Shadowed Blade (Colbana Files Book 6)

by J. C. Daniels

  “Yeah, well. Same goes.”

  “Another call.”

  Chang stood in the doorway.

  Damon merely lifted his head and stared at him, eyes glittering.

  “I’ve sent out an order that the Clan are to eliminate all unnecessary travel. Anybody lacking secured homes is welcome to come to the Lair,” Chang continued as if unaware of the temper directed his way.

  “Why?” I asked, frowning.

  Chang slanted a look at me. “A…polite threat was issued against Scott last night. He was coming to the Lair when two government issued vehicles ran him off the road. He was told he wasn’t watching where he was going. He apologized, shifted and made his own way home. I’ve shared the information with the MacDonald and he has decided to issue advisories to his own people as well.”

  “What is this?” I asked, dread creeping up the back of my throat.

  Chang said nothing.

  “You can go now,” Damon said, his voice silky.

  “I want to know what’s going on.” It had been well over a day since Chang had put his let’s give Kit an alibi plan into action, and it had worked.

  Banner had issued its formal statement that I couldn’t have possibly been in South Carolina, due to a near fatal injury that I had taken. An investigation on a private human compound was being undertaken by the FBI—a possible NH terrorist attack was the word on the news, and they were putting their best people on it. President Whitmore, naturally, was quite concerned.

  I’d spent the past day healing and sleeping and when I wasn’t sleeping, I was eating and watching news reports roll across the media screen in Damon’s—no, our quarters at the Lair. Damon had tried to get me to watch something else and I’d blithely ignored him.

  I felt surprisingly strong. Chang was a powerful shifter, an old one. The virus in his blood would pack one hell of a punch and anybody he actually did infect would probably either die fast or change fast. Whether or not that translated to me healing much quicker… But, I didn’t know.

  What I did know was that the wounds were nearly gone. They were also going to scar. I didn’t scar easily, but I’d care these five claw marks.

  Damon wasn’t going to be happy about that.

  In another day, maybe less, I’d be back to my bitchy old self, with the new addition of some marks on my belly and back that shone like stripes.

  Earlier, Damon had given me another update on Justin and Colleen—Colleen still wasn’t talking and Justin was a healing sleep—again.

  They would live, as long as they wanted to.

  I didn’t like that answer, and I wanted to see them. I needed to make sure they knew they were going to live, because I just couldn’t deal with it otherwise. And I’d been so caught up in them, and the so-called terrorist attack on a so-called private human compound, I hadn’t realized there was more going on.

  But now, as I looked back and forth between Chang and Damon, I realized there was a lot more.

  “What’s going on?” I demanded.

  “Chang, you are dismissed,” Damon said, ignoring me.

  Oh, no…

  Climbing out of bed, I shoved my hair back and made my way over to the dresser. “Fine, I’ll go with him and he can bring me up to date somewhere else.”

  “Chang is leaving the Lair. He’s needed at the club,” Damon said, his voice cold.

  “Then I’ll go with to the club. Or I’ll find somebody else who will talk.”

  “Kit—”

  Spinning around, I glared at him. “Yank the stick out of your ass before I do it and beat you with it!”

  He jerked his head back as if I’d slapped him.

  I was tempted. So tempted. “You’re pissed. I get it. He gets it.” Storming over to him, I jabbed him in the chest so hard, it hurt my damn finger. “But here’s the deal. I have more reason to be pissed than you do, but I’m using my brain. He had a plan and it worked.”

  “You think I couldn’t have protected you?” Damon’s hand closed around the front of my shirt, dragging me closer.

  “It’s not about that!” Instead of trying to twist away, I grabbed his face between my palms and stared him dead in the eye. “It’s about doing what’s best for all of us—you, me, the Clan. He was trying to protect me and everybody else, including you.”

  “I’m not—”

  I pressed my mouth to his. “Don’t,” I whispered as the door closed quietly. Chang had left. “I know you’re not leading them because it’s what you always wanted, but you are leading them. There’s more at stake here than just protecting me.”

  “Kit…” The word was a growl against my lips. The hand fisted in my shirt came up and gripped the back of my neck, holding tight.

  “I know you’d walk into hell for me, Damon—and probably stroll out, carrying the devil’s head by the horns.”

  “Sometimes, baby girl, I think you are the devil. My devil, anyway.” He shuddered, like a cat shaking water from his fur, but it was some of the rage he was shaking off, forcing it out of his soul, bit by bit.

  His arms came around me, fast and tight and he held me.

  I clutched him to me and tucked my face against his neck. “I’m fine, Damon. I’m fine. And maybe this was better—that arrogant son-of-a-bitch figured out that it’s not easy to make a grab at me now—or any of us.”

  He said nothing for the longest time.

  I could hear the seconds ticking by on the clock and they faded away into minutes.

  Finally, Damon stirred. Pressing his lips to my neck, he lightly raked his teeth over a long-healed bite. This time, I shuddered.

  He put me down and met my eyes, giving me a slow nod.

  “Go get dressed, Kit. I’ll get Chang. We’ll talk.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chang flew across the room just as I walked into it.

  He crashed into the stone fireplace and I winced. Ouch.

  He was immediately on his feet, blood dripping from his mouth and the lower part of his jaw was…wrong. Very wrong.

  I heard bone crunch and he lifted his hands. Bone crunched again when he did something to his jaw.

  Blood made an ugly mask on his mouth and chin.

  Turning, I went to the bathroom and got a towel.

  The bleeding had stopped by the time I returned, although it still gleamed wet on his skin. Damon leaned against the bar, looking as though the two of them were discussing what they might do that afternoon.

  “Feel better?” I asked Damon.

  “A bit. Yeah.” His eyes were flat and hard.

  Chang accepted the towel and wiped the blood from his face and hands. “Thank you, Kit.” Inclining his head, he asked in polite, cool tones, “Might I use the facilities?”

  “You might,” I said, responding before Damon could. Knowing the man’s mood, he might say no.

  I turned and saw him watching me, eyes glittering.

  “I’m not having a conversation with him while he’s got blood on his hands.”

  “I didn’t say a word, baby girl.” There was a thread of amusement somewhere in those words, but I couldn’t quite figure out why.

  “You didn’t have to. Your snarl says plenty.”

  Chang rejoined us, having shed the jacket to his suit as well. He’d probably shoved it into the recycle unit in the bathroom. The lovely gray fabric was trashed. Chances were he’d spent upward of a few grand on that suit—he did like his designer duds—but that piece was beyond repair now.

  “So what’s going on? Why is the Clan battening down the hatches and advising the Pack to do the same?” Arms folded over my chest, I looked back and forth from one man to the other.

  “We’re taking precautions.” Chang adjusted the cuffs on his shirt sleeves. “I’ve also made the necessary calls to other leaders within the community, and Scott has done what he can to alert independent NHs. For the time being, we’ve offered accommodation to those who have no safe place, assuming they agree to abide by Clan rules. The Pack is doing the same.
Hopefully, the independents will heed our advice and stay low.”

  “Oh, yeah. Great, that’s just great…now what in the hell are we taking precautions against?” I demanded. “You’re dancing around the issue and not telling me shit.”

  “Is that a fact?” He frowned, almost thoughtfully. “I thought you wanted to know what is going on, Kit.”

  A low growl rumbled out of Damon’s throat.

  Chang’s eyes flashed gold as he turned his head and met the Alpha’s eye.

  “Whoa…” Cutting between them, I lifted my hands.

  Damon wasn’t the only one pissed off. Chang had just been hiding it better.

  Damn it. If the two of them ever turned against each other, I wasn’t sure anything would be left standing by the time they were done.

  Chang blinked and as simple as that, the weight of his anger, the immense power I’d felt coming from him, was gone. “Apologies, Kit.”

  Damon said nothing. Stepping closer to him, I touched my hand to his chest. His heart was a hammer under my palm, skin hotter than a furnace. “Damon.”

  “We’re good,” he said softly.

  I sure as hell hoped so. Looking at Chang, I asked, “Can you please just tell me what in the hell it is I’m missing?”

  “Your former client isn’t entirely happy you decided to end the business relationship,” Chang said, moving into the small kitchenette. I watched as he put some water on for tea. “In the past forty-eight hours, I’ve fielded more than a dozen calls. He’s had men at your place of business, at your legal residence—by the way, we need to handle changing the paperwork. You know the rules on that. If you’re officially moving in here, all that tedious paperwork.”

  He flicked a hand in the air, like the forms I’d have to deal with were little more than a fly buzzing around our heads. I’d forgotten, though. “Shit.”

  “I’ve already gotten them started,” Chang said. “They simply need to be signed by you. I’ve also taken the liberty of…addressing a few issues on your papers, Kit. They were good. Very good. Now they are flawless.”

  My heart lurched a little as he mentioned the forged documents that I’d used claiming dual citizenship.

  Damon had dropped down on the couch as Chang spoke, feigning disinterest, but now he glanced over at his second. “What papers?”

  Chang left me to answer while he got two teacups down. Two. Tea. Man, I needed some tea.

  “Ah…well.” Swiping my hands down my pants, I worked up a weak smile. “I’m not exactly what you could call a legal citizen…or legal anything, actually. I slid into the States illegally. Justin helped me get papers not long after we started working together.”

  “They were very good,” Chang said, bringing me a cup of tea.

  It smelled of jasmine and I breathed it in before taking a small sip. I gave him a smile of gratitude but he’d already turned away.

  “However, we are about ready to come under some serious fire and I wanted to take no chances.” The small twist to his lips couldn’t really be called a smile. “It would serve his purposes quite well if you were to be found here illegally and he chose to have you arrested, wouldn’t it?”

  I felt a little sick. “Yeah. Probably. Thank you, Chang.”

  He stood at the bar, holding his own cup of tea. After a moment, he looked at me and gave a simple nod. “Of course, Kit. Back to those phone calls…at first, he was just very persistent. Then he became more…adamant. The last two calls were little more than threats. And not just against you, but the entire Clan.”

  The blood in my veins froze and I shot a look between him and Damon. “Are you…well, yeah. Of course you’re serious.”

  “I’ve notified the Assembly,” Chang said. He sounded so incredibly calm.

  Damon’s shoulders were tight.

  “They had an informal meeting. Two of them were of a mind that you sign a formal contract and do whatever work he wished. It would, after all, end this nonsense and we wouldn’t have to worry about any more unpleasantness.”

  “Wait a minute.” I held up a hand, my heart starting to race. “You told the Assembly that I’m having some work issues with the fricking president?”

  “Of course.” Chang cocked his head. “I did ask that they fully respect the confidences under which you took that job. They…agreed it would be wise to remain quiet about it. Fortunately, only two of thirteen felt the best way to handle things would be to persuade you to continue working for him. I’d expected at least two or three others.”

  “Wow. Great. And you still approached them?”

  “Of course.” His black eyes narrowed. “I knew they wouldn’t have seven view it as the lesser evil, Kit. There are thirteen members who act as Speakers. Of those thirteen, four are witches and two are with Green Road—their support for you is unwavering. Three are shifters and while not all are solid supporters of you in particular, shapeshifters, in general, back each other—you’re also considered ours. Two are psychics and they already sense the unrest in the air. There are three vampires and one offshoot. The vampires tend to react in what one might consider the logical way—they support whoever has the strength behind them. The offshoot is Brett Hall and she also tends to follow a logical path.”

  He flicked at an imaginary speck of lint. “There were two vampires who felt it was prudent to turn you over. The third one was Amund. He was quite skeptical at first, but upon hearing about your troubles, he started to have doubts of his own. After seeing some proof I’ve gathered, he no longer had doubts. He knew without a doubt that he’d been well and truly fooled. He won’t forget that.” Chang looked decidedly smug, a cold smile lighting his face as he met my eyes. “He was the one who told the other two vampires that perhaps they might not mind reliving history, but he and his house wouldn’t be doing it.

  “We have an individual who is trying to strong-arm an independent NH into being his personal grunt. If we give in once…” Chang lifted a shoulder.

  “The Assembly knows if we give in even once, then we might as well just roll over and give him our throats now.” Damon finished for him, staring at Chang from across the room.

  The tension between them was still thick and hot, enough to choke me.

  “Precisely.”

  “What’s this proof you were talking about?” I asked before that tension could turn into teeth and claws.

  “That is something you will have to see to fully understand, Kit.” Chang came out of the kitchen then and gestured for me to join Damon. “I’ll be blunt. I never trusted the man, never liked him. I kept my counsel when he spoke with you and perhaps I shouldn’t have. But he went from blatant hatred and subtle threats of genocide to approaching you for assistance and pointing us in the direction of people who have helped with the kidnappings. I knew something wasn’t right.”

  “Genocide,” I said, watching as he moved to the media screen and brought it to life with a touch.

  “Yes. He ran on the platform that the only safe America was one without people like us.” Chang retreated to the side again. “He was incredibly persuasive—people crying for our blood on the roadside. Now…watch. You’ll want to see this.”

  This turned out to be a series of stills and some video, all put together on a disc. Side by side images of the president over the past couple of years, compared to him the first year he was in office, or his years serving in the Congress.

  “He’s become left handed,” Chang pointed out. “Sometime in the last six months.”

  I’d already noticed. He’d made a few slip ups before that—going to do something with the hand that was naturally dominant before remembering.

  “His wife has all but stopped appearing in public with him.” Damon scraped his nails along the heavy growth of beard he hadn’t gotten around to shaving off. “She’s still alive, right?”

  “Yes. She still does her normal things, but even when they are in public, she keeps a careful distance between them. And watch—” Chang moved forward and touched the scr
een, using the bar at the bottom to scroll to a certain point on the disk. We had a view of Whitmore spinning, gesticulating wildly, talking at a rapid-fire pace. Then it stopped as Chang found the point he wanted.

  “Here we are…” he murmured, as much to himself as anything else. “This feed is from a member of the paparazzi. He sold it in a bit of a hurry for a fair amount of money—it was all an electronic exchange. The man who shot the footage disappeared a day after this was made. The original was already in the mail and made its destination while the electronic feed was posted to…well, multiple underground sources within an hour of being bought.”

  I heard what he was saying, but my mind was one hundred percent focused on the media screen.

  “Replay it,” I said when he paused. “I want to see it again.”

  “Of course.”

  Damon was now studying it as closely as I was.

  It was Whitmore—or whoever…whatever—he was, walking down the sidewalk, surrounded by Secret Service personnel. His wife was by his side. He went to put a hand on her shoulder and she jerked away, stumbling into the agent next to her.

  The agent had steadied her fast enough, but Whitmore had reached for her as well and she’d slapped at his hands, again backing away. This time, whoever had been shooting the film had panned in closer, and when the Secret Service personnel had drawn in around them to try and offer some privacy. It had narrowed her field of escape so that she ended up practically trapped between Whitmore and the large, plate-glass window of the building at her back.

  And Whitmore’s reflection was captured in it perfectly.

  Or at least, it should have been captured perfectly.

  For a span of seconds, only seconds, the reflection staring back at the woman had been…bizarre.

  “Again.”

  It rewound.

  “Freeze it.”

  It froze, the screen utterly smooth.

  Rising, I moved from Damon’s side to the media screen, oddly compelled by what I saw. Compelled. Repulsed. Intrigued. All of it, rolled into one. Placing a hand on the media screen, I focused in the one part of the image I wanted to see. The screen was part entertainment center and part computer, a much higher end model than I’d had at my old place. When I went to enlarge the image, it magnified until I couldn’t even tell what I was looking at so I had shrink down more. “Computer, clean image.”