouldn’t be harmed. What’s the deal?”

  But before Dan could answer, Jude, the demon leader, called out, “Last chance to let the girl out unharmed.”

  Dan pulled his shirt up over his nose. Rose copied him. She looked at Alex. The vampire still had that wild smile on his face, and his eyes glittered with excitement. Battle frenzy, she thought, thinking of all those books about berserkers she’d read when she’d been into Viking stories.