Heart Blade: Blade Hunt Chronicles Book One

by Juliana Spink Mills

  Camille

  The couple in the room next door were fighting. They’d been alternately fighting and making loud, combative love all night long. Camille pulled her head out from under her pillow and sat up to thump on the thin wall. The fighting couple never even paused.

  The bedside light clicked on. Deacon sat up in the next bed, hair tousled. “Can’t sleep either?” he asked, looking pointedly at the wall.

  “Hell, no. They sound like rutting wildebeests. What horrible people.”

  “What, no feeding off them?” he teased.

  Camille gave him affronted glare. “As if I would. I don’t need that particular brand of cheap nastiness. It’s all tangled up in anger and hate.”

  Rumpled from sleeping in her clothes, she got up to wash her face. They’d stopped at one of those big chain stores in the morning to buy fresh outfits. The turquoise leggings and pale pink t-shirt she now wore weren’t her usual sort of thing, but they were comfortable and kept her movements free. After all, the woman witch was still out there, and they were no closer to solving the mystery of how she’d tracked down Ash and Adeline.

  Knowing the two runaways were in the area should have helped, but instead it had turned out to be one big heap of frustration. They’d spent the day scouring every small hotel and lodging house around, and every campsite too. Nothing. It was as if Ash and Adeline had disappeared into thin air.

  As night fell, they’d checked into a small hotel. Deacon had brazenly pulled out a fake ID and registered them as “Mr. Ellicott and daughter”. By the look the man at reception gave them, Camille didn’t think he’d bought the “daughter” bit. He gave her a nasty leer that made her feel grubby down to her very toes. Now, listening to the performance by the couple next door, Camille got it. If this was the sort of customer they were used to, no wonder the reception guy had eyed her up like that.

  When she returned from the bathroom, she found Deacon sitting on the side of his bed, frowning at his cell phone.

  “Still no messages?” she asked. He shook his head. Camille sat down on her own bed, across from him. “So what do we do now?”

  “I don’t know.” He was still staring at his phone. He sounded bleak. “This is all my fault. I pushed him away. I should have listened to him. But I just didn’t want to hear it. I know the Covenant is broken, we both do. And there’s nothing I can do about it.”

  She nodded in sympathy. “I know. It’s easier to bury yourself in the rules and pretend it still works. But it doesn’t, Deacon, and the more we all go around pretending it does, the more the whole thing cracks and splinters. What we need is for the preternatural community to start talking to each other, really talking, and to have an honest discussion of where we’re heading.”

  He looked up from his cell phone, eyebrows raised. “Camille the Reformer? I wouldn’t have pegged you as a radical.”

  “I’m not. All I want is my own freedom. But if rewriting the Covenant is what it takes, then so be it.”

  The fighting next door stopped abruptly. Camille held up her fingers and began counting down. “Three…two…” She never even made it to one before the rhythmic squeaking of bedsprings started up again. Deacon laughed, a proper, rolling, belly laugh that made her smile.

  “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “And go where? It’s the middle of the night.”

  “We’ll go back to Hartford. I have a spare room you can have. In the morning we’ll plan our next steps.”

  Outside, the rain still fell, heavy and cold. Deacon started his truck. “I’m a bit low on gas. I need to fill up before we hit the highway. Hang on.”

  He went back into the motel and quickly returned. “Leery Larry, the reception guy, says there’s an all-night place just a few miles away.”

  She grinned. “You noticed him too. Leery Larry.”

  “Creep. Like I’d date a girl your age!”

  “Yeah,” she answered, deadpan. “You’re way too young for me.”

  He blinked. And then he laughed again, the same rolling laugh from before. He was still laughing as he started the car and pulled out of the parking lot.

  They found the gas station easily. Deacon filled the tank and then knocked on Camille’s window. She lowered it, and he pointed at the small convenience store. “I’m going in to see if they have coffee. Do you want anything?”

  Camille thought for a moment. “Coffee sounds good. And I could do with some mints. I’ll come with you.”

  As they pushed through the door, the attendant looked up. He was an older man, in his late seventies or eighties. “What can I do for you folks tonight?” he asked.

  “Do you have coffee?” Deacon asked.

  “Sure thing. Over in that corner.” The old man was watching Deacon, scratching his head. “Seen you before, haven’t I?” he asked.

  “Nope,” answered Deacon. “Never been here.”

  “I could have sworn I’ve seen you,” the man said.

  Camille stilled, an idea forming. “Wait. Maybe you saw this guy instead?” She pulled out Ash’s photo and set it on the counter along with Adeline’s.

  His face lit up. “Yeah, now I remember, it wasn’t you at all. It was this kid. He sure looks like you. Your boy?”

  Deacon nodded, his shoulders tightening with tension. “Yeah, that’s my boy. He took off with his girlfriend.” He gestured at Camille. “His sister and I have been looking for them all over. Can I ask when you saw them?”

  “It was maybe late this afternoon?” He looked at his watch. “Yesterday afternoon by now. They came in for some stuff. Milk. Medicine. Your boy looked bad. Said he had the flu. He was all shaking and sweating. I told him to get some rest and fluids.”

  Camille smiled politely. “That was good advice. I hope he took it! Did you happen to see which way he went?”

  “He carried on up the hill. There’s not a lot up that way: a few fishing and hunting cabins. Say, I think there are folks up at the old Emerson place. Used to be the old Emerson place, back in the day. Bought up a good number of years ago, though I’ve never seen the owner. But I thought I saw a car go up the track the other day.”

  “A rusty old Chevy?” asked Camille.

  “Ah, I wasn’t paying attention. I just took note of a vehicle of some sort heading up that way.”

  He gave them instructions for the Emerson place, and they left. Deacon’s face was tight as they drove out of the gas station and back into the rain, his jaw clenched and a muscle twitching in his cheek. Camille was trying to think of something reassuring to say, but everything that came to mind was a useless platitude. So all she said was, “We turn right here, I think.”

  Eventually they reached the gravel road the old man had described. “Now we look for a hill,” said Camille. “And then it’s the first gate on the left.”

  The truck crawled along slowly so they wouldn’t miss the turn-off in the dark. Camille looked back as they crested the hill, and saw Hartford’s lights in the distance. A fork of lightning cut the sky in two.

  When they reached the gate, they found several vehicles parked along the gravel road. “This can’t be them,” remarked Deacon, disappointed. “Someone must be having a party.”

  Camille opened her window, rain misting her face. She heard shouts. “A loud party,” she remarked. Deacon was just passing the last car when she put a hand on his arm. “Deacon?” Her voice sounded weird to her ears.

  He took one look at her face and slammed on the brakes. “What? What is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

  She pointed at the nearest car. It had a big sticker on the back that read I’d rather be Hunting, next to a symbol, a stylized silver eye with EC across it. “East Coast,” she said. Her voice rose. “Those are pack vehicles. That’s the dumb sticker some of the youngsters made last year.”

  In an instant, Deacon had pulled over. He grabbed his gun from the glove compartment and went around to the back of the truck. Camille dug his combat vest and helmet
from behind the seat and followed to find him unlocking the storage box in the bed of the truck.

  She shoved the vest at him. “Be smart. Gear up properly. You won’t help him if you get shot or stabbed.”

  He took the Kevlar vest and put it on. Despite his palpable anxiety, his hands were steady. He wiped wet hair from his forehead and strapped on his helmet in silence. Then he reached into the storage box to draw out a large, business-like sword from inside a bundle of canvas. He shoved the gun in the holster on his vest and set off for the gate at a run, sword in hand. He vaulted the gate with the ease of a man used to hard, physical training. Camille slipped around the side of the gate, putting on a spurt of demon speed to catch up with him.

  A gunshot rang out, and another. “Shouldn’t we call your Chapter for back-up?” Camille called out.

  “How the fuck would that help?” he yelled back. “They’d never make it here in time.”

  Camille was briefly shocked into silence. She’d never heard Deacon swear before, not once. They pounded down the track, overhanging shrubs and branches whipping arms and legs. She scrubbed hair out of her damp face, trying to see where she was going, but it was like running down a dark, wet tunnel. There was nothing to see but the black of the woods and Deacon ahead of her.

  The track widened into a clearing of sorts as they reached a cabin in the trees. In the flashes of lightning, Camille could make out a man swinging a sword. No, not a man. A vampire with an angry red blade. The vampire was backed into a tight circle with another man — a human — and a girl. A werewolf girl with a clear blue aura. The three were surrounded by the East Coast pack.

  Deacon never broke stride. He waded into the pack, handing out punishment with that big sword of his. Then he skidded on the wet grass and went down just as she caught up. The nearest demon raised his soul blade, and Camille drew her own without hesitation, sliding neatly under the blade’s arc to catch it on hers.

  “Camille?” the bemused demon asked. It was enough to allow Deacon to scramble to his feet and join the three in the center of the circle. The pack fell back a little, watching, as Camille stepped in alongside Deacon, blade raised against her own kind, hair in wet streaks across her face and clothes plastered down uncomfortably. Deacon gave her a grateful nod.

  “Well, well. So Miss Darkwing returns to us,” drawled an amused voice. She looked up to see Jude standing on top of a parked SUV, arms crossed, serene and confident in the rain.

  “Jude,” Camille called out. “Do you answer for the pack?”

  “I do,” he replied.

  “We have no quarrel with this man and his son. Return the boy, Jude.”

  Jude threw his head back and laughed. “I think you have the wrong place, Camille. The cabin you want is further along the road. But I’m impressed you got this far. You’re smarter than I thought.”

  “He’s not here?” Deacon’s voice was hoarse.

  Jude spread his arms. “As you can see, no, he isn’t. But Miss Pietrowicz is, and you’re just in time to see Sir Knight hand her over.”

  So Jude had found the girl the pack was hunting. The gaunt and graying man in the plaid shirt must be the priest. Beside her, Deacon started as he looked properly at the group they’d joined. “Brother Alexander? Dan?”

  “Scion,” replied the blond vampire with the glowing sword. “There will be time to explain later. For now, we must protect Rose. She’s the one we’ve been waiting for. The child from the Heart prophecy.”

  “I’m what?” spluttered the girl, Rose.

  “Later,” answered the vampire. And not just any vampire, Camille realized. This must be the legendary Alexander of York.

  The pack hovered just beyond reach, ready to make their final move. The vampire looked at Camille. “Do you stand with us, demon?”

  She caught Deacon’s eye. “You’ll keep your word? You’ll back me up in Court?”

  “You’ll have the full weight of the New England Chapter behind you,” he promised.

  She looked at the vampire. “I do, Knight,” she answered firmly.

  The five of them shifted slightly so they stood in a tight circle, back-to-back. Camille saw the priest, the one Deacon had called Dan, try to push Rose into the center of their group. But she snarled, wolf-like, and stood her ground. Three of them carried swords, and Dan and Rose had long knives, but they were still outnumbered.

  The rain was finally slowing to a drizzle. Jude raised his hand. Everything stilled, everyone waiting on his signal to begin. Beside her, Deacon said, “Thanks, Camille. For everything.”

  Camille never got a chance to reply. Jude’s hand came down and all hell broke loose.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Del

  Del should have been dead. But this didn’t feel like death. She felt alive, more alive than she’d felt since she woke up in Shade’s arms in the alley. All around her the clearing shone brightly with a beautiful, pale light, a silver-green glow like a new leaf amid the last of the winter snow. The soft shade of hope.

  She was no longer lying across Ash. Instead, she stood over him, one leg on each side of his body. She didn’t remember getting up. She didn’t remember anything apart from Theo’s blade slicing into her body.

  Her sword was still gripped tightly in her hand, but it looked different. It was shorter, straighter, and the shape of the hilt had changed. It glowed softly with the same beautiful, green light that lit Del’s body up as though she were a paper lantern and the green light the candle of her soul.

  The glow faded from the clearing and from Del herself, though it still clung to her sword like a pale flame in the dark.

  Theo was staring at her in shock. His soul blade had shimmered out. “You’re dead,” he said. “I killed you. I didn’t mean to, but I did.” His eyes dropped to the sword in her hands. “But… that’s the Heart Blade,” he stammered. His voice was low, uncertain. “It has to be. You’re the one? All this time searching and we had you right there in our hands…”

  He took a step forward, his face full of wonder. Then his expression hardened. “You’re coming with me. Now.”

  “No.” Del was calm. She had no more fear, and all her pain had been washed away in the light of the sword. She could see so clearly. She wanted to hate the Hunter, wanted to strike out, hurt him. But she couldn’t do it. Theo’s heart was an open book, and it told a tale of betrayal and longing, heartbreak and pain. Feelings he’d tried to forget and hide away, all buried under years of neglect and willful abandon.

  “Adeline,” he warned, moving a step closer.

  “I understand now,” she said. “But it doesn’t have to hurt. It won’t hurt if you just let it out.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I can stop the hurt. I can make it go away if you will only let me.” Del reached out and tapped his arm lightly with the tip of her sword. The Heart Blade barely pierced his skin, drawing only the smallest bead of blood. But it was enough. All Theo’s pain and longing and heartbreak came pouring out in a rush. He screamed and fell to his knees, clasping his arm.

  “No!” He was sobbing now. “I don’t want this! I don’t want any of this!”

  She didn’t wait around to see what would happen next. She released the Heart Blade and heaved Ash to his feet, staggering under his weight. “Wake up. We have to go.”

  He opened his eyes and mercifully took some of his weight, though he still leaned heavily on her. They crashed into the woods again, heading away from Theo. Inside her chest, she could feel the sword’s warm presence. It would return when she summoned it, she was sure of it, though she couldn’t have explained how she knew.

  In the blackness under the trees, she realized her skin was glowing again. No, not exactly glowing: the light flowed away from her and into Ash. He gasped and stood straighter, and soon he was standing on his own. He stopped, and so did she, both watching the ghostly wisps of pale green that drifted like mist between them. His skin drank it in, and when the glow faded away his eyes s
till shone for an instant.

  “I feel better. I feel amazing,” he said in awe. “You healed me. What did you do? How did you do that?”

  “I’m not sure,” she answered, just as awed. “I think it has something to do with this.” She touched her chest and drew the sword.

  “Is that — that’s the Heart Blade, Del!”

  “I know. It chose me. It was because of you. I couldn’t let him kill you, I just couldn’t.”

  They both stared at the sword. It had a straight-edged blade with grooves cut down the middle, and a simple carved hilt with no crosspiece.

  “It’s a spatha,” said Ash. “A Roman spatha.”

  Del let the sword go again. “Come on, we should get moving. I did something to Theo back there, but I don’t know how long it will hold him.” She frowned. “I wasn’t trying to hurt him. I think the sword was trying to heal him, but I hurt him, anyway.”

  “As long as it slows him down, I’m fine with that,” answered Ash, his mouth a tight line.

  Soon they broke through the trees to a clear space on the riverbank. The drizzle had stopped. “Which way?” Del asked. She walked over to the river, wondering how deep it was. Just then they heard Theo running fast, ripping through the bushes like a bull on a rampage. Ash caught Del’s hand and drew her back into the protection of the woods. They crouched behind a large tree.

  Theo stopped when he reached the clearing. “Get out here, Adeline!” he roared. “You’re going to fix whatever you did to me. And then I’m taking you to Shade.”

  He went to the edge of the river, bending to examine the ground. Del winced. The soft mud by the water must be full of footprints. He straightened, and Del could see the gleam of his teeth as he smiled.

  “I know you’re here, Adeline. Come on out. And if you pull that stunt again, I’ll rip your boy’s heart out with my bare hands.”

  He held up a cell phone. “You’ll never escape. I told the entire pack our youngest sister bears the Heart Blade. I’ll never stop hunting you. The pack will never stop hunting you, and we won’t hesitate to hurt anyone who stands in our way. Your angel is almost dead. You may as well give up now before you get anyone else killed.”